‘Francis, have you any notion of coming into class?’
When he looked around he noticed that there was no one left in the corridor except himself. He saw straight away that, though Sister Goretti had her serious face on, she was only pretending to be angry and was smiling underneath because she knew he wasn’t doing anything bad, only thinking about the heroes of 1916.
‘Sorry, Sister.’
Sister Goretti clapped her hands for attention as she followed Francis into the classroom.
‘We’ve found our lost sheep daydreaming in the corridor. Now, would the class like to tell Francis what we’re doing next? We’re learning what?’
‘A new song.’
‘Exactly. And what is it called?’
‘“God Save Ireland”.’
‘Very good. OK, Francis? “God Save Ireland”, there’s the words on the blackboard. So, boys, sing each line after me. And two, three, four…
‘High upon the gallows tree swung the noble-hearted three.’
‘Not too bad. Once more.’
And the class tried again. Sister Goretti taught them all kinds of songs but recently they were always about Ireland and 1916. They had learned ‘A Nation Once Again’, ‘Kevin Barry’, ‘The Foggy Dew’, ‘Deep in Canadian Woods’, ‘The Tri-Coloured Ribbon O’ and the National Anthem, which she said was called ‘Amhrán na bhFiann’. Francis liked today’s song, especially the chorus, because Sister Goretti encouraged everyone to sing it out as loud as they could and even the crows in the class cawked at the tops of their voices:
‘“God save Ireland!” said the heroes,
“God save Ireland!” said they all.
“Whether on the gallows high
Or the battlefield we die,
Oh, what matter when for Erin dear we fall!”’
Soon it was dinner break. As everyone ran out of class, Sister Goretti called Francis back. She held up an envelope with a very serious look on her face.
‘Now, Francis. This is a note for your mother. Promise me you won’t open it.’
‘I promise, Sister.’
‘I know you won’t. And don’t worry, it’s not bad news, it’s good news.’
‘Is it about my Holy Communion, Sister?’
Sister Goretti smiled and the way she smiled, Francis knew it had to be.
‘Your mother will tell you everything.’
She handed him the envelope.
*
Ann stirred a big spoon of Bisto into the minced meat and onions. Her shoulders and neck still felt stiff and two doses of Mrs Cullen’s Powders hadn’t got rid of the headache. She couldn’t put up with it any more. It was happening too often. There was only one thing for it and that was to go see the doctor as soon as the dinner was over with. She hated sitting in that dispensary, but what choice had she? At least there was only Marian, Martin and Francis to cater for today. They’d better behave themselves or she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions. Martin and Marian arrived home first. Ann told Martin to wash his hands and stay out from under her feet. She gave Marian margarine and told her to mash the potatoes and then set the table. There were a few more minutes of peace and quiet until Francis burst in, shouting ‘Mam! Mam!’ and waving an envelope at her. It was all Ann could do not to give him a clatter.
‘Sister Goretti said to give you this. I think it’s about my Holy Communion, Mam. Mam!’
‘All right, all right. Put it down there, can’t you see my hands are full? I’ll read it in a minute.’
‘I can open it for you. Please, Mam.’
‘I said put it down there and get out.’
‘But Mam, Sister Goretti said.’
‘I warning you, Martin.’
‘I’m Francis.’
‘Don’t you correct me. Now get out and wait for your dinner!’
Even though he put down the envelope and went out of the scullery, Ann could still feel him standing in the hall staring in. It made her want to scream. She dished up the savoury minced meat.
‘Marian, be a good girl and put the mash and the beans on those plates and bring them in, would you.’
Ann picked up the envelope. ‘Mrs A. Strong. By hand.’ Out of the corner of her eye she saw Francis edging to the doorway like a dog hoping to be invited in.
‘I’m not opening this until you go and start your dinner.’
For a second she thought he was going to dare her, then he turned away and went into the back room. Ann looked at the envelope. A collection for some charity probably. Money for something anyway. it was always the same.
Dear Mrs Strong,
Happy news! Fr Mullaly has agreed to a special dispensation which will allow Francis to make his first Holy Communion this May. It’s a great privilege. Fr Mullaly thinks Francis is a very devout and intelligent boy. This also means that Francis will be moving on to the Christian Brothers in September. Father Mullaly has arranged for him to meet Brother Skelly this afternoon to decide which class Francis is best suited for. I am confident he will get into the ‘A’ stream.
Brother Skelly will be in room five upstairs in the Old School building. If you cannot go today please send him back to school as normal and we will try to arrange another appointment.
Searbhónta Dé
Goretti.
Despite her headache and her annoyance at the way this arrangement was thrown at her out of the blue like this, not to mention, all of a sudden, the extra cost of a new suit for Francis, Ann couldn’t help welling up at the thought of him getting his wish to make his first Holy Communion this year. And getting a special dispensation! If Sister Goretti and Father Mullaly thought so much of him, that must be a good thing, surely? CBS wasn’t too far from the dispensary, so she could drop him off on her way. Ann went into the back room and was glad to see that, excited as Francis was about this letter, it hadn’t affected his appetite and he had managed to make a fair hole in his dinner. By some miracle he didn’t go wild when she gave him the news, but his eyes and mouth opened wide and Ann could tell he was more excited than he had ever been in his life, which was saying something. Marian said that’s brilliant, and Martin said he’d better buy him something out of all the money he was going to get for his Holy Communion. Ann told Francis that instead of going back to school today he had to go see Brother Skelly in CBS. She could tell that was a big shock. Martin started laughing and said Smelly Skelly would murder him. He was the worst of all of them. Smelly would grab him by the hair at the back of his head and twist it like this. Martin tried to grab Francis’ hair but he jumped off his seat in time. Ann told him to sit back down and finish his dinner and if there was another word out of Martin she’d take his plate away. Francis sat. Then the questions started, the endless questions. Why did he have to go in to see Brother Skelly? Was it for a test? What things would he ask him? On and on and on, standing outside the bedroom while Ann got into her best clothes for the doctor. How would he get there? How long would he be there? On and on, he didn’t even shut up while she was washing his face and hands and putting on a clean vest and shirt. Would Brother Skelly ask him questions in Irish or in English? Would there be a spelling test? On and on, down the road to the bus stop, at the bus stop, on the bus. Would Brother Skelly ask him his Catechism like Fr Mullaly did? What day was his first Holy Communion? If he was making his Holy Communion did that mean he had to make his first confession too? Telling him to shush because everyone was listening and the conductor was getting annoyed only shut him up for a few seconds, then it all started again. Ann’s head was lifting off her by the time the bus stopped near Sexton Street. Of course he wouldn’t hold her hand and as soon as they went through the main gates he started running ahead, even though he hadn’t a clue where he was going. He stopped at the main door of the grey three-storey building and looked back at Ann, who just walked past it.
‘Smart as you think you are, you haven’t a clue where you’re going. Now just calm down and stop racing ahead. Take my hand.’
Upstairs in t
he old school building two other boys were waiting with their mothers outside room five. Ann now felt a bit mortified that she was leaving Francis on his own. She spoke loud enough to be heard.
‘I’ve a few messages to get but I won’t be too long and Brother Skelly told me if I wasn’t back when you were finished it was all right for you to wait here for me. Do you understand, love?’
‘Will you bring me back something from the shop?’
Ann saw the other two mothers smile at that. They seemed nice. She threw her eyes up.
‘The usual.’
‘Oh sure, my fellah’s the same.’
‘We’ll keep an eye on him for you.’
‘Thanks very much.’
By the time Ann was back on the street, her neck and shoulders were knotted with tension. The headache hadn’t got any worse but it wasn’t easing, either. She hurried down Tanyard Lane and on to Gerald Griffin Street. She prayed silently that there wouldn’t be a big queue for Dr Greaney. She hated waiting in that ugly old building. Everyone in there always looked poor and miserable. When she got inside she looked down the wide gloomy hall before sitting down. There were six doctors’ offices, three on each side, with long wooden benches sticking out for patients to sit on. Doctor Greaney’s was one of the worst queues. Seven people ahead of her, could she have no luck? Two of the other doctors had only one person waiting. It really drove Ann mad that patients weren’t allowed choose the shortest queue. Doctor Greaney was the name on her medical card and it didn’t matter if there were a hundred people waiting outside his door, Doctor Greaney it had to be. Her sister Mona, who didn’t qualify for the medical card because she had only one child, had to pay for everything, but at least it meant she could choose her own doctor and go to a proper surgery and change him if she didn’t like his attitude, as she had done a couple of times. Knowing Mona, she’d never put up with Dr Greaney, who could be a bit abrupt. But Ann had no other choice. She joined the queue.
*
It seemed to Francis that he was waiting for ever. The other two boys had each been with Brother Skelly for a long time. The second boy came out with a funny look on his face and he wouldn’t answer his mother when she asked how he got on. Francis couldn’t help remembering what Martin had said about Brother Skelly. Had he grabbed the hair on the back of that boy’s head and twisted it? When Francis was called in, the first thing he noticed was a long leather strap swinging slowly from a belt. He looked away from it up to Brother Skelly’s big face. His hair was white and his skin was white. His teeth were yellow. There was hair growing out of his nose. But he was smiling.
‘Sit down there, Francis.’
Francis sat where he was told in front of a big desk. Brother Skelly went round to the other side humming diddley-idle and sat down as well. He hummed for a few more seconds, looking straight at Francis and then suddenly spoke in Irish.
‘An bhfuil aon Gaeilge agat a bhuachaill?’
‘Tá Gaeilge agam a Bhráthair.’
‘Go maith. Cad is ainm duit?’
Brother Skelly knew his name already so Francis guessed he wanted to find out if he could say the Irish version.
‘Proinsias is ainm dom.’
‘Agus cén aois a bhfuil agat?’
Did Brother Skelly already know he was still only six? Had Fr Mullaly remembered to tell him that was all right? He couldn’t tell a lie but he hoped it wouldn’t get him into trouble.
‘Tá me sé bliain d’aois.’
‘Agus cén mhí a mbeidh do lá breithe?’
‘Mí Mheitheamh. Beidh mé seacht ansin.’
‘Go maith. Agus an bhfuil tú ábálte aon phaidir a rá i nGaeilge?’
Francis nodded. He could say lots of prayers in Irish. Brother Skelly waved a hand at him.
‘Lean ar aghaidh mar sin.’
He decided to say the Hail Mary.
‘S’é do Bheatha, a Mhuire, atá lán de ghrásta, Tá an Tiarna leat. Is beannaithe thú idir mhná, agus is beannaithe toradh do bhroinne, Íosa. A Naomh Mhuire, a mháthair Dé guigh orainn, na peacaigh, anois agus ar uair ár mbáis. Amen.’
‘Go hanna mhaith. Well done. And are you as good at the maths? Do you know your three times table?’
Francis did. Brother Skelly then asked him his six times table, his nine time tables and his eleven times table. Then he spoke very fast.
‘If I have eleven apples and I give you six and you give three to your friend and he gives me back one, how many apples do I have?’
‘Six.’
And your friend?’
‘Two.’
And yourself?
‘Three.’
Brother Skelly sat back and laughed.
‘Maith an Bhuachaill. There’s many a fellah I caught out with that one. Now do you like reading?’
‘Yes, Brother.’
Brother Skelly handed him a piece of paper.
‘Try that for me. Have a look at it first if you like.’
Francis looked at it for a few seconds. The only word he didn’t understand was ‘hath’ and but it looked easy to say. He began:
‘The beauty of the world hath made me sad,
This beauty that will pass;
Sometimes my heart hath shaken with great joy
To see a leaping squirrel in a tree,
Or a red lady-bird upon a stalk,
Or little rabbits in a field at evening,
Lit by a slanting sun,
Or some green hill where shadows drifted by
Some quiet hill where mountainy man hath sown
And soon would reap; near to the gate of Heaven.’
Brother Skelly took the sheet from him and asked him to spell ‘beauty’, ‘field’, ‘quiet’ and ‘mountainy’.
‘Go hanna mhaith. Now. Soon you’ll be making your first confession and Holy Communion. Are you looking forward to that?
‘I am, Brother.’
‘Of course you are, but no good even thinking about Holy Communion unless you make a good confession. What is confession?’
Francis knew he had say the exact answer from the Catechism.
‘Confession is the telling of our sins to a duly authorised priest, for the purpose of obtaining forgiveness.’
‘Why does the priest give us a penance after confession?’
‘The priest gives us a penance after confession that we may satisfy God for the temporal punishment due to our sins.’
‘Very good. And don’t worry, I won’t be giving you any penance after this. So, tell me Francis. You’re a fine tall lad for your age, do you enjoy sports?
‘Yes, Brother.’
‘Are you a good hurler?’
‘I don’t know, Brother.’
‘Well, we’ll find that out soon enough when you come to us in September. Very nice to meet you, Francis.’
He wrote something down while he was talking then stood up and went to open the door. Francis was sorry it was all over. He liked sitting there with Brother Skelly answering questions. This was even better than in class because he didn’t have to wait and give others a chance before Sister Goretti picked him. As Francis left, he thought again about what Martin said. His brother must have been telling lies, or maybe he just didn’t know how nice Brother Skelly was?
*
They were all gone: the woman who said hello to everyone who arrived and asked them what their trouble was but never said a word about her own; the smiling girl who told her she was seven months gone; the young mother with two small children and a baby in a pram who was afraid the baby might have croup; the chubby boy with his arm in a sling who went red every time anyone said anything to him; the elderly woman who coughed all the time and whose voice was so frail that even the woman next to her couldn’t hear anything she said and just answered yes, yes all the time. That woman had, like Ann, dressed up for the occasion and looked embarrassed to be in the dispensary. Finally the rough-looking man who just sat with his head down saying nothing to anyone had gone in and Ann was next. Four more had ar
rived after her. Surely it couldn’t be much longer? Her headache was now less aggravating than the discomfort of the bench and the anxiety of waiting.
Unspoken Page 21
