A Place to Belong

by Cathy Mansell

Genres: Coming of Age; Friendship; World War II; Sagas; Women's Fiction; 20th Century Romance

Synopsis

She lost everything in one night. Now she must fight for happiness.

Dramatic, emotional and romantic, if you love Lorna Cook, Tracy Rees and Jenny Ashcroft, you'll love this gripping and heartwrenching novel from Cathy Mansell, set against the sweeping backdrop of Dublin and rural Ireland in the 1940s.

It's 1943 and Ireland has escaped the worst of the war raging in Europe, but life is not without its hardships. When fire breaks out at the convent in Cavan where she has spent the past ten years, orphan Eva Fallon barely escapes with her life.

She's offered a bed for the night by Ma Scully, whilst her nephew Cathal, visiting from Dublin, helps battle the blaze. Seventeen-year-old Eva has never known such kindness but she's too proud to take advantage, and finds a job at Blackstock's farm, setting in motion a chain of events that will change her life forever.

Amidst tragedy and hardship, the only ray of light is the friendship of Ma Scully and her growing, secret love for Cathal. And through it all Eva clings to her hope that one day she will find a place where she can truly belong.

Release date: November 28, 2019

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 416

Sample

_________________

1943

Someone shouting woke her. She strained to listen. No one was calling her at this hour, she must have been dreaming. Closing her eyes, she lay back. The orphanage faced on to the street, busy by day, but in the dead of night she was often disturbed by a door slamming and the odd drunk cursing his way home. How she hated this place! Her attempts to escape had failed. Even after ten years, she had never accepted the harsh regime of the institution. A yearning for love and one day a family of her own kept her going.

A faint smell of fumes shook her out of her reverie. She sat up and glanced along the row of sleeping girls, their white nightgowns visible in the darkened room. It was a cold February night, and she had no idea what time it was. Reluctant to wake the others only to be rebuked for disrupting their sleep, she threw off the blanket and drew her shawl around her. Her toes touched the icy floorboards as she slipped her feet into her boots. Her bed was closest to the door, and she crept towards it. She had to find out what was going on even at the risk of being caught and told off by the night attendant. The door closed behind her as she tiptoed down the corridor. Something was burning. The fumes grew stronger, catching the back of her throat as she groped her way down the stairs. In the dim light smoke curled up the wooden staircase. She heard voices coming from the rear of the building and someone hurried towards her.

‘Get back upstairs and stay there.’

‘What’s happening? Are we going to die?’

‘Do as you’re told, girl! Wait in your dormitory and keep the door closed.’

She knew the place well and yet it was hard to say where the smoke was coming from. She stayed where she was on the first floor, listening to the sound of coughing and the shuffling of feet. Her eyes were streaming as she struggled to see in the darkness. Someone holding a lighted candle gripped her arm, pushing her towards the stairs. She covered her mouth with her shawl, but she had no intention of going back. Some of the children were already making their way down through a haze of smoke, crying, confused and frightened.

‘Go back and wait until you’re instructed.’ It was the night supervisor.

Some attempted to obey but were forced back by fumes. Coughing, she made her way along a corridor to a doorway that opened out on to the forecourt. It was locked. A few girls huddled behind her.

‘What are we going to do?’ one girl cried.

‘I’m not staying to be burned alive. If you help me, we’ll get out.’ With the heel of her boot, she broke a window, climbed on to the ledge and jumped down into the yard. Others followed and they held on to each other, choking and trying to catch their breath.

‘Listen!’

Angry voices were yelling, ‘Open the gate.’ The bell kept on ringing.

‘Someone’s here! They’ll get us out.’ But she knew the Mother Abbess would not unlock the doors, or let anyone in, until the sisters were up and dressed, and that might be too late.

Minutes passed. The shouting and knocking continued until someone finally unlocked the entrance, and men from the neighbourhood rushed in. Her eyes stinging, she made a dash for freedom. Traumatised girls escaped alongside her, some ran screaming for help. Others less capable were dragged back inside.

The street, now empty of traffic, was filled with the sound of crashing glass and shouts of panic. Residents and shopkeepers hurried towards the burning building, some carrying buckets of water. Pausing for breath, she inhaled the night air, before continuing to run until her lungs gave up and she slid down on to the pavement, gasping. The cold penetrated her thin clothes, and she wrapped her arms around her knees to keep warm while chaos erupted.

When she looked up, flames licked the front of the building. Tormented screams filled her ears. With a desperate need to do something, she jumped to her feet, and ran alongside others to fetch and carry buckets of water. Men placed extended ladders to the upper floors and sprayed water from a hose; it was useless against the blaze now raging. Small faces pressed up against the windowpanes tore at her heart. Children wept in the arms of neighbours. Women called on the names of Jesus and His Holy Mother to save the children. When she could no longer feel her hands, exhausted, she dropped to her knees. She looked towards the heavens, tears streaming down her face. She knew it would take a miracle to get everyone out alive. A gentle hand touched her arm, and she glanced up. An older woman wearing dark clothes, a shawl covering her head, glanced down at her. She put a thick blanket around her shoulders.

‘Come away now, me dear. Ye’ll freeze to death out here. There’s nothing more ye can do. Leave it to the men.’ She helped her to her feet and guided her down the street and inside a cottage. It was cosy and inviting. ‘Ah, sure, sit ye down, ye poor wee creature.’ She removed the clothes horse, where undergarments were airing around the stove, and stoked the smouldering embers. ‘Aren’t ye the lucky one to have got out of there alive.’

She felt unable to speak, as if her tongue had frozen along with the rest of her.

The woman placed peat on the hot ash and lifted the heavy black kettle from the hob. ‘Sure, once ye wash the dirt and grime from yer face you’ll feel better, so ye will.’ She poured warm water into an enamel basin and handed the girl a used bar of Sunlight soap.

Her hair reeked, and no one would guess she was anything other than a street urchin. She soaped her face and hands; the soft bubbles felt luxurious after the harsh carbolic the nuns issued at the orphanage.

She stared at the black cooking range fitted into the chimney breast with a fireplace on one side and a cast-iron oven on the other. An ash rake and tongs hung by the side, and the heat radiating from the range sent out a warm, comforting glow that took the chill from her bones. The woman thrust a warm drink into her hand. ‘Sup this.’

Her hands shook as she wrapped them around the mug and sipped the drink. She wasn’t sure what it was, it tasted so creamy. ‘Will . . . will . . . the little ones be okay? I should have stayed to help them,’ she cried.

‘Don’t fret now. Those poor wee babies are not your responsibility.’ She saw pity in the woman’s eyes. ‘I’m Ma Scully. My nephew’s out there alongside the military and the constabulary, and if anyone can save those wee childer, he will. What are we to call ye?’

For a second, she had to think. The name her parents had given her was considered too fancy for the orphanage and replaced with Bridget. But she would never forget her real name. ‘Eva, Eva Fallon.’

‘Is that a Dublin name then?’

‘I don’t know.’ She barely remembered her life before the orphanage. Discouraged from talking about it, she had eventually stopped asking.

‘How old are ye, Eva?’

‘It’s my birthday today; I’m seventeen.’ She was one of the oldest girls in the orphanage, and she had been on errands to the local store many times. But now, she could never go back.

‘Well, sure it’s a day ye won’t forget in a hurry.’ The woman shook her head. ‘When ye finish yer cocoa, ye can sleep on the settle bed, and when Cathal gets back, we’ll see what’s to be done.’ She lit a lamp, placed it next to Eva and handed her an extra blanket. ‘I’m away to me bed; the dawn’s not yet risen. Sure, there’ll be a lot to do the morra so there will.’

Eva thanked her and climbed into the chair bed alongside the wall. It was like a bench with a high wooden back. Grateful, she lay down, pulled up the cover and wept. Each time she closed her eyes, she could see flames devouring the building.

Outside, she could hear a cacophony of bells clanging; wagons clattering past at speed increased her anxiety. ‘Oh, dear God! Please save those poor wee children.’

A pungent smell from the peat fire woke her. She glanced across to where a man was sitting at the table, his head in his hands. She stiffened. He glanced up, his dark eyes bright in the firelight. Smudges of ash lined his face, his hands red and blistered. He appeared oblivious to her in a darkened corner of the room. His chair scraped the floor, and he stood up. The latch on the door lifted as he went outside. With the blanket surrounding her she padded over to the window. A mist hung over the street and her heartbeat quickened. She felt ashamed to have slept while the place she had lived in for most of her life was burning. She needed the privy but, too nervous to go out to the yard, she lingered in the doorway. He was in the lean-to, stripped to the waist. He scooped cold water from a barrel, and poured it over his head, face and around the back of his neck. He shuddered as the water dripped over his shoulders. Eva, flushed with embarrassment to have watched while he performed his ablutions, turned and moved back into the room. He must have been out all night saving the children. Dear God! It made her all the more aware of how lucky she was to be alive.

When he came in, she didn’t know what to say, or do.

He glared at her, a mystified look on his face. ‘Who? Where? Who are you?’

Eva took a deep breath and swallowed. ‘I’m . . . I’m sorry. I’m looking for Ma Scully.’ She fidgeted with her hands and glanced around her.

‘She’s still sleeping.’

‘It . . . it was good of her to take me in last night.’

‘Are you one of the orphanage kids?’ His wet, wavy black hair fell over his eyes, and he brushed it back with the towel.

She nodded. He sat down by the hearth and leant forward, his elbows on his knees. She resented being called a kid, today, but when she glanced down at her grubby nightgown, it was all too obvious. ‘Please, sir, do you know if all the children got out?’

He raised his head. ‘Some have already been taken to the tuberculosis hospital. You should go too. You’ll be okay there. I’ll take you if you like?’

Wishing Ma Scully was here, she lowered her head. She wasn’t going anywhere to be sent away to another orphanage, God only knew where. If only she had any family, somewhere she belonged. Apart from the nuns, she knew no one in the town.

The man stood up and pulled on his jersey. He was tall, with broad shoulders and strong muscles. ‘You must be hungry. There’s stirabout on the hob if you’d like some.’

She thanked him, unable to stop her shaking limbs. It was the first time she had been alone with a man and she tightened her grip on the blanket, wrapping it around her body. Her stomach rumbled but she couldn’t eat, so she sat down on the bed, resting her feet on the floor.

‘How on earth did you manage to escape that place with your life?’ He looked at her. ‘Do you know what happened in there?’

She shook her head and bit her lip to stop it trembling, feeling hot tears rush down her face.

‘It’s all right,’ he said kindly. ‘Don’t be nervous. I guess you’re still in shock. Sure, I’m just grateful I was here at the time and able to help.’ He sighed. ‘The worst bit is still to come.’

Eva got down from the settle. ‘I should go down and see what I can do to help.’

He put his hand up to stop her. ‘I wouldn’t do that, miss.’

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked scruffy – and with no other clothes to her name, what could she do? Her black hair was matted and the smudges around her pale green eyes gave her a startled look. She glanced round as Ma Scully entered the room.

‘You’re not going anywhere dressed like that. You’ll freeze to death.’ Ma Scully was a formidable woman. Her thick, wiry hair was swept back from her forehead and curled over her ears. She wore a black woollen dress with a white lacy collar and a warm knitted cardigan that buttoned down the front. A silver cross hung round her neck. The determined angle of her jaw gave Eva the impression that nothing was about to faze this woman.

Relieved to see her, Eva’s shoulders relaxed and she sat at the table.

Ma Scully turned to her nephew. ‘Have ye eaten, Cathal?’

‘I can’t stomach it, Ma.’

‘That bad, eh?’

He unhooked an oilskin coat from the door. ‘I’m going back down. There’s still a lot of work to be done.’

‘Terrible business, so it is. I see you’ve already met Eva.’ She began to cut and butter slices of soda bread.

He nodded.

‘I’ll be along soon to give a hand.’

He shifted his stance. ‘Look, Ma. It won’t be pleasant.’ He put a hand on his aunt’s shoulder. ‘We, we didn’t manage to save everyone.’

Eva’s eyes widened, and she blinked back tears. ‘You can’t mean that. Sure the men came to save them.’

‘Ah, the poor wee blithers,’ Ma said.

‘We did our best.’

‘Is the fire under control now?’ Ma asked, scooping porridge into bowls.

‘It’s still smouldering. Trying to fight a fire of that size with water buckets and ladders . . .’ He shook his head. ‘By the time the fire brigade arrived from Dundalk, the place was already ablaze.’

‘I want to go and see my friends,’ Eva said, her eyes brimming with tears.

‘Sure, I’ll come down with ye later.’

‘I wouldn’t advise it, Ma. Not with the girl.’ He finished pulling on his heavy-duty boots and picked up his hard hat. At the door he turned round. ‘If you insist on going down there, you’ll have to stay well clear of the building. It won’t be safe.’

‘You be careful, Cathal,’ Ma called after him as he left.

Eva rushed towards the back door.

‘If you’re looking for the privy, it’s the red-brick building at the far end of the yard.’

_________________

Buttoned into a dark, oversized coat, her hands snug inside a pair of knitted gloves, Eva walked down the street accompanied by the older woman. Her stomach felt knotted, but she had to see for herself. Ma Scully carried a bag of supplies including flasks of hot tea and sandwiches. In spite of the early hour the sky was brightening, but Eva shivered, her head ached, and a vein pulsed in her temple. Cathal was chatting with the military. Clouds of dust rose from mounds of rubble and bricks, and a gassy smell made her cough. The room where she had slept the night before was now a pile of smouldering debris. The town buzzed with speculation, and some people looked on in stunned silence. She saw tears in grown men’s eyes. A group of women in shawls, their heads nodding in disbelief, were looking up at the burned-out building.

‘Why in the name of God didn’t them holy sisters let them childer out?’

‘It’s a damn shame, if ye ask me,’ one man bellowed.

Eva wondered if they were right. The nuns had taken an age before opening the gate. An overpowering sense of sadness swamped her, and she watched Cathal place a mask over his mouth before walking into the gaping building. She was about to follow him but the military held her back.

‘It’s not a sight for a young girl’s eyes.’

She pulled away to move in closer. There was a large opening where the heavy convent doors once stood and she could see through to the forecourt. A row of bodies lay side by side, covered in sacks and blankets, their blackened feet sticking out. The overpowering stench of burned flesh made her retch, and she vomited on to the pavement.

A woman in uniform with the Red Cross emblem on the sleeve of her coat walked towards her. ‘Come away from there, before you get hurt.’

Eva couldn’t answer, and the lady helped her across the street. She placed her next to a group of stunned children, still in their nightclothes, with blankets over their shoulders. Eva tried speaking to them, addressing them by name, hugging each one. There was no response, no recognition, just blank stares. Some had minor injuries and burns, and she hoped that they had also spent the night with some kind family. She glanced around for Ma Scully who was busy consoling two distressed women, pouring them tea from her flask.

The woman from the Red Cross came back with a young girl, then she turned to Eva. ‘Do you have any relatives, child?’

‘Relatives?’

‘Anyone in the area with whom you can stay?’

She shook her head; she doubted Ma Scully would want her to stay another night. Ambulances were now arriving in quick succession.

‘Don’t worry,’ the woman said. ‘We’ll take you along with the rest of the children, to hospital, where you’ll be given food and looked after.’

Eva drew the collar of the coat closer around her neck. Thoughts of food were enticing but she couldn’t take the risk. She looked across the street. One shop had a ginnel that backed on to a field full of black and white cows.

Frightened of being taken into care again, she edged away from the thickening crowd. She escaped unnoticed into the fields, where she took refuge inside an empty barn. She snatched up a fistful of straw and stuffed it into her boots to keep her feet warm. Then she lay down on the dry hay and sobbed.

She must have slept, for when she woke it was raining. She jumped to her feet. Outside, the street appeared quieter. The farmer would be out any minute to herd the cattle inside. She had to get out of here! In her haste, she stumbled and fell into a ditch. It was waterlogged and the icy chill took her breath away. The intense scream of a vixen sent a shiver down her spine.

Drizzle wet her face as she ran, her boots squelching with mud, until she was at the back entrance to Ma Scully’s cottage. She squeezed through a gap in the hedge, darted into the yard, ran inside the privy and bolted the door. She sat on the wooden toilet seat, shivering, and drew her knees up to her chest. She felt sick from worry. What if Ma refused to take her in? Where would she go? Her life at the orphanage had been bad, but the uncertainty of being alone in the world, with no one to turn to, was far worse. With hindsight, she wished she had gone in the ambulance with the rest of the orphans.

Her legs felt numb, her stomach rumbled and her teeth chattered by the time she saw a light come on in Ma’s window.

‘Ma, it’s me, Eva.’ She hammered on the door.

It flew open and Ma glared at her.

‘God and His Holy Mother! Look at the cut of ye. What are ye doing here? I thought ye’d gone with the rest of the childer in the ambulance.’

A sudden cramp made her legs buckle. Ma helped her inside and put her to sit next to the range.

‘Please don’t send me away. I won’t go!’

‘Well now, ye’d rather run away and freeze to death, would ye? Drink this.’

Eva removed her soggy mittens and warmed her hands around the bowl of thick broth, drinking hungrily from the bowl.

‘Thank you.’

‘If yer seventeen, like ye say, ye can get work and take care of yourself.’ Ma shook her head. ‘But in your present state, God alone knows how.’

‘Who’ll employ me when they find out I’m from the orphanage?’

‘That’s hardly your fault, now is it?’ Ma sighed. ‘As long as ye can prove you’re honest, I might be able to help.’ She chuckled. ‘Look at the cut of ye,’ she said again. ‘We’re going to do something about that right away.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘Help me to bring in the tin bath from the yard. You can have a wee soak here in front of the stove.’

Ashamed, Eva glanced down at her dirty, smelly clothes. The nuns were so particular about cleanliness. Thoughts of a bath sounded wonderful. But could she trust Ma not to let anyone in, or to have her sent away? Eva placed the empty bowl on the table, followed Ma outside and helped her to unhook the tin bath from the wall. She had never washed in a tin bath before, and she didn’t want to now.

‘It’s all right. I’ll just wash my face and hands and go to the public baths tomorrow,’ she said, in spite of not having a penny to her name.

‘So, ye’d stay in those filthy clothes till then, would ye? Sure, yer not sleeping in a bed of mine like that.’ Ma nodded towards the bath. ‘Come on now, let’s get this thing inside.’

‘What if someone comes in?’

‘Oh, you needn’t worry about that. As for Cathal, sure he won’t be back for ages yet. He’s down the Farnham Arms with the rest of the men. After the day they’ve had, I doubt any of them will sleep without a belly full of ale inside them.’

At the orphanage, they had cubicles when they took a bath. And Eva hardly knew the woman who had taken her under her wing. A frown puckered her forehead.

‘I’ll bolt the door if it’ll make ye less nervous.’

_________________

The bath was full, the kitchen filled with steam, the fire crackled, and Eva couldn’t wait to get out of her dirty clothes. Ma retreated to her bedroom, leaving her with a new bar of Sunlight soap and a large towel. She peeled off her clothes and placed them in a bundle, then dipped her toe into the water before easing herself down into the tub.

Later, dressed in one of Ma’s long nightgowns, Eva helped to empty the bath and then dried her jet-black hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. She couldn’t remember a time when she had been this warm. How lucky she was to have met this kind woman. Without her, she would have frozen to death in a ditch, with nowhere to go. Her anxiety returned. What would happen to her now? She was fortunate, while her friends had perished. What right did she have to feel sorry for herself?

Ma came back with clothes over her arm. ‘I’ve a trunk full of good-quality second-hand clothes I keep for emergencies such as this. You should find something to fit in this lot.’ She placed the clothes on the table. ‘How is your needlework?’

‘Okay, I think.’

‘Grand! I’ll get the darning box.’ Eva sorted through the clothes and picked out two skirts, a blouse and a dress. She held a long navy skirt against her and a smile lit her face.

‘Why don’t ye try it on?’

‘Can I?’ In a recessed corner of the room, she pulled a jumper on and stepped into the skirt. It fell down over her hips and she held it up with one hand.

‘Come here, child!’

Eva walked towards her.

‘A few tucks here and there and you can wear it the morra.’ Ma took pins from a tin box and stuck them down the length of the skirt to fit Eva’s thin frame. ‘Now all you have to do is get sewing. You’ll find everything you need in here.’ She tapped the top of the needle box.

Eva had no memory of wearing anything other than the dull grey, striped dress issued to all the girls, and she was delighted to have proper clothes to wear. ‘I don’t deserve your kindness.’

‘Why’s that then?’ Ma pulled a chair over and sat down. ‘Those kiddies’ deaths are not your fault. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.’ Her face took on a stern expression, like the nuns when they wanted her to admit to something she hadn’t done. ‘Is there?’

‘No!’

‘Right so! I’ll leave you to make the alterations, then you had better get yourself to bed. The morra, you and me need to have a serious talk.’ She stood with arms akimbo. ‘I need to know everything about you if I’m to help you find work. Is that understood?’

She nodded and wondered what Ma wanted to know about her. Did she think she was lying and that the tragedy at the orphanage was her fault? She went over it all again in her head as she sewed. The guilt to have left the little ones to fend for themselves niggled at her conscience. When she had finished sewing, she removed all the pins and tried the skirt on. It was a good fit, and she ran her hands over its length. You could hardly see the stitching. Invisible mending, the nuns called it. She had won a certificate for her sewing and embroidery. The nuns had entrusted her with all kinds of delicate garments and vestments that needed repair. It was a job she enjoyed. However, she still had to scrub floors until her fingers blistered, polish brasses, wash and peel vegetables, as well as take care of the nursery children during the day. As a consequence her education had suffered when she could not keep awake.

She took off the skirt, placed it at the end of the bed, and climbed in. She felt lonely and afraid for her future – whatever that might be. Somehow, she had to convince Ma Scully that she had no hidden secrets, nor was she a liar. If Ma Scully was to find her employment, what would it be and how far would she have to travel? On that thought, she fell asleep.

The sound of men’s voices, bidding each other goodnight outside the window, woke her. She kept her eyes closed as Cathal came in; she listened as he raked the embers and banked up the fire. She watched him stretch his broad shoulders, saw his gaze flicker across the room to where she was. Then he paused in the doorway to his bedroom before going in and closing the door behind him. Eva knew little of men, but there was something good about this man. Just like his aunt, he had shown her kindness, something she had experienced little of in the past.

Next morning, Eva was last to waken. Ma and her nephew were sitting by the hearth talking, and she assumed it was about her.

‘Oh, you’re awake then, sleepy head?’ Ma said.

‘I’m sorry. I rarely sleep this late. What’s the time?’ She sat up, pulling the blanket around her.

‘It’s eight o’clock. Cathal’s away to Dublin and has a train to catch. Will you be all right on your own while I take him to the station?’

‘I’ll be grand.’ Being left alone in the house made her feel trusted, or maybe she was being tested. ‘Is there anything I can do while you’re gone?’

‘Keep the fire in and tidy up. When I get back, I have a proposition for you.’

Eva nodded.

Cathal slipped on his jacket and threw a waterproof over his shoulder. ‘Well,’ he said, looking across at her, ‘it was nice meeting you, Eva.’ His handshake was warm. ‘I hope things work out for you. If you follow my aunt’s advice it’ll keep you from the workhouse.’

Then they were gone out the door. She climbed down from the bed and ran to the window. Ma got into the cart next to Cathal, and Eva watched him wrap a rug around his aunt’s knees before taking the reins and guiding the reluctant horse forward. He was so handsome. Everything about him radiated confidence; she had seen that same conviction in the Mother Abbess. But unlike her, he had shown her compassion, and she was sad to see him go. She had hoped he would see her dressed in proper women’s clothes with her hair clean and arranged in a chignon. He might then have gone away with a different image of her. She sat down at the table . . .