Free With Love From Ma Maguire by Ruth Hamilton Page A

illnesses you breed in those filthy holes are brought home and I cure them. Ask Doctor Flynn, why don’t you? And see did I ever miss my rent, see does the landlord want me out. I tell you now that he does not, for I have brought cleanliness to these slums. You don’t frighten me. A godless person never did frighten me.’
    He looked her up and down. ‘And I could relieve you of that knife in two seconds.’
    ‘Do it, then.’
    Their eyes locked in silent combat for several moments, then he turned on his heel and left the room. Swiftly, she followed him with the knife held out at waist-height, placing herself between him and the cradle that contained her sleeping son.
    He snatched up his outer garments and made for the door.
    ‘Mr Swainbank?’
    ‘Yes?’ He looked at her, his hand resting on the gleaming brass door latch.
    ‘That will be two guineas, please. A guinea for the powder and another for my time.’
    His lip curled into a snarl. ‘Huh! And what would you charge a mill-hand?’
    ‘Sixpence at best. But you need my medicine, don’t you? In future, you need not come here. Just send your boy now that I have seen the sore for myself. And take care, because my curse still stands.’
    He threw some coins on to the table. ‘What curse?’
    ‘The one I laid at your door. Did you not know I have a reputation as a witch?’
    ‘Rubbish!’
    ‘Is it? Aye well, think about it when you lie in your bed with the blood flowing so slowly through your veins that you fear the heart stopping. But then, there may be nothing in it with me such a good Catholic woman. Close the door as you leave, please.’
    ‘Philly! Philly Maguire . . .’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘You will live to regret this day.’
    She stepped forward to pick up the money, her eyes fixed on his face. ‘I think you’ll find, Mr Swainbank, that the boot is on another foot altogether.’
    Swearing beneath his breath, he opened the door.
    ‘And while we’re on about feet, I must warn you to watch out for the gangrene,’ she said quietly. ‘You’ll recognize it sure enough, for the toes go black before they drop off. And I’ve no cure at all for that . . .’
    He slammed the door behind him.
    Philly placed the knife on the table and steadied herself with one hand on the back of a chair. Ice-cold fingers groped in her pocket until they found a rosary, then she fell to her knees beside Patrick’s cradle. The sins of the flesh had not needed consideration before, for she had never felt so drawn to a man. Yet so repulsed at the same time! How could dislike and desire be partners in a person’s soul? How on God’s good earth could she care for one who made slaves of decent working people, who turned a blind eye to want and deprivation, a fiend without compassion or warmth in his soul? She didn’t understand any of it. For the first time ever, Philly had been a brief victim of passion. It had not been a comfortable experience and she would avoid it carefully in the future.
    After feeding her child, she sat gazing into embers until the room became truly chilled. Would she ever feel warm again? There was no doubt in her mind now – Richard Swainbank was a force to be reckoned with. And so, because of her weaknesses, was Philomena Theresa Maguire.

Chapter 2
     

1905
     
    It began with a headache, no more than that. As usual, Philly was on her rounds, pushing Seamus’ handcart around the streets of School Hill, selling her wares with the rest of the street tradesmen. She was a familiar sight now and people listened for the high-pitched tinkle of her handbell, came out in droves to buy a penn’orth of tonic and a ha’p’orth of liniment. Occasionally, she would be stopped and brought into a house of sickness, while many a time a child would arrive breathless from running, ‘Ma, me mam says she’s started’, then handcart and bottles would be abandoned for a household to mind until Philly’s various crises ended.
    She always patrolled the same area,