Winter Song by James Hanley Page B

settle this whole day. The Mother Superior stayed with me last night. I couldn’t sleep at all. She says too many of them pills is bad for my heart.’
    â€˜Here is the dress,’ the Sister said, ‘shall we put it on?’
    â€˜Yes,’ the woman replied, and allowed the nun to dress her.
    â€˜This suits you very well.’
    â€˜Denny always liked me to look nice,’ she said and, walking across the room, she stood looking at herself in the mirror. She put her hands to her hair.
    â€˜I’m listening all the time for them wheels,’ she said, ‘all the time. He’ll be here soon.’
    â€˜Here is Mother now,’ the Sister said. ‘I shall leave you. May you have much joy in each other.’
    The Mother Superior was standing behind Mrs Fury. The woman saw her reflection in the mirror. She turned away, flushed deeply, ‘I was just trying to look me best for his coming,’ she said.
    â€˜Come and sit down, dear,’ the Mother Superior led her to the cane chair. ‘You’re not frightened any more?’
    â€˜No,’ tremblingly.
    â€˜That’s right. I want you to take this brandy,’ said the Mother Superior, ‘they will soon be here.’
    The woman took the glass, sipped, she choked a little. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
    â€˜You’ve been very good to me all this time, and I thank you for it. And my husband will thank you for it. For now I know he’ll take me away with him, and that’s what I’m living for every moment since I heard. Away out of this.’
    â€˜You could never have lived alone in that house, in the state you were in.’
    â€˜There was that awful day I remember when I knocked at the door of this house and I asked you to let me in, and you let me in, and I said, “I don’t want to go out anywhere any more.” D’you remember that, Mother?’
    â€˜I do.’
    â€˜And now I’m going away. I know I’m going, and I’m happy, and I’m sad, too—it has been so peaceful here—and powerful good to me.’
    â€˜There! I think I hear something coming now.’
    â€˜My son came here. He saw him—he said …’
    â€˜What did he say, dear?’
    She could not speak, her ears were full of the sound of wheels. ‘Don’t leave me,’ she cried.
    â€˜I’m not leaving you. To-day there are friends everywhere. Father Moynihan is come with your husband—and to-morrow Mr Kilkey is coming to see you, too.’
    â€˜Thank you, Mother.’
    She gripped the Mother Superior’s hand. ‘I can hear them. Are they carrying him then? Is he so ill?’
    â€˜Just very tired, dear. Now you must pull yourself together. We are all doing our best for you. Your husband can stay here until he is better, which we hope will be very soon.’
    â€˜Thank you, Mother. I hope it won’t be long, for there’s one thing I must do and that is to go north and take him with me, for I long to see my son.’
    â€˜There is plenty of time for that. The last journey was too much for you. It will be very upsetting. Before I hear of any such thing, you must get well, and your husband too—you understand?’
    â€˜I do. But I’m afraid—I’m afraid—God forgive me, I should be laughing.’
    â€˜Sit quiet, dear, and think of nothing but him, coming now into this very house.’
    She looked at the woman. ‘How you tremble. Cry dear, cry if you wish to. It will do you good. It will help you. I have never seen you cry. All this long year. You were brave then.’
    The door had slowly opened and Father Moynihan was peeping in, frantically endeavouring to catch the Mother’s eye. She got up and went to him. They spoke in whispers.
    â€˜He is here?’
    â€˜Yes. He is outside in the corridor. Where must he go?’
    â€˜He must come in here. We are making arrangements for another bed. Bring