Dr Greaney was writing at his desk when she came in. He nodded to a chair then continued. Ann sat and placed her medical card on the desk. When Dr Greaney finished writing he picked it up.
‘Now Mrs… Strong. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a while. What’s the trouble?’
As Ann began to explain he turned to the filing cabinet and opened a drawer.
‘I’ve been getting these headaches, doctor, on and off since before Christmas. I usually find Mrs Cullen’s Powders great but not this time. It starts back here around my shoulder blade and then all the way up my neck to the back of my head. It’s not even the pain so much, but it just won’t go away.’
Dr Greaney was looking at a file as he spoke.
‘It could be hypertension. Perhaps you’re under a lot of stress? Ah yes, I remember. The last time you were here with your daughter. November last year. Everything all right there now?’
Ann knew he was politely referring to Marian’s monthlies. They had just started and she’d been having cramps and seemed a bit nervous about it all. Ann had also quietly hoped that Dr Greaney would know better how to explain the whole thing to Marian. The poor child had been mortified.
‘Yes, she’s grand. No more problems –’
‘Good. We’d better check that blood pressure. Take off your jacket and blouse, please. Just this arm will do.’
Ann did as she was told. Dr Greaney wrapped the cuff around her upper arm.
‘Now, take a couple of deep breaths and relax.’
Ann didn’t like the choking feeling on her arm as the cuff squeezed. To take her mind off it she talked.
‘You were asking me if I’m under much stress. Well, I don’t know, maybe I worry too much about little things. I know we’re very lucky in lots of ways and there’s people much worse off than we are, I mean, my eldest two now, Ritchie and Gussie, both got jobs straight away after they finished school. And Marian loves school and she’s great to help out at home, she’s no bother at all. Martin does get into trouble a bit I suppose but, as Fonsie my husband says, if he doesn’t like school he doesn’t like school and there’s nothing much we can do about that. But you see that’s where Fonsie and me are different. He’s cool as the breeze, you know, takes things as they come and that’s well and good but, sometimes, I just wish he’d shift himself and do something –’
‘Ah,’ said Dr Greaney suddenly, looking at the reading. ‘Hmmm. Right.’
He walked round to his desk, sat and began writing. Ann waited for him to say something. What had he found out? Was it serious? Dr Greaney looked up.
‘You can get dressed again. Now Mrs Strong, your blood pressure is higher than it should be. Quite high, actually. The headaches are a symptom. I’m going to start you on something, but it’s important that you avoid unnecessary stress also. Your husband doesn’t put you under too much pressure, I hope?’
From his look, Ann guessed what he meant.
‘No. Absolutely not. Fonsie? No.’
‘Good. A lot of husbands do you know. Begin immediately, take one today, then one twice a day. I’m giving you enough for thirty days. We’ll see how things are then, all right?’
He handed Ann the prescription and her medical card as he opened the door. The next woman was in straight away. The door closed. Too late now to ask any questions. High blood pressure. How serious was that? Avoid tension. Thirty days. See how things are. What then? Ann stared at the prescription. It was just a scribble. Feeling more agitated now than when she came in, Ann joined the long queue for the hatch. Her hope had been that Doctor Greaney would just give her something stronger for the headache and that would be that. But now she had something that didn’t sound like it would be easy to get rid of. Was it something that could kill you? Her mother had died of a brain haemorrhage. Blood pressure. High blood pressure. Now she could imagine the blood thumping along her shoulders up her neck. So that was what it was. Pressure. Maybe it was lucky she had done something about it. Maybe she’d caught it in time and this prescription would sort it out.
She noticed the clock on the wall and that didn’t do her blood pressure any good at all. It was after half-three. Oh, Sacred Heart! She had left Francis at quarter-past two. He was probably waiting ages. Would he be all right? Was he getting worried? He wouldn’t wander off, would he? How long was this going to take? At the top of the queue Ann saw a hand appear from the hatch and take a prescription. Then there was a long wait before the hand appeared again with the medicine in a bag. There were at least a dozen people ahead of her. It was all Ann could do not to scream.
*
Brother Skelly came out of his room, locked it and told Francis he had to lock the main door of the building also. Was someone coming for him? Did he have a brother in the school? There was a bowsie called Strong in fifth class, was he a relation? Francis didn’t want Brother Skelly to think bad things about him because of Martin, so he just said that his mother was on her way to collect him. At what time? Francis could see from the clock on the wall that it was only a few minutes before three, so he said three o’clock. Brother Skelly said that was all right so, but he’d have to wait outside.
When Brother Skelly had gone away Francis sat on the step looking all around him. This school was much much bigger than Our Lady of Consolation. There was a huge yard in front of him, wide and very long. At one end near the main gate was the huge grey building he and his mam had passed when they came in and at the other end were barriers. There was building work going on behind them.
Francis stood up and walked around the empty yard, thinking about all the classrooms and the hundreds of boys behind all those windows. Thousands, maybe. He’d love to peep inside, see what they were doing in the classrooms, but he was afraid he’d get caught. The windows were too high up anyway. He knew there were boys at this school all the way up to Leaving Cert. Ritchie was here until after he left when he was sixteen. Gussie the same. So Francis could be here for ten years or maybe even more. He liked the thought of that. He moved closer to the barriers and looked up at the big sign.
Department of Education Project.
SCOIL ÍOSAGÁIN
GUINEY DEVELOPMENTS
There were little gaps between the barriers. He peeked. It was hard to tell if it was one huge long building or lots of small ones. Whatever it was, it looked fantastic. There were loads of men going in and out of the entrances, carrying things, and big machines putting tarmacadam on the ground and men behind with rollers. There were men on ladders putting stuff on the walls. Through the windows, inside, Francis could see men hanging doors. Each bit of the building seemed to be built on stilts, like huts in Africa he had seen on television, only much bigger. The workers were walking around underneath. There was an entrance at the bottom and two floors over that. Francis thought that they must be the classrooms. Each little building was attached at a corner to another little building exactly the same, also built on stilts with an entrance and two floors on top. And another the same, and another and maybe more. The gap he was peeping through was too small for Francis to see all the way. How far did it go? Was this a whole new school? Imagine if in September he was put in a class in this span-new building? It was like they were building it especially for him. Francis got completely lost looking at this world of big tough men on the other side of the barrier, all pushing and pulling, lifting, carrying, pressing, hammering, shovelling. All their hair and faces were grey from the dust. Machines rattled and drilled. The men kept shouting bad words. There were two who seemed to be in charge. They had special jackets on and didn’t lift anything. They did most of the roaring and one of them seemed to like pushing people around as well. It looked like a hard, dirty, angry life.
A lorry came from somewhere and stopped. It was carrying lots of toilet bowls and sinks. It wasn’t really like his dad’s lorry because it was too big and new but it made him think of his dad and then, suddenly, his mam. He had forgotten all about her. Where was she? Maybe she was here looking for him? He turned arou
nd. There was no one else in the yard. Just as Francis was wondering what time it was now, a loud bell rang. A few seconds later doors opened in every building and boys appeared and pressed against each other in the doorways before spreading out into the yard like something being squeezed out of a tube. Francis couldn’t believe how many there were and how quickly the yard filled up. The noise even drowned out the sounds from the building site. It seemed to Francis that he was the only person there who wasn’t talking to someone or laughing or shouting in groups, trying to make themselves heard above the other boys. And the sound was different from the sound he heard every day in the yard of Our Lady of Consolation. It was louder because there were more pupils but there was something else different, too. Francis listened and then he realised what it was. The voices sounded deeper and lower because there were no girls, just hundreds of boys, most of them much bigger than Francis. Some of them were so big they were more like men. Standing in the middle of this crowded chaos of boys, Francis felt no fear. The opposite. He couldn’t wait to be part of it.
*
Ann was anxious but she didn’t panic too much about having to push through mauls of rowdy youngfellahs going in the other direction until she got to the Old School building and discovered it was locked. Francis wasn’t waiting outside. Where was he? Had he gone looking for her? Had he left the school grounds? Had he felt afraid of all these bigger boys and run off? Had someone hit him? It was all her fault. What if he was knocked down by a car? That awful dispensary. Looking wildly around she saw Martin with some of his pals wheeling his bike out, but he was too far away to hear her shouts. As she started running towards him he cycled off. Boys kept pushing past her, had they no manners? Ann kept thinking she’d spotted his head of hair but there were lots of boys with mousy short back and sides. The poor child was all alone somewhere. He didn’t know anyone. He had never been here before. He must be terrified. As always in a crisis she muttered a prayer: ‘Oh St Gerard, please don’t let me down. I’ll do the nine first Fridays if you send my little baby back to me safely.’ A hopeful thought came into her mind. Was Brother Skelly looking after him? What would he think of her keeping him waiting for so long? She’d be mortified. Maybe he’d brought him to the Monastery building? Ann wasn’t sure where to find it but it was a chance at least. She looked around for a teacher who might direct her but there were none to be seen, just noisy boys. The yard was emptying very fast now. Two older pupils, who looked about fifteen, were talking quietly as they came towards her. They seemed well-behaved and respectable. She called them. ‘Excuse me lads do you know where the Monastery is?’ They pointed and when Ann turned to see where she should go it was like a miracle because they seemed to be pointing directly at a thin mousy-haired little boy, standing all alone, looking around.
Apart entirely from the shock they got, Ann’s shriek made the two schoolboys think the lady must be a bit loopers. Especially as, without waiting for them to speak, she just ran off. They looked at her wild dash for a second, but, being more far interested in their own affairs, just made faces at each other and walked on. They did not witness the delirium of the reunion and the intensity with which the mother embraced her child.
*
When Fonsie got home from work he found everyone taking their ease. Because Get Smart was on, he barely got a nod from Martin and Francis when he looked into the back room. There was no one in the scullery but there was a plate of liver, turnip and potatoes waiting to be reheated. Marian and her pal Pauline Cosgrave were in the front room doing their French ecker and listening to Pauline’s new Beatles record at the same time. Fonsie asked if they were playing ‘Help!’ because learning French was so hard? Marian said ha ha very funny and told him Mam was having a lie-down and she was to heat up his dinner for him when he came in. It would be ready in about fifteen minutes. He didn’t ask any more questions in front of Pauline, but went upstairs straight away while Marian went to the scullery to turn on the oven. The truth was, Fonsie was surprised that Ann was having a lie-down at quarter-past eight. Trying not to let the bedroom door squeak as he opened it, he sneaked his head in. He heard Ann’s breathing and he could just about see her shape. He whispered, ‘Are you asleep?’ No answer.
Fonsie went to the bathroom and stripped down to his vest and underpants. He gave himself a good scrub with Swarfega as usual, then washed himself more thoroughly with soap. He kept thinking about Ann. It wasn’t like her to be in bed at this hour. Was it one of her headaches? He decided that, as it sounded like she was in a deep sleep, he could chance going back into the bedroom for clean clothes. He picked up his bundle of work clothes and, checking first to make sure there was no one on the landing or coming up the stairs, he stepped out quickly and slipped quietly into the bedroom. He could see into the chest of drawers by the light from the landing and plucked out the first shirt, vest, socks and underpants that he put his hands on. He stripped off silently and dressed. The wardrobe was nearer Ann’s side of the bed and the door was a bit stiff, so he would have to be more careful getting clean trousers. As he tiptoed forward, he noticed the bottle on the locker beside the bed. Curious, he took another couple of cautious steps closer and reached out to pick it up. He brought it to the door so he could see better. It was a prescription bottle full of little white tablets. He read the label: BETALOC, take one twice a day. Very cagily, Fonsie eased down on the edge of the bed near Ann’s legs. She was lying on her side turned towards him. He put a hand on the quilt and could just about feel her body underneath. Why hadn’t she told him she was going to the doctor? It must be something more serious than the odd headache if she’d been given these pills he’d never heard of. Were they some kind of sleeping pills? Not for the first time, Fonsie felt he hadn’t done enough. A vague unease he had been carrying for some time now began to take shape as guilt. Ann had been on at him all the time lately about how hopeless the coal business was, that she was sick of looking at him, coming in at all hours, filthy dirty. And she worried constantly that he’d end up with arthritis or back trouble or lumbago. So he’d been glad to tell her that O’Neill’s wanted him again this summer, starting at the end of May. Ann said that was something, at least. What Fonsie hadn’t told her was that the boss, Mr Hoare, said there was so much building work going on he’d be happy to offer him a full-time job. As usual, Fonsie had hummed and hawed and ended up putting the man off. He knew if Ann found out about it she’d make him take it and she’d be right, of course. O’Neill’s was an easier, cleaner job. Most important of all, he’d earn better money. So he never mentioned the offer to her. The thing about it was, as far as Fonsie was concerned, he knew that if he took that job he’d end up being told what to do all the time – at work as well as at home. He’d have two bosses in his life, O’Neill’s and Ann. Dirty and damp as it was, the coal work was his own, at least. He loved being out, tipping around on the lorry, deciding for himself where to go that day and when to call a halt. But he didn’t mean to make Ann worried and sick.
BETALOC? What was it for? Well, Ann would tell him when she woke up. At least she seemed to be getting a good sleep. And whatever was wrong, the doctor was taking care of it. For a long time Fonsie sat at the edge of the bed in his underpants, listening to Ann’s steady breathing, his hand resting on her still body. He completely forgot about his dinner, slowly drying up in the oven’s low heat.
Fourteen: April 15th
His name was Francis. Francis was so surprised to hear his own name on the television that he didn’t hear what Francis’ last name was. He asked Marian, who was watching the programme as well. She said she wasn’t sure, it sounded like Sheehy-something, a long name that she had never heard before. Francis Sheehy-something had a beard and glasses. He was Irish but he wasn’t one of the Volunteers. He wasn’t part of the Easter Rising at all. He was just walking along the street and saw people smashing shop windows and stealing, so he tried to stop them. Then an awful thing happened. Francis couldn’t believe it. He was arrested by the British army and
he said, ‘Why have you arrested me? I did nothing.’ But the English officer didn’t care. He was pure mad. He made Francis march on the street with his soldiers and said he’d shoot him if any rebels shot at them. Then the mad officer saw young boys about Martin’s age out walking and he shot one of them in the back for no reason at all. Then he made Francis and all the other soldiers kneel down and say a prayer. He told God if Francis died it would be because he deserved it. Then he took him back to the barracks and had him shot by a firing squad. For no reason at all. Francis couldn’t believe that such a bad thing could happen in Ireland.
Insurrection was the best programme he had ever seen on television. He preferred it even to The Virginian. It was like a war film, only better, because in war films it was always the English and the Americans who were the good guys, but in Insurrection the good guys were Irish. They talked like his dad or his uncles. One gang of Volunteers was as brave as Davy Crockett at the Alamo. Five or six of them were locked up in this house and they had to stop the English getting across a bridge. They killed hundreds before the house was set on fire. One of them was delighted with himself because he shot loads of English soldiers and he said, ‘It’s a great day for the Irish.’ Then he didn’t say anything after that. He didn’t cry out or anything but when his friends looked at him a few seconds later, they saw that he was dead.
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