Together Forever

by Siân O'Gorman

  He followed my glance out of the window. ‘Those toe rags out there will have to go, cluttering up the school, that scruffy bunch of socialists and environmentalists…’

  My phone flashed with a message, from Mary:

  DO NOT DO IT.

  And then another:

  FOR THE LOVE OF FATIMA, STOP!

  ‘Brian…’ I tried to remain composed, ‘one of those protestors is a retired professor, another is a daily churchgoer who volunteers at the homeless shelter in Dun Laoghaire five nights a week and the younger members are very impressive people, talented, hard-working and committed.’ I stopped and gave him my hardest stares, ‘And the fifth member is my mother.’ He knew this, of course.

  ‘Ah, do beg my pardon,’ said Brian, with a most oleaginous smile. ‘I had entirely forgotten, forgive my turn of phrase, it’s just that they are persistent, aren’t they?’ He flashed me a tiny-toothed smile that looked entirely unapologetic. ‘Oh well, they’ve lost, haven’t they? They’ll all have to go and find something else to protest about. Like banning all cars and making us all ride bikes or wear hemp clothes.’ He passed me his fountain pen. ‘Ready?’ He slid the contract in front of me. ‘And here’s where it says land is not zoned for development… you should be pleased with that?’

  I, Tabitha Thomas, as head teacher of Star of the Sea National School, hereby declare, as patron and governor of the school, as guardian of its pupils and as de facto landowner of the school, its buildings and of the land surrounding it, that the half-acre site, hereby known as the Copse should be sold to…

  ‘Brian…’ I began.

  ‘One moment,’ he said, ‘just sign and then we can have all the chats in the world and you can tootle off to the assembly or whatever it is.’

  ‘Brian,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to sign. I don’t want to sell. I don’t care about the money. The school is actually doing all right, without iPads. We’ll carry on with our cake sales and book clubs and cheese and wine dos and as long as the children are happy, that’s all that matters.’

  ‘What?’ he paled. ‘Have you gone mad? What authority do you have? This has been unanimously agreed by the boards of governors.’

  ‘But it’s not unanimous,’ I said. ‘There’s me. I haven’t voted but I have listened to all the arguments and have thought about it a great deal. We are not selling the Copse…’

  ‘But what is Sister Kennedy going to say?’ he said, sweat forming on his brow. ‘She is not going to be happy, I can tell you that. She was saying how much she admired the plan and what a difference it would make to the lives of the children, computers and the like…’

  ‘Brian, I don’t care about what Sister Kennedy says.’

  ‘Well!’ he spluttered, outraged. ‘I bet she would be interested in hearing your opinion of her,’ he said, talking faster now. ‘I bet she would like to know what you really think. As if she doesn’t matter. An ex-head teacher of this very school and she doesn’t matter! I’ve got a good mind to ring her straight away.’

  There was a scrabbling sound from outside my door and a piece of paper was slipped under it. The word NO scribbled on it, layer upon layer of blue biro.

  ‘Why don’t you, Brian. But I’m the head teacher now and I am not selling. I have the final say.’ I stood up and walked to my office door, my hand on the knob and, just as I pulled it open, there was Mary on her hands and knees.

  ‘Lost your glasses again, Mary?’

  ‘Paper clips,’ she said, feeling around on the carpet tiles. ‘I dropped some paper clips.’

  ‘One moment, Brian,’ I said, and Mary and I quickly ushered each other out of my office.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I whispered urgently.

  ‘He’s going to build on the land. I know for sure he is. Whatever you do, don’t sign.’

  ‘I’m not going to, but how do you know?’

  ‘Last night, I was taking my usual evening walk along the Colliemore Road, just down from the harbour. It’s my constitutional. Well, it’s ours now, mine and Huan’s… sea air, you know...’

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘Well, I was sitting there, back against the wall, it’s a lovely spot, and you really get a blast of evening sun. There’s a large flat stone and you’re kind of hidden away. It’s sort of like meditating, in the moment or whatever they call it…’

  ‘Mindfulness. Now, go on…’

  ‘Anyway, so there I am, in my own world, pondering, as you do… when on the other side of the wall come two men…’

  ‘Right…’

  ‘So, I take no notice and they park themselves on the other side of the wall. And I’ve got my scarf tied on my head. My woolly one, tied under my chin. So, I’m in disguise…’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I recognised Brian Crowley’s voice immediately. You know, that throat-clearing thing he does.’ She then did a pitch perfect impersonation of the sound. ‘And his boomy voice that would carry right over the Irish Sea to Wales … and I heard every word …’

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘The other fella was Freddie Boyle, the so-called pig farmer. Mr Good Samaritan himself. Now, this Freddie is a very large man, and he says, “when is that fecking teacher going to make up her mind?” Except he didn’t say fecking. And Brian tells him not to worry and it’s in the bag. And then Fat Freddie gives this huge laugh, a chortle really…’

  ‘A chortle?’

  She nodded. ‘And says they’ve got it for a fecking song, except again they used the other word. Twenty grand, said Brian, and we’re going to make 100 times that, once the apartments are sold. So, at this point, I am rigid and pressed against the wall, not daring to breathe and praying Huan won’t wake up, ears straining.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to sell anyway,’ I said. ‘But it’s good to have suspicions confirmed.’

  A cough and we both looked up, startled. Brian was standing at the door of my office. ‘Why don’t we have a nice chat about everything? I think you just might be tired. You’ve had a long school year. The protest must have been such a strain,’ he wheedled. ‘They’ve put some real pressure on you, haven’t they? Why don’t we take a deep breath and just have a nice little chat?’ He glared at Mary. ‘Just the two of us…’

  ‘One moment, Mr Crowley,’ commanded Mary, pulling herself up to her full height. ‘Will you hold on for one moment please? Ms Thomas and I are discussing something of utmost importance. And it cannot wait.’

  ‘What are you discussing?’ he said, suspiciously.

  ‘We need to discuss changing from Barry’s teabags to Lyons,’ she said, desperately. ‘It’s a big decision and very urgent.’ We looked at each other, panic in our eyes.

  ‘Well, if you call that urgent, then obviously you haven’t spent any time in the private sector. This is actually urgent. Ms Thomas? The papers? Can we get on? Let’s have a nice chat and we can get it all sorted out in a jiffy. I now you are a sensible woman. And the fairer sex aren’t normally known for seeing sense, but I am sure that you can be persuaded to do the right thing.’

  ‘It’s all right, Mary,’ I said, straightening up. ‘We can decide about the teabags later.’

  I followed him back into my room where he flung himself down in the chair, his giant bottom hanging over the edge of the seat. I remained standing, my hand resting on my desk to give me stability and to make sure I felt as strong as I needed to be.

  ‘Brian, I would like you to leave my office immediately and if you do not hand in your resignation as a member of the board by the end of the school day, I will begin a thorough investigation into this proposed deal.’ I was bluffing, but I kept my face straight and my voice firm. And I seemed to have hit a nail on the head.

  ‘What?’ He tried to laugh. ‘What are you saying?’ But then he stood up, angrily, his chair falling back. ‘You know you are the same as that lot out there.’ He jabbed his thumb in the vague direction of where Arthur, Leaf, Robbo, Nellie and my mother were. ‘I thought you were different. Married to Michael Fo
garty. But that’s obviously gone to pot. Foggy and the secretary. What a cliché. Ha!’

  ‘Good day to you,’ I said, standing up and walking to the door and opening it where Mary had been hovering. ‘Mr Crowley?’ I held out my arm towards the door to Mary’s office. He left, reluctantly, and as he walked past, he pushed us with his shoulders, jostling us. We watched as he walked down the corridor to the main entrance. But then he turned and called back.

  ‘Fuck you Foggy!’ he snarled, his little crocodile teeth bared at us.

  Mary and I looked at each other, open mouthed.

  ‘Oh my word,’ said Mary, shaking her head.

  ‘Lucky escape,’ I said. ‘Now, you have to tell me everything. But first of all, tea. Six sugars. Anything to stop the shaking. And then I have a couple of phone calls to make before the special assembly.’

  *

  The girls all filed into the hall. Huan, who was in a sling wrapped around her new mother, had become quite the star attraction in school, all the girls gathering around wanting to look at this baby who had lost her birth mother but had found a new one in Mary Hooley. There was excitement and chatter in the air.

  On stage behind me, were Red’s drama group, one of the children in a red curly wig, the others dressed as raggedy orphans.

  ‘And now,’ I announced, ‘on stage, is the Star of the Sea drama group with songs and selected scenes from Annie!’

  We all joined in with the final rousing reprise. ‘Tomorrow! Tomorrow, we love ya tomorrow!’

  Red gave me a big thumbs-up as we all sang lustily, fuelled by the thought of the long school holidays, the sunshine and golden days ahead.

  ‘You’re only a day away… tomorrow, tomorrow, we love ya tomorrow, you’re only a day awaaaaaaay!’

  I stood in front of the school.

  ‘Thank you girls, for that wonderful production there. I can see we have a few budding actresses on our hands. Now, before we say goodbye for the summer holidays I have something to say. You see, girls, sometimes life can get difficult. Things can happen in school or at home and they are not easy to deal with. But we are here, not just to teach you but to support you, to take care of you. So always come to us and tell us how you are feeling. We are on your side.’

  I looked around at the faces of these lovely girls, all of them listening intently to every word. ‘You don’t have to tell me now, but does anyone have anything they are dealing with that they are finding difficult?’

  One hand crept up slowly, then another, then another… until there were twenty or so small hands in the air.

  ‘From September, we are setting up the Feelings Club. Once a week, you can meet and you can talk about what is going on at home or at school or in your life generally. Anyone who wants to join the Feelings Club, let your teacher know. By the way, you can still join even if you are not ready or not able to speak. Just come along anyway. Okay?’ I peered around at them, their lovely innocent faces. ‘And I have another announcement. It’s about the Copse…’ There was silence in the hall, a collective intake of breath. My mind went back to that day when I had made the children cry. I could see their little faces, wondering whether I was about to tell them that the bulldozers were arriving in the morning. The squirrels about to be squashed, the snails trod on, the birds homeless?

  ‘I would like to tell you all now,’ I announced, ‘that, it is not going to be sold.’

  There was a huge cheer. The children began hugging each other and dancing about. And instead of dying down, the cheering went on and on. I looked around the room and all I could see were smiles.

  ‘Okay, okay…’ I tried for quiet. ‘Right, this is what is going to happen. It’s now going to be called the Peace Garden. And over the holidays the protestors and me - and anyone else who wants to volunteer - are going to clear it of the nettles and brambles. We are going to make sure that any animals are not disturbed. We are going to put in benches and a picnic table. And it’s going to be a place of peace and tranquillity, where you can enjoy the wildlife, the view of the sea and take a moment to yourself. It’s going to be a place for quiet reflection, for everyone, you, the teachers, your parents, your brothers and sisters. It’s going to remain a very special place. How does that sound?’

  There was more cheering and shouting. ‘Star of the Sea, Star of the Sea, Star of the Sea…’ someone began chanting. ‘Star of the Sea, Star of the Sea…’ And they all joined in.

  ‘Let’s go outside,’ I shouted, ‘and tell the Squirrel Savers they have won! We’ve all won!’

  The whole school surged after me as we marched out of the hall, down the corridor, out the door and across the playground. ‘Star of the Sea, Star of the Sea, Star of the Sea!’

  Barry Whelan, the news reporter was outside, the camera on us as the river of a school poured out of the gates. I hadn’t thought he’d get down to us so quickly.

  Barry thrust a microphone right underneath my chin.

  ‘The board of governors have come to a decision. The Copse will not be sold. I wanted our children to have access to computers. As a school, we needed money to buy them and cake sales and raffles don’t bring in enough. Selling the land was what we believed would have been to the benefit of the children. However, I know now it isn’t.’ A song from my distant past swum into my consciousness and words babbled forth. ‘You see,’ I went on, ‘I believe that children are the future, we are going to teach them well and let them lead the way! So, we will now not be selling the land. It is to be turned into a Peace Garden for the use of pupils, teachers and parents, anyone who wants to enjoy a moment of wildlife and tranquillity.’

  The children began cheering again. Star of the Sea, Star of the Sea… And then the protestors who had been hugging each other, even Nellie had put down her crocheting to hug Robbo, they began with the chant as well. And then we all did. Star of the Sea! Star of the Sea!

  *

  Mary and I were tidying up the office, doing a last sort out before the long summer holidays. Huan was still in her Moses basket, fast asleep. Mary tucked the blanket around Huan, who still had the little Chinese jacket on, making sure she was warm and comfortable.

  ‘Tabitha, I am so sorry. My own flesh and blood. Lucy carrying on with Michael’ Mary reddened. ‘What can I say? I feel ashamed because she is my cousin. Carrying on like that. There are far more decent ways to behave. Her Mammy has refused to leave her bed since she heard the news. Lucy’s on her way up there today.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking, though, Mary. That even decent people act undecently sometimes. None of us are perfect. I’ve made a hash of things in my life. There are many things that if I could go back, I’d do them differently.’

  ‘You’re right,’ agreed Mary. ‘It’s a right of us all to behave like complete eejits at times. I told my own mother about Huan when I picked her up in Beijing.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Shocked would be an understatement,’ she admitted. ‘But even before we said goodbye, I could hear her coming round to the idea. Who could resist a baby?’

  ‘Just think, Mary, if you hadn’t disobeyed your mother, you’d be in some convent somewhere. Can you imagine?’

  ‘And I wouldn’t have Huan. I wouldn’t have my…’ she tried out this new word on her lips. ‘I wouldn’t have my daughter.’

  ‘They’re good things, daughters,’ I said. ‘Obviously, I’m biased.’ I smiled at her. ‘But they are pretty cool.’ I thought of Nora, Rosie and me and of Rosaleen and the four mighty Thomas women. Mothers and daughters, grandmother and granddaughter. Such wonderful things to have and to be.

  *

  That evening, Rosie and I sat down in the living room, mugs of tea in our hands, to watch Clodagh’s last ever news broadcast. You would never have thought it was her swansong. She calmly and smoothly ran through the news, the face and voice of Ireland.

  We were watching as Clodagh deftly fielded a debate between the owner of a huge chicken farm in Monaghan and a member of the union for farm work
ers, she then moved neatly into a report from America, looking at Irish emigres.

  ‘To the seaside village County Dublin of Dalkey, now,’ she said…

  ‘This is it! Oh God…’

  Rosie grabbed my hand. ‘They surely won’t be mean like last time, will they…?’

  ‘The environmental protest at the Star of the Sea school came to a close today when the school principal announced that the plot of land at the centre of the protest would now not be sold. But there was an unusual domestic drama because the head teacher and one of the protestors are mother and daughter… Our reporter Barry Whelan went to see what was going on and if old hurts had been healed…’

  We watched as the sea of children filled the camera, all of them chanting. And there was me, in the front, looking slightly manic, it has to be said. My voice sounded shaky enough and I could barely remember saying any of what I said.?

  I was surrounded by children the whole time, with their arms around my waist, my hands on their heads, all their faces smiling and happy. The other teachers were in the tumble of humans, all of us one big wonderful community. I spotted little Donna, a junior infant, who has Down’s Syndrome, holding Red’s hand, the biggest grin on both of their faces. There was Mary with Huan in one arm and holding another child’s hand with her free arm. ‘Three cheers for Ms Thomas!’ Red shouted, and the children, buoyed up on natural excitement and enthusiasm – and the thought of the long school holidays – cheered.

  ‘Mr Brian Crowley, the head of the board of governors, expressed his opinion as to the decision made by principal Tabitha Thomas…’

  There was footage of Brian walking along the street. ‘I don’t have a comment to make except to say how disappointed I am and that this is the wrong direction for the school.’

  ‘There have,’ continued Barry Whelan, ‘been allegations as to impropriety regarding the behaviour of a member of the board of governors, a Mr Brian Crowley, which the Gardaí say they are taking very seriously and anyone else connected to the school are not related to these allegations. A statement from the Dun Laoghaire Gardaí Station say that they are gathering information and will report back as soon as possible.’ There were shots of the Copse. ‘Ms Thomas has promised that the plot of land will be turned into a Peace Garden, a place for children, and, she says, teachers and parents, to find peace and quiet.’