‘Oh aye, he’s a grand man, the doctor, and he was the first one to see you when you were born. I think your mam would have been very pleased.’ Bridget’s voice was over-bright; the expression on the child’s face was paining her, and even Patrick had a lump in his throat at the transparent wonder lighting Sophy’s face. ‘Come on then, let’s see what you’ve got.’
Sophy’s small hands hesitated over the doctor’s package, and then she reached for the brown-paper one. ‘This is from you all?’ she asked, her clear amber eyes flashing over their waiting faces. And at Bridget’s nod, ‘Then I’ll open this one first.’
There was another round of hugs after she had opened their present, and then she carefully separated the edges of the thick embossed paper. It fell apart to reveal a swathe of pale pink tissue paper, and when she lifted out the lengths of ribbon – two white, two violet and two scarlet – Sophy and the two women drew in their breath in a long oooh of delight.
‘Aren’t they beautiful?’ Sophy lifted shining eyes to the others. ‘Feel them, Bridget. They’re like silk.’
‘They’re bonny.’ The look on Sophy’s face brought a feeling of recklessness and Bridget jumped up, coming behind the child as she said, ‘Let’s see what they look like in your hair, shall we?’ and she began to unplait the tight golden-red braid.
‘She won’t be able to wear ’em in front of the mistress.’ It was Patrick who spoke and his voice was cautionary. ‘You understand that, don’t you, hinny?’ he added to Sophy as Bridget finally loosened the waist-length hair which spilled over the child’s slender back in a mass of glowing waves.
‘’Course she does, she’s not daft.’ Bridget was combing out the thick, silken locks with her fingers. ‘But that don’t mean she can’t have a few minutes now, does it? It’s a cryin’ shame, keeping all this hidden day after day. Beautiful, your hair is, me bairn. Just like your mam’s.’
Bridget reached for one of the violet ribbons but she never got to pick it up, a gasp from her mother causing her to spin round. And there, standing in the doorway, was Mary Hutton.
Mary had suspected for some time that her orders concerning the child were not carried out to the letter. Bridget took too much on herself, she had been saying the same to Jeremiah for the last two or three years, but his response had been chary. The O’Learys did the work of double their number and he would be hard-pressed to get a gardener-cum-handyman, let alone a cook and maid, for what he paid each month, he had warned her. He didn’t want her preoccupation over Esther’s daughter spoiling things.
But now she had her proof. She was well aware it was the child’s birthday and had timed her early morning visit to the kitchen to maximum effect. She walked slowly into the room and looked down at the child who was the bane of her existence, crouching into the maid for protection. ‘What are these?’ She flicked the paper containing the ribbons with one finger, but with enough force to send them fluttering on to the stone slabs, the sight of the child’s hair increasing her fury. ‘You did this,’ she said to Bridget who had frozen at her entrance. ‘You bought these.’
‘She didn’t.’ The only thought in Sophy’s head was that Bridget mustn’t be blamed. ‘The doctor gave them to me. It was him.’
‘The doctor?’ Mary’s voice was thin and high. ‘Don’t talk such rubbish, girl. When have you seen the doctor?’
‘Dr Lawrence asked me to give Sophy a present from him and his wife last night.’ Bridget didn’t add ‘ma’am’; something told her they were beyond that. ‘He’d forgotten to give it to you, as usual,’ she added meaningfully.
She couldn’t have said anything more guaranteed to incense the furious woman in front of her. The fact that this maid, a person so below her in the social strata, was daring to criticise her actions, inflamed Mary to the point of madness. Grabbing hold of Sophy she dragged the child from the kitchen bench, shaking her hard for good measure. ‘You come with me, and you’ – she turned her blazing eyes on Bridget – ‘I’ll deal with you later.’
‘It’s not her fault.’ The look on the mistress’s face was frightening and Bridget had lost all restraint. ‘The doctor gave the present to me an’ I just passed it on, that’s all. You leave her be.’
‘You dare to speak to me like this?’ It was the final straw. ‘I want you out of this house by nightfall. Do you hear me?’
‘If she goes, we all go.’ Patrick, his face as white as a sheet, spoke for the first time. ‘My lass has worked hard for you, missus, we all have, as well you know. We’re not as daft as you think we are. There’s many a cook earnin’ double what you pay Kitty, an’ I do the work of two – three – men. We’d have slung our hook long before this if it wasn’t for the bairn.’