Molly Murphy book. Molly Murphy has just accidentally killed the English landowner's son. Her tried to rape her. She must escape Ireland. She quickly traveled to Belfast and meets Kathleen. Kathleen needs someone to take her children to America to be with their father. She cannot take them because she has found out that she has TB. Molly agrees. On the voyage Molly meets O'Malley. He is a disgusting man. He tries to hurt Seamus, Kathleen's son. Michael steps in to defend Seamus.Then they get to Ellis Island, finally. Bridie has been sleepwalking and Molly finds her. She was almost in the men's dorm. A guard tells them to get away, thinking she was trying to meet a man. The next morning O'Malley is found dead. The police come. They blame Michael because he has blood on his shirt. Molly will do anything to find the killer.
That mouth of yours will be getting you into big trouble one day.”
mother started saying that as soon as I could talk. It turns out she
wasn’t far wrong. By the time I was ten my refusal to hold my tongue had
almost gotten us thrown out of our cottage. And a week before I turned
twenty-three, I was on the run, wanted for murder.
puffing of the engine calmed me back to my senses. I had no clear memory
of getting to the train station, but the pain in my ribs when I tried
to breathe and the way I could feel my dress sticking to my back told me
that I must have run every step of those five miles. About the state of
the front of my dress I chose not to think. I pulled my shawl more
tightly around me and glanced at the other people in my compartment. An
old farm couple with weathered red cheeks already dozing in the far
corner, a young mother with two lively little ones, plus another on the
way, and a priest. He returned my glance and I looked away hastily, just
in case priests could somehow read thoughts—or extract confessions.
Wouldn’t he be surprised to hear mine right now?
Every time the
conductor walked through the train and glanced into my compartment, I
was sure he was looking for me. I But then that was stupid, wasn’t it?
Justin Hartley was lying dead on my own kitchen floor but nobody would
even know he was missing yet. My father and my little brothers weren’t
due home until evening and Justin was hardly likely to have told anybody
at the big house where he was going. I couldn’t picture him saying at
breakfast, over the deviled kidneys or whatever disgusting dish the
upper class had eaten this morning, “I’m just off down to the peasants’
cottages to have my way with Molly Murphy.”
So I had a few hours yet
to make my escape. This train would take me all the way to Belfast. And
then I probably had just enough money for a boat to England. After that,
I couldn’t say. Maybe I’d be able to lose myself in a big city like
Liverpool. Maybe I wouldn’t. Likely as not the police would catch up
with me soon enough. It wouldn’t be too hard to spot an Irish girl on
the run, especially one with flame red hair like mine. Since I knew
nobody in England, I had nowhere to hide. So it was only a matter of
time, but I was going to go on running as long as I could. I’ve never
been known to give up on anything without a good fight.
I stared out
of the carriage window. It was a picture perfect day, sky like blue
glass, sparkling clear, with just a hint of frost in the air—the sort of
day that doesn’t happen often in our Irish winters. The sort of day
that would have made me rush through my chores, put the stew on the
stove, and be off to walk along the cliff tops, with the wind at my back
and the ocean at my feet. The sort of day when the gentry would be out,
riding to hounds. A picture of Justin in his red coat flashed into my
head. I’d always thought how handsome he looked in his red coat. I
suppose I’d been a little in love with him when I was younger. Lord
knows I never meant to kill him. I could almost feel that priest’s eyes
boring into the back of my head as I stared out of the window.
fields dotted with fine horses in them flashed past. The horses looked
up in alarm as the fire-breathing monster approached, kicked up their
heels, and ran off. How well they looked. If I could run that fast
they’d not find it so easy to catch me.
When they did catch me, it
would mean the rope around my neck—not much doubt about that. My hand
went instinctively to my throat and I shuddered. Did you feel anything
when they hanged you? Was it all over in an instant? Would it hurt? They
certainly wouldn’t listen to my side of the story. I’d killed an
English landowner’s son. That had to be a hanging offense, even if I was
just trying to preserve my honor. But then peasant girls have no honor,
do they? As Justin said, I belonged to him as much as any of his farm
animals. I couldn’t think of anyone who’d speak for me. Not my da—he’d
be angry enough when he found I helped myself to the emergency fund in
the teapot on the mantelpiece. It was supposed to be secret. We children
all knew about it, of course, but the thought of my father’s leather
belt across our backsides had prevented us from dipping into it. Right
now a leather belt across the backside seemed a good sort of punishment
compared with what else might be waiting for me. My hand strayed to my
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