The Mystery at Sag Bridge

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

My mam named me Mavourneen, one fine thing she did for me, at least. Mavourneen...what a grand name 'tis! It translates to My Darling, from an old Gaelic word meaning delight. It's pronounced Mah-VAH-neen, with the accent on the vah part, and when you say it, it sounds a wee bit like my darling, and it suits me, it does. Yes, it truly is a grand name, but also 'tis hard for people these modern days to get their mouths around, and so I am called Meg...and that suits me too.

Packey, now, he calls me Mavourneen, especially in tender moments. The Irish are big on nicknames, they are, so although his given name is Patrick, 'tis Packey he is called. I have my own nicknames for him, but only in private. The boys would have a bit of a gay old time if ever they heard the names I call him. But a sweet darling man he is, for all of that, at least to me. At the quarries, he's giving the orders, and 'tis another thing, for sure.

My mam is always complaining. "Meg, there ya go lass, with your nose in a book agin!" she'll say. "Don't ya know there's plenty of work that needs takin' care of, an' ya surely won't be expectin' me to do it all now. With child or not, ya need to be pullin' yer weight an' helpin' yer pore ole' Máime, who raised you from a babe an' all. Sure and those jelly jars wouldn't be being too heavy for ya to lift; cain't ya put them on the shelves where they're belongin'?"

That would be just like Mam, ungrateful and bossy. She never can stand to be seeing anyone taking her own sweet time. It's not as if I don't pull my weight as she says. Reason I'm here is to help her do her work and listen to her guff when no one else will be bothered. I may move slow these days, but I know what I'm doing and I'm smart about it. She just can't stand when I stop moving. It makes her bonkers, it does, even when the work's all done. She's fluttering around all the time, looking busy, but she's not getting anything done, just wasting time. Her mouth, though, she makes real good use of that.

Mam changed her mind of a sudden, and turned to me with her hands on her hips like she does, and ordered, "Go on down on Archey Road an' take the 'lectric train to Lemont an' fetch me some tea from the general store. Mr. Bell here at the Sag store don't have that extra choice morning tea I like, but they have it in Lemont." She went into her bedroom and returned with her purse and handed me a dollar in coins.

"While you're at it, pick up some cookies an' cocoa powder. I'll be baby-sittin' Josie's boys, an' there's no bakin' oven in these rooms. I'm sure I'll niver know why these Bells can't provide a cook stove for their boarders."

"Now Máime," I told her. "We've been through this. They can't be pipin' gas lines into every room an' the parlor heater is more practical. If you had a cook stove, you'd be complainin' how cold the winters were without a parlor heater. You should be thankful you have a toilet with a pull chain an' a bathin' tub with a water heater. You're better off than us, as we don't have indoor plumbing on the farm, ya know. An' you don't need to be cookin'. You can eat in the hotel dining room, as it comes with your board."

Truth be told I was happy to be getting away from her whining and welcomed the errand. So I grabbed my bag, put on my bonnet, and went out.

The dollar Mam gave me didn't cover what she wanted me to buy. When I figured it in my head, the tea was fifty-five cents, forty-five cents for the cocoa, the cookies twenty cents, and the fare for the electric line five cents each way, which meant I'd have to dig into my own purse. It surely was expensive to keep Mam in her own rooms, but Mick had put his foot down about her staying on the farm, and Mam had given Sally no peace when she lived with them, making their lives full o' the misery. Now that Packey and I are living on the farm too, it's worth the cost to put Mam up at the hotel. It would just about kill her to admit it, but I'm sure she's just as happy to be back in town, as she never liked it on the farm from the beginning. It was too much work for the likes of her.