Girl Auction

Part 8

At the bedroom door now, and looking down the gloomy stairs, Molly felt a small terror grip her, about the strange and dangerous situation she was in. All the nights in her young life had nished up with her waking in the morning in this little room, drowsy, and fairly happy. {And the words ‘fairly happy’ weren’t to be sneezed at in those hard days – most would settle for them.}

She’d always welcomed the freshening sounds of springtime, the warm dawns of summer, the mellow sweeping apple-knockingdown friendly gales of autumn - even the bleak days of winter. Now, none of those times would ever come again in this, the house of her birth. She now looked back, and we must allow her this brief spell of fond reminiscence, this last look back down the road of memories – before she leaves the house, forever – the last glance rearwards at earlier, happier, times. In the last few minutes, before reaching for the door, her little life scudded across her mind, reminding her of the Mammy calling her for her breakfast, then the ramble across the elds, on the well-worn path, to ‘ e Banshee’s Style’ leading out onto the lower lane, then on her happy way to school. But all that was over and gone now. Nothing much from that part of her life was hanging about, anymore. e Mammy gone forever, the dreadful ‘intended’ lurking n around the house and elds,, the father’s increasingly bizarre behaviour – and the realisation that if she was ‘sold down the road’ – her loved little sister, Babsie, would be all alone in this room. It couldn’t happen – couldn’t be allowed to. ere was no alternative to running. And the ‘shee gee’ below in the kitchen earlier, had been a signal: ‘go now, tonight – or you’re done for.’ ere was, of course, the grim reality that however bad this move was – it couldn’t be worse than not making it. e ‘Banns’ could be called on her at any tick of the clock, and then she’d be closely watched – both by the father, and Padhaun - who’d feel he had good enough reason to haunt the place permanently, and make sure his prize didn’t escape.

Paudhaun and her father must have had a suspicion of some kind, as this ‘Ransom’ date had been suddenly sprung on her. She’d had, over the last year, been hearing whispers around the parish that she was ‘bound for Paudhaun’s place.’ Not much interest, nor sympathy, had been expressed – or expected. is sort of scene was the norm, rather than the exception, for many girls in her station of life. She couldn’t, in those unequal days, have any hope of running their farm, as great physical strength was needed then, for ploughing and handling beasts. And she knew nothing of such things anyway, as they didn’t happen much on her ground – the father too busy drinking and gambling to bother with such niceties as work. He had ‘set’ the place, for as long as she could remember, and