Lily Steps Up Read online

  Dedication

  For Dan, Brian, Ellen and Annie.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Workhouses in Ireland

  Acknowledgements

  Other Books by Judi Curtin

  Copyright

  Spring 1914

  Chapter One

  ‘And they all lived happily ever after.’

  She closed the storybook and sat back on her bed with a big sigh.

  ‘Well done, Nellie!’ I said giving her a hug. ‘That was wonderful. You read a whole book all by yourself.’

  The book was made for little children, and it had taken Nellie many days to get to the end, stumbling over the bigger, unfamiliar words. That didn’t matter though. Nellie didn’t have much schooling, so she was very proud of herself now.

  ‘I could never have done this without you,’ she said. ‘Oh, Lily, whatever would I have done if you hadn’t come to work here with me? You’ve changed my life.’

  I was embarrassed. It was true, I had taught her to read – but that was easy to do, as she was so clever and eager to learn. I wished I could do more to change her life though.

  Sometimes I felt like crying when I thought of all the bad things that had happened to Nellie. After her mam and dad died when she was little, Nellie and her two sisters were sent to the workhouse. When they got there, Nellie was separated from her sisters, and she never saw them again. Now the poor girl had no idea where they were, or even if they were still alive. That meant she had no family at all to care for her or love her – but how could I fix that? I couldn’t bring her mam and dad back, and how could a poor housemaid like me even begin to search for her sis­ters? Teaching Nellie to read was the best I could do, but it didn’t seem like enough.

  Nellie climbed under her blankets and put the book on her locker.

  ‘I’m going to start reading it again tomorrow,’ she said. ‘And I’m going to read it every day until I can do all the pages without a single mistake.’

  ‘Good idea,’ I said, as I put out the gas-light and climbed into my own bed. ‘And then I can get more books from the nursery and help you with those. Before long you’ll be reading the newspaper and all the big, hard books in the library.’

  ‘Thank you, Lily,’ she said sleepily and a few min­utes later I could tell from her breathing that she was fast asleep.

  I couldn’t sleep, as I thought back to my first days at Lissadell House many months ago. Back then, Nellie was grumpy, and mean to me. Now I knew her better and understood why she had been like that. Nowa­days she was very sweet to me and rarely complained about anything. Nowadays she was a very dear friend.

  Lissadell was Nellie’s whole life, but I knew that, deep down, she wanted what I had. She wanted a family of her own.

  As I lay there in the darkness, I made up my mind that I was going to help my friend – only I had no idea how I was going to do it.

  * * *

  My back hurt and my knees were starting to go numb. Outside it was a beautiful sunny day, and I wanted to cry as I thought how much I’d love to be running in the fields near home, with my brothers and my darling little sisters. I thought how much I’d love to throw myself into Mam’s arms, and have her laugh as she smoothed my windblown hair. I couldn’t do those things though. I was alone in this cold, narrow place.

  It was my turn to scrub the servants’ staircase – a job Nellie and I both hated. This staircase was dark and twisty and nothing like the fancy one the family used. The edges of the steps had grooves on them and there they needed extra scrubbing. (Mrs Bailey, the housekeeper, would certainly check, and I’d be in trouble if I missed even a tiny speck of dirt.) The middle part of each step was smooth, though – worn away by the feet of generations of servants like me.

  As I scrubbed, I thought about my days at school, and how happy I had been then. I used to watch the Master, and Miss O’Brien, and imagine that one day I’d be a teacher just like them. How I wanted to help all the little children to read and write and sing and sew!

  I still had that dream, but every day it seemed fur­ther away. How would Mam or I ever save up enough money so I could go away to teaching college?

  * * *

  I was only half finished my job when I heard the skip of feet coming down the stairs towards me.

  ‘There you are, Lily,’ said Maeve. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

  I smiled – that was the trouble with living in a huge house like Lissadell, it was easy to get lost.

  ‘Hello, Maeve,’ I said.

  As I stood up, rubbing my back, I began to feel ashamed. My apron was wrinkled and dusty, and as usual I could feel strands of my hair falling from my white cap. Maeve’s long, wavy hair was shiny and newly brushed, and she was wearing a perfect dress of pink satin and lace. It was hard to forget that Maeve was a member of the family who owned Lis­sadell House, while I was only a servant. Then I gave myself a little shake, as I remembered what my lovely daddy used to say – ‘We might be poor, Lily, but you’re as good as everyone else on this green earth, never forget that.’ So I smoothed my apron and stood up taller and smiled at my friend.

  ‘I didn’t know you were here,’ I said. ‘I thought you were at your grandmother’s house.’

  ‘I was there until lunchtime,’ she said. ‘I had lessons this morning, and it was terrible. My friend Stella is sick, so Miss Clayton had me all to herself. She was in a foul temper and made me do the most horrible mathematics over and over again until my head hurt. I wanted to throw the textbook at her.’

  I laughed at the thought. ‘But you didn’t do it?’

  ‘No. Mother has threatened that if I misbehave again, she will have me sent away to boarding school, and if she does that, I will scream and kick and cry and …’

  I stopped listening for a second. I didn’t know much about boarding school, but I’d have loved to go to any kind of school at all. There were so many books I wanted to read and so many things I wanted to learn.

  ‘… and I’ll run away, and if Mother sends me back, I’ll run away again. I won’t go to boarding school, I simply won’t.’

  ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t force you to go, Maeve,’ I said, trying to soothe her. I didn’t believe my own words though. Maeve’s mother, Countess Markievicz, was a brave woman – and a bit terrifying too. I couldn’t imagine anyone stopping her from doing something once she had made up her mind.

  ‘How is your mother?’ I asked trying to change the subject.

  ‘Busy as usual,’ said Maeve. She spoke as if she didn’t care, but that was only an act. Everyone at Lissadell loved Maeve, and spoiled her, but I knew she missed her mam who lived in Dublin.

  ‘Uncle Joss and Aunt Mary won’t talk about Mother of course,’ she continued. ‘But I’ve been reading about her in the newspaper. She’s working very hard with Na Fianna Eireann.’

  ‘What’s that?’

&
nbsp; ‘It’s an organisation for boys – a little like the Boy Scouts.’

  That didn’t help me as I didn’t know what Boy Scouts were either. ‘What do they do?’

  ‘They have meetings, and do things like marching up and down and pretending to have guns – it sounds very boring to me.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Mother is one of the leaders, and she’s working on a handbook for them. In her last letter she told me she’s done some of the drawings.’ She started to laugh. ‘Uncle Joss is always saying Mother should have ladylike hobbies like drawing – but I don’t think that is quite what he had in mind.’

  ‘Your mother has such an interesting life,’ I said.

  ‘Too interesting, if you ask me,’ said Maeve. ‘Anyway, I’ve told Mrs Bailey I need you to help me with my painting, so you can leave that cleaning and come with me.’

  ‘But …’ I pointed at the half-scrubbed staircase.

  ‘Don’t worry about that. Maybe Nellie will have time to do it.’

  ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Why? She never seems to mind when you miss work to spend time with me.’

  That was true. Even though Nellie got very cross when she thought anyone else wasn’t doing their fair share of work, she never complained about Maeve and me.

  ‘She’s my dear friend,’ I said. ‘And that’s why I can’t take advantage of her. I’ll go to Mrs Bailey now, and tell her I’ll finish the stairs later. I’ll see you in your bedroom in a few minutes?’

  ‘No. It’s too nice to be inside. I’m going to paint outside today. I’ll see you in the porte cochere in ten minutes.’

  So I ran back downstairs with my mop and bucket and scrubbing brush, feeling as if I had been set free from prison.

  Chapter Two

  I’d never heard of a porte cochere before I got to Lissadell, but now I was used to the place with the huge doors, where the motorcar would let out pas­sengers and they’d be protected from the wind and rain. I stood there and tried to be invisible as I waited for my friend. Daddy was right when he said I was as good as everyone else, but there were lots of rules in Lissadell House and, as usual, Maeve was asking me to break most of them. I wasn’t supposed to speak to any of the family unless they spoke to me first. I wasn’t supposed to give up jobs when they were only half-done, and run off into the garden with Maeve. I was expected to use the servants’ entrance, and was only allowed to be in the porte cochere if it needed sweeping or mopping.

  Albert, the driver, was whistling as he polished the already shiny motor car. A second later, the front door opened and Sir Josslyn and Lady Mary came down the steps. Sir Josslyn nodded at me and climbed into the front seat of the car. Lady Mary stopped and gave me a warm smile. She looked like a princess in her fancy coat, and a hat with green feathers. She smelled of soap and violets.

  ‘Hello, Lily, she said, in her beautiful soft voice. ‘How are you today?’

  ‘I’m very well, Lady Mary,’ I said. ‘Thank you for asking.’

  I tried to keep my voice from shaking. What if she asked why I was standing in the porte cochere, and not a bucket or a mop in sight?

  But she was still smiling, and she didn’t seem to be in a hurry. ‘And how is your sewing coming along? Did you finish the dresses for your little sisters?’

  ‘Almost, Lady Mary,’ I said. ‘I only have to put the buttons on Anne’s and then they will be ready. The girls will love them.’

  ‘I am sure they will. You are the most gifted nee­dleworker I have seen for quite a long time.’

  I felt dizzy, from being praised by such a fine lady. ‘Oh, thank you, Lady Mary,’ I said. ‘Thank you for saying that and thank you for giving me the fabric and the buttons and the thread and the lace and …’

  She smiled and I understood she had heard enough. ‘You are very welcome,’ she said. ‘I hope you haven’t forgotten about the home industries show. You should make some things and have them ready to exhibit. I am sure you will do marvellously well.’

  Of course I hadn’t forgotten the home industries show! The first prize was three shillings, and even the third prize of a shilling would have been wonderful to me.

  ‘Thank you, Lady Mary,’ I said.

  ‘Please help yourself from the fabric store cupboard – now that I think of it, there is some very nice velvet there, left over from my winter suits. You could take some of that, and make some more dresses for your sisters – and enter one in the home industries show.’

  ‘Velvet!’ I whispered.

  Before I came to Lissadell, I had never even touched a piece of velvet, and the thought of my little sisters actually owning velvet dresses …! For a second I wondered where they would even keep them – Mam’s little cottage didn’t have wardrobes and dressing rooms like the ones at Lissadell.

  ‘They would love that so much,’ I said. ‘They would be the sweetest girls in the whole village – and I prom­ise they would keep them for Sunday best and …’

  I put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from chattering on, as Lady Mary smiled at me and climbed into the back of the car. Albert closed the door behind her. He winked at me as he sat into his own seat, and with a roar of the engine, they drove away.

  Just then the door opened again and Maeve appeared, staggering under the weight of a huge tartan rug, an easel, a box of paints and a picnic basket. I smiled. Who cared about rules? Life was always more fun when Maeve was around.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, the two of us were settled under a huge horse chestnut tree. I took off my frilly white cap and let the warm breeze toss my hair. I pulled my boots off and wriggled my toes in the sunshine. I tried not to wonder when I’d find time to darn the hole on the big toe of one of my stockings. Then I lay back on the soft rug and gazed up at the branches high over my head. It was springtime and the young leaves were fresh and green and new. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a world where I’d never again have to scrub a stairs or clean out a dirty fireplace. I tried to imagine a world where I could lie on a rug for as long as I liked, any time I wanted.

  Why couldn’t I have a rich uncle in America who’d die and leave me hundreds of pounds?

  How wonderful it would be if I could get a house for me and Mam and the little ones – with two bed­rooms so Mam wouldn’t have to sleep in the kitchen any more?

  How wonderful if I could afford to train to be a teacher?

  I lay there for a long time, enjoying the moment, dreaming impossible dreams.

  * * *

  Maeve tickled my nose with a piece of grass and I sat up quickly.

  The easel and the paint-box were thrown carelessly on the grass beside us.

  ‘When are you going to start painting, Maeve?’ I said. ‘Should I fix my hair? Put my boots and cap back on? Would you like me to sit or stand up?’

  Maeve laughed, as I knew she would. ‘I don’t feel like painting today,’ she said.

  Maeve never felt like painting – it was only an excuse so the two of us could spend some time together – an excuse I was very happy to go along with.

  ‘Tell me about Winnie and Anne,’ she said.

  I smiled. Maeve had lots of sweet little cousins, but she always seemed more interested in my brothers and sisters who she’d never even met.

  ‘Winnie’s cough is nearly gone, and when I was home last week, her cheeks were rosy. The medicine I can afford to buy now helps her, but I think mostly she’s better because of all the food that Cook lets me bring home. Mam’s so grateful for how kind your family has been to us.’

  Maeve’s cheeks went pink. I’d forgotten how embarrassed she got when I said things like that. ‘And how is Anne?’ she asked.

  ‘Anne is as bold as ever,’ I said. ‘But she’s as bright as a button. She knows all her letters now, and most of her numbers too.’

  Talking about my family made me feel strange – sad and happy at the same time. I knew I was lucky to have a good job in Lissadell, but I couldn’t get used to seeing my
family just once a week. How could I complain to Maeve, though? She hardly ever saw her mam, and her daddy was far away in Europe.

  We chatted for a long time, sharing stories from our different worlds. Then my tummy rumbled, and I gazed longingly at the picnic basket. Cook loved Maeve, and always gave her delicious treats.

  Maeve opened the basket and lay a heap of treas­ures on the good linen napkins. There were sand­wiches with no crusts, and little ginger biscuits, and chocolate sweets, and scones with jam and cream and bottles of fresh lemonade. I ate until I was ready to burst, and for a while I could imagine that I was a fine lady with nothing to do except enjoy myself.

  Then I noticed that the air had begun to chill and the sun was sinking low in the sky.

  ‘I’m going to be in so much trouble, I said, jump­ing up and throwing the scraps into the basket. ‘Mrs Bailey will kill me for staying out so long. I have to finish the stairs and light the bedroom fires and polish the glasses and set the table for dinner and––’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Maeve. ‘I’ll tell her it’s all my fault.’

  I knew she’d do exactly that, but I also knew that Mrs Bailey would smile at Maeve and say it didn’t matter, but later she’d be extra snappy with me.

  We folded the rug, picked up the basket and the unused easel and paints, and hurried towards the house.

  ‘When will I see you again?’ I asked. Maeve still had her own room at Lissadell, but mostly she stayed with her grandmother, Gaga, who lived at Ardeevin, a few miles away.

  ‘Oh, not for ages and ages. We’re all going away to stay with my Aunt Mabel in England. We’ll be gone for three weeks. Didn’t I tell you?’

  I was so surprised, I stopped walking. If I were going to England, I’d have been shouting it from the rooftops, and getting it published in the Sligo Cham­pion. How could Maeve be so casual about such a big thing?

  But then I remembered that she’d been to England lots of times before, and for her it was no more excit­ing than a trip to the next village.