A Distant Dream Read Online Free

and vegetables as it was Cook’s day off, and the matter for that moment was forgotten. The subject turned to Molly, as they ate an apple dumpling for dessert.
    â€œWe got ‘er from a destitute children’s home in Ballina” Bessie lied, the couple having decided that this story was a better one, rather than saying they had taken the child from her cot whilst Aunt Tess, the only family Molly had left, was away at the funeral. “Her mother had left her on the doorstep, according to their records, so we don’t have any papers belonging to ‘er. Of course we made a donation, these places can’t exist on fresh air, but as yer saw, I had to dress her in me change of petticoat as the clothes she wore were rags, only fit for the
midden
as far as I was concerned. I’m really grateful for the clothes yer gave me, Sara. She looks such a little princess.”
    â€œI was pleased to be of help, Bessie. Like Finbar, I like to be philanthropic too.”
    *
    The bitter wind that could cut a body to the bone, didn’t deter the family from sallying forth along the riverside to the bustling town the next morning. Two liberty bodices and a brown, lightweight coat were purchased in the High Street for Molly along with a couple of personal items for Bessie. Filbey bought a large wad of shag, a coarse type of tobacco that he hoped would keep his pipe filled until they reached their destination.
    They averted their eyes as they hurried along the heaving pavements of O’Connell Street, passing the beggars who were quite vocal if you didn’t put a coin into their outstretched hand. They skirted around a family group who were blocking their way menacingly and kept their reticules, wallets and purses out of any roving pickpocket’s reach. Clarence, not used to shopping, finding it boring unless he was the purchaser, kept a firm grip on Molly, who shivered with fright at the throng of people, carriages and dray carts that were trundling along the busy streets. It was good to arrive at the quiet cul-de-sac, where Sara’s daughter Kathleen lived with her husband, who was a Marine solicitor.
    Molly was taken to the nursery, a noisy place on the second floor of the large, semi-detached dwelling, where three children, two girls and a boy, were playing with their many toys. She sat on a cushion in a corner, her thumb in her mouth, staring at the active trio, who after giving her a moment’s glance, carried on.
    The boy swung on a wooden rocking horse, whooping loudly as if he was a Red Indian; the girls giggled as they walked their pot-faced dolls into the various rooms of a dolls house, one shouting orders at an unseen maid to pick the clothes up from the floor. The nursery maid, who had smiled at Molly when she had first arrived and had been placed on the cushion by Bessie, returned to her chair where she continued her mending, blocking out the noise from her rowdy charges.
    â€œLunch time” sang a young woman dressed in a maid’s uniform, coming into the nursery carrying a tray with the smell of something delicious wafting from it. “I’ve brought enough for our little visitor.”
    The children ran across the room to where a couple of small tables and chairs stood, which had been set with a variety of utensils.
    â€œWhat have yer done with ‘er, ye wee rascals?” She asked, as she put the tray down on a sideboard.
    â€œShe’s behind you,” the boy shouted, jumping up and down in excitement. Molly got up, ready to run.
    â€œSo she is,” said the maid. “Didn’t she want to join in with your games?”
    â€œShe’s from an orphanage.” The elder of the two girls spoke for the trio, disdainfully. “Aunt Bessie said so when she brought her in.”
    The two maids exchanged glances. It wasn’t their place to chastise their employer’s daughter, but something should be said all the same.
    â€œShe’s still a visitor