The Shame

In a Dungannon workhouse in Northern Ireland, a young girl is giving birth to a baby. This is a story of determination and hope. A hope for a better life and a determination that the Nuns will not sell Mary McGlade's child. 

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The Shame.

The screams could be heard throughout the Dungannon Workhouse. Mary McGlade might have been a sturdy farmer’s daughter and since she could walk she worked in the fields, picking potatoes and hacking peat from the sodden bogs of Mullaghbawn but this was her first child and although she had helped her mother push her brother into the world, this was different. It was 1869 and there were no pain killers, little help from the midwives plus the disapproving looks of the other Mothers. Mary was alone and frightened.  

Five  months earlier in the small on the McGlade farm, she took her mother’s hand and said “Mammy, I need to talk to you.” Ellen McGlade hated conversations that started like that, her son MIchael had said the same words before telling her he had found a job in England. 

“Are you going as well? Don’t leave me here. I have already lost a son. It would break my heart to lose a daughter as well.”

“No Mammy, I’m not going to England or anywhere else. I think I am with child”.

Mary watched as the colour drained from her Mother’s face. “But Mary” She stuttered “How, why, who.”

Joseph McGlade had little time for women’s talk and seldom took any interest but the shock in his wife’s voice made him prick his ears up. He had so much he wanted to say, things like “But you're not married” or "who's the little fecker who fathered your bairn?”  but “Feck” was the only word that came out of his mouth. Mary and her Mother were weeping, this was a tragedy of huge proportions, not only unmarried but as far as her mother knew not even a boyfriend. 

Joseph stood over the two of them and as calm as he could he said “Who.”

Mary was his favourite, she could do the work of any man, she was a quick learner and could carry more peat than even her brother could. This was not the future he planned for her. 

Mary looked coyly at her Father and said “William McDonald '' 

Now it was Joseph’s turn to have the colour drained from his weathered hardened face. “Jesus Christ Mary, a fecking Prod. How could you? Well, no daughter of mine is marrying a Prod?”

“Don’t worry Daddy, I told him and he wasn’t interested, even denied it was his.”

Joseph’s face flushed. “I’ll kill the little fecker.”

“No.” Mary said as she took her Father’s hand “his family owns the land we farm, his father is the local magistrate, you would lose everything.”

Her Father thought for a moment and said. “Well, you need to go to your Aunt Nettie’s house in Dungannon. Tell Nettie everything, she’ll see Father Craven and the Nuns will find a good home for the bairn.” 

And so the next morning Mary set off to Dungannon. 

By the time Mary had walked there she was exhausted, the shame within her was agitated and her legs felt like jelly. The weather had been kind to her and the rain that had sodden the fields overnight had held off long enough for her to stand bedraggled and tired outside Aunt Nettie’s cottage. 

Mary took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Nettie was her Mother’s oldest sister. She had a haberdashery shop on the high street which she ran with her friend Anne. The two spinsters also shared a house together.

Nettie opened the door and in an instant a huge smile broke across her face and she flung her arms wide and said “Mary, how wonderful to see you but you must be exhausted. Come away in.” 

“Now, sit yourself down and I’ll put the kettle on. Anne will be back soon. It’s grand to see you but what brings you to Dungannon.” Mary pulled a letter from her bag. “Daddy wrote this for you but Mammy said the words.”

Nettie sat down at the table beside Mary and opened the letter. As she read, she kept looking up. Eventually she said “Oh, Mary, you poor thing. Such a tragedy. Don’t worry, we’ll sort this out. Your Mammy wants me to talk to Father Craven and he’ll get the Nuns, they’ll see to the bairn for you. The workhouse has a hospital and they’ll look after you when your time comes. You can use the spare room. It’s full of junk now but we can sort it out.”

“I couldn’t do that, Aunty.”

“Yes, you can and you will. Don’t argue. Get some soup down and I’ll sort out something for you to sleep on and we can talk more in the morning.” 

Warmed by the soup and the welcome Mary could feel the day catching up on her. 

Nettie said“Don’t worry,” you are safe here.”

Over the next few months as the shame grew inside her, Mary made herself useful around the house. A supper was always on the table when Nettie and Anne came back from the shop. Mary loved the vast collection of books that filled the shelves beside the range including all the novels of Jane Austin and even the latest talked about book “Little Woman”. They opened up a world she knew nothing about. After supper, the three women would talk about the novels she was reading and for every question they answered, Mary had a dozen more. What little real education Mary had was from her Father, the school she had gone to as a child had done little more than teach her the catechism and that bad girls go to hell, She left at the age of twelve. 

Mary would lie in bed at night and would rub her belly and talk to her shame. She would talk about the books she had read, about how if it was a girl she would grow up in a world where poor Catholic girls would have little to look forward to but she wouldn’t let that happen. She thought she could be like the two spinsters and not be a cook and baby factory for a man. She could have her own career, her own life and not live in the shadow of others.

As her baby grew so did Mary’s determination. If her child was a girl then she had to save her from the Nuns. Nettie and Anne had opened up a door and allowed her in and now the world of Mary McGlade was changed forever.

The midwives of Dungannon Workhouse were not known for their kindness and empathetic attitude. They were paid a pittance for each delivery and a finder fee from the Nuns for each unwanted child passed along the line. 

It was six o’clock the next day that Mary awoke, every bit of her ached. “Where’s she?” She asked the woman in the next bed. “The bairns’s in the nursery room. Just down there” she pointed to the doors at the far end of the room. Mary slowly raised herself up and carefully put her feet on the floor. The shock of the cold flagstone sent shivers through her body. Her breasts ached and her cotton shift was stained with leaking breast milk.

“Where are you going Mary McGlade?” Sister Concepta said.

“To see my child. Where is she?”

“You can see her shortly. First I need you to put your mark on these papers.”

“I can read them Sister. I wasn’t born in a hedge.”

Mary picked up the papers. It said the child had been named as Mary McGlade. “Who named my child ?” 

“We did and Father Craven baptised her last night. She is a strong girl and we have already found a good home for her, she will have a good life with a proper family, not as the bastard child of Newry bog whore, now sign it.”

“I want my baby, I didn't spend 9 months growing her in my belly and ten hours pushing her out just so you can sell her to a stranger. “ Mary pushed Sister Concepta aside and headed for the Nursery.

All the other Mothers on the ward were now listening. An angry Nun is an awesome sight but a Newry farmer’s daughter with shoulders like an ox standing up to a Nun was a wonder to behold.

A Nun was taking a baby from its cardboard cot. Mary could see the name Mary McGlade scrawled on the outside. 

“Give me my child Sister!” 

Sister Magdalen looked at the bedraggled mother, her cotton gown covered in blood and baby milk, her black hair matted and tangled. “I am taking Mary to her new home. “Said Sister concepta “they have a wet nurse for her, she’ll be fine.”

The door behind Mary opened up and Sister Concepta pushed her way through. “You need to let her go. Get out of the way”

Mary spun around. “Sorry, Let me hold her just once please.”

Sister Concepta nodded towards the other Nun. “Just a minute then”

“Thank you Sister.” Mary’s tone was calm and conciliatory.

Sister Magdalen passed the baby across to Mary.

“Thank you, Sister”

Mary walked towards Sister Concepta. “Look Sister, look at her beautiful blue eyes and her hair is as black as your heart.” and with that she swung her free arm out and hit the Nun so hard she staggered sideways before crashing down onto the floor. Mary walked calmly out and through the ward towards the outside door. The other Mother’s had heard the crash and the argument with the Nuns and watched open mouthed as Mary walk calmly out.

Mary had little memory of the next few days, she did manage to get some clothes from Aunt Nettie’s house before using the money her mother had pressed into her hand as she left home she managed to find a cart going south back home to Mullaghbawn. 

It was a fine Irish morning, the sun was warm and the sky a rich blue. Although Mary could feel every rut and bump in the road, she didn’t care, her little Mary was safe and she was going home. 

It was almost dark by the time she reached the farm and as she walked up that old familiar lane she wondered what her Father would say. He had sent her to Aunt Nettie’s house so that her pregnancy would go unnoticed and once the child had been taken by the Nuns she could come back but now she brought her shame with her and soon the whole world would see it. Mary didn’t care but she knew her Father would. 

Little Mary was nestled in the folds of her shawl suckling beneath her shirt and gurgling with contentment. Her Mother had seen her approach from the house and ran down the lane to greet her. As she went to embrace her Mary said “Careful, you don’t want to crush your granddaughter.”

Her Mother froze. “Holy Jesus save us, What have you done Mary?”

For the first time Mary's eyes filled with tears and she cried out. “I couldn’t Mammy, I couldn’t give my baby to the Nun’s. She’s beautiful and she’s mine” Mary took her child out from inside the shawl and offered her up to her Mother. “See Mammy, she has your eyes and Daddy’s black hair.”

Ellen looked at the tiny child, her face still red and bruised from birth and she understood. “Come away. God only knows what your Father is going to say. “

It was already dark when Joseph came home. His back was aching, his hands raw and he was hungry. As he entered the house he saw Mary sitting by the range with his wife. 

His face lit up,” Mary, you’re home, I have missed you” and he walked towards her his arms wide open. Mary stood up and moved towards her Father. “Daddy,” her eyes began to fill with tears. “Daddy, there is something I need.” her voice trailed off as the unmistakable sound of a hungry baby came from the corner of the room. Joseph stopped in his tracks and spun around.”What the feck is that?”

“That’s your Granddaughter Daddy. Say hello to little Mary.” Mary picked up the baby who was unaware of the trauma she had brought into the world  and only wanted the comfort of her Mother’s nipple.

Joseph looked at his daughter and her child, then at his wife he had so much he wanted to say but all he could say was “Feck” He turned and went out the door and back into the darkness of an Irish night. 

“Give him time, Mary.” her Mother said “He’ll come around. 

But by the next morning Joseph hadn’t come around. 

“Mary, you can't stay here with your shame.”

Her name is Mary, not shame.”

“Shut up.” Joseph stamped his foot

Mary had never seen her father so angry. She bowed her head and held her child close.

“You have to hand your baby over to the Nuns, they’ll take care of her, I love you Mary but you can’t bring this child up here. You have to go back to Dungannon and sort this out. Ellen give her some money to get the coach back. I am going to the fields now and I want you gone by sunset. Don’t come back with that child”

Once again Mary McGlade knocked on Nettie’s door. As she travelled the road to Dungannon she had prepared what she was going to say but as soon as Nettie appeared she burst into tears. Between the sobs she told Nettie and Anne what had happened. 

Nettie took her in her arms and said “You know you are always welcome here. Anne was just saying last night how she missed your cooking and our talks at night. We will find a way.”

Mary wrote to her Mother and told her what was happening and that she longed to see her but no reply came. Joseph had forbidden her from replying. “She is dead to me and to you as well.”

Mary’s brother, Michael McGlade looked into the empty eyes of his wife Bridget. 

“She’s gone. I’m sorry there was nothing we could do.” Dr Edmunds put his hand gently on her face and with a practised stroke closed her eyes.

Michael McGlade tried to think but thoughts would not come, just grief. He had lost his wife, his children had lost their Mother and the world of light had become a dark and frightening place, 

“What am I to do, Doctor?” 

Michael McGlade was 18 years old when he packed a bag and headed off from Mullagbawn to England. A friend had sent word that the new Allhusens Chemical works in Gateshead were looking for workers. It was only three years beforehand that the terrible potato famine that had gripped Ireland had ended and although the McGlade family had managed to survive intact there were few opportunities in Newry for young catholic men like him. He kissed his mother goodbye and left.

Now all he wanted was to see his family again. He wanted to sob in his Mother’s arms. He wanted his Father’s strong hands to hold him up but in the Poor Hospital there was no comfort, just the grief that was tearing his heart apart.

“Time to go home.” Michael felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. “Your children need you, come I’ll take you back.” John was his neighbour and his friend, his wife Bernadette was minding his two children. Michael summoned up as much strength as he could and bit back the tears and said “Feck''

“Be strong for your family Michael, grief is an unwelcome guest. It has no place in your home.”

“But how will I work and look after the children?”

“We will find a way. There is always a way.” John said.

It was early in September when there was a knock at the door and the postman stood there thrusting a letter at Ellen. “From England,” he said. “It be that boy of yours Mrs McGlade.“ 

“Indeed.” she replied.

“Doing well is he? In that England” Although he was talking to her his eyes were scanning the room behind her. 

“Very well, he’s been promoted to Foreman and has two lovely children now.”

“Your Mary she’s well also? 

“Doing well, yes.”

“Good to hear Mrs. God bless them and the bairns.”  

“Goodbye Mr Rafferty and she closed the door in his face. She turned to her husband. “Holy Mary Mother of God, that man is such a gobshit.”

“Here Joseph you read this to me, My eyes are a bit weak this morning”

Joseph knew his wife  had never got the hang of reading. “The words just jump around “ she once told him 

He quickly scanned the letter and then let out a cry of pain. “Oh God Ellen, the fever has taken Bridget. She’s dead.”

“Is he coming home?” Ellen asked

“No, but he needs help.” 

Ellen slumped into the chair by the range. She longed to see her son, to hold him in her arms and to wipe his tears but she knew she couldn’t. Her place was here.

She sat for a while and then said, “Joseph, I think I’ve an idea.” 

A few days later Ellen was standing outside Nettie’s house.

Mary McGlade answered the door with little Mary now one year old in her arms. 

“Mammy. I can’t believe it's you.”

“Am I going to stand here all day or are you going to invite me in?”

“Sorry Mammy, come in, come in. It’s so good to see you.”

Ellen sat down at the table.”Let me hold her.” Mary passed the little girl to her Mother. “She’s grown so much and is so beautiful.”

Then a darkness passed across her Mother’s face. A darkness Mary had seen before.

“Oh God no, it’s not Daddy?”

“Daddy is fine and still as belligerent and stupid as ever.” She took the letter from her pocket and passed it to Mary.

“Oh Mammy, the poor boy and the children.

“Will you go? He needs you” her Mother asked

“Of course, Nettie and Anne have been good to me but this is no place for me and little Mary. They’ll be home soon and they will be thrilled to see you.

On the next Saturday Nettie, Anne and Ellen waved goodbye to Mary and her child as they left for Belfast and ferry to Stranraer.

Nettie took Ellen's hand, “You’ll go one day, they are not lost forever. It could be worse,  it could be America or God forbid Australia.”