Read With Love From Ma Maguire for Free Online

Some said you were a witch making spells, especially the kids. It was ’cos you never said nowt, just sailed by with your head in the air.’
    ‘Ah well now, isn’t that interesting? Me granny could lay a fair curse at your door – didn’t she cause all Mick Mulligan’s cows to dry up and his hens to go egg-bound? Nobody ever tangled with Granny because of her powers. And I’m the spitten image of her, so I could be a witch after all. Then there’s me Uncle Porrick and the big dish. He left it out every night so’s the little people could have a bit of a swim on his kitchen table. He got up one morning and found all these tiny wet footprints and a brooch which he gave to me. “Philly,” he said. “If ever you’re in trouble, turn to the brooch and the little people will come.”’ She smiled at Edie, her head waving mockingly from side to side. ‘So there I was with me nose in the air and many of you waiting for me to stumble, is that right?’
    ‘Aye. Till you saved Bessie across the way and gave Mother Blue that rollocking. Her’s out of business now, by all accounts. Begs for a living down town.’
    ‘I know. I give her sixpence a week.’
    ‘You what?’ Edie sat bolt upright, or as upright as her bulging belly would allow. ‘Whatever for?’
    ‘I feel a bit guilty, sorry for her too. No doubt she drinks my sixpence, but it helps me keep my peace with God.’
    ‘You’re a right good woman, Philly Maguire. You’d never do nobody a badness, would you?’
    A sharp rapping at the front door caused Edie to struggle to her feet. ‘I’ll let ’em in, lass. Time I were off anyroad.’ She waddled across the room and lifted the latch. ‘Philly!’ she called over her shoulder.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘It’s a feller in uniform with a posh carriage and all.’
    Philly rose carefully, a hand to her breast. Not the police! Surely after all these weeks . . . ? ‘Bring him in, Edie.’
    The man entered, clutching a braided cap to his chest. ‘Are you Ma Maguire?’
    ‘I am.’
    ‘You make medicines?’
    ‘Indeed.’
    He moved awkwardly from foot to foot. ‘It’s the Master,’ he said finally. ‘Got a sore on his leg what the doctor can’t shift. Only me mam works in one of the mills, said as how you’ve got some stuff for leg sores. It’s just that . . .’ His eyes moved warily about the room as if he expected to be overheard and punished. ‘He’s past living with, Missus. I mentioned your cures to the cook and she had a word upstairs. The mistress says any port in a storm, like. So here I am.’ His eyes swept over the row of new bottles. ‘Give us something, please. Like a bear running mad, he is. We’re all copping it, specially me, ’cos I take him everywhere. If I go too slow, he moans. If I hit a bump, he cracks me one across the ear’ole. We shall all get the push soon . . .’
    Philly leaned heavily against the table. ‘Is the sore wet?’
    ‘Aye, I think so.’
    ‘Yellow? Does it smell?’
    ‘It does, even through his clothes it stinks to high heaven if the weather’s on the warm side.’
    She nodded slowly. ‘Then it wants drying, not drawing. Tell him no baths unless he leaves the leg over the side and out of the water. I’ve a powder for this somewhere . . .’ She opened a dresser drawer. ‘Here we are. Keep a clean dry dressing on and plenty of this. It likely can’t be cured, but we might ease it.’
    ‘Thanks, Missus.’ He grabbed for the package but she held it back.
    ‘Who is your master?’ she asked quietly.
    ‘Swainbank. Mr Richard Swainbank.’
    ‘Is that right now? Did you hear that, Edie? Mr Swainbank’s got a weeping leg.’ She turned her attention to the man. ‘That will be one guinea, please.’
    ‘What?’ He staggered back. ‘A guinea for a bit of powder?’
    ‘I should perhaps make it two. It’s not a matter of powders, young man. It’s a matter of mills full of cockroaches and children without fingers. Twenty-one shillings,