Fortunes of the Heart Read online

  This suspicion had been confirmed of late, as night after night when Pearce thought her to be asleep, he would give way to bitter sobs which wracked his whole body, over the death of his own little angel. Kate had never before heard a man weep and such had been the bond between them she longed with every fibre of her being to be able to comfort him. However, on those occasions when she did draw near him and try to embrace him, his only response was to push her away from him, and on rising to face yet another day, to don once again the mask of superiority.

  Pearce remained distraught. And as the short winter days lengthened into spring, it seemed nothing or nobody could assuage his grief. Even worse, each time he looked on the puny features of baby Daniel, he felt a wild urge to choke the very life out of him, just as a cruel, unloving God had virtually done with his very own beloved Angela. Feeling as bitter and as unloving as he did, it was hardly surprising that as young Daniel grew into a sickly toddler. It gradually came to the point where it was almost as if an unseen barrier existed between father and son.

  What made matters even worse was that Kate now seemed to devote her entire energies and devotion to the youngster, leaving Pearce far behind in her priorities. It was as well that at this point, he had a job on which to concentrate and expend all his energies.

  Ever since that first day at the Fruit Market, Pearce had been gainfully employed, bringing home his hard-won wages every Friday night. The overall boss of the market had quickly realised Pearce had a very quick brain and responsibility sat easily on his shoulders. With the right guidance, he might in time even become a section gaffer, as the men called the bosses. So Pearce now had his own high stool and desk in the accounts office and was efficient and conscientious at his work.

  On the home front, having by now accepted, albeit unwillingly, his role as an outsider whose sole function was to pay the bills with the money earned from the sweat of his brow, life began to settle into a more ordered existence. With the extra money now coming in from his latest promotion, both he and Kate began to plan for a move to a room-and-kitchen at double their present rent. They’d already had an eye on such a flat for some time. It was not exactly situated in a tiled close – a wally close as the locals called them – nor did it have any better an outlook, but nevertheless, they were both desperate to get it. It was bigger, certainly, but the main advantage was that it was closer to the Fruit Market which would mean less travelling to and from work for Pearce. Better still, he would be able to come home each day at noon for a dish of mince and tatties, or a plate of Scotch broth, or Irish stovies. There were disadvantages, not least that they would have to leave behind the good and supportive neighbours and friends they had already made. But even so, for the sake of a giant leap up the social scale in moving out of the lowly single-end, they were prepared to take the bad with the good.

  Having taken the big decision and on the point of going round to the factor with their key-money, the blow fell: Kate was again pregnant. True, with another baby, a larger home would have been ideal. But there was just no way in which their already stretched financial means could be further elongated to finance the move itself, more furniture, a higher rent, and the additional expense of one more mouth to feed.

  So the dream of a room-and-kitchen remained, for the moment at least, just that, an unattainable pipe-dream. Equally impossible was poor Kate’s homesick dream of ever again being back in her own beloved country. The Ireland of bright peat fires, steaming hot potato-cakes, dew-drenched green fields, the shamrock, the soft rain and the even softer brogue of her adored, but now far-off Emerald Isle. All this and much more, had now gone from her, leaving but a beautiful memory to be cherished in the long dark nights of her troubled soul. No longer would she know the joy of waking to a fresh Irish Spring morning, with the hills dew-tipped and God in his Heaven.

  Chapter 10

  Six long years after their arrival in Glasgow, Kate was again great with child. Not that there was ever much in the way of loving kindness or comforting caresses from Pearce, but each time that he satisfied his own physical needs, it seemed that inevitably, Kate became pregnant. Perhaps even worse to bear was the knowledge that the only time her husband claimed his marital rights was when he was reeking of whisky

  Despite the fact of having given birth to Jenny, the year after twins Angela and Daniel, and Andrew, two years ago – each child as perfect physically and mentally, as any mother could wish for – Kate still worried. Each time she looked at poor baby Hannah with her lolling head, vacant expression, and weird animal noises, Kate fretted that she might again give birth to another severely handicapped child. Strangely enough, her hours of labour which had brought wee Hannah into the world had been the worst of all her births, almost as if the baby had not wanted ever to enter a cruel world.

  Perhaps Hannah was a throw-back in some way? Or is this how God shows His displeasure for my immoral conduct?

  It was just as she was deep in such gloomy thoughts that Pearce came back into their home from his early morning visit to the cludgie – the stair-head communal lavatory.

  On his way over to the sink, before starting to wash his hands, he cast her a baleful glance.

  “Still seeing the bright side of everything, I see?” he said.

  The thought went through Kate’s head that had his words perhaps been accompanied by a cheeky grin, then it would have taken the sting out of them. But she knew from bitter experience that was not her husband’s way. If Pearce had something to say, then he always came right out and said it, regardless of anyone else’s hurt feelings.

  By the same token, it would never have occurred to Pearce to put a comforting arm around her shoulders. At the thought of such neglect in her emotional life, tears started to cascade down her cheeks. And once started, she could not stem the flow. Seeing this, Pearce frowned and said: “For heaven’s sake, Kate. What’s wrong with you now’?”

  Wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, she gazed back at her husband.

  Half an hour later, by which time Pearce had breakfasted well with his usual bowl of porridge, and soda bread and dripping, he was on the point of leaving for work when suddenly he clapped a hand to his brow.

  “What a memory. Nearly forgot. It’s today you’re going out with Betty Donovon and her brood, isn’t it?”

  Kate looked up from clearing the dishes away from the table. She frowned and chewed at her lower lip.

  “Well, the big event is today. Sure that’s right enough. But I haven’t exactly said I’ll go.”

  Her husband shook his head. “Nonsense, Kate. You can’t let the children down. Anyway, it will do you all good to get out of this hell-hole for a while. Get some fresh air into your lungs.”

  About to voice her objections, Pearce spoke up first. “Look, I’d really like you to go. And wee Andrew will love seeing the boats.”

  Kate had her own thoughts on this matter. After all, Andrew was still only two, wasn’t he? But, Daniel was five and much more interested in ships, ferries, launches and the like.’ However, rather than start up a family row in accusing her husband of favouring one son more than another, she decided to ignore his words.

  Taking her silence for wifely agreement, he put a hand in his trouser pocket and withdrew two precious silver sixpences. Then holding these out to her, he said: “Here you are, Kate. Andrew loves puff candy. Buy a wee bag for him ... and ... er ... for the other children, of course. It will add to the joy of the outing for them.”

  With these words and a wave of his hand, he was gone.

  Later that same day, Tuesday July 3rd, 1883, Kate, her friend and neighbour, Big Betty Donovon, and between them, their squad of children, made their way through the bustling city streets towards Linthouse, near the Govan district of Glasgow.

  They knew they faced something of a trek to get anywhere near the launch, so they had packed as many of the children as they could into their two rickety, squeaky prams. The older children trailed along as best they could in their wake.<
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  It was a reasonable morning, neither too hot nor as yet bucketing down with rain, so with the occasional encouragement in the way of chunks of puff-candy, the group made fairly good time on their self-imposed route march. And as they walked, the two women blethered twenty to the dozen. In answer to a question from Kate, Big Betty nodded and when she spoke, there was a ring of pride in her voice.

  “Yes. ’Tis my cousin, Declan. A fine carpenter he is. He helped build this fine steamer.”

  “Isn’t he that fine handsome young lad who mended your table for you? I remember seeing him.”

  Betty grinned.

  “Aye, the very one. Came over from Armagh only last year. Lucky enough to get work at Stephen’s Shipbuilding Yard. A good lad ... sends most of his wages back home to his widowed mother in dear old Ireland. Just hope we’re as lucky with our children when they get to be workers, eh, Kate?”

  Kate grinned and nodded her agreement. As she started to speak, her words were lost in a burst of sound and shouts of delight from the children. They had by now approached the gates of the Yard, already black with a seething mass of exuberant, excited humanity.

  Flags and bunting waved in the light breeze. The local pipe band, resplendent in full Highland regalia, was even then marching through the gates of the Yard on their way to the launching platform.

  Daniel let out a whoop of delight and, with face abeam, turned to his mother.

  “This is great, Mammy. It was worth the walk. Thanks for bringin’ us.” Kate ruffled his dark hair.

  Betty, in high glee, was shouting to make herself heard above the excited, chattering din and the skirl of the pipes all around them.

  “Yes, Danny boy, the boat is called the Daphne and if ye watch carefully, any minute now, we’ll see her slide down into the waters of the Clyde. And do ye know something else?”

  Daniel shook his head, agog to get all the information he possibly could about this wonderful event.

  “What’s that, Aunty Betty?”

  Betty paused for dramatic effect, by now thoroughly enjoying the novel experience of having a captive audience.

  “See that Daphne, son? Well, although ye cannae see them, there’s to be more than a hundred men still working aboard her as she gets launched. And my cousin is one o’ them. There now, Danny, whit dae ye think o’ that?”

  Daniel gave a long, low whistle of appreciation, which coming from such a small, earnest boy, caused smiles of amusement from those other spectators around him. One elderly man turned to face Betty and in the broadest of Glasgow accents, said:

  “Aye, Missus, and ma three big sons is aboard an aw. Whit a great day it is fur us. Talk aboot the pride o’ the Clyde.”

  Betty nodded, but before she could comment, a youngish woman with a child in her arms and from the look of her, another child in her belly, spoke up: “A great day indeed. Ma man’s on the Daphne as weel. he really wanted to stay here and watch the launchin’ wi us frae the shore. It’s by richts his day aff, ye see. But Ah jist tellt him, don’t ye be daft, says Ah. You get on board wi’ yer pals. It’ll be a great experience for ye, Bert. And forbye, we can aye use the extra bawbees.”

  Everyone in earshot nodded in agreement, for surely there was not a family on Clydeside but needed every farthing they could get in order to keep body and soul together.

  Suddenly, there appeared to be some activity from the platform party. A wild cheer went up from the waiting crowds. The elderly man, who had previously spoken with such pride of his three strapping sons, turned to Kate. He jerked his thumb down in the direction of young Andrew who was still holding on to the handle of the pram, for fear of getting lost in the thick of the crowd.

  “Listen, Missus. The wee fella will no’ see ower much o’ the launchin’ frae doon therr. Gie’s a haud o’ him and Ah’ll hoist him up on tae ma shoulders.”

  Kate smiled. “Oh, that’s real good o’ ye, sir.”

  The elderly man shrugged away her words of thanks.

  “Nothin tae it, Missus. Fine weel Ah ken aw aboot bairns. In fact, Ah must tell ye ... one o’ ma lads oot therr on that boat, his wee wifie’s expectin’ a wean soon ... so ony day noo Ah’m gonnae be a grandfaither. So, Ah micht as weel get in a wee bit o’ practice. But quick noo wi’ the wee lad. Or we’ll miss the launchin’ aw thegither.”

  He raised Andrew high above his head and then positioned the lad comfortably on his shoulders.

  “Haud on tight tae ma heid, son. Ye’ll get a great view. Aye, this’ll be a day for you tae remember when ye’re an auld man yersel’.”

  No sooner were the words out of the proud father’s mouth than an almighty cheer went up from the crowd. The pipers again started up their melodies, and amidst scenes of intense excitement and enjoyment flags were waved on all sides and even soft tweed bunnets were taken off and waved vigorously.

  Those whose hands were free of children clapped loudly and turned to speak to, slap on the back, or otherwise congratulate perfect strangers. On all sides, snatches of pride-filled conversation could be heard.

  “Ma faither’s on that big boat, so he is.”

  “See ma man. Idle for a helluva lang time. Jist got work last week on the Daphne. Lucky for him, eh no?”

  Kate smiled when she saw Hannah was still savouring a sticky piece of puff-candy, the orange rivulets of which were dribbling down the poor child’s chin. Taking a rag from under the sleeve of her dress, Kate spat on the ready-made hanky a couple of times and leant forward to mop at Hannah’s face. So intent was Kate on trying to keep Hannah still long enough to get her cleaned up, she didn’t see the next part of the launching.

  A sudden collective intake of breath from the thousands of watchers on the shore immediately followed by the dying and ragged strains of the pipes as the music drifted away, unfinished, made Kate raise her head in time to see the vessel turn right over and capsize into the murky waters of the River Clyde.

  A horrible stillness, a silence which could be felt, followed this unbelievable event. With hand-held flags still in mid-wave, everyone gazed in fascinated horror towards the river, as the Daphne was drawn downwards, ever downwards, into the stinking waters of the great river, it was clear that without warning and before their very eyes, the river had claimed its latest victims.

  Gradually, as the full horror of the situation dawned on their stunned minds, a new sound was heard: a low, animal keening from the women, young and old, already mourned the loss of a dear one. Strong men wept. With tears pouring down his lined face, the elderly man, the soon to be grandfaither, in an instant grown older than time itself, gently removed Andrew from the perch of his shoulders. With a sorrowful look at Kate, he forced out the words: “Ah’ll hae tae get awa hame tae ma wife. She’s an invalid, ye ken. Ah jist dinnae ken how Ah’m gonnae break this news tae her. Her three bonnie laddies. All gone. Oh, Christ Almichty. This will kill her. Kill her, so it will. Oh, God help us all this day. Ah still cannae thole the idea.”

  Now muttering incoherently to himself, he shuffled away, making his way through the crowds of weeping, wailing relatives.

  Kate, her arms by now around Betty’s shoulders, stroked her friend’s hair. And all the while, Betty moaned: “Oh, my poor Declan. And his widow-woman mother. God. Why should this have happened? Why in the name o’ Christ, does God allow such sufferin’?”

  It was while she was looking over Betty’s shoulder Kate saw the young mother to whom they had earlier spoken ... the young, heavily-pregnant girl who had actually persuaded her husband against his will to go aboard the Daphne on that fateful day.

  The baby still clutched in her arms, the young mother-to-be was gazing about her in shock. It was clear that any minute, once the full impact of the tragedy hit her, she would keel over. Kate eased herself away from a now noisily-weeping Betty. That done, she went towards the young mother and with some difficulty, prised the baby from her clutching fingers. Then, holding the serenely sleeping child in one arm, she enfolded the stunned and shocked young wo
man with the other.

  How long they stood locked in this timeless, wordless embrace, Kate had no way of knowing. How Betty, the distraught young mother, and Kate herself, or even any of their own children got home that day, Kate was never entirely sure. The rest of the day, the struggling, frantic crowds of weeping men, women, and children all became a blur. But forever, she would remember with clarity the shriek that had gone up from the unknown and unnamed young widow: “Oh. Ma man. Ma bonnie man. Dear Sweet Jesus. Gie me back ma poor Bert.”

  True, Kate herself had not lost a relative or even a close friend in the Daphne Disaster, but the traumatic experience did have one immediate impact on her own life.

  That very night, she went into premature labour. As the midwife cleaned up the baby and handed her into Kate’s waiting arms, she smiled and said: “Looks like ye’ve got a real wee beauty here, Kate. She’s perfect in every way. So, therr’s nae need for ye tae go countin’ her fingers and toes. Like a wee heavenly angel, so she is.”

  Kate gave a weak smile, a sigh of relief and with a wavering right hand, she caressed the baby’s downy cheek.

  “Thank God for that, Mistress Shaw. Aye. At least there’s one happy household in Glasgow this night. Not like all those other poor souls, crazed with grief. I just cannot get out of my thoughts the sight o’ yon poor young widow.”

  “There, there noo, Kate. Try no’ tae upset yersel’.”

  “But if ye’d seen her, Mistress Shaw. Little more than a wee lassie herself. And there she is now ... lost her man, left with a babe-in-arms and another wean well on the way. Poor demented soul that she is. I just wonder how in God’s name she’s goin’ to manage. And apart from her sorrow ... not even a breadwinner. God help her.”

  As a very sleepy and exhausted Kate, holding tight to her precious baby, snuggled down in her bed, she yet again thanked God for his blessings bestowed on her own family.