Daddy stood at the sink washing the dishes as Kate dried and put away. She was singing an Elvis song, she was mad about him, forever going on about him, and she told them that she was saving up for a record player.
‘Kate Tobin, I don’t think that all those songs are suitable for young ladies. Mrs O’Shea was only saying the other day when we were doing the altar flowers how a lot of that music isn’t one bit nice and that Elvis Presley is not allowed to do concerts in lots of places because parents, even in America, don’t like the kind of influence he is having on their children. And all his songs, well, they only encourage company keeping and all that sort of thing, and I just don’t think it’s suitable for nice girls to be listening to,’ Mammy said in a voice that brooked no argument.
‘Ah, Mam, sure he’s lovely looking and his songs are great, don’t mind Mrs O’Shea, she wouldn’t know Elvis from the Bishop!’ Kate jumped to her hero’s defence.
‘Well, the Bishop might have something to say about him and all his…gyrating. If he ever comes to Cork, you for one won’t be going to see him anyway. Can’t you listen to that lovely traditional music or a choir, or Seán O’Riada, sure his music would bring tears to your eyes. ‘Twas on the wireless yesterday, beautiful it was,’ Mary suggested.
Kate snorted in disdain. ‘Ah Mam, did you ever see the state of him, and them fellas with the fiddles and accordions? They’d bring tears to my eyes all right. They’re all about a hundred and that’s the music for the old folks, but you’ve nothing to worry about anyway, I don’t think someone as marvellous as Elvis would ever bother his barney to come to Cork. Why would he? He’d want his head checked to even come to Dublin let alone Cork.’
The twins giggled as they swept the floor, they thought Kate was the picture of sophistication.
Seán flicked sudsy water at his daughters, ‘And what’s wrong with Cork all of a sudden? Sure isn’t it the real capital of Ireland, the jewel in the Irish crown, the place where all the best people come from? Michael Collins, Christy Ring, Jack Lynch. Sure wouldn’t Elvis be only too thrilled to meet the people of such a fine city?’
Kate responded, ‘Ah sure, Daddy, Cork is grand for hurling and fellas dying for Ireland and all that stuff, but it’s not cool. Not like London or New York or places like that.’
‘Cool? Well, I can tell you ‘twas cool enough trying to unload a container of coal this morning below at the quay wall. ‘Twas fine and cool, ‘twas freezing in fact. Not that you would know anything about that, inside with the nuns and the place like a bake house. I don’t know if having the hospital so hot is good for people, sure they’d catch their death then when they came out into the real weather.’
‘Well, Sister Gerard insists on having the private rooms roasting altogether, nothing is too much trouble for the quality, don’t you know?’ she giggled, mimicking the staff sister’s voice. ‘It isn’t the same for the poor people in the public wards, the food, the heat, everything is different. Sure, nuns have no interest in poor people.’
Daddy gave her a warning glance, Liam knew he kind of agreed with Kate when they went on about how snobby the nuns were but Mammy wouldn’t like any of that talk about nuns or priests.
Chapter 3
1968 – Five Years Later
Liam came in from the yard with a bucket of coal.
‘Mrs Kinsella said, can you go in and check something in the attic, a creak or a squeak or something?’
His father was scanning the jobs section in the evening paper after dinner. Seán had finally been laid off from the dockyard and spent most days scouring the paper or walking the streets of the city looking for work. The dock was only limping along for years, and it was a miracle it stayed going as long as it did. The problem was most of the men in the city were in a similar position. Too many men and not enough work. He picked up a bit of casual labour now and again but even that was scarce. Liam knew he was one of the few boys in school whose father was still around; most were gone to England working. Liam would never forget the day Daddy came home with his last pay packet six months earlier. Mammy sent them all upstairs doing jobs but he watched them standing together in the kitchen from the top of the stairs. Tears glistened in his mother’s eyes. Not saying a word, they held onto each other, Daddy’s chin resting on the top of Mammy’s head, lost in thought. Liam remembered feeling fear for the first time, like this was something his parents couldn’t fix. Things were very tight before but now there was no money at all coming in. They hardly ever had meat, and treats were extremely rare. Gone were the bags of chips after the match or the ice creams after mass. Every penny was accounted for.
The house next door had been occupied by old Mrs Moriarty until her death three months earlier. She had a son in England but he hadn’t come home for years so it was the Tobins who looked after her and organised the funeral when she died. She was a nice old lady and she used to give a penny to whichever Tobin child brought her messages from the shop every Thursday.
Her son, Jerome, came back for the funeral, thanked the Tobins for their help with his mother and left, never to be seen again. A few weeks later, a woman moved in with her young daughter.
‘But you were in there yesterday, honestly...’ Mammy began before Daddy shot her a warning glance.
‘Yerra ‘tis only a loose window frame or something I suppose,’ Daddy said, putting down the paper. ‘I’ll have a look in the morning. Now, you lot, one decade of the rosary and off to bed.’
The family knelt in the small room, each one facing a chair. It was Kate’s turn to give it out, and the family responded to the prayers reverently. Mammy would not tolerate any blackguarding during the nightly prayers. No matter what went on or how tired they were, the Tobins prayed together every night, ‘The family that prays together, stays together,’ was one of Mammy’s favourite sayings. Once the formal prayers were done, it was time for the trimmings, which often took longer than the prayers themselves. Anyone who was sick got a mention, anyone with a worry, a hope, a wish, or bereavement; all were prayed for after the rosary. Regular features were a prayer that Daddy would get a new job, that Mrs Moriarty’s soul would rest in peace, that Uncle Jimmy would recover from the bad chest, that Christy Ring’s ankle would be better by Sunday in time for the final against the Barrs—the rival hurling team—no cause was left out of the entreaties to a variety of saints. Then there were the saints who required special mention. Mammy knew whose feast day it was every day of the year, so the family found themselves invoking the intercession of St Nicholas Peregrinus or St Cornelius of Armagh on any given day. It was with relief they would say the final prayer of ‘Our Lord, Our Lady, and Saint Finbarr, bless Cork under Heaven’s shining stars.’
You daren’t complain about numb knees unless you wanted a lecture on how lucky you were to have such a charmed life.
When the prayers were over, and guardian angels called upon to protect through the night, Liam, Annie and Molly reluctantly kissed their parents and went upstairs. Kate went out sometimes, over to a friend’s house or even to the pictures, and Con was allowed to stay up till nine because he was older and had finished school and started an apprenticeship with Uncle Willy as a carpenter. Liam tormented himself imagining all the great things Con got to do in that extra hour. He was always telling Liam how he met all sorts of interesting people out on the street, or how Daddy told him a great story but it was unsuitable for him because he was too young. It drove Liam mad with frustration, which only made his brother laugh at him.
Con had finished school when he was twelve, every day at the primary school was a persecution for poor old Con and the general wisdom at the time was the sooner he got out from under the brothers’ feet the better. Daddy could probably have got Con a job in the dockyard at the time, it was still open then, but Liam knew their parents wanted something better for him. Daddy said the docks were on the brink of closure for years anyway so there was no future in it for a young lad like Con.
There had been t
alk for a while about him staying on at school, for a few more years anyway, but Brother Malachi had told Mammy that he was a waste of space and she’d only be throwing her money away paying fees for a big lump of an ignoramus like Con. Mammy was upset when she told Daddy , Liam remembered hearing them through the floor discussing it, but Daddy was reassuring. Con was a good lad and a great hurler and Daddy went to all his matches and, anyway, he didn’t care one bit about school so he eventually convinced her that it was probably just as well that he finishes after sixth class. He’d get a great start with Willy, and it would all work out fine. Liam knew that if Con had shown any interest in the books, Daddy would have found a way for him to stay on, but Con just wasn’t a scholar and that was that. Mammy met Father Aquinas a few days later and he told her what a grand lad Con was and how he’d be a great worker and she felt a bit better about the whole thing.
Liam wished they chatted like that still. Since Daddy lost his job, they were not getting on as well as they used to. Liam lay awake listening to them worrying about money, hankering after the nights of years ago when they would laugh and whisper together when they thought the whole family was asleep.
Liam lay in bed, wide awake. Con was pucking the sliotar off the gable end wall, practicing his accuracy. The rhythmic sound of the little leather ball hitting the bricks was reassuring. Kate was at her friend’s house; they were making a dress from a pattern, though Mammy whispered to him earlier with a wink how she couldn’t imagine Kate and Kitty Hourihan managing to make anything a person could actually wear. Kate wasn’t great with a needle.
Daddy’s voice, though hushed, could be heard through the floorboards.
‘Mary, I really think I should go, only for a few months, till things get better here...’ Seán’s voice was pleading.
‘No Seán, we’ve been over this and over it, I don’t want you to go to England. I know all the arguments, and sure, the whole of Cork is over there in that car factory but I need you here, the children need you here, something will turn up, you just have to be patient. I’m doing the nine days prayer, never known to fail.’ Liam knew that despite his mother’s positive words she was ragged from trying to make ends meet.
‘Mrs Kinsella wants me to paint her yard at the weekend; I suppose that will be something...’ Seán said.
‘There’s nothing wrong with her yard, honestly, Seán, she’s making a fool of you, I know she throws you a few shillings but honestly she...’ Liam strained to hear. His mother’s voice had dropped to a whisper. Liam wasn’t sure why, but his mother didn’t warm to the new neighbour much, which wasn’t like her at all.
He tried to block out the sounds of them arguing so he pulled his school book out from the satchel he kept under the bed. He wasn’t a natural scholar, but he really wanted to stay at school, go onto the secondary, so he needed to show the brothers that he would be worth a scholarship. Liam, like most of the class was twelve now so they would be looking for work, though with no experience or skills, their chances were non-existent. Some were talking of going over to fathers or older brothers in England. Liam desperately wanted to stay on, get his exams, but the chances of it happening seemed fainter by the day. There was no way Mammy and Daddy could pay the fees now, so the only way to keep up his education was to win a scholarship. Even then, it would be tight but without the financial assistance the bursary offered, it would be simply impossible. Liam never even mentioned it at home. He knew Daddy hated not being able to provide for them all, he dreaded the look that came over his father’s face when he noted the holes in their shoes or their jumpers threadbare from overuse. If Daddy knew how badly he wanted to go to the secondary, it would only make him feel worse about being out of work so Liam kept his dreams secret.
After school the next day, he was learning his Latin verbs at the kitchen table. Mammy was over at the Lynch’s house to borrow a baking tin, Con and Kate were at work, and Daddy had gone down to a man in Glanmire where he heard there might be a bit of labouring going. He didn’t know where the twins were, whispering somewhere probably. He was sick of them always saying he was a baby and Mammy’s pet. They were only jealous because Daddy was taking him and Con to the Munster final in Thurles tomorrow and it was a no-girls-allowed excursion. One of the men from the dockyard had a car and was going anyway so they had a spin, and Daddy got the tickets because he repainted all the lines of the pitch for the club with the white paint roller. Mammy would make them sandwiches so it was a free day out. Liam and Con were so excited they talked of nothing else for weeks. Liam knew the twins were going mad to be excluded though they let on that they couldn’t care less. They thought because they were fourteen, they were so sophisticated. As if there was a world of difference in maturity between a twelve-year-old and them. Sometimes, he really hated being the youngest, but he knew he kind of was Mammy’s pet at the same time. She had more time for him, he supposed, since he was the last and there wasn’t a baby or a toddler coming up behind him that needed her more. She talked to him about things, and they went to Mass together every day. Con was busy at work, so much to the relief of both Con and the clergy that he had been relieved of his altar boy position. Father Mac had asked Father Aquinas for a suitable recruit, and apparently was dubious when he heard him suggest another of the Tobin boys, but Father Aquinas assured him that Liam was a much more devout boy than his brother. Father Mac gave Liam this information, along with dire warnings that if he turned up late, or his vestments weren’t in perfect order, he would be most affronted. Liam didn’t really know what that meant, but guessed it wasn’t a good thing, Father Mac liked to use big words. He trained Liam for the altar and as soon as was decent, Con’s services were dispensed with. Liam loved serving at Mass; he loved the sense of importance he got as he rang the bell at the Consecration or carried the thurible during Benediction. Father Mac didn’t trust everyone with it, so Liam felt great he was chosen to be the most responsible of all the altar boys, especially considering how far he’d had to come, living with the legacy of being Con’s brother.
Some of the other boys who served said they were only doing it for the money, people gave you a shilling usually for a funeral and sometimes a half crown for a wedding, but Liam did it because he loved it. He’d never admit it to the others, they’d think he was a right dope for saying it out loud, but he loved the sense of peace he got when he went into the church. He prayed every morning and every night at home, and he enjoyed the whole family saying the rosary at night before bed. Everyone did it, he knew that and he wasn’t any holier than any of his friends, but he’d get an awful slagging if he said he liked it.
He dragged his mind back to the Latin declensions when there was a knock at the door. The door was always on the latch so most people just tapped and walked in. He expected to see someone pop their head into the kitchen any second but nobody appeared. Sighing, he got up to go and see who was there.
Standing at the door was Mrs Kinsella from next door. Liam’s heart sank when he recognised her silhouette through the glass of the front door. She was always asking for Daddy to go round there and do jobs, and she seemed to have a lot of things wrong with her house.
‘Is your Daddy at home, Liam?’ she asked in her strange accent. Mammy said she was from Dublin or somewhere, and she certainly didn’t sound like anyone from around here. She didn’t look like anyone either, she was always wearing flowery dresses that went out like an umbrella and her hair was really yellowy-white, and she wore red lipstick. Kate was always asking her about clothes and make-up and boring things like that. She had no husband. Liam thought he must be dead because she never mentioned him, and she had a daughter who was ten. He might have played with her a few years ago but now big lads like him just played with boys and the girls played their own things with dolls.
‘No, Mrs Kinsella, he’s out,’ Liam answered her politely. Mammy would want him to be polite even though he knew from the conversations at night between his parents that Mammy really didn’t approve of her.
She never came in for a cup of tea and a chat like the other neighbours and Liam knew Mammy didn’t like her asking Daddy to do all the jobs in the house. Maybe Mammy wanted him doing jobs at home instead.
‘Oh yes, I forgot, he said he would be going somewhere today. Not to worry, I’ll call later. There’s a mouse in my kitchen and I’m terrified of mice.’ She gave a giggly laugh, more like a girl than a grown-up woman.
‘Oh right,’ Liam answered, not sure what to say next. ‘I’ll tell him when he comes home.’
As he was about to close the door, he saw his mother coming down the street with a baking tin in her hand.
‘Ah, Mrs Kinsella,’ she said. ‘Is everything all right? Run in and finish your lessons, Liam,’ she instructed him. Turning her attention back to her neighbour, she asked, ‘Can I help you with something?’ There was something about the way Mammy spoke to her that made Liam linger inside the front door. Mammy was smiling and seemed like she was being friendly, but there was something in her tone that made him interested in what would happen next.
‘Oh no, Mrs Tobin, it was Seán I was looking for actually. I have a mouse in the kitchen and I’m too nervous to open the cupboard.’ Liam couldn’t see her face, but he could imagine it, with her big innocent smile.
Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars Page 78
