Mary Creighton - The Baby Snatchers: A mothers shocking true story from inside one of Irelands notorious Mother and Baby Homes

Published by Blink Publishing

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Chelsea Harbour,

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Paperback 978-1-911-600-28-2

Ebook 978-1-911-600-29-9

All rights reserved. No part of the publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or circulated in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission in writing of the publisher.

A CIP catalogue of this book is available from the British Library.

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Copyright Mary Creighton, 2017

Mary Creighton has asserted her moral right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This book is a work of non-fiction, based on the life, experiences and recollections of Mary Creighton. Certain details in this story, including names, have been changed to protect identity and privacy.

Every reasonable effort has been made to trace copyright holders of material reproduced in this book, but if any have been inadvertently overlooked the publishers would be glad to hear from them.

Blink Publishing is an imprint of the Bonnier Publishing Group

www.bonnierpublishing.co.uk

Prologue

Carefully choosing the horseshoe nail, the old workman studies it closely, rolling it over in his grimy palm. Reverently, he rubs its rust against the sleeve of his filthy and tattered jacket, dusty with the toil of a humble labourer. Placing the nail between the thumb and forefinger of his calloused left hand, he carefully traces the wall, trying to find a suitable resting place. Lifting the lump hammer, he rests the nail against the stone wall with a gentleness that belies his tough exterior and lowly social standing. The silence of the early morning dawn is shattered by the stark blow of the hammer, and another, and another

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The sound reverberates across the grounds a nail driven home in the same way of a crucifixion almost 2,000 years before.

Black crows caw and scatter instantly from the trees, cast out in the autumnal early morning mist.

His gentleness has gone, replaced instead by a surging anger. He shouldnt have to do this.

The hammer blows cease abruptly as he hears the sound of the latch, and then the rustle of the leaves as the wooden door creaks open, pushing them aside. Then he sees her from the corner of his eye. The nun sweeps by imperiously and passes the elderly workman without a second glance. She thinks he is beneath her in class, intellect, and strength of faith. As her black robes swish past, the labourer clenches his hand around the hammer. His knuckles flash white with anger as he grips the handle in disgust. The nun glances back and he removes his cloth cap. She thinks it is a belated mark of respect for her. It is anything but.

The significance of the horseshoe nails remains the workmans secret for decades. Nobody notices them as they multiply and spread across the crumbling convent wall over the years that follow. Each humble nail embodies a terrible truth that will only be revealed over half a century later, and one that will become Irelands greatest shame.

CHAPTER 1

Deadly Daffodils

Come on, Mary. Hurry up! One of the girls waved as she called over to me.

I tried my best to catch up with the rest of the group. I didnt want to be last because I knew all the best flowers would be gone. But the grass was long, and the blades caught against my legs, slowing me down. By now I felt breathless, but I was determined not to miss out. The grass continued to part as I crushed it underfoot, ploughing my way through the field. I was only five, but I was determined to keep up with the rest of the gang who were twice my age. It wasnt the first time wed done this but, although I didnt realise it then, it would be my last.

Rural Ireland had never looked more beautiful as I dashed through the field without a care in the world. The sun shone high in the sky in the spring morning, and the day seemed endless as it stretched out in front of me. Jumping over a small ditch, I crossed the second field. Thats when I spotted them all lined up in the distance. They were standing proudly, like a golden crown, atop a drystone wall where the field ended and his garden began. A garden full of beautiful daffodils the exact same colour as the sun. There were hundreds of them dotted across the landscape. I stopped momentarily to catch my breath and watched in wonder as their elegant green stems swayed gently in the breeze. The heavy yellow flowers nodded in time as though they were dancing to a silent tune.

Mary, over here, an older girl shouted over, her voice breaking my thoughts. She was standing beside the wall and smiled as she lifted her hand high into the air and beckoned me over.

I gambolled over towards her and the wall between the field and his garden. But the garden ran level on top of the wall, which was much too tall for me to scale. The girl realised and dipped down at the side of me. Slotting her fingers together, she formed a makeshift step with her hands.

Here, she gestured, holding it out for me to climb on to.

Placing an uncertain foot on it, I was lifted up and my bare legs scrambled against stone, my skin scratching against the wall as I shinned myself up and into his high garden.

Thats it, Mary!

The girl wasnt just older but taller too, so she was able to clear the wall easily. Soon wed found ourselves standing alongside the other children in Dr Gallaghers prized garden. I watched as the others knelt down and began to help themselves to the brightest and prettiest flowers Id ever seen. I wanted an armful of daffodils to take home for my neighbours and Mum. Shed seemed so unhappy lately, and I desperately wanted to see her smile again. With my scraped knees against the warm earth, I began snapping the stems close to the ground. I wanted my flowers to be tall and elegant. An older boy nodded over in approval as I continued to pick my beautiful bouquet. I was so engrossed in what I was doing that I didnt notice him stand up and signal over towards the rest of the gang.

Quick, old man Gallaghers here!

Although Id heard the words I was too busy concentrating on my flowers to take them in. A slight breeze rose and brushed against my skin as the other children stopped what they were doing and ran past me towards the wall and the safety of the field. By the time I glanced up I realised I was all alone, hidden among the flowers.

Marrrryy!

It was the girl, calling to me, warning me that trouble was on its way. I quickly scrambled to my feet, and, using the flat palms of my hands, wiped the mud from my knees. As I glanced over my shoulder I saw him Dr Gallagher. He was running out of his house and over towards me. But all I could focus on was a shotgun hanging over the crook of his arm metal, heavy and menacing.

Mary, come on! the others cried, urging me to run for my life.

The doctor shouted something, but I was so scared that blood was pumping inside my ears, drowning out his words. However, I could tell from the look on his face hed recognised me. He knew I was part of the gang and that this wasnt the first time Id stolen blooms from his garden.

Come here, you vagabond! I heard that all right as his booming voice carried loud and clear across the lawn.

I turned and ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I clutched my stolen bouquet as though my life depended upon it. The daffodil heads flapped and bobbed up and down as I sprinted away from the doctor and his gun. Suddenly, he broke into a run and began to give chase.