Page 152 of The Missing Sister
‘Then... would you be prepared to feed this child?’
‘To be sure I would, but I haven’t lit the rest of the fires, or the range, or—’
‘Don’t worry about any of that. I am sure we can manage for a while whilst you take care of the baby. Eh, Ambrose?’
‘Of course. Here.’ Ambrose handed Maggie the baby. He watched as Maggie looked down at the child with such devastation that it almost broke his heart in two.
‘I’ll take her to the kitchen to feed her, so,’ she said, recovering herself.
‘No, the kitchen is freezing,’ said James. ‘You sit there in the chair by the fire. Let us know when she’s had her fill.’
‘Are you sure, Father? I—’
‘Completely. We’ll see to everything, won’t we, Ambrose?’
‘Of course. Take as long as you need, my dear.’
The two men left the study.
Ambrose sat in a chair in the kitchen, a blanket wrapped round him as James re-stoked the range and waited for the kettle to boil so they could have a cup of tea.
‘Are you all right, my friend?’ James asked him. ‘You look quite pale.’
‘I confess that I’m shocked by the morning’s events. Not only at the arrival of a baby on your doorstep, but young Maggie...’ Ambrose sighed and shook his head. ‘She buried her newborn only yesterday, and yet here she is at work, despite what must be considerable physical exhaustion and inexorable grief.’
‘Yes.’ James warmed his hands on the range as he willed the kettle to hurry up and boil. He too needed solace, and it could only come in a cup of hot, sweet tea. ‘Here, human life is cheap, Ambrose – you must realise that you and I are very privileged in our different ways. At my church in Dublin, I was protected by my priest, whereas out here, I’m on the front line. And if I’m to stay and survive, I must understand the ways of the flock I serve. And that flock is mostly poor and struggles to stay alive.’
‘From what I’ve seen this morning, surely it will test even your faith in God?’
‘I will learn, and hope I can bring solace to those affected by situations that I can’t even begin to imagine. It does not test my faith, Ambrose, it strengthens it, because I am God’s hands here on earth. And the little I can do for them, I will do.’
The kettle finally gave a weak whistle and James poured hot water over the tea leaves.
‘And what of the baby? That precious new life?’
‘As I said, I must send a message to Father Norton; he will know the local orphanage, but...’ James shook his head. ‘I was once sent to administer last rites to a child dying of tuberculosis at the convent orphanage close to my old Dublin parish. ’Twas a dreadful place; I can’t say it wasn’t. The babies were three to a cot, filthy from their own mess, their skin alive with lice...’
‘Maybe couples should desist from the activity that brings them here in the first place,’ said Ambrose as James put a mug of tea in front of him.
‘I’d hardly say that could ever be the answer,’ James cautioned. ‘It’s a natural human instinct, as you well know. And the only form of solace some of these poor young couples have.’
There was a timid knock on the kitchen door.
‘Come in,’ James called and Maggie appeared with the baby fast asleep in her arms.
‘She’s taken a full feed and is quiet now. I was wondering, Father, whether I may take some salt from the pantry, and some hot water to bathe the babe’s cord, lest it turns septic.’
‘Of course. You sit down, Maggie, and I’ll find a bowl and mix some salt water in it.’
‘Thank you, Father.’
‘Ambrose will get you some tea, Maggie. You’re very pale, and only a day after giving birth yourself, never mind the grief of losing your child. You shouldn’t be here.’
‘Oh no, Father, I am well and healthy and able to work today, so.’
‘How are your children coping?’ James asked.
‘They don’t know yet. When I felt the babe was coming and that something was wrong, I had my eldest, Ellen, take them to our neighbours. I... I haven’t fetched them back yet to tell them as I was up here working today. I’ll get right back to the cleaning, Father.’
