Read Online Fields of Home by Marita Conlon-Mckenna - Free Book Online
Authors: Marita Conlon-Mckenna
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set with the assorted mis-match of crockery that her friend possessed. A row of cheerful blue and yellow cushions rested on the grey velvet couch the brothers had bought in the second-hand market three years ago. There was a multicoloured rug on the floor and a basket of lavender was propped in front of the fireplace.
‘Would you like a cup of tea, Peggy, while you’re waiting?’ enquired John.
Peggy nodded. She watched as he set the kettle to boil on the small stove and searched for a clean spoon. Sarah came out of the bedroom, and ran to embrace Peggy. ‘Oh, Peggy it’s grand to see you! Tell me all the news. I’m dying to hear all about the wedding and Miss Roxanne.’
Sarah looked tired. There were smudges of grey under her eyes and her skin had a pale, translucent sheen to it. Peggy couldn’t help but notice her friend’s broken nails and bruised fingers, and she saw that Sarah held one hand stiffly and that it looked very sore.
Sarah bit her lip. ‘Don’t say it, Peggy! I had to do afew more days’ button-work. The other girl was sick.’
‘But, Sarah, your poor hands!’
Peggy didn’t know how Sarah stuck working in Goldman’s shirt factory. The hours were long and the work tedious, although the wages were higher than Peggy’s. The button-work cracked her nails and tore her skin and left zig-zag scars and weals on her fingers. Her hands were often left rigid and swollen and practically unusable for days. Sarah had tried some of the other machines, but the fibres and dust that flew from the raw materials made her eyes and nose water and gave her a constant cough.
Sarah had gone for a few job interviews, but one look at her hands made sure there would be no offer of other employment. Peggy had pleaded with her to wear gloves to these interviews, but Sarah had said that that would be dishonest, and so she had remained at Goldman’s.
‘I brought fruit cake for ye and a few biscuits,’ Peggy said, changing the subject so as not to upset Sarah – Mrs O’Connor had made her take one of the rich left-over fruitcakes to her friend.
‘That’s very kind of you, thank you, Peggy,’ murmured Sarah, her eyes soft and gentle.
‘Thank Mrs O’Connor,’ said Peggy, taking a sip of the tea.
‘Will I cut some of the cake now?’ enquired Sarah.
‘Not for me! I’m sick of all that stuff left over after the wedding,’ said Peggy. ‘Save it for yourselves later.’
‘Very well, for when we’re having our meal. It’s a lovely day outside, Peggy, will we take a stroll in the sun?’
Peggy was about to say no, not in the blistering heat, when she realised that Sarah badly needed a few hours away from this building and street. ‘Aye! It’s grand outside. Come on.’
Sarah fetched her best shawl and Peggy made her put on her lightest bonnet. John smiled at the two of them as they went off in high spirits. Linking arms, the girls made their way downstairs and out into the bright daylight of the street.
‘Let’s go to the Common!’ suggested Peggy. It was one of her favourite places in Boston.
There were crowds of people walking – families, fine gentlemen and their good wives, romantic sweethearts. Peggy and Sarah walked amongst them all. In the distance a band played, the lively tune drifting through the air. Peggy and Sarah giggled as two groups of young men lifted their hats to them and tried to engage them in conversation. There wasn’t an empty park-bench in sight, so the two of them sat on a patch of grass in the dappled sunlight under the shade of an elm tree.
Sarah was breathless after the walk and was trying tocough discreetly into her handkerchief.
‘Are you feeling unwell?’ enquired Peggy.
The other girl stopped, as if considering, and stared into the distance where swan-shaped boats were gliding silently across the lake. ‘Actually, Peggy, I went to Doctor O’Connor down near the factory. James and John made me go. They said that they were fed up of my being
‘Would you like a cup of tea, Peggy, while you’re waiting?’ enquired John.
Peggy nodded. She watched as he set the kettle to boil on the small stove and searched for a clean spoon. Sarah came out of the bedroom, and ran to embrace Peggy. ‘Oh, Peggy it’s grand to see you! Tell me all the news. I’m dying to hear all about the wedding and Miss Roxanne.’
Sarah looked tired. There were smudges of grey under her eyes and her skin had a pale, translucent sheen to it. Peggy couldn’t help but notice her friend’s broken nails and bruised fingers, and she saw that Sarah held one hand stiffly and that it looked very sore.
Sarah bit her lip. ‘Don’t say it, Peggy! I had to do afew more days’ button-work. The other girl was sick.’
‘But, Sarah, your poor hands!’
Peggy didn’t know how Sarah stuck working in Goldman’s shirt factory. The hours were long and the work tedious, although the wages were higher than Peggy’s. The button-work cracked her nails and tore her skin and left zig-zag scars and weals on her fingers. Her hands were often left rigid and swollen and practically unusable for days. Sarah had tried some of the other machines, but the fibres and dust that flew from the raw materials made her eyes and nose water and gave her a constant cough.
Sarah had gone for a few job interviews, but one look at her hands made sure there would be no offer of other employment. Peggy had pleaded with her to wear gloves to these interviews, but Sarah had said that that would be dishonest, and so she had remained at Goldman’s.
‘I brought fruit cake for ye and a few biscuits,’ Peggy said, changing the subject so as not to upset Sarah – Mrs O’Connor had made her take one of the rich left-over fruitcakes to her friend.
‘That’s very kind of you, thank you, Peggy,’ murmured Sarah, her eyes soft and gentle.
‘Thank Mrs O’Connor,’ said Peggy, taking a sip of the tea.
‘Will I cut some of the cake now?’ enquired Sarah.
‘Not for me! I’m sick of all that stuff left over after the wedding,’ said Peggy. ‘Save it for yourselves later.’
‘Very well, for when we’re having our meal. It’s a lovely day outside, Peggy, will we take a stroll in the sun?’
Peggy was about to say no, not in the blistering heat, when she realised that Sarah badly needed a few hours away from this building and street. ‘Aye! It’s grand outside. Come on.’
Sarah fetched her best shawl and Peggy made her put on her lightest bonnet. John smiled at the two of them as they went off in high spirits. Linking arms, the girls made their way downstairs and out into the bright daylight of the street.
‘Let’s go to the Common!’ suggested Peggy. It was one of her favourite places in Boston.
There were crowds of people walking – families, fine gentlemen and their good wives, romantic sweethearts. Peggy and Sarah walked amongst them all. In the distance a band played, the lively tune drifting through the air. Peggy and Sarah giggled as two groups of young men lifted their hats to them and tried to engage them in conversation. There wasn’t an empty park-bench in sight, so the two of them sat on a patch of grass in the dappled sunlight under the shade of an elm tree.
Sarah was breathless after the walk and was trying tocough discreetly into her handkerchief.
‘Are you feeling unwell?’ enquired Peggy.
The other girl stopped, as if considering, and stared into the distance where swan-shaped boats were gliding silently across the lake. ‘Actually, Peggy, I went to Doctor O’Connor down near the factory. James and John made me go. They said that they were fed up of my being
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