Читать книгу Mary Janeway - Mary Pettit - Страница 11

PROLOGUE

October 1889

FROM A distance, the silhouette of the gnarled wooden clothesline post leaning into the wind looked like a tired, hungry traveller. Upon closer inspection, you could see it had been weathered smooth through countless storms.

She stooped to pick up the last pair of overalls to be hung on the line. The clouds were dark to the west, but she hoped the storm was a couple of hours away. October winds from the moors were strong and would likely dry the clothes before the rain came. A small, scrawny child in a long brown pinafore appeared out of nowhere and ran barefoot toward the woman.

“Pick me up, Mama. It's coming, it's coming!” she screamed. The woman, who looked to be about eight months pregnant, quickly hung the overalls on the line, bent down and scooped her daughter into her arms.

“Mary, you mustn't be afraid. The rain will make the flowers bloom,” she laughed. The child was silent and comforted momentarily, at least. The mother worried about her five-year-old's fear of storms, but with four others to tend to, she didn't have much time to think about it.

She held the little girl close to her swollen belly. “Without rain, why the earth would dry up, nothing would grow and we would surely die,” she spoke in a quiet, more serious voice. Having said that, she plunked the child into the wooden basket and carried her back to the house.

“Shh, don't fuss or we'll wake Emma,” she whispered to Mary as they went inside. Emma, Mary's little sister, asleep in the crib, was almost two.

Carolyn was sitting by the window doing her favourite thing, needlepoint. She was eleven, very artistic and the eldest child in the Janeway family. Whenever Mama was sick or having a baby, Carolyn was in charge. It was not something she liked, but it was expected of her. She looked forward to leaving home when she turned sixteen.

Will and John were chattering away and playing checkers on the floor beside the sofa in the front room. Considering they were just over a year apart, they got along well. Will, the elder of the two, was quite grown up for a nine-year-old boy.

As a very young child in 1886, Mary Janeway may have resembled this young English girl. Barry Hoskins, Heritage Cards.

Mary adored her mother and went right into the kitchen to help. Climbing onto a little round milk stool by the sink, she began to scrub potatoes and carrots for supper. Mary knew how to set the table, dry dishes and make her bed. She also arranged the toys in Emma's crib every morning without being asked.

The Janeways lived in Rutherglen, Scotland, almost three miles outside of Glasgow, a city with a population of 1382. Their home was in a pretty little rural area, but the winters were harsh and long. Sometimes one did not venture out for days for fear of freezing to death. Everyone worked so hard to prepare for the one season they dreaded that the others passed too quickly.

As the Janeway children rarely saw other people, they relied heavily on each other for companionship. Mary enjoyed each one of her brothers and sisters, but her heart had been stolen by John. No-one was really sure why, but everyone knew it was so.

William and Catharine Janeway were a hardworking, God-fearing couple whose only ambition in life was to eke out an existence for their ever-increasing family. William worked as an apprentice surveyor, often gone for weeks dealing with surveys for new roads and bridges. When he was home, he worked his small acreage, tended to his sheep, chickens and his two draught mares. While he was away, Catharine ran the household, and with help from the boys, cared for the farm. Although they were poor, they loved their children and they believed the hand of the Almighty would guide them through troubled times. So far their faith had paid off. Carolyn had been saved from the croup, Will from nearly drowning in the peat bogs and Mary from being burned during a lightning storm that destroyed their barn, a year ago almost to the day.

“Carolyn, please set the table. Papa will be in from his chores shortly and he'll be hungry,” Mama said. Carolyn got up reluctantly but said nothing.

Mary worked steadily at the sink, but something moving caught her eye through the kitchen window. It was Papa running to the house, holding his hands over his face. His hands were soaked with blood!

Mary screamed. Her mother ran to the window and gasped. When he stumbled through the door, each child in turn became motionless and silent as though frozen in place. Catharine grabbed her apron from the hook and ran to her husband. “Oh my God, William!” she cried. His nose was hanging broken and he was bleeding badly. Before he could explain how the colt had reared up and kicked him, his pregnant young wife, overcome with emotion, fainted on the kitchen floor.

“Catharine!” he screamed as he bent over her. “Help me carry her to the bed,” he shouted at the children. “Will, run to Packard's farm and tell Lyle to get the doctor quick. Mama needs help real bad.”

Little Mary had been watching everything. She stepped down off the stool, backed into the corner, crouched down and buried her face in her knees. Emma began to cry.

The next morning Papa called all the children, including Emma, to the table. He had bandages on his face. “We lost Mama in the night. The baby came sudden—far too soon for your mama. She wasn't strong enough.” He paused to steady himself, and then continued reluctantly. “The doctor was too late to do anything. The baby's gonna live but it's small and sickly. He thinks it isn't quite right so they're sending it to Glasgow. Just as well I expect.” He continued, but spoke quietly. “I love you all and I'll try to take care of you, what with Mama gone now.”

A week later, Papa gathered his children in the kitchen once more. He looked tired and drawn, the dark rings under his eyes making his face look even more pale. The older children could feel his tension, but little Emma continued to prattle in her crib. He scarcely knew how to begin.

“Carolyn, well, you're near old enough to fend for yourself.” He hesitated, then took a big breath. “Doc thinks it's best if the rest of you go to the London Fields Hackney Home. They'll take good care of you.” William put his head down and covered his face with his hands. “Don't be thinkin' this is easy, cause it ain't,” he said.