Anne Doughty - The Girl from Galloway

He stood up again with an effort and went out by the back door to the adjoining outhouse, where he’d set up a wash place for them all with a tin basin on a stand, a jug for water and hooks on a board attached to the wall for the towels.

She heard the splash of the water she’d left ready for him as she poured a glass of buttermilk to go with his meal. She checked that his food was properly hot, carefully lifting the saucepan lid that covered the large dinner plate set over the simmering water below.

She thought then of her sisters who had used this same method of ensuring their father’s meal was hot. He always intended to be in at a certain time, but in this one thing that most reliable of men was unreliable. It was almost a joke between Duncan and his daughters, the way he would assure them he’d be in by such and such a time, and then, invariably, he would find yet one more job he must do before he could possibly think of coming in for his meal.

Hannah picked up her sewing and watched quietly as Patrick ate in silence. He had never spoken much at the table in their time together, but these days, she knew it was not the long shadow of his own father’s strict rule about not talking with food on the table; it was simply tiredness. At least when he went to Dundrennan he would be doing work he enjoyed, and her father, though he expected a lot, would not expect any man to work harder for him than he would expect to work himself.

Patrick cleared his plate, pushed it away from him and crossed himself. ‘That was great,’ he said. ‘It would put heart in ye. Did they have a good day at school the day?’ he asked, as he moved his armchair nearer to hers.

She put her sewing back in its bag and took his hand.

‘They did indeed,’ she replied smiling. ‘Rose got all her spellings right and Sam managed to give out the slates this time without dropping any,’ she said laughing. ‘But there’s more news than that,’ she went on more slowly, suddenly concerned that he was so tired he might be anxious about what she was going to say next.

‘Oh, what’s that then?’ he asked, a flicker of a smile touching his lips.

To her surprise and delight, she saw his blue eyes light up.

‘Sure, ye know I always need a bit of news to pass on to the boys tomorrow,’ he said, his tone lightening as she watched him.

‘Well, it seems Daniel’s niece, Marie, has been walking out with a young man from Creeslough direction and they’ve named the day.’

‘Ach, sure, that’s great,’ he said. ‘That’ll be a bit of a gatherin’ at some point or other,’ he said cheerfully. ‘They’ll maybe have a kitchen racket at Daniel’s.’

Daniel’s house was not only the place used as the local makeshift school he presided over, but also a popular place for gathering to hear the best stories and songs shared between friends of an evening.

‘Yes, it is good news,’ she agreed, ‘but it will be hard on Daniel. She’ll be living down in Creeslough so she’ll not be able to go on working with him in the schoolroom. He can do so much and everyone says it’s like he’s got eyes in the back of his head, he’s so sharp, but he is blind. How can you teach children if you haven’t got at least one pair of eyes in the room, and a woman as well as a man when there’s wee ones to look after?’

‘Ach dear, it would be a great loss if that wee schoolroom were to be no more. Sure, where wou’d our childer go? I know there’s been talk of getting a National School up here for years now, but nothin’s ever come of it. If it weren’t for Daniel being an educated man there’d never have been anywhere up this part of the mountain where they could go. How could he do anythin’ at all on his lone? Sure, he can talk away, an’ teach them their history, and tell the old stories and hear their readin’ till the cows come home, but what about the writin’ an’ the figures? Sure, Marie must have done all that. How cou’d he do anythin’ where he had to look at their work?’ he asked, his voice suddenly weary again.

‘They did seem to work very well together,’ Hannah said slowly, her unease returning, now it had come to the point where she’d have to tell him about the note Marie had sent with the children.

‘Would you like a mug of tea?’ she asked, getting up and hanging the kettle over the fire.

‘That would go down well,’ he said, watching her carefully as she moved about the room fetching mugs and milk.

He always knew when she was thinking about something, for she moved more slowly and kept looking at the kettle as if she expected it to start singing at any moment when she knew perfectly well it would take a while. He waited till she had put his mug in his hand and then said: ‘Are you worried there’ll be nowhere for our pair to go?’

She couldn’t help but laugh, for he had taken her by surprise. So often, it was she who read his thoughts, but this time he had tried to read hers. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t got it quite right. It just somehow made it easier for what she needed to say.

‘Daniel was wondering if I would come and give him a hand,’ she replied. ‘Apparently, I told him once years ago that I was a monitor back in my own old school in Dundrennan. He has an extraordinary memory,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘An’ wou’d ye like that?’ he said quickly, his eyes widening. ‘Sure, it wou’d be company fer ye when I’m away,’ he went on, brightening as she looked across at him.

‘It wouldn’t pay very much, Patrick,’ she said cautiously. ‘Certainly not as much as the sewing.’

‘Aye, I can see that might be the way of it,’ he said, nodding slowly. ‘Sure, none of the families up here has much to spare. There must be childer Daniel takes in that can’t go beyond their pieces of turf for the fire. I know some of them bring cakes of bread and a bit of butter for Daniel himself,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘but that would be because there was no tuppence that week, or whatever it is these days, that wou’d otherwise be forthcomin’. How does Daniel manage at all? Sure, everyone knows the masters of these hedge schools don’t see a penny when times are bad and Daniel wou’d never be the one to turn a chile away if it hadn’t brought its few pence.’

Patrick himself had never been to school and he’d never figured out why people called these local places where children could learn to read and write ‘hedge schools’. But Daniel’s house, which he used for the school, was not typical. Most of the other schools in the area were far less robust: abandoned cottages, or caves, or even old cattle pens with a bit of a roof thrown over. But then, there was a time when running a school would have got you into trouble. There were laws against schools, like there were laws against celebrating Mass.

‘Maybe yer da will give us all a bit more money this year, if the price of cattle keeps going up,’ he offered cheerfully. ‘Are you thinking about doin’ it?’ he asked directly.

‘Well …’

‘Well, indeed. What wou’d stan’ in yer way if you had a mind to do it? Sure, Sam and Rose wou’d be there with ye … and sure, what’ll they do if Daniel has to give up? Though you could teach them yourself like you taught me, couldn’t you? Sure, you’re a great teacher and me no scholar,’ he ended sheepishly.

Hannah laughed and felt her anxiety drain away. She remembered again how she’d offered to help her father’s harvesters to write their letters home, and how, in the process, she had ended up learning Irish. Patrick had been a diligent pupil. He had learnt not only how to read and write, but also to make his way in English. It might well be English with a strong Scottish accent but it still stood him and his fellows in good stead when work called from south of the border around Carlisle, or even Lancaster.