Under the Hawthorn Tree: Children of the Famine by Conlon-McKenna Marita

Author:Conlon-McKenna, Marita [Conlon-McKenna, Marita]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781847176004
Publisher: The O'Brien Press
Published: 2013-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

Beside the Lake

THE CHILDREN KEPT WALKING ON. Peggy had two huge blisters on her foot. Every few hours Eily smeared the foot with Mary Kate’s ointment. For the most part, the skin on the soles of their feet was like blackened leather. Eily’s hands were hard and calloused, the skin scarred with the constant weight of all she had to carry. She had developed a touch of ‘the flux’, and suspected the slightly rancid mutton stew from Kineen. She chewed the herbal remedy of Mary Kate’s, hoping it would ease her nausea and the cramps in her stomach.

They had stopped for a rest when they became aware of a smell – more like a stench. Even worse than the time the potatoes had rotted.

‘Eily, what could it be?’ questioned Michael. ‘Do you think everything around us is going to rot and die?’

Peggy and Eily made for a clump of bushes to relieve themselves. Suddenly the stench, with an even fouler undertone, washed over them. Eily saw it and turned, hoping that Peggy hadn’t noticed, but Peggy’s face was white with fear.

It was a man – well, what was left of him. The skin was rotted and all different colours. He was thin, so thin that his bones already showed. Eily could feel pinpricks of sweat across her brow and her stomach turning. Peggy had screwed up her eyes and was pulling at her dress. Almost in unison they got sick in the bushes. Once their stomachs were empty and the heaving had stopped, they galloped back to Michael. One look at their faces and he knew something terrible had happened.

‘What is it, girls? What is it?’ he kept on.

In between tears and sobbing, they managed to tell him.

‘That poor soul,’ cried Eily. ‘To die all alone in the middle of nowhere, starved and with no family or friends.’

‘We must say a prayer for him,’ said Michael in a low voice. He broke two twigs and fashioned them into a cross, tying them with some long pieces of grass.

They all walked back towards the bushes.

‘I don’t want to get sick again,’ wailed Peggy, keeping a few steps back behind the others. They stopped short a few yards away from the body. Michael pushed the simple cross into the ground.

‘What will we say?’ asked Michael.

‘An “Our Father”,’ replied Eily. When it was said, Eily asked God to remember this poor lost man.

As quickly as they could they gathered up their stuff, wanting to get away from that dreadful place, so much so that they did not stop walking until they noticed a towering green forest that stretched for miles. It reminded them of the forest at home near Duneen, and they suddenly realised that it was almost two weeks since they had left home. Seeking comfort, the children slipped off the road and into an almost familiar world. The huge trees reached right up to touch the sky, sounds were muffled and they seemed to be walking on a dull carpet of pine needles and moss.

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