but not to be expected, something that might not come again, or at least not for a few more weeks.
She gathered her thoughts. What had not been mentioned in any of their talks yet was the question of payment. Clearly Marie did receive a salary, but how much, and when, she did not know. She did know that Rose and Sam took their two pennies each week along with their pieces of turf for the fire every Friday morning, but she guessed that some of the other children would be irregular in their payments. They might indeed bring extra turf, or some potatoes, or meal, but actual money might not always be available. What she could be sure of was that Daniel would not turn any pupil away because they hadn’t brought their pennies.
There was no one sitting on the stone bench as she walked up the slope and all was silent as she approached the open door of the cottage. She paused and listened and after a few moments she heard Daniel’s voice. It was a mere whisper, but within moments she found that it was the voice of a Fairy Queen coming to the aid of a princess locked up in a tower in a dark forest. Even here, outside the door, she could hear every word clearly for there was no sound whatever from any of the pupils.
At the end of the story there were cheers, then the scrape of feet on the floor, as the class stood up to recite a blessing, a protection for the dark hours of the night until the dawn came again. She heard the ‘Goodbyes’ to both Daniel and Marie, as they began to spill out into the dazzling sunshine, going off in both directions, up and down the rough track towards the scattered groups of cottages where they lived.
‘Hello, Ma. Have you come back for us?’ demanded Sam, the moment he set eyes on her.
‘No, of course not,’ replied Rose quickly. ‘We can go home by ourselves, Sam. Haven’t we been doing that for all of this year?’ she said, looking at Hannah for agreement.
‘Yes, of course you can go home by yourselves,’ agreed Hannah, giving them each a hug, ‘but that’s when I’m at home waiting for you. Today, I’m here, because I need to talk a bit more to your teachers. We can all go home together. I’m sure Miss McGee would let you go and look at the books while I’m busy.’
Rose nodded promptly. Clearly, she thought that was a good idea. Sam was less enthusiastic, but at a nod and an encouraging smile from Hannah, he followed Rose back into the cottage, just as Daniel was coming out to greet her.
‘Ah, Hannah, you’ve come back. I thought maybe you’d had enough of school for one day!’
‘No, Daniel, not a bit of it. I needed a bite to eat and I knew the fire would need making up. I think I’ve a few more questions to ask.’
‘Well, ask away, for you know you’ll only get honest answers, even if it’s not to my advantage,’ he said, as he sat down at the far end of the stone bench to leave room for her.
Hannah couldn’t bear the thought of Daniel being at any disadvantage after the splendid account she’d had of what they’d managed to do for this handful of children. But clearly, Daniel had already faced that possibility and what he said next restored her hope.
‘When I first thought of running a school, you may remember a good friend of mine suggested I went round the local gentry and asked them if they could help out,’ he said, looking at her directly.
She certainly remembered now that she had encouraged him but she’d forgotten that it was her who suggested he ask their local gentry for help. She’d written letters on his behalf to the charitable organisations active in the county, who might give some support. She’d also made a list of children in Ardtur and the adjoining townlands who might become his pupils, so that he could speak to the parents and see what help might be forthcoming from them.
‘I was treated kindly enough but what I collected up wasn’t a large sum. In the end it was only enough to get started. A few benches and desks and exercise books and such like. But all that money is gone now,’ he went on matter-of-factly. ‘When Marie first thought of helping me, we added up the pennies the children brought each week and to begin with, that made a salary for her.
‘Not surprisingly,’ he went on wryly, ‘it proved to be irregular through no fault of the parents, so I had to add to it from some small savings I had,’ he said, speaking in the same steady tone he’d used all day. ‘Those savings are almost gone and the pension I’ve had for many years from my half-brother is now in some doubt. If that goes, I won’t be able to pay my own rent, never mind find a salary for an assistant,’ he went on quickly, with a short laugh. ‘Probably, we did well to manage for as long as we did, but now I need an income for me, as well as for a teacher. There’s nothing for it but to ask for a miracle,’ he ended, throwing up his hands towards the blue sky, his voice grown solemn.
She’d certainly have to agree; if that were the case, the prospects looked bleak. She was surprised now that he and Marie had asked her to come and even more surprised that given the overall situation they had both talked with such enthusiasm about all they had done.
She looked closely at his face, now in shadow as the sun sank beyond the ridge of the mountain behind them. The brilliant blue sky remained, but the temperature had dropped suddenly and she shivered.
He took a deep breath and went on.
‘You must be wondering why, in the circumstances, I asked you to come and kept you from your sewing and your work at home. I’ve been asking myself that too,’ he added, laughing wryly. ‘But I have thought long and hard and I still have this feeling that if anyone could see a way forward, it would be my friend Hannah. She’s the girl from Galloway who gave up her comfortable home and left Scotland, left all her family and friends to marry the man she loved and to make a home and a family for him on an Irish mountainside. That’s the kind of miracle that might save the school.’
‘Daniel, I’ll only be a moment or two,’ said Hannah quickly, as she stood up. ‘I’m just going to see what the children are up to now school’s over. I expect Marie will be leaving soon to go to her mother’s.’
She hurried across to the door of the cottage, preoccupied with what he had just said about needing a miracle. She was dazzled by the strong light reflecting off the whitewashed walls, her mind racing as she wondered what she could possibly say to him in reply.
She peered into the shadowy room. Marie was nowhere to be seen, but over by the back window where the light was best, Rose was sitting on a chair reading to her brother. Sam sat cross-legged on the floor, looking up at his sister with a solemn face. He was listening to every word.
‘Well, are they reading?’ asked Daniel, as she came and sat down again on his right side – the best position for catching the gleams of light from the lough and an occasional sight of the swans.
‘Yes, they are,’ she replied. ‘And a very good advertisement for your school, they are too,’ she added firmly. ‘I’m quite amazed to see Sam listening so attentively and I did think Rose was reading rather well.’
‘Well, like their mother, they’re bright,’ he said. ‘A pity this country of ours can’t offer them somewhat more in the way of schooling,’ he went on, an unusual note of bitterness creeping into his voice.
‘I owe you some explanations, Hannah,’ he said directly, before she had time to reply. ‘When I told you of my plan to set up a school some years back, I said I had a pension from an estate where I once worked. That wasn’t
