Free A Pocket Full of Shells by Jean Reinhardt Page A

away?”
         Annie crept quietly down the stairs, not wanting to interrupt the conversation she knew would be taking place. Hearing the tail end of it, she smiled at how tactfully the young woman spoke. Before she even saw his face, Annie knew that her husband had resigned himself to the fact that Mary was leaving. She crossed the room to the fireplace.
         “Something smells good,” she said, looking into the cauldron.
     

     
     
    CHAPTER 14
         Mary stood on deck, one hand waving, the other in the pocket of her heavy woollen skirt. She was clutching the shells her daughter had picked up from the beach the day before as a present for James. The sight of the little girl waving goodbye almost broke Mary’s heart. Pat had hoisted Catherine onto his shoulders so that her mother would see her as the boat moved away. 
         “Is that your little one with her grandfather?” asked a young woman standing next to Mary.
         “It is. She doesn’t realize that I won’t be back for a long time, her father is sick in England and I’m going over to nurse him.”
         “What ails him, not the fever, I hope?”
    Keeping her eyes glued to the quayside, Mary was afraid to blink in case she lost sight of her family. 
         “He has pneumonia,” she said.
    A young boy came up to them and dragged the woman to the other side of the deck. Mary was glad to be left alone, to savour the image of Catherine smiling and waving until she became a soft blur in the distance. Just as James had done, she stood looking back at the land until it disappeared from view. 
         The deck was crowded and noisy, babies crying, children complaining and women shouting at their disgruntled offspring. The men were quiet. Mary tried to read the expressions on some of their faces. She imagined what it must have been like for James to stand on deck, surrounded by such chaos, knowing he was a man who preferred solitude. He loved to be out with his uncle in the bay, or on the beach repairing the nets, laying them out over the upturned boats. Everything about her husband’s life was the total opposite of what Mary was experiencing at that moment.
         She knew it would be even worse in Liverpool, with people arriving from, not just Dundalk, but Dublin, Drogheda, Belfast, and from other countries, too. Mary closed her eyes and tried to block out the sounds, but it didn’t work. She kept them shut tight, not wanting to look at the poverty and distress of her fellow passengers, or ‘deckers,’ as the crew called them. Not once did Mary consider herself as poor as those around her. Being content with her lot, she felt blessed to have a roof over her head, a good husband, a healthy child and people who cared about her. The lack of money was unfortunate as far as Mary was concerned but her life was rich in other ways. Now and then, someone would ask the young woman a question, or try to make conversation, but her eyes remained closed as she pretended to be asleep.
         When the ship docked, there was a rush to disembark. Standing on the quayside, Mary looked around for a shop or a ticket office where she might ask for directions and advice about transport to Sunderland. The sound of horses’ hooves on the cobblestoned road failed to alert Mary to the fact that a coach was fast approaching. As the crowd parted, the driver saw the young woman and reined in the horses. Mary turned at the last minute, suddenly realizing the danger she was in. It was too late; one of the animals knocked her aside as it came to a halt, sending her flying against a wooden barrel, head first. 
         As Mary was trying to pick herself up, firm hands grasped her shoulders, steadying the shaken young woman.
         “Is she hurt, Alexander?” a well-spoken female voice enquired from within the carriage.
    The gentleman who had come to her aid stood back, releasing Mary. There was a large red mark on her temple and some scratches to