Goodbye to the Hill

by Lee Dunne

  I was on my third slice of bread and jam when Ma came in and I knew at once she was in some kind of bother. She had a lovely face, you could tell she’d been a real smasher when the oul’fella had first gotten hold of her, but there was a sad expression that she had and it was there in her face so much of the time that it seemed to be built-in.

  ‘Ah Ma, what’s up?’

  ‘Ah, nothing, finish yer tea, son’

  I ate the bread and jam. It wasn’t much of a tea for a starving kid like me, but I knew it was the best she could do and I’d have bet money that she hadn’t even had one slice for herself. I’d given up trying to get her to eat her share. She had got out of the habit of eating, and I knew it was a waste of time.

  ‘There’s something the matter, Ma, what is it?’

  She sank onto a chair facing me. She didn’t say a word. I took two florins out of my pocket and she stared at them. It was as if she didn’t dare believe her eyes. I put them into her hand.

  ‘Oh, the blessin’s a God on you, Paddy.’ She looked so relieved, and then the worry came back into her face.

  ‘You didn’t lift it, son?’

  ‘’Course I didn’t. What do you take me for?’ I acted all hurt, and God love her she was mortified.

  ‘Ah, sure I knew you didn’t son. I’m sorry,’ she smiled a bit. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, you’ve saved my life.

  She reached over and touched my hand and I felt marvellous to be able to give her such a lift with a miserable four shillings.

  ‘How’s Larry, Ma?’

  ‘Ah, he’s a bit better.’ She sounded weary. ‘Another few days should see a change in him.’

  I went into the bedroom, and because I wasn’t minding what I was doing I nearly fell over Billy in the tin bath.

  ‘Will you watch where you’re bloody well going’ he yelled, covering his thing with the face flannel.

  I didn’t answer him even if he was two years old than me. I didn’t like him and he didn’t like me. It was something for which neither of us was responsible, though I suppose the fact that we were different in every way had a lot to do with it.

  He was clean and neat in his habits and he was working very hard to improve himself. I was careless and untidy and I couldn’t even think about the next day, let alone the future and all that. So we just lived in the same place and drove each other mad almost every time we came face to face.

  But for all the rows and fights that we had, I still thought he was a good enough fella, though I’d never have let him know it. I had a grudging respect for him. You just couldn’t help it if you knew him. Whatever Billy did, he did well, and he had guts to burn. He was afraid of no one, and no matter who he talked with he looked them straight in the eye. He was like a man, really, though he wasn’t yet eighteen, but if there was one thing about him that really annoyed me it was the way he covered his chopper when you walked in and he was having a bath. You’d think you were going to swipe it or something.

  ‘I’ll never wipe my face with that thing again.’ I nodded at the face flannel.

  ‘You’ll get a belt in the teeth, gabby,’ he hissed, his eyes becoming slits in his pink and white face.

  I didn’t say anything to that. I stepped carefully around the bath to get to Larry in the bed. There were two beds in the room, and a Mickey Mouse wardrobe, still cracked from the hammer that Ma threw at the oul’fella when she was in a temper. There was nothing on the floor boards except dirt, and the wall paper was the sort of stuff that made kids run away from home.

  Larry’s head on the pillow was like a huge butterfly. His blonde, almost white hair was untidy around his head and his brown eyes were the size of half dollars. There were dark rings beneath them and he was very pale in the face. He was an awful nuisance for such a little maggot, but lately I’d started to like him, even though he was the cheekiest little brat on The Hill.

  ‘Gomorrah, Smelly,’ I said.

  ‘Ah. Shurrup yer mouth!’ He shut his eyes at the sight of me.

  ‘Okay, Smelly, if that’s the way you want it, I’ll keep it for myself.’

  His head came up off the pillow and his eyes were wide open. ‘Keep what?’ He tried to sound casual about it.

  ‘None of your business,’ I said. ‘If you want to be snotty just because you’ve a bit of flu, I’ll give it to one of the other kids.’

  ‘Ah, I’m not well,’ he moaned, doing a good copy of my poor mouth. ‘I’m sick.’

  ‘You are in my back sick. You can kid Ma with that stuff but you’re wasting your time trying it on me.’

  I took an apple out of my pocket and held it to him. He grabbed it so quickly that I didn’t even get time to tease him a bit. And with one bite he had half of it in his mouth.

  ‘Is that what you were puttin’ me under a compliment for?’

  I didn’t answer him. Slowly I took the Beano out of my other pocket, watching his eyes go pop when he saw it. There was nothing on God’s earth that meant as much to Larry as the Beano. I smoothed out the wrinkles and sat there on the edge of the bed. I’d had to scrunch it up when I’d pinched it in the shop but it wasn’t damaged.

  I held onto it and I was just about to start making him sweat for it when I realised that he was really miserable. And whether he was acting or not, I just didn’t have the heart to tease him. I threw the comic on the bed and he grabbed it.

  ‘There’s three dee you owe me.’

  ‘Ah, I’ll pay you when I start work.’

  ‘Work? You work! A little crab like you! The only job you’ll ever get’ll be down in the chemist shop watching the Vanishing Cream.’

  Larry didn’t laugh and at a joke like that you could hardly blame him.

  Billy was standing with the towel around him when I turned to get out. He was in my way with his big chest and he didn’t look like he was going to move. I made a pretend grab at the towel and he nearly fell backwards into the bath. I ran around him and out the door with him calling me all the bastards in creation. I nearly had a heart attack from laughing once I was safe out in the kitchen.

  Even when Larry got over the flu’ I couldn’t help worrying if he was alright. I must have been changing because up to then I’d never worried about anybody but myself. Now I just couldn’t help it. He seemed to be coughing all the time and he was as pale as a glass of milk.

  Many times when we were sitting at home I’d see Ma keeping an eye on him and every time he had a spasm she went through agony for him. One night, when the oul’fella was there in a bloody awful temper, Larry started to cough. Da told him to shut up but Larry couldn’t stop. The poor little bastard was tearing his lungs out, it was so bad.

  The oul’fella got up to give him a swipe, but before he got near Larry, Ma was on her feet, her eyes wild with anger.

  ‘Lay one finger on that child and I’ll swing for you, Maguire.’

  There was a chill in her voice that gave me the shivers and the poor oul’ fella got the fright of his life. He stood there looking at her for a few seconds and I thought they were going to get stuck into each other. Then he gave a kind of growl in his throat and went into the bedroom. He slammed the door so hard behind him that I thought it would bring the block down around our ears. It was a week to the day after that that Larry died.

  Chapter 4

  Galloping consumption, an old woman up the flats said it was. Jeysus help poor Larry! It must have been galloping. They didn’t so much as get time to get him into hospital, and he died as he had lived for the past year, coughing his lungs up. And a while afterwards, I found out that Ma had known Larry didn’t have much time to go. And to think I wondered what she’d been so quiet about all through the last week of his little life.

  She loved us all, I knew that. But Larry was the baby, and even though he was ten or so, he’d never seemed like anything more than a b
aby. He’s never grown much bigger than a plum, and there was always something the matter with him, so that Ma had to give him more attention that any of the rest of us. Poor oul’ Ma - any wonder her hair was grey as a badgers.

  I hated Larry dying like that, and I wished with all my heart that I’d never hit him with the sponge the night he’d shit himself with fright in The Prinner. And when I thought about all the times I’d sent him home when he tried to follow me up to The Dodder for a swim, I cried until I was dry. It was a bitter lesson and a hard pill to swallow. It you’re going to do something for somebody, do it while they’re alive. Prayers and flowers and tears and white wood satin lined coffins, and head stones and lines in a newspaper, won’t do them much good when they’re six feet under.

  I felt so helpless too, not being able to do a thing to stop him from dying, and not being able to help Ma. Except by giving her whatever few shillings I could pick up here, there, and every where. She never spoke about it, but I knew that she died a little bit on the day they lowered Larry into the ground. And two years later she was still paying for the funeral.

  There were a lot of people in the church before they took the coffin out to the hearse. Mostly women, people with enough troubles of their own, crying real tears for a little kid they hardly knew, and a few men, sad silent guys with their caps in their hands paying their last respects. It was a heart warming thing. With all the kids that were up there on The Hill you’d hardly expect them to care that one of them might die. Yet they did. They did and they walked behind a hearse to show that they did. It was all that any of them could do and they seemed to do it with a heart and a half.

  The oul’fella, my own father, was like a man struck dumb. He didn’t say a word to anyone, just nodded his head whenever anyone expressed their sympathy. His face was lined with grey cracks, a mask that hid everything except the desperate, helpless thing that was in his eyes. God, but I knew how he felt at that time. The two of us were useless, and the more we thought about it the more it bloody well hurt.

  I was kneeling down trying to pray for Larry, but I found that I was cursing God for taking him away from us, and especially from Ma. She’d had enough pain and misery in her day and Larry had been a light in her life. Was it too much to ask that he be left with her?

  The priest then started on about Larry’s soul going to a better place and all the rest of it. Phrases like greener pastures and God’s holy will and more and more of the same until I thought I’d puke over the seat. Then Ma began to wail. It burst out of her, and it was heartbreaking to hear, and I bit into my hand until the blood came to my lips, and under my breath I swore at God from a height, and then I ran blindly out of the church, and I vowing, on my life, that I’d never go back again as long as I lived.

  I thought my lungs would burst, but I didn’t stop running until I reached the banks of The Dodder, and I was so worn out that I crumpled on the grass near the water. I lay on my face and I cried, trying to drain myself of the soreness and the pain, and the endless, ever-present helpless feeling that was so much a part of me. And when the tears stopped it was because there wasn’t anything left in me.

  After a long time I stood up and shakily walked the narrow path that led to Orwell Bridge. This place, this neglected river and its banks, was one long happy memory to me. I’d learned to swim in this water, holding onto a petrol can and kicking my feet, then working my way into the dog’s paddle and later the breast stroke. And I’d seen my heroes dive off the bridge into the dangerous, dirty, water for a bet of sixpence, and I’d seen Plunkett get caught in the weeds and my self and half a dozen other kids pulling him out. We adored Plunkett because he was the best swimmer we’d ever seen.

  Now, this place was just ground under my feet, something to walk on and not to think about, a place to be alone, where you could feel sorry for your self.

  So there I was, busily into my self pity, walking along the river bank, not even thinking of the state my face must have been in after all the tears.

  Then these three guys - they must have been mitching from school - came along, and when they saw my face they got into name calling, and jeering me for being a cry baby. I went wild with anger. Never before in my life had I wanted so much to be alone, and, losing the head completely, I flew at them. I must have gone mad to fight three of them, because normally I would have weighed up the odds and somehow talked my way out of it.

  I knocked one of them, a freckle faced bastard with flat eyes, into the middle of the river, and for all I cared he could have drowned on the spot. But the other two got stuck into me and though I lashed out left, right and centre, they really did beat the bejeysus out of me before they ran off leaving me lying in my own blood and vomit.

  My face was bruised and my mouth was bleeding badly, but I just didn’t care about that. I thumped the ground in exasperation, wanting to kill the three bastards who’d done this to me. Then I vomited again and lay in it for a long time.

  When I did get to my feet again I walked up to Mrs. Kearneys’ in Terenure - only about a mile away. When she opened the door I was so pleased to see her that, I’m sure I would have burst into tears if I hadn’t been as dry as a bone.

  She warmed up some whiskey for me to drink and it was hot enough to nearly burn my throat and chest and then it was warm inside and I told her everything. She was ever so kind to me, holding me like a baby until I fell asleep on the couch. By the time I drifted off I’d forgotten how much I hated to have anyone feel sorry for me, except myself.

  It was well into the evening when I woke up and I was still sore inside and out. I drank some strong coffee with whiskey in it, and after that had put the life back into me, she put me into a hot bath with lashings of disinfectant in the water for my cuts and bruises. And that night I slept with her, holding onto her all the time, and if I snuggled into her breasts it was only to get comfort that I knew Ma couldn’t give me.

  In the morning I remembered that I hadn’t done the paper round the previous evening, and I thought shag the paper round, and shag the oul’one in the shop, and shag everybody else too except Ma and Mrs. Kearney. I need hardly tell you that I still felt awful about Larry.

  I ate a really big breakfast and only when I’d cleaned the plate did I realise how hungry I‘d been. Mrs. Kearney talked to me about Larry and she was kind and full of understanding and you could tell that she was very fond of me. And when she finished I wasn’t hurting so much any more.

  There was nothing I could do for Larry, not even while he was alive. It was the way things were, and very likely the way things would always be for me, but about one thing I was sure, I was awful glad to have had him for my little brother.

  **********

  Later in the morning I had another bath and Mrs. Kearney washed me all over with pink soap. Then we got back into bed and I told her that I loved her, and I meant it when I said it. And she loved me, she said, and she’d come to need me, and there in the bed, thinking about it, I didn’t mind at all. She’d been a real pal to me when I needed help, and I wouldn’t forget that, not ever.

  It was only when I got out of bed that I thought about Ma. God only knew what agony I’d caused her by staying out all night, so I got my clothes on as quickly as I could. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to get home, to see that Ma was alright.

  Before I left, Mrs. Kearney produced a parcel, and when I opened it I found a new pair of flannel trousers. I put them on, sticking my own pair into the paper bag, and then I kissed her goodbye, at the same time thanking her for being so good to me.

  On the home, I rubbed a few bits of clay into the trouser legs, just to take the new look off them.

  Ma didn’t fight with me when I got in. She was only too relieved to see me, and I told her a cock-and-bull story about walking all night, and we cried a bit together, and I think she understood how big a blow Larry’s death had been to me.

  The oul’fella tr
ied to give me a ballocking, but she told him to shut up and leave me alone, and to me she seemed old for the first time. Even the grey hair hadn’t made her look old before, and I thought it was a stinking shame that Ma could have that happen to her.

  I told her that I’d found the flannels and I tried to tell her in a way that might have made her think I’d pinched them. She wouldn’t like that, but in her present state I didn’t think she’d be too worried. I was well pleased with them. They were near enough the right fit, and that evening when I went down to the paper shop I felt all grown up in my first real pair of brand new longers.

  The oul’one in the shop must have heard about Larry being dead because she didn’t say one word to me about not turning up the night before. In all the time I’d worked for her she hadn’t spoken a dozen words to me, and to this day I’m not sure what her name was. I didn’t say anything either. I just couldn’t have cared less about her or her paper round, even though I did need the money to help Ma.

  In the course of the next few days I really felt the impact of owning a pair of long trousers. It took a bit of getting used to, but every time I touched the material I got a great kick out of it. And, because most of the guys I hung with were green with envy, it felt even better.

  It was about a week after Larry died that that Da and the two eldest brothers went off to Manchester. Just like that, as if they were going up to Milltown to watch Shamrock Rovers play Bohemians. There were no tears, just quick, short, vacant goodbyes, and Ma was left with me and Billy and the sister, Josie.

  Up until then I’d hardly ever given the Da a second thought, I didn’t like him and he acted as though I was an eye sore, so we kept away from each other as much as we could. But when he’d left the house I found myself wondering what would happen to him. Would he be all right? Would he miss me and Ma and the others? And would he ever find happiness, any sort of happiness to lift the grey clouds out of his eyes.

  I didn’t know him well. He was one man who never wasted a word in his life, and whatever stories I’d heard about him hadn’t come from his lips. I’d heard often enough from Ma about him fighting ‘The Tans’ and the times that followed, stories of shootings, and explosions, and scampering retreats across roof-tops - of a night, when the oul’fella was taking her to the pictures at The De Luxe, in Aungiers Street.