A Billy or a Dan, or an Old Tin Can

by Paul Kelly

  “You will meet someone soon, Meggie. Perhaps sooner than you think and someone nearer your own age too, who will make you happy and love you. You have a lot of love to give. It is Ross Schofield I feel sorry for,” Aggie added hastily and with a firm nod of her ‘wise’ head.

  “Thanks, Aggie. I feel a lot better already. Thanks ever so much.”

  “Now off to bed with you, young lady. It’s time you had an early night and get all this out of your system. Tomorrow is another day, so make it a completely fresh one and forget that you had the unhappiness of today. Every day is like a new start a new beginning. Take care, Meggie. You know that I love you. Pray for me before you drop of to sleep.”

  Meggie hugged her sister with a renewed appreciation of life as she skipped off to her warm bed and Aggie took out her Rosary to communicate with the Love of her life. The only Lover she had ever known, or ever wanted to know and the One who gave the ‘wisdom’ to her life.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Miss Carson lifted the telephone receiver delicately and with attentive care as she always imagined that one could be seen as well as heard on the telephone. Of course her intelligence told her how ridiculous that was, but the feeling was always with her.

  “St. Bonaventure’s School ... Good morning .... Miss Carson here, can I help you?”

  Her eyes widened gradually as she listened and she licked her lips and reached for the scented hankie, nodding silently several times.

  “But, I can’t do anything immediately. He is taking class, you see.” She said as she continued to listen, changing the receiver from her right ear to her left, thinking perhaps that she could hear better in that way and her eye twitched incessantly. “Oh! deary me ... This is most distressing,” She dabbed her forehead with the handkerchief and then tried to remove her spectacles to dry her eyes, but the telephone fell from her grasp as she did so. “I am sorry ...Could you repeat that, please,” she asked as she retrieved the earpiece and placed it to her mouth before realising her error and put the matter right as she rested her glasses on her desk. “Alright, yes ... I shall be available in about fifteen minutes, if you can be here.”

  The caller agreed and she replaced the receiver and mopped her face more vigorously before she folded the handkerchief neatly and returned it to her handbag. She then removed it from there and stuck it in her skirt pocket, angrily. She was nervous and she was doing things she would not normally do and she knew it.

  Within ten minutes, there was a knock at her office door and she glanced at her wrist watch.

  “Come in please.”

  “Miss Carson?” A tall, bald man, with a thick black moustache and wearing a dark grey, double-breasted suit stood before her.

  He extended his hand and the Headmistress knew that her eye was about to twitch as she shook it.

  “My name is Conway, Miss Carson ...Inspector Conway.”

  Her eye twitched again, nervously and without control.

  “Yes, yes of course, we spoke on the telephone. You are earlier than I had expected. Will you excuse me for a moment ... I just want to get a few things together before we go to see ...” she couldn’t finish her sentence but she gathered some items from her desk and beckoned the Inspector to follow her from the room. “Would you like to visit the classroom now or would you rather wait until after lunch? That will be in about thirty-five minutes,” she said, glancing again at her watch.

  “We should go now, if you don’t mind,”

  “No ... no, not at all ... Just as you wish,” she said apprehensively, hoping that the Inspector’s visit would be in vain and that his request would be unnecessary, but as she went into the corridor they were joined by a blond woman who had been waiting outside. All three of them made their way down the corridor towards Class One ‘D’ which became visible through the glass partitions and the scholars were quiet and seemingly studious. Miss Carson knocked on the classroom door before she entered and the pupils stood up as she came in, followed by the Inspector and his female companion.

  “Good morning, Miss Carson,” All the young voices hailed in unison.

  “Good morning children.” she replied and coughed nervously as she caught Mr. Finnecan’s eye. She would have preferred to have seen the Form Master before her official visit with the law, but the next few moments were all too fast and she was deprived of that action as the blond woman went ahead of her and stood in front of Finnecan.

  “That’s him, Inspector,” she said quietly. “Yes, that’s him alright.”

  The boys looked about in surprise and Miss Carson stood aside as the Inspector approached Mr. Finnecan, who by this time was pale and agitated. His eyes clouded over and his mouth fell open as he put his cane on the desk and started to clear his throat.

  “Carry on with your lessons. I shall be back shortly,” he said and ushered the party from the room, without further ado. They returned quietly to Miss Carson’s office and closed the door behind them after the Headmistress stuck a notice on the outside of the door saying that they did not want to be disturbed. It was the Inspector who spoke first.

  “Is your name Finnecan, Sir? John Fitzgerald Finnecan?” he asked

  “Yes I am,” answered the Form Master but his voice lacked enthusiasm or verve as he spoke.

  “I am Inspector Conway of the C.I.D and I must warn you that anything you say may be taken down in evidence and used against you. Do you understand?”

  Finnecan sighed as removed his glasses and wiped his brow with his handkerchief.

  “Alright Inspector ... I know why you have come and I accept full responsibility for my actions,” he said and looked coldly at the woman who stood beside Miss Carson. “This is my wife,” he said.

  The party stood still for a few moments, each seemingly wondering what was to be said next, but the Inspector broke the silence.

  “This is your THIRD wife. ...Mr. Finnecan, Sir.”

  Finnecan lowered his head and nodded while Miss Carson gasped and reached into her pocket for her hankie. She looked from one face to the other in an attempt to rectify the situation if that was at all possible, but she knew it would be to no avail and the Inspector continued.

  “You married this lady with the knowledge that your other two wives were still alive and without having obtained a legal divorce from either of them. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  Mr. Finnecan’s third wife began to cry and Miss Carson comforted her.

  “I have some sherry, Inspector ...if the lady would ...”

  “No thank you Ma’am ...not for me whilst I’m on duty,” The Inspector answered ignoring the lady who stood beside him, but she stepped forward and took Miss Carson by the hand.

  “I wouldn’t mind a drop, dear if you have it ...” she said and glared again at Finnecan with hatred in her yes. “Might help to steady me nerves, it might.”

  Miss Carson poured the sherry from a decanter, which she produced from her ‘tea cupboard’ and the third wife drank it back swiftly, holding her glass out for a refill.

  “I must ask you to accompany me to the Station, Sir.”

  Finnecan closed his eyes and screwed up his face as if his head ached.

  “Yes, of course, Inspector,” he said quietly as he opened his eyes again. His forehead was damped and his lips were dry. “Miss Carson, I wonder if you would be good enough to get me my brief case from my classroom. It may be better if I didn’t see the boys for the time being,” he went on, but before Miss Carson could answer, the Inspector spoke again.

  “No Sir, I think it best if you come, just as you are. We can arrange for anything you want to be picked up later.”

  Miss Carson arranged for Trottie to take over Finnecan’s class and for his brief case to be brought to her office as the Inspector and wife number three left the school with the ‘prisoner’, where a police ca
r was waiting for them outside.

  Miss Carson sat back in her chair and performed her usual perfumed ritual ...

  “Oh! deary me ...whatever is happening to me,” she groaned, “I am not the woman I was when I came into school this morning.” She undid the top button on her skirt and reached out for the sherry decanter, but quickly changed her mind as she went again to the ‘tea cupboard’ where she unearthed a bottle of Malt whisky and uncorked the stuff, pouring herself two fingers, quite liberally. “I needed that,” she murmured and belched loudly, uttering the word ‘pardon’ into the air ,,, “I hope Mr. Finnecan is alright but I wasn’t too keen on his choice of a wife I would NEVER have given her anything better than that old cooking sherry “ she said aloud, “NEVER”

  ***

  “Miss Carson Miss Carson,” It was Trottie who spoke as she thrust her head round the door of the Headmistress’s office, “I knocked, but you did not answer. Are you alright?”

  The Headmistress snorted and quickly opened her eyes, as she hastened to button her skirt.

  “Of course I’m alright, Miss Golding-Potts. I am just a little concerned about this morning’s incident. Is Mr. Finnecan’s class alright?” Her eye twitched as she spoke.

  “Yes, yes they’re O.K. I told them to reassemble at two-thirty, Miss Carson as I have to take the girls for hockey after lunch. I hope that is in order?”

  The Headmistress nodded and belched again.

  “Miss Carson ...Are you sure you’re alright? You look drained. Can I get you anything?”

  “Perhaps a glass of water, if you don’t mind, Miss Gold potting,” Miss Carson requested as she hurriedly shoved the Malt whisky bottle under her desk, resting it carefully and snugly in one of her brogues. Trottie got the water and Miss Carson took only a small mouthful as she screwed up her face and deposited the glass on her desk. She still had a thirst, but she had other ideas of how to quench it whenever the gym mistress would take her leave and she hoped that wouldn’t be too long. However, Trottie hadn’t just come to the office to enquire about Miss Carson’s welfare she was also very concerned about old Finny and the dizzy blond she had seen get into the police car with him, outside the school gates.

  “You look a little tired, Miss Carson. I think it might be a good thing if you lie down for a little while. There is the medical bed in the changing room, you know and the girls will be at hockey for most of the afternoon. Why don’t you ...”

  “Oh! No dear ...I couldn’t do that ... We are in such trouble, you know and I don’t quite know how to handle it. I feel so sorry for poor Mr. Mr. Binnegin and yet, he has only himself to blame, hasn’t he really?” Trottie looked at Miss Carson expectantly, but the Headmistress clasped her hand to her mouth and hiccuped. “Oh! dear ... deary me ...I’ve already said too much. Please forgive me Miss er, Goldring, will you? Run along now and take Mr. er, Mr ... that gentleman’s class as best you can and I’ll get a, Whoops manners ...supply teacher by tomorrow, I suppose.”

  Trottie left the room and headed for the sports field changing room, where she donned her new crimson gym slip with the sand shoes and hair band to match. She had a good idea of what was wrong, but she knew she would have to hold her silence for the time being, at least.

  “I’m sure the boys will be able to fill me in with any gaps in the story,” she muttered as she squeezed her left foot into a very tight fitting sand shoe. “That foot must be fatter than the other,” she said, “I didn’t have any trouble getting the right one in at all.”

  ***

  Back in the Headmistress’s office, Miss Carson brooded over her staff misfortune as she helped herself to another whisky, to see her through the rest of the day.

  “I rather imagined him to be a bachelor,” she mumbled, “I’m sure he said he was a battelor,” She reached out to retrieve her glass, but it was the one containing the water that Trottie had given her. “Pity about that, he was a good teacher,” she remarked and tipped the remainder of the water into her whisky glass.

  ***

  The boys were agog with curiosity, but Trottie resumed her role as a teacher in total ignorance, however the newspapers the following morning told them all they wanted to know, even if it was only a small column on the back page, but they were sure that Old Finny-guts would never again teach at St. Bon’s. Not never ...Not no-how.

  Willie couldn’t wait for Charlie to come home that evening to tell him the news and although his brother had a hard day and was feeling very tired, he was highly amused when he heard the story of his old schoolteacher’s depravity.

  “I never thought he had it in him, Willie ...All five foot of the wee man, with three women in his life. What’s he got that I haven’t got? Cor! Love is blind they say, but I don’t remember old Finnecan having a white stick, do you?”

  The brothers giggled heartily together and rolled up on the settee as Charlie pushed his hair away from his forehead and Willie did the same

  “How is your love-life Charlie?” Willie asked, not knowing what kind of an answer he’d get, but Charlie’s hair fell down again over his brow and he looked a little sad when he was asked that question.

  “Fine,” he answered. “Just fine” and he looked into space. “I think I’ll have an early night now I’ve had a hard day and I’m tired. Goodnight Willie.”

  “But Charlie don’t you want anything to eat before you go to bed?”

  Charlie disappeared into the bedroom, but Willie didn’t get an answer. He waited until he had his own supper before he decided to go to bed. Charlie was sprawled across the bed with the sheets tied somewhere around his feet and with the blankets on the floor.

  “Och! I can tell you’ve had a hard day, laddie. How the hell am I gonna get into a bed like this.”

  He moved Charlie’s feet carefully, trying not to wake him, but the movement made his brother roll over and he was able to release the sheets from his feet and spread them across the bed. The tanned body against the white sheets mesmerised Willie and he began to get disgruntled thoughts about Rachael and his Adonis brother. He undressed quickly and slipped into bed, but not before he had studied his anaemic chest in the mirror and pulled a face. Charlie turned sharply and dug his knees into Willie’s behind.

  “I wish he would hurry up an’ marry that lassie, so that I could have this bloody bed to myself.” he muttered and tried to get comfortable, but the more he tried, the more Charlie came closer.

  “Charlie ...if you get any closer, I’ll ‘ be on the bloody floor.”

  Charlie grunted but without resolve and Willie got out from his side of the bed and came round to Charlie’s side to get in again. As soon as he lay down, Charlie woke up with a start.

  “What the hell are you up to, Willie? I’m trying to get some sleep here,” he complained and pulled the bedclothes firmly around him as he resumed his snoring.

  “Goodnight to you, Charlie Blair ...” said Willie, but the only answer he got was a hard, cracking, louder-than-usual snore.

  Willie lay awake for a long time, wondering about Mr. Finnecan and the two people who came to see him, with Miss Carson and he thought about the article in the newspaper.

  “That must have been the policeman and the blond woman would have been his wife. One of his wives,” he giggled and shoved his mouth into the pillow to stem his laughter and not to disturb the worker who lay beside him snoring.

  ***

  Wattie appeared the following morning, wearing his new long breeks to the astonishment of his mates ...

  “Phew! an’ I thought long drawers had a trap door at the back ...Didn’t you, Willie?” Someone remarked in the playground.

  “Mister nineteen-forty-one man of the year,” someone else hollered and “Tarara, boom de-ay,” cried another, but Wattie’s confidence was unshaken. He had his trousers at last ... and nothing or nobody was going to deprive him of his hour of triumph
. He marched along past the crowd of scathing pupils, with his head held high. Cathie Coutts wouldn’t look away now, he thought as he shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets with carefree abandon, as Willie came to the unnecessary rescue.

  “They’re only jealous, Wattie. Your trousers look very nice,” he remarked, but he could have added that he thought they were a trifle tight around the crotch, which exaggerated the contours of his bum, but he didn’t. Wattie was pleased, as he dug his hands even deeper into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders to the world, but somewhere at the back of Willie’s mind, he thought the breeks had been worn before, by someone else in another age, but Wattie’s smile personified pride and why should he be robbed of that, eh?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Are you alright Sadie? You don’t look at all well.”

  Sadie waved her arms about, behind her back as she leaned forward to be sick, before she wiped her mouth with a towel and took a deep breath,

  “I have some kind of stomach bug, Aggie. I’ve had it for nearly a month now and I just can’t stop being sick.”

  “You should see the doctor. He will give you something for it.”

  “No ...No, I don’t want to go to a doctor. I’ll be alright shortly. Could you get me a glass of water, please Aggie?”

  Aggie ran to the kitchen sink, but she was worried. A stomach bug shouldn’t last that long and Sadie could be suffering from anything; anything that might be cured if it was treated properly and soon. She gave her sister a glass of water and decided she would go to fetch the doctor herself, reaching for her coat from the hallstand.

  “I’m going to see what the doctor says, Sadie. You can come with me, if you feel well enough, otherwise I’ll ask him to come and see you. I’m worried, Sadie.”

  “No ...wait, please don’t go, Aggie,” Sadie pleaded softly and Aggie sat down beside her and took her hand. It was cold and clammy. She put her hand on Sadie’s forehead and she was sure she was running a temperature. Sadie gazed earnestly into Aggie’s eyes for a few seconds before she broke into tears and her imploring look made her sister even more concerned.