More of Chapter 2

Continuing from yesterday's post --

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First born was Eamonn the younger, Da’s namesake and close to being his twin...well, save for not being as large and the searching eyes laid upon him by his mother’s mother, according to those older folk who'd known her. Large and brown, they held a careful vision of the world that could bring all but the hardest heart to want to comfort him, and by passing his GSEs had shown himself to be far more intelligent than Da, to my mind.

Until I said as much to Mr. Dermott, one of Da's longest friends.

He'd helped the man come home parlytic from the drink, a few Christmases past, and wasn't so well off, himself, judging by his breath, but he led me onto the stoop to say, "Your father's not a stupid man, lad. A man with no intelligence couldn't weave the stories he does while sipping at a pint of porter. Not merely once or twice, but over and over, each lovelier than the one before."

"What stories?" I'd asked.

"The tales he weaves in the pub. Come now, he shares these with you, as well, don't he?"

"Never that I've heard."

"Then you should ask him for one. To my mind, in another life, he'd have been a bard. He was just unlucky. Watch your older brother. He takes after your Da in more ways than you might think."

So I did ask Da, and the glare he gave me sent me scurrying to behind the toilet, despite the cold and rain and mud. I'd catch it from Ma when I came back in, she was so insistent on us keeping clean, but better that than the murder in his eyes. 

It was a few years later I remembered what Mr. McDermott had said, so went looking to Mrs. McCory, but by then she'd been moved up to Portalow and it was a devil of a time to find her. Then was more trouble to get her to answer my knocking. I only kept at it because I heard a woman calling, inside, "Ma, the door. Get the door! Answer the door!" 

When she finally did, she had dropped to half her size and twice her age, and had no idea who I was or what I was talking about. A moment later, her daughter by marriage came up, wiping her hands on her filthy apron, and took her by the shoulders, gently telling me, "She's into dementia, lad." I must have had some confused look on my face, for then she added, "Her memory's gone, and if you press her too hard she may grow upset. Who did you say you were?" 

"Brendan Kinsella. "We...we lived near her, off Nailors." 

The daughter nodded and said, "If she comes back, and she does on occasion, I'll let her know you called. So head along." 

I should have looked for her, sooner. But in truth, it wasn't till I was fifteen that I'd wanted to know more about Da. 

Anyway, I was already keeping watch on Eamonn the Younger, and by his fifteenth year he was showing a solid feel of Da, in looks. But he was also showing far more willingness to work. On many a morning, he'd be off in the wee hours to lie his way to shifting coal at the docks, before classes. I think the local masters liked how he was there but a few hours and was quick with his hands. How he cleaned himself, after, was a secret he kept from us all, but once home only the darkness around his nails showed he'd been working, that morning. Which Ma would notice, demand he hand over his wages, then use her scrub brush to finish cleaning his hands before Da could come home and see them, all the while snarling, "You're not to say a word of your wages to your father." 

"But can't I keep a shilling or two to meet with the lads, ma?" he'd all but beg, his voice tight from the pain of her vicious scrubbing. "See a picture at the Avco?" 

Ma would usually just jab him with a finger and snap, "Be still. We need this money to live on, not go galavantin'." 

Then he'd hush...and soon stopped bothering to ask. 

While I could see Ma's point, it still felt unfair. Da's work was occasional, at best, and his willingness to keep his wages and take from the dole, made worse by Ma's willingness to let him, cut into me. So on a couple of occasions when I'd had the scratch, I'd pass some along to my brother. It was a joyous little secret between us, and he'd tell Ma nothing more than, "One of me mates bought the tickets and drinks." 

No need to let her know that mate was me. 

Then at night, as we lay in bed, he'd tell me what film he'd seen and describe it as if I was seeing it, myself. I especially liked his joy over Thunderball, What's new Pussycat?, and so many others. 

"There's this girl in Swingin' Summer," he'd said one night, "she's got to be the hottest bird ever. Raquel Wells, or somethin'. We're thinkin' of seein' it again, just for her, 'cause she wears this bright miniskirt cut up to...to..." He groaned to complete his thought. 

"Can I go see it?" I'd asked. 

"Dunno. You're nine. But it had songs and silly stuff in it. I'll check the rating." 

It was gone from the cinema before he got around to it. 

Ma wanted Eamonn to quit school when he reach fifteen and six month and get a steady job with John Allen on the quay, but he wanted to try for Queens, in Belfast. Ma raised a fuss about the cost and waste and on and on, but in one of the few times I ever saw him take Eamonn's side on anything, Da supported him. Of course, that led into one of their worst fights, which both my brother and I stupidly intervened in. I suffered a bloody nose from it, though to this day I don't know which of my parents gave it to me. My brother's lip was cut, as well, but he'd mastered the art of removing his shirt before it was stained and could put a plaster over it quick enough the stop the bleeding. 

On that occasion, however, it was my older sister, Mairead, who calmly stepped between our parents and hushed them both, in a way I'd not seen before. 

"Now, Ma," she'd said, "you know if you make Eamonn out to be old enough to leave school, he's old enough to make his own decision about Queens, which means you'll have to give him your agreement, anyway. So why argue about it? And Da, if you truly wish to support him, take on sifting coal so he won't have to. Don't you both think that would be best?" 

They had been so shocked at her controlled manner, they had dropped onto the settee and just looked at each other for ten minutes before each giving a shrug of consent. I was too busy pinching my nose to even think of saying a thing. 

For the next week, Da actually went down to the docks and did what was needed. Ma never saw a farthing of his wages, but when the dole came she was able to use most of it to pay debts and put aside for other expenses. 

When later I asked Mairead where she'd learned how to silence our parents like that, she said, "You know of Sister Joseph?" 

Know her? She was half my size and I wasn't large, and she scared the life out of me just by looking at me, more than once in primary school. I'd been more than pleased she moved to another school that I would never be attending. So I nodded. 

"Well," Mai continued, "she once told me that you should know what you're saying and mean what you say, and even if you don't, you should act like you do." 

"I don't get the sense in it," I'd responded. 

She'd patted my cheek and said, "Nor did I, till just now." 

Which was bollocks to me, but that was all I could get from her in explanation. 

What I did was start a hideaway to build up a sort of fund for Eamonn's expenses, figuring I had near three years to fill it. 

Ah, Mairead. Second born and referred to as a handsome lass, since she also had our father’s look about her. Straight hair down the length of her back, practical in all matters from clothing to housework to our tea, with no time for foolishness. By the age of fourteen she was already blessed (or cursed, if you prefer) with a figure well-noticed by boys half again her age. She knew it and laughed at them, but unlike our father, her eyes never held anything but hope and love for us all. She had no interest in finishing her studies past her sixteenth year, our Mai, and often said so. "I could go to secretarial college...but it seems a waste of time. I think I'll get a job at Cooley's Shirts. Should happen about the time Eamonn enters Queens, so I can fill in for him when it comes to money." 

Which is what she did.