Gallowgate - Mary Edward

Historical Fiction Set In 19th Century Glasgow

Gallowgate by Mary Edward

Book excerpt

At eight o’clock on the morning of January 31st, the sisters stood in the street outside Templeton’s Carpet Factory. It was bitterly cold and as they hesitated, Maeve’s feet began to lose all feeling. Kate clutched her hand as they hovered near a black door with a glass panel at the top. Maeve’s lips moved and she whispered, ‘Office.’ Almost dragging her sister, she pushed open the heavy door. Inside the light was poor - gas lamps making shadows so dense that it was almost impossible to see a high wooden counter. And they jumped when a voice barked out of the gloom.

‘Right, here - what d’ye want?’

A man, almost hidden from view by the height of his barrier, leaned over to peer down at the girls.

Maeve froze.

‘C’mon, what is it? Ah have nae got all day. Speak!’ A leathery, brown face appeared. ‘Is it work? Is that it?’

Maeve swallowed. ‘Yes…sir.’

The man vanished and they heard him laugh. ‘Another pair of starving colleens, eh?’

Suddenly the counter opened as if by magic, and the man arrived beside them. Painfully aware of their ragged appearance, Maeve’s face burned as he stood, arms folded, subjecting them to a detailed scrutiny. She felt like a horse at Wicklow Market. He was no taller than the girls, with stringy grey hair and wet lips. He reached out and she shrank at the thought that he was about to touch them, but he merely gestured at their bodies.

‘No’ much meat there, eh?’

Kate burst into tears and the man stepped back, hands raised. ‘Now, now, calm down, lassie! I don't mean ye any harm. Come on, follow me.’ A cap appeared from somewhere and he jammed it on his head as he pulled open the door and stepped out, Maeve and Kate following.

Maeve whispered to Kate, ‘Sh…sh…love, it’ll be all right, you'll see.’

The man turned the corner of the building into a yard with several sheds. Bales of fibre were being unloaded from a cart, while the horse slobbered into a nosebag. Two men were working there and the younger one, a tall dark-haired fellow, whistled and shouted,

‘What have ye got there, Mr Gallagher, eh? A couple of lovely fillies?’

Kate bent her head and the man looked over his shoulder. ‘Pay them no mind - fools. If you gave them brains, they’d put them in a piece!’ He pushed at another door and took them inside. ‘This is the packing shed. Could ye manage this, d’ye think?’

In the greyish light coming from a glass roof, a number of girls and women were handling carpets of various sizes - rolling them, fastening them into canvas and stacking them on a wooden platform. The sound of machinery was coming from somewhere beyond the room and there was an oily smell which caught at the throat. A storm of dust swam around them, and Maeve sneezed as her eyes began to sting.

‘Wool fibres. Now, see here.’ He beckoned to a woman, who was walking around the shed, carrying a ledger.

‘Mr Gallagher.’

‘Aye, Bridget - here’s two new starts for ye. What d’ye think?’

‘Ha!’ she said, as the man turned to go. ‘We’ll see.’

She was a big woman with a rough complexion and a scar which ran from her mouth to her right eye. Kate pressed against Maeve.

‘Where ye from?’

‘Wicklow.’

‘Aye. Names?’

‘Maeve and Kathleen O’Donnell.’

She wrote in her ledger. ‘Just off the boat?’

Maeve nodded.

She pointed her pencil at Kate. ‘Can this one no speak?’

Still sniffing, Kate said. ‘To be sure I can.’

‘Right.’ The pencil turned to Maeve. ‘Can you read?’

Maeve felt herself reddening. ‘A little.’

‘And you?’

Kate shook her head.

She sighed. ‘Might have known it - ignorant as the pigs o’ Doherty.’ She looked around the shed for a moment, then she said. ‘Come with me.’

Maeve was assigned to help a couple of women roll a large carpet for packing. It was frighteningly large, and she had to take a deep breath and smile at the women who were already working with it.

She watched as Kate was carried off to join a small group of girls stacking rugs on top of each other as they arrived on rattling barrows from the other end of the shed.

Maeve’s work companions smiled, and her heart lifted.

‘I’m Theresa and that’s Mary…’ The older woman spoke as she heaved at the carpet, breathing heavily. ‘Take a hand here if you can.’

Maeve stood beside the younger girl - as thin as Maeve was herself, and together they knelt on the stone floor to roll up the massive carpet. It was beautiful, rich dark reds and blues giving way to creamy circles and a design of curving green leaves, all vanishing inside as the carpet was rolled. Maeve ran her hand over the thick wool pile and thought she had never seen such luxury. Lord Longkenny’s carpets faded to nothing.

Theresa stroked the carpet too. ‘Bonny, isn't it?’

Maeve nodded as Mary said, ‘Aye, too bonny for the likes of us, with the miserable pittance we get.’ The girl had a lilting accent, which belied her angry words.

‘Oh,’ Maeve looked up. ‘How much do we get?’

‘Well, since you’re new, hen, it’ll no be that much, but if you try and stick it, Gallagher might get ye a bit more.’

‘Stick it? God knows, I need the money.’

Theresa pursed her lips. ‘Aye, but lass, this is real heavy work and some of you, after the famine like, just canna keep it up.’

Maeve gritted her teeth. ‘We’ll keep it up,’ she muttered.

Ten hours later Maeve staggered out of the factory into thick, winter darkness. Her knees burned and her arms ached. She was used to heavy work as a skivvy for his Lordship, but this factory was worse, much worse. It might be the death of them both. And what would they do then? She felt the beginning of tears and jerked her head round to look for her sister. She must be very, very hungry. There had been a break for food but the O’Donnells had none. Maeve had been given a damp scone by Theresa, but unable to leave her post, she’d worried about Kate, who seemed to go with-out.

Theresa joined her in the throng of women in the street. ‘You’ll get used to it.’ She patted Maeve’s arm. ‘D’ye want to come for a drink with us?’

‘Oh, thanks…no, I have to get home for my wee sister. We left her this morning…’

‘Oh well, no matter, it’s the only thing that keeps us going - looking forward to a wee gin at the end of the day.’

Maeve was still wondering about the gin when Kate joined them. Even in the dark street Maeve could see that her cheeks were flushed. Her earlier fear had been replaced by a glittering excitement.

She grabbed her sister by the arm. ‘Maeve, Maeve, can I go to the music hall tonight - with Cissy - and Bella.’

Maeve stopped. ‘The what?’ She could see the two young girls giggling up ahead of them.

‘The music hall? It’s exciting Bella says - dancers, and sing-ers…and plays…please, Maeve?’

Kate’s excitement drained away at the look on Maeve’s face.

‘No, Kate, no! Not yet. We have just started to work…and don’t even have food…and there’s Finola…and we have no money…’ Her heart sank as Kate’s lip trembled. ‘Is it only on tonight?’

One of the girls called out. ‘It’s all right Kate, we’ll take you on Saturday, when we get paid.’ She cocked her head at Maeve. ‘Will that be all right, missus?’

Maeve knew she was being challenged, but her ignorance of the ways of the city, coupled with her utter weariness, found her saying, ‘Perhaps, so.’ She turned to Kate. ‘We will ask Brendan.’

Kate shrugged acceptance and the other girls ran off, giggling again, quite as if they’d been to a fair instead of a day’s gruelling work in a carpet factory.

Finola had spent the long day with Anna Levy, who, with a kindness which finally brought the tears to Maeve’s eyes, had tea and food prepared for the sisters, appearing with a loaded tray as they tottered into their own house. Finola came behind her, carrying an earthenware teapot.

‘Oh, Anna, how can we thank you? I didn’t know what we’d do…because…’

Anna’s dark eyes recognised hardship. ‘Shh. Come, sit. It is Yiddish bread but no matter, you will eat.’

Finola looked happy and already had a little more colour in her face from her day spent with Anna. ‘It’s grand, Maeve, I loved it.’

Maeve and Kate delved into some kind of sausage and thick bread while Anna poured cup after cup of tea from the large teapot. When they had finished and as she cleared the bowls and the teapot her husband came to the door to help her.

He was tall man with a stoop, his colouring dark like his wife’s. He nodded at the girls as he entered. ‘How are you, young ladies? I am Joseph.’

‘We are well, Mr Levy.’ She bent her head , ‘and thank you for the food. It is most generous.’

‘No, no. It is a very small thing we do. Everyone needs a little help.’ He put his hand on Anna’s shoulder. ‘We needed much…kindness…when we came to Glasgow’ He placed his hand over his eyes. ‘It was…not good.’ There was silence, then he took his hand away. ‘And Finola. She has told us how it has been for you too…’ His words faded as he stooped to exit the low door.

Anna said briskly, ‘So, now, my dears what are plans for this little one?’ She ruffled Finola’s hair. ‘I would have her every day. She is so helpful with babies, are you not, my sweet?’

‘Oh! Maeve, I meant to say.’ Kate, who had been almost asleep in the corner, sat up. ‘Cissy, that girl…she told me there’s a new school…’

‘What kind of school?’

‘I don’t know…I don’t…Oh, it’s for Catholics…and there are nuns.’

Anna Levy said, ‘I will find out about this while you work, Maeve.’

Book Details

AUTHOR NAME: Mary Edward

BOOK TITLE: Gallowgate

GENRE: Historical Fiction

SUBGENRE: Scottish Historical Fiction

PAGE COUNT: 304