No Going Back

by Mick Moran

Martin only response was to give Jimmy an angry look: a look that said I've had enough of this, before unceremoniously leaving the room.

 

  No one spoke as they listened to the sound of Martins heavy footsteps on the stairs. Then Des sounding worried asked. “What's wrong with him? Did I upset him?"

 

  “Ah” said Michael dismissively, “It didn’t take much. It’s the way he is this morning. And, you weren’t to know, lately Ireland is a bit of a sore point with Martin at the best of times.” Then turning to Andy, asked, “He never did go back; did he?”

 

  “No, he didn’t.”

 

  Michael waited for elaboration, but Andy just slowly shook his head. Then Jimmy offered his own opinion. “Back! Back! He doesn’t need to go back. Sure he never left the place. In his head he’s still living there.”

 

  “Maybe once," said Michael. "But God only knows what's in his head these days." Michael again looked out of the window. “I see he's going back to his work. The rain has eased off. I’ll be going out myself now.”

 

  Michael headed for the door, making way for Jimmy to look through the window. “I, he’s going to attack the work all right.”

 

  Des looked out. Attack seemed the appropriate word. The way Martin lifted his shoulder with each step as if psyching himself up for the work ahead. Des was amused. “Will you look at the gemp of him? He’s a proper Kulshi. Is his cap on the Kiltimaugh side as well?”

 

  Instead of answering Jimmy just laid into Des. “Don’t you Dublin Jackeen blaguard us decent West-of-Ireland men. Its true what they say, Dublin men don’t like Irishmen.”

 

  Des just laughed and left the room.

 

 

  Jimmy immediately sat on the floor with his back against the wall and lit another cigarette, while Andy, to Jimmy’s annoyance, resumed the task of cleaning the floor.

  “Can’t you rest yourself while you have the chance? Mountin will have us out in the cold when he knows we’ve finished here.”

 

  “Mountin knows there isn’t a lot to do.” Then, Andy stopped scraping and looking thoughtful turned to Jimmy.

 

  “I wonder how Martin knew Michael O’Malley?”

 

  “I don’t know. Maybe they had a drink together in the club, or something like that, answered Jimmy dismissively. Why? Does it matter?”

 

  “No I suppose not.” Resisting the temptation to tell Jimmy about the Priest’s warning, Andy thought it better to leave it at that.

 

  Then Jimmy remembered something. “You know, I think it was Michael O’Malley that a man was asking about at Mary’s a few weeks ago. Yes, I’m fairly sure that was the name. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but, I remember Martin was very interested.”

 

  “What do you mean Interested?”

 

  “You know. Asking what he looked like and all that.”

 

  Not wishing to seem unduly concerned, Andy turned away and recommenced his scraping. The news about Michael O’Malley posed many more questions. Why did Martin visit Michael in hospital? Did Martin know something about the assault? Was Martin in danger of suffering the same fate, or worse? Was that why he was behaving strangely?

 

  Andy crossed the floor to get the brush, which was leaning against the wall by the window, while Jimmy watched disapprovingly.

 

  “Can you see Mountin out there?"

 

  “No I …”

 

  Andy suddenly went silent. His jaw dropped and the blood seemed to drain from his face, alerting Jimmy to the seriousness of whatever was out there.

 

  “What the hell have you seen, a ghost?’

  Jimmy jumped to his feet and rushed to the window.

 

  “Not too close he might see us.”

 

  But, ignoring Andy’s caution, Jimmy put his face right up to the glass. “It’s Martin. What’s he doing? Is that a dog at his feet?”

 

  “I can’t believe what I just saw. I just saw Martin kill that dog with his shovel.”

 

  “I didn’t think he had it in him. What did the dog do to him? Did it attack him?”

 

  “I don’t think so. Hi up, he’s looking round.”

 

  They both stood back a little from the window but continued peering out. For a minute nothing is said. Then Jimmy broke the silence.

 

  “Well good on you Martin. That drain came in handy. I wonder if those drains have been inspected?”

 

  “I, a man came on Friday.”

 

  “That’s it then. The dog will be about four feet under. No one will be any the wiser.”

 

  But Andy was not convinced. “I don’t know what came over him. It’s not like Martin to do that. And he could get in serious trouble.”

 

  “ I think not. He’s buried the evidence. I bet he’s never worked so hard back filling though: Monday morning and all.”

 

  Jimmy was enjoying it all, but Andy was still worried. “I, he was rough this morning, and you and Des upsetting him didn’t help.” But, killing a dog is still out of character. Do you think that, maybe, he didn’t mean to kill it?”

 

  “He smashed its skull with the shovel, didn’t he?”

 

  “I, but, maybe he expected the dog to dodge the blow. He just wanted to chase it away. It was probably getting on his nerves.”

 

  “His nerves were bad last night alright. He got back the same time as myself. But, he couldn’t get his key in the door. I offered to do it for him but he refused. He said, No just keep the house steady.”

 

  “Stop fibbing, this is serious.”

 

  “I am serious. The craic will be good in the cabin at dinner time though.”

 

  “No! No! You mustn’t mention it. Martin will be in serious trouble if it gets out about the dog.” Regretting telling Jimmy about the incident Andy continued. “If he loses his job he might not be able to get another one.”

 

  “ He’s a good pipe-layer. He’d always get a job.”

 

  “I don’t know. It’s slack round here on the building. He’d have to travel and he’s getting a bit old for that.”

 

  “You’re very concerned about him. He’s a towny of your. Did you know him over there?”

 

  “No, Martin left before I was born. It was said there was a disagreement between himself and his brother about who got the land. But, that’s a long time ago. All I know is that he never went back. He’s been all round this country though.”

 

  “A long distance kiddie. I bet he can look after himself. I bet he’s done worse things than kill a dog in his time. Hi up. Look busy.” Footsteps are heard on the stairs again.

 

  As they grabbed their shovels Andy gave Jimmy a stern look “Don’t mention the dog.”

 

  John Mountin entered: a rather thin wiry man. Nothing like what his name suggested. “You’re doing well. I see you’ve finished down stairs.”

 

  Jimmy was eager to make the most of the praise “We are. We need a rest now though. We’re tired.”

 

  But Mountain knew him too well. “You’re what I’d call a tired man,” he said

 

  “You don’t appreciate a good worker. A man can’t keep going for ever you know.”


 

  “You might be going for ever on Friday. From this firm anyway.”

 

  Jimmy didn’t seem to care. Andy however used the opportunity to ask the question uppermost on his mind. “Will there be work for us all at the new site?” he asked

 

  “Oh there will be.” Then with a hint of a smile, John, looking at

  Jimmy, who had turned away from him, added, “well, maybe with one or two exceptions. But,” he continued “don’t you worry Andy your job is safe.”

 

  John then looked out of the window “I see Martin has got a sweat on. I suppose the beer is coming out. He seemed rough this morning.”

 

  “I, he was: dog rough," chipped in Jimmy. Wasn’t he Andy?”

  “I suppose he was.” Wishing to quickly change the subject Andy turned to Mountin. “Is Martin staying in our gang now?”

 

  “No, this is his last day with us. Then he’s back with Eddy. He only came with us to do that pipe laying. I think he’d like to stay with us, though. He’s too much of a perfectionist for Eddy. But, Eddy needs him. He has no other pipe-layer. We’re not too badly off in that respect. Michael is a good pipe-layer, and yourself Andy; I saw how you shaped last week. I could see you you’d done a bit before.”

 

  “Another one chancing his hand," scoffed Jimmy. "Just cause he worked with the donkey.”

 

  The revelation, however interested John. “Delaney, a good man. How long did you work with him Andy?”

 

  “Only a few weeks, that job was coming to an end when I got the start.”

 

  “ Ah well. I'd say it was still a good experience.”

 

  Andy nodded. It was a time he wouldn’t forget.

  ***

 

 

 

  Young and inexperienced, Andy was nervous and apprehensive that first day on the site. If it hadn’t been for Delaney its doubtful if he would have stuck it. The ganger that he first had to report to was far from welcoming. His greeting was more like a bark.

 

  “Where were you at eight o’clock.”

 

  “I had to go to the office with my insurance cards and P45”.

 

  Big Jim Mclaughlin, a big brutish looking man, probably not untypical of navvy gangers in his attitude, glared at Andy as if Andy’s meek explanation was insolence. Then, in a lower but still hostile voice said,

  “Go over to the Donkey. He’ll show you what to do”.

 

  Unquestioning Andy quickly walked towards the middle aged man big Jim had pointed to, though doubtful that anyone called the donkey could show him much.

 

  It was Andy’s second job since leaving Mayo. His first, in a factory, where he never saw the light of day, was such a far cry from the open-air life he was used to. He was told that he looked pale. “Factory life wasn’t agreeing with him”. “He was more suited to working outside”. “Aren’t Irishmen born with picks and shovels in their hands”.

 

  After his encounter with big Jim, Andy wasn’t so sure. Big Jim’s accent was familiar, like Andy might have heard back home, but far from reassuring. The tone of voice would have been more appropriate if directed at a misbehaving dog. Then, it seems, navvies, especially inexperienced ones, are thought of as little better than dogs. Maybe that’s why brutes like Big Jim are made navvy gangers.

 

  Delaney was different. With a friendly smile he held out his hand.

  “You’re w w welcome”.

 

  Ignoring the stammer Andy took Delaney’s hand. It was such a relief to see a friendly face.

  “I’m Andy Horan”.

 

  “And I..I.. I’m Paddy Delaney”.

 

  On hearing the name ‘Delaney’ Andy realized what gave the nickname it’s familiar ring, and probably caused it to stick. It was the comic song ‘Delaney’s donkey’ which was popular at the time.

 

  Of course there was also the stammer. An impatient listener might at first get the impression that he deserved the nickname. But Andy was soon to discover that was totally wrong.

 

  Pipe-laying, flag-laying, foundations, Delaney demonstrated his proficiency in all those and many other aspects of the work. Although only regarded as semi-skilled, those are jobs that few men master. That is probably because the men that practice them are very reluctant to impart any of the tricks of their trades. I suppose you can’t blame them. They don’t wish to loose the slight edge those abilities give them. Delaney however was different. Impressed by Andy’s hard work and willingness to learn, he not only showed him, but he also encouraged Andy to do jobs that others would be wary of him touching.

 

  Andy was too new on the job to fully appreciate how lucky he was. Thinking back, his naiveté in other ways must have obvious too. It was dinnertime on their last day. They were all in the cabin except Delaney, who was late coming in that day, when Jimmy Flynn casually asked; “How are you going on with the donkey”.

 

  “All right, but why do yon call him the donkey”.

 

  “Ah it’s only the craic”.

 

  “It’s not fair though, is it?” Andy’s voice betrayed his feelings, which Jimmy Flynn was quick to exploit.

 

  “You know Andy, I was just as concerned myself when I first heard big Jim call Delaney the donkey. So I asked him straight out. I said to Delaney why did big Jim call you the donkey and you such an intelligent man, and do you know what he said?"

 

  Andy shook his head, allowing Jimmy to get in his punch line.

 

  “He aw…he aw. .He aw…. He always calls me that”.

 

  It was only a bit of fun, but that day Andy was not in the mood for it and refused to join in the laughter. Grabbing his sandwiches he stormed out of the cabin, ignoring the pleas of, “come back Andy, its only the craic”.

 

  The craic that day was too much for Andy. Delaney was heading toward him, but Andy turned the other way. He had no wish to speak to anyone. Out of the building site Andy walked up a lonely country road. After walking for about ten minutes, Andy sat on a dilapidated stonewall and fed his sandwiches to the birds. In many ways the north of England was similar to the west of Ireland. It even had the same species of birds, as far as Andy could tell. He could have stayed there all day, but there was only half an hour for dinner.

 

  Andy took his mother’s letter from his inside pocket and reread it. He almost knew the words by heart then. Nevertheless he studied the letter again.

 

 

 

  20th October1964

  Dear Andy,

  I got your letter yesterday. I’m so pleased you’re doing so well. Thank you for the cheque. It was a Godsend. I paid off the grocery bill at Larry’s. The bill was mounting up. I was afraid he wouldn’t let me have any more.

  I was able to get a good pair of strong boots for Johnny as well. He was all right in his bare feet all summer, but now the winter is coming.

  Mr. Mac says he’s doing well at school, just like his older brother he says. The rest of us are all fine. They all sent their love.

  We have the most of the praties dug now, thanks to the men of the village. We had a mahal last Tuesday. Every man from the village came. They worked hard all day, god spare them the health. Johnny and Teresa stayed home from school that day. Johnny worked in the field as good as any man and Teresa helped me make dinner for the men. Larry didn’t want to let her have that much
bacon. He relented when she told him about the men, but she said he still had a sour face on him. That changed yesterday when I paid the bill. He was all smiles then.

 

  Jim Prendergast is a wonderful neighbour. He offered to dig the rest of the praties for us, but I couldn’t be troubling him any more. Johnny and myself will manage what’s left. Jim has been so good to us all year. He mowed that field of oats for us last month and never took a penny.

 

  His daughter Mary has gone to the convent. I hope they can afford it. He didn’t go to England at all this year. His wife Mary isn’t in the best of health, but he doesn’t say much.

 

  I told him you met his brother Martin. He’d love to hear from him, but Martin never writes home. Maybe if you found out his address Jim would write to him. Jim says, he doesn’t think Martin stays long anywhere.

 

  I hope you make it home for Christmas. We’d all love to see you.

  God bless you

  Your loving mother.

 

 

  The last three years had been tough. Andy left school at fourteen, the year his father died, to work full time on the land. He had two brothers and a sister. They were all younger than Andy. It was a small farm and the land was poor. His mother struggled against impossible odds to make ends meet.

 

  Andy’s headmaster recommended that he go to college. Aware that Andy’s mother couldn’t afford to pay he offered to enter Andy’s name for a scholarship. He said Andy stood a good chance in spite of his poor attendance in the last year because of his Father’s illness. Mr. Mac even offered extra tuition if Andy was willing to take the exam. It was, of course, never possible, even if he got the scholarship.

 

  Andy hoped his brother’s and sister’s education wouldn’t be too disrupted. Things he hoped would be better for them. He would keep sending whatever he could.

 

  Mainly, however, Andy thought about young Mary Prendergast. He wished he could talk to her now. She would understand him. He puzzled a lot recently about the last evening together. Did he see a tear in her eye or was it just his imagination? Were her parting words “write to me” just words or did she really mean it. He decided then that she must have meant it. She wouldn’t say what she didn’t mean. He felt he knew her better than anyone. They grew up together, living on adjacent farms. They were like brother and sister. But since leaving he often wondered if they could have been more. Was it too late to write to her? Six months had gone by and he hadn’t been able to do it. Now, she is in the convent, would a letter from him be just an embarrassment to her?

 

  Andy was back on the job before Delaney. They worked mostly in silence that afternoon: their last afternoon together. There was no mention of what happened in the cabin.