Delaney. Part XV

By the end of the day Delaney has learned the names of many of the flowers that adorn the Townley Hall gardens. Despite his impatience, Mr. Byrne has taken note of the diligence with which the child works, and the great interest she has taken in the garden.

“And these, in the shade,” she says, “can they grow so close to the house?”

“Those are Camellias. They do well in shade, but they don’t care for the Irish soil. We must set some compost about it. If Eric be sick tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to mix up the sort of compost they need. But it’s getting late.”

Mr. Byrne points to a hose attached to the base of a rain barrel. “Clean your hands and your shoes,” he tells her, then they come around to the horse so Byrne can take Delaney home.

Mrs. Cosgrove is calling from the front door, “Mr. Byrne! Bring the boy here.” So, the pair walk over.

“I can see that you are a gentile boy,” she says to Delaney. “You could grow up to be a proper little gentleman.”

Delaney doesn’t quite know how to respond, so she just says, “Yes, mum.”

“Mr. Byrne, should our regular boy, Eric, be ill tomorrow, do request this child.”

“Yes, ma’am. But we best be off, or the boy will miss his dinner. The Brothers don’t take kindly if I ain’t punctual.”

“Right, then,” she says, “off you go.” And she pinches Delaney on the cheek.

After helping Delaney down Mr. Byrne turns to leave but Brother Doyle rushes to stop him.

“I don’t expect Eric will be well enough tomorrow either, Mr. Byrne. Will you take another boy tomorrow?”

“The Missus especially asked for this one, here if Eric is unwell. He’ll do well enough.”

“Very good, sir. Tomorrow the boy will be ready again.”

As the Brother leads Delaney into the side door and through the kitchen, Delaney asks.

“What’s the matter with Eric.”

“I don’t know, lad. He’s delirious with fever and hasn’t gotten out of bed. As a matter of fact, Brother O’Brien returned from Dunleer today wracked by fever as well. Must be something going around.”

****

Father Fitzpatrick becomes alarmed when boils appear upon the necks of Eric and Brother O’Brien the next morning so, he sends for the doctor. After only a moment she diagnoses the pair with the same plague that is devastating London. With a rapidity borne in times of fear, the doctor orders the Friary to be strictly quarantined.

“No one comes in and no one leaves here, Father.” She says. “Is that clear? I’ll do my best to instruct you in how to care for those who fall ill, but there is no remedy. Scour everything with bleach. Set as many rat traps as you can find. And pray. ‘Tis what you Friars do best and it’s the only medicine I know of. Now, are there any of the Brothers or boys from the Friary about town?”

“No Brothers, doctor. But one of our boys, he’s out at Townley Hall working in the gardens.”

“If he’s not showing symptoms, then I suggest he keep away from the Friary. Will the Cosgrove’s allow the boy to remain with their servants for the night?”

“I don’t know. He’s worked there only since yesterday.”

“I’ll go myself to see the boy and whether anyone at the manor has symptoms. If there are none, I’ll prevail upon the Cosgroves to keep him there. With any luck, the sickness will pass. Brother’ O’Brien was the sole passenger from England disembarking the other day. We may be able to contain this. Has he been with anyone else since returning?”

“He visited the Sisters in Dunleer the day after returning. And …”  Father considers how to put this next bit. “There were two young ladies who accompanied him.”

“Names?”

“I believe it was Magdalene and Adrienne. Adrienne was just a child.”

“I’ll need to pay the Sisters a visit after stopping at the Cosgroves and examine these women. The sooner we can isolate this thing the more chance we have of stopping it.”

The doctor is quickly away in the same bicycle rickshaw in which she arrived.

“Warn the other rickshaw pullers,” she tells the boy pedaling his heart out as they head to Townley Hall. “No deliveries to the Friary. Goods should be left 50 meters from the back door, and no people are to be driven there. None whatever.”

At the Cosgroves the doctor queries Mrs. Cosgrove and Mr. Byrne about who the new boy from the Friary asking who he may have been in contact with.

“Only Mr. Byrne and myself. And neither of us are ill.”

“Rash?” The doctor asks.

“No.” They tell her.

“Swollen lymph glands? Right here,” and she lifts her arm and presses her fingers around the armpit.

Mrs. Cosgrove and Mr. Byrne mimic her actions, feeling under their arms. They shake their heads.

“Any flea bites.”

“None.” They reply, pulling their sleeves up for a look just to be sure.

“Keep an eye out for these things. Now bring me the boy.” And Mr. Byrne leaves and returns momentarily with Delaney.

“Delaney,” the doctor says. “I’m doctor Forsythe. “Do you have any rashes, lad?”

“No, mum.”

“Fever?” She asks, now kneeling beside Delaney and putting a hand to Delaney’s forehead.

“No, mum.”

The doctor lifts Delaney’s left arm and feels underneath through her shirt. Then pushes the sleeve up to the shoulder.

“Need to check for flea bites.” She mumbles, turning the arm over and examining it up and down, then moving to her legs, she lifts her trouser leg above the thigh and examines her leg.

“No, mum. I don’t have any flea bites.” Anxiety pulses from Delaney’s words.

The doctor ignores the child and lifts the other trouser leg, pushing the sock down to check her ankle.

“Mum, I told you. I have no flea bites.” Delaney is more insistent now, and she grasps the sleeve to her right arm around the wrist.

“Don’t worry, lad.” The doctor sighs in irritation. “I’ve seen a boy’s body before. Now, I’ve got to check for bites.”

She lifts Delaney’s shirt and checks her stomach and chest, then pulls the collar down and looks around her neck. Doctor Forsythe turns the girl around, lifts her shirt again and examines her back. She even pulls the waist to her trousers open to glimpse down at her backside.

“Now your other arm.” She says, turning Delaney back around and taking her right hand. But the girl pulls it away, eyes reddening and bottom lip quavering.

“No!” She sobs.

“Why, listen here you little…”

“Doctor!” Mrs. Cosgrove is making it clear in this one word that the exam is over. The child is experiencing some sense of violation, perhaps as a result of growing up in a brothel, Mrs. Cosgrove thinks.

“Madame, if I do not fully examine this child for flea bites, I cannot guarantee he is not carrying the plague.”

“Thank you, doctor. We are willing to take that risk. Now the boy has told you that he has no flea bites. The exam is over.”

“And you are willing to take the child in? He cannot return to the Friary.”

“Yes, doctor. We will bed the boy down in the garden shed tonight and alert you should any symptoms emerge.”

Both doctor Forsythe and Brigid Cosgrove are strong-willed women. They carry the attitude of entitled primadonnas used to getting their way.

“Then I must ask that none of you leave the premises until I return tomorrow and insure there are no symptoms among you and your staff.”

“As you wish,” Mrs. Cosgrove promises.

The doctor storms off, tossing her medical bag back onto the seat of the bicycle rickshaw and ordering the driver to move on. She is in earnest to check on the Sisters of the Immaculate Conception. God forbid that they should be spreading the disease into Dunleer where their orphans serve as chore maidens.

When she arrives, she stirs the Sisters into a frenzy with news that plague has visited the Friary in Drogheda and has likely come with Brother Doyle. Magdalene and Adrienne are examined thoroughly, and the doctor thinks little of the fact that one is blind and the other suffers spina bifida. She is too focused upon the disease at hand.

“Best to keep the girls to the convent for another day or so. This disease is quick acting. You’ll know by tomorrow if it has been contracted by anyone. All the same, I recommend an exhaustive cleaning of the convent. If anyone should experience the symptoms I’ve described, isolate them immediately and send for me.”

***

Delaney is cautious at first when Mrs. Cosgrove pulls her into her bosom.

“You dear, dear boy.” She says, and she embraces Delaney tightly. Delaney is stiff, careful of the woman’s motive. But after a second, she lets herself receive the embrace. An emotion she can’t quite name is welling up and Delaney halts it at the gate of her throat. But it is too powerful to hold back, she allows it to spill like water sloshing out of a heavy pale which has been borne upon a long journey. All of the rejection, all the loneliness and all of the loss are squeezed from the girl by this lady, and she lets it come out in terrific jerking sobs. For the first time in a long time Delaney lays her head upon the shoulder of another. She reaches around Mrs. Cosgrove as she might have done with Sister Shannon, or even – though long ago as a small child– Sister Mary Eunice. Or even perhaps as she might embrace … a mother.

Brigid Cosgrove pulls Delaney away and smiles into her wet face. Delaney can see that the woman has also been weeping.

“We shall not have you sleeping out in the cold tool shed.” She says. “Poppycock. We have a perfectly good house and so many, many empty rooms.” The woman’s eyes mist over, then she sniffs, and, using Delaney’s as something of a walking stick, pushes herself up into a standing position. Mr. Byrne is an uncomfortable witness to this display of excessive emotion, waiting awkwardly next to them.

“Byrne.” She says, taking a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiping her eyes. “This child will dine with me and Mr. Cosgrove on the patio tonight. After work, please send him to Mr. Reilly. I shall have Reilly fix up a room and draw a bath for the boy. We’ll also find you some proper clothes.” She says smiling at Delaney.