The day was cold and bright, with a breeze that carried the ever-present coal smoke and odors out to sea. They walked along a line of small stores, stopping to admire a miniature tea set in the window of one. Penny was talking about a set she and her sisters had shared as children, when Casey noticed an odd movement from the corner of her eye. She turned, just as a brick sailed through the air in front of the pram, crashing into the window like a bullet, bringing an immediate screech from Terry.
They all screamed as the glass shattered around them. Casey covered the pram with her body, yelling at Penny to get Jamie out of there. Glass fell all over her, and above Terry’s screams she heard other yells, and possibly gunshots. Don’t run with the pram. The incongruent thought was calm and clear in her mind. It tips over so easily.
Her shaking arms reached into the pram and picked up the baby and blankets. Holding her daughter tightly to her chest, she turned and ran, seeing Penny, with Jamie in her arms, disappearing around a corner. “Keep going!” she shouted as she caught up with them and they all ran, children screaming, both women determined and intent. Casey had never in her life heard an infant cry like Terry was crying—a screeching, piercing scream—and her heart pounded with fear as she wondered if she was hurt. She didn’t dare stop to find out.
“Yah! Run, ye Papist-loving cowards!” The yell came from behind them and a rock accompanied the words, missing them by a few inches before hitting the ground ahead of them. They ran, turning at the next street, instinctively heading toward Dunallon. There was no riot on this street, at least not yet, but the sounds from the next block could be heard, and people were taking cover.
“Here! Come in here!” A hand grabbed Penny and pulled her inside the shop they were passing. Penny screamed and tried to pull away, but Casey crowded behind her, pushing her inside.
“Go! I have to see… I have to check…,” breathless and terrified, Casey held her screeching daughter at arm’s length, letting glass fall away from the blankets and cap. She looked frantically for a place to lay her, but the shopkeeper reached over and snatched the baby, placing her on the shop counter, one hand holding her in place, the other placed firmly on Casey’s chest, holding her back.
“You’re covered in glass, ma’am. Let me undress her and we’ll see if she’s all right.” Without waiting, she turned to a young girl standing in shocked silence at the end of the counter. “Molly, take the lad and make sure he’s not hurt. Mind the glass.”
Jamie objected mightily as the girl reached for him, but Penny and Casey both ordered him to obey. Penny knelt next to him as the girl undressed him. A steady trembling shook Casey as she stood, unable to go to either of her children, her eyes moving from one to the other, looking for blood, watching as glass, mostly as shards, but some as large as a few inches, tumbled from their wraps. Clothing began to join the coat and blankets on the floor and gradually they all realized there was no more glass. Both children had several small cuts and scratches, but there was no gush of blood.
She had to hold her son. She had to nurse her baby. Casey began removing her hat and cloak, glass scraping her flesh before the shop girl grabbed her hands. “Nay, ma’am. Slowly. Ye must do it slowly.”
“Mum!” Jamie tried to move to her and Penny grabbed his arm. The shopkeeper picked up the naked baby, cradling her and covering her with her shawl, as she knelt by Jamie. He stopped and stared at the woman, his eyes wide, sobs suddenly quiet.
“Mum’s b’eeding,” he told her quite clearly. “Make it stop.”
She patted his head, gently bouncing the screaming baby. “Aye, lad. We’ll do that. Ye stay out of the way of the glass, though. Ye hear me?”
He nodded and stayed where he was. Casey’s heart melted. He was so brave and good. Just like his father.
Now that she knew the children were unhurt, her eyes went to Penny. Her maid was also removing her hat and coat, moving slowly and dropping the clothing on the floor. There was no blood apparent, and Casey remembered Jamie’s words. Her glance went to the shopkeeper, who was standing in front of her, now. She handed the still crying baby to the girl, who moved back to let the woman proceed with undressing Casey. “Where am I bleeding?” Casey asked. She seemed unable to feel her own body, so intense was her desire to get to her children.
“Your neck and back,” the woman replied, quickly undoing the buttons on Casey’s blouse and removing it. “’Tis not bad, I don’t think. I want to make sure we get all the glass away before stopping it.”
Casey nodded and tried to help, forcing her shaking fingers to undo buttons and peel away clothing. For a moment, the oddness of undressing in a public store unnerved her, but the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came. The girl had gone to the door, checked the street, then locked it, pulling down a shade.
“The street’s still quiet,” she said, bouncing Terry, whose crying was reducing to whimpers, punctuated by an occasional wail that broke her mother’s heart.
Once down to her camisole and outer petticoat, the shopkeeper seemed satisfied that Casey was glass-free. “Give her the baby, Molly,” she instructed, “and bring me some water and clean towels. I want to check on her maid. I don’t see any blood, but we want to make sure.”
Relief flooded Casey as she took Terry. The baby began searching for a breast, her cry growing urgent again. Casey was led to a chair and commanded to sit. She held a hand out to Jamie. “Let the girl pick you up, sweetie and bring you here.” Molly picked him up and settled him on Casey’s lap. She held him with her free arm, trying to cover him a bit. He had to be cold, dressed in just his underwear and shirt. The shopkeeper retrieved a sweater from her stock and slipped it over his head. It was large for him and covered him completely. He pulled it tight and around his feet, and snuggled against his mother, patting the baby’s leg gently. Terry nursed fiercely, occasionally stopping to emit a heart-rending cry, as if she suddenly remembered what had happened to her. She went right back to nursing, though.
The shopkeeper gave Penny a chair and wrapped a blanket around her, and another around Casey, which she pulled forward to cover the children, too. Casey smiled up into the concerned face. “You’re an angel from heaven, ma’am. What is your name?”
The face crinkled into a small smile. “I’m Mrs. Hogan. Mr. Hogan and I own this store and Molly’s our daughter. Mr. Hogan just stepped out to oversee a delivery. He’ll be back, soon.”
Casey searched her eyes. “Not near the rioting, is he?”
“Nay. He went ’ta other way,” was the calm reply and Casey let it drop.
Mrs. Hogan began poking at Casey’s neck, pulling the blanket down a bit. “It’s clotting, some. I’ll have to wash it, though. We don’t want any small shards of glass stuck in there.”
Casey nodded, noticing that her blouse, crumpled on the floor, was covered in blood. She had bled a lot. “How long is it?”
“An inch or so. Your hat and coat protected you in that way. It’s deep, though, ma’am. Probably was a large piece.” Mrs. Hogan moved the blanket farther down and lifted Casey’s camisole. “Your back is pretty badly scratched, too. Some of those pieces went right through your coat.”
She could feel it, now that things were calming down, but she kept her arms around her children and sat straight, eyes closed, as Mrs. Hogan thoroughly washed the deep cut and staunched the bleeding. She was not entirely successful in this last part and set Molly to holding a towel tightly against it while she worked on sweeping up all the glass and checking the street for any signs of rioting.