THE DEPRIVED...Part 3.

A continuation of my book.

Are you sure we’ll be safe, Michael?” asked Mary.                       
“Are we safe here, Mary darling?” returned Michael as he carried the rough hewn table out of the small cottage and set it down beside the cart.
“But you heard what Breda told me about the foul stench of London air and all of those people, children among them, dying from cholera and consumption from the open cesspits and the damp.” complained Mary, laying a hand on Michael’s arm as he went to bring out the two wooden chairs and the little milking stools his father had made.                          
Michael stopped and stretched out an arm.                      
“Look yonder, Mary. I don’t care what James McCarthy’s wife has told you. Look at the fields, out there. Sure, the sky is blue and the air smelling as sweet as a new dawn in Spring, but look at the fields now, brown and with the heart torn from them and the crops just withering in front of your eyes!”  
Mary stared out to where Michael pointed before drifting her eyes to where Beth played, twirling Sam round as they danced among the brown earth and wasted crop.               
“There, you see darling.” said Michael. “There’s little food and nothing to feed the pony on except the little we give from our short rations. Do you want to see our babies dying from starvation? At least if we get to England we will get some food.”             
Mary nodded and said no more as she helped Michael lift the table up onto the cart. Beth had left Sam and came running up to the house, peering in as Michael came out with a heap of linen and blankets, placing them onto the cart before putting the chairs and stools on top.        
“What about my little doll’s house?” cried Beth.
By this time Sam had joined Beth and solemnly held her hand. For brother and sister they were very unlike in looks and bearing. Beth had her mother’s fair hair and light skin while a world of enthusiasm stared out from her sparkling blue eyes, but which now were clouded over with tears. Sam was more to his father’s complexion, darker and with dark brown eyes which always seemed to hold a solemn stare, deep eyes which betrayed no secrets. Sam’s eyes also clouded over as he stared up at his sister’s face as she spoke through her tears.                             
“But I love my doll’s house.” she cried.       
“We have no room for it.” said Michael. “Once we get to London I’ll make you a doll’s house fit for angels to live in.” he promised.                       
At this, Sam turned his back. His small frame shook with sobs. He made no sound, as if afraid to show his emotions.                          
“Don’t cry Beth. You’re upsetting young Sam.” said Mary, hugging her daughter as the last of the possessions were loaded onto the cart.    
“Are we all ready?” asked Michel. “I won’t be locking the door to the house. Let those thieving vagabonds from London take what they may.”
“We’re ready.” said Mary as she lifted Sam up onto the back of the cart.          
“I can climb up by myself.” insisted Beth, clambering up to sit on top of the blankets next to Sam, who began to cry as his father helped his mother up before climbing into the driver’s seat next to her.                         
Giving Mary a kiss on the cheek, Michael raised his whip.           
“Here we go!” he shouted as the whip cracked, sparking the pony into a trot.  
Mary turned in the seat as the cart began to move, her eyes taking in the small cottage where she and her family had fought so hard to survive. There were sad times but there were also some happy memories, like the times when her children were born and the hopes she and Michael shared. Michael noted the move and touched Mary’s arm.          
“Don’t look back, Mary.” he said. “It’s bad luck to look back with sadness and regrets. Look ahead to a bright future and to the day when we return to a more beautiful land and with money in our pockets and a smile on our faces.”        
Mary smiled through her fears and, hugging her shawl closer to her shoulders, she stared straight ahead. In the back of the cart Sam had fallen asleep and lay snuggled against Beth. He moaned in his sleep and Beth smoothed back the dark hair which mopped his thin pale face.
“Don’t worry Sam.” she whispered. “Da will see us right.”                    

The small cottage and plot of farmland had lost itself in the distance and Beth’s eyes lifted to take in the long sweep of hills which lay violet and blue in the morning light with the drift of shadows which moved westwards as the sun began to chase the last of the night away.                              
Michael drove the pony and cart up towards Dublin, going through small hamlets with deserted cottages and seeing the fields which were once proud with crops now brown and bare with not even a bird in sight. 
“We’ll make a stop here for some food and then push on.” said Michael as he pulled up the pony and leapt down from the diving seat.”               
The family stopped only the once through the day, to make some soup from the meager rations and allowing them to refresh themselves by a shallow stream before it was onwards in a push to reach the port by early morning.   
“How could we leave this land of ours, Michael?” asked Mary as they ate.
“Look Mary.” said Michael, sweeping a hand to encompass the land before them. “Look at this land. Where is the green and the pride we once had? Mary darling, what good is land which can’t feed us? What is the good of a diamond without the gold to hold it to a finger?”       
Mary saw the tears in his eyes and felt his heartbreak and she leaned over to kiss his cheek.
“Michael, you have such a sparkle to your tongue.” she said gently.  
“But I have no sparkle in my eyes.” he answered.                     
Mary smiled for him and his eyes lost their pain as he gently touched her shoulder.              
“You’re the loveliest woman a man will ever have, Mary.” he said.    
“Why Michael O’Brien, are you romancing me?” Mary laughed.     
“Come on, darling. Let’s get the things tidied up and back on the cart. We have a fair way to go.” said Michael, returning the laugh and now in a happier frame of mind.                  
“Come on Beth! Bring Sam with you, we’re leaving!” Mary shouted, shading her eyes as she called the children away from the stream.