by Roddy Doyle
I’d done it. It was alright. Normal again. He’d cracked a joke. Ma had laughed. I’d laughed. He’d laughed. Mine lasted the longest. During it, I thought it was going to change into a cry. But it didn’t. My eyes blinked like mad but then it was okay.
—Sediment has three syllables, I told them.
—Very good, said my ma.
—Sed-i-ment.
—How many has Centenary?
I was ready; I’d done that one for homework.
—Cen-ten-ar-y. Four.
—Ver-y good. How many has Bed?
I got the joke just before I said the answer; my mouth was nearly open.
I stood up quick.
-Okay.
I wanted to go while it was nice. I’d made it like that.
There were two teachers not in because they were sick so Henno had to mind another class. He left us with a load of sums on the board. He left the door open. There wasn’t much messing or noise. I liked long division. I used my ruler to make sure that my lines were absolutely straight. I liked guessing if I’d have the answer before I got to the end of the page. There was a screech and laughing. Kevin had leaned over and drawn a squiggly line all over Fergus Shevlin’s copy, only he’d used the wrong end of the pen so there was no mark but Fergus Shevlin got a fright. I didn’t see it. I was at the top of the second row that week and Kevin was in the middle of the third row.
You could always tell when Henno came back. Everything in the room went really still for a few seconds. He was in the room; I could tell. I didn’t look up. I was near the end of a sum.
He was standing beside me.
He put a copy under my eyes. It was open. It wasn’t mine. There were wet streaks in the ink all the way down the pages. They’d made the ink a lighter blue; there were bars of light blue across the page where someone had tried to rub the tears away.
I expected to be hit.
I looked up.
Henno had Sinbad with him. They were Sinbad’s tears; I could tell from his face and the way his breath jumped.
—Look at that, Henno said to me.
He meant the copy. I did what I was told.
—Isn’t it disgraceful?
I didn’t say.
All that was wrong was the tears. They’d ruined the writing, nothing else. Sinbad’s writing wasn’t bad. It was big and the lines of his letters swerved a bit like rivers because he wrote very slowly. Some of the turns missed the copy line but not by much. It was just the tears.
I waited.
—You’re damn lucky you’re not in this class, Mister Clarke Junior, Henno said to Sinbad.—Ask your brother.
I still didn’t know what was wrong, why I was supposed to be looking at the copy, why my brother was standing there. He wasn’t crying now; his face was the proper way.
It was a new feeling: something really unfair was happening; something nearly mad. He’d only cried. Henno didn’t know him; he’d just picked on him.
He spoke to me.
—You’re to put that copy in your bag and you’re to show it to your mother the minute you get home. Let her see what a specimen she has on her hands. Is that clear?
I wasn’t going to do it but I had to say it.
—Yes, Sir.
I wanted to look at Sinbad, to let him know. I wanted to look around at everyone.
—In your bag now.
I closed the copy gently. The pages were still a bit wet.
—Get out of my sight, Henno told Sinbad.
Sinbad went. Henno called him back to close the door after him; he asked him was he born in a barn. Then Henno went over and opened the door again, to listen for noise from the other class.
I gave the copy to Sinbad.
—I’m not going to show the copy to Ma, I told him.
He said nothing.
—I won’t tell her what happened, I said.
I needed him to know.
She didn’t get up one morning. Da was going down to Mrs McEvoy to get her to take the babies for the day. Me and Sinbad still had to go to school.
—Get your breakfasts here, he said.
He unlocked the back door.
—Are you washed yet?
He’d gone before I could tell him that I always washed myself before I had my breakfast. I always made my own cornflakes, got the bowl and put in the flakes - never spilt them—put in the milk. Then the sugar. I used to flick my fingernail under the spoon so the sugar would be sprinkled evenly all over. But I didn’t know what to do this morning; I was all mixed up. There was no bowl. I knew where she kept them. I put them away sometimes. There was no milk. It was probably still on the front step. There was only the sugar. I went over to it. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to think about my ma up in their bedroom. About her sick. I didn’t want to see her. I was afraid.
Sinbad followed me.
If she wasn’t sick, if she was just up in the bed, I’d have to know why she hadn’t got up. I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t go up there. I didn’t want to know. It would be back to normal when we came home from school later.
I had a spoon of sugar. I didn’t keep it long enough in my mouth for it to become nice. I wasn’t hungry. I wouldn’t bother having any breakfast. I’d make toast. I liked the gas.
—What’s wrong with Mam?
I didn’t want to know.
—Shut up.
—What’s wrong with her?
—Shut up.
—Is she sick?
—She’s sick of you; shut up.
—Is she not well?
I liked the hiss the gas made and the smell for a little bit. I grabbed Sinbad. I made his face go close to the gas. He pushed back. He wasn’t as easy to control as he used to be. His arms were strong. He couldn’t beat me though. He’d never be able to do that. I’d always be bigger than him. He got away.
—I’m telling.
—Who?
—Da.
—What’re you goin’ to tell him? I said, moving towards him.
—You were messin’ with the gas, he said.
—So what?
—We’re not allowed.
He ran into the hall.
—You’ll wake Ma, I said.—Then she’ll never get better and you’ll be to blame.
He wouldn’t tell anything.
—There must have been the pair of you in it.
That was what Da nearly always said.
I opened the back door to get rid of the smell of the gas.
If Ma wasn’t really sick; if they’d had another fight—. I hadn’t heard anything. They’d laughed before I went to bed. They’d talked to each other.
I closed the door.
Da was coming back. I could hear his feet. He opened the door and came in, both steps at once. He left the door open.
—Nice day out, he said.—Have your breakfast?
—Yes, I said.
—Francis as well?
—Yes.
—Good lads. Good man. Missis McEvoy is going to look after Cathy and Deirdre. She’s very good.
I watched his face. It wasn’t tight or white; I couldn’t see veins in his neck. He looked nice and calm: nothing bad had happened. Ma was sick.
—It’ll give your mammy a chance to get better, he said.
I wanted to see her now; it was alright. She was only sick.
—I’ll hardly have time for breakfast myself, he said, but he seemed kind of delighted.—No rest for the wicked.
—Can I go up to her? I said.
—She’ll be asleep.
—Just to look.
—Better not; you might wake her. Better not. D’you mind?
—No.
He didn’t want me to. There was something.
What about your lunch? he said.—You’ll have to stay in.
—Sandwiches, I said.
—Can you manage? I can get the girls ready.
—Yeah.
—Good man, he said.—Francis’s as well, right?
-Okay.<
br />
The butter was hard. I’d seen my ma doing it, scraping the top with the knife. I couldn’t do it though. I just put pats of butter in each corner of the bread. There was nothing in the fridge to put in the sandwiches, not that I could see, except cheese, and I hated that. So I just made bread sandwiches. I made Sinbad’s as well, just in case Da checked. There was nothing wrong with my ma. If he was smiling when he came back down I’d ask him for money for crisps for the sandwiches.
He smiled.
—Can we get crisps for the sandwiches?
—Good idea, he said.
He knew I was asking for the money to buy them. He had the girls in his arms; he had them laughing. Crisp sandwiches. I’d have to sneak out of the school at break because we weren’t supposed to leave the yard, unless we were going on a message for one of the masters. There was definitely nothing wrong with her. Except she was a bit sick; I could tell for definite now. She had a tummy or a headache, that was all, or a bad cold. Da put Catherine down so he could get money from his pocket. Nothing that would stop her from being downstairs when we came home.
—Now.
He’d found the money.
—There now.
Two shillings.
-One each, he said.—Make sure now.
—Thanks, Da.
Sinbad had come back.
—Da gave us a shilling for each of us, I told him.
—Will Mam be better when we come home? he said.
—Probably, said Da.—Maybe not; probably.
—Crisp sandwiches, I told Sinbad.
I showed him the two shillings. I got out my hankie, put the two shillings in and stuffed the hankie right down, down into a corner of my pocket, the two shillings locked under it.
I took my time getting home, on purpose. I put my bag between Aidan and Liam’s hedge and the wall and we went looking for the Weirdy Fella. The Weirdy Fella lived in the fields. There were hardly any fields left but he was still out there. I’d seen him once. He jumped into a ditch just when I was looking. He had a big black coat on him and a cap. He was all dirty and his back was crooked. He had no teeth, just two black stumps, like Tootsie’s. I didn’t see his teeth—he was too far away - but that was what they were like. I just saw his shape. We’d all seen him that day. We ran after him but he got away. We were going to kill him for all the things he did. He ate birds and rats and anything good he could get out of bins. My da always put the bin outside our gate on Wednesday night because the binmen came round on Thursday morning and he was in too much of a hurry in the mornings. One Thursday the lid was off the bin and there was stuff all over the path, bags and bones and tins and all the things that had been in the top half of the bin, the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday stuff. I went back in and told my ma about it.
—Cats, she said.—Fizz it.
I went out again; I was going to school. I looked. There was a bit missing off a piece of bread. It was round, heel-shaped. I kicked the bread away; the shape stayed stuck to the ground. The weirdy Fella.
No one owned him. A girl in Baldoyle had had to be brought into hospital in Jervis Street after she fainted when she got home after the Weirdy Fella’d jumped up in front of her out from behind a pillar and had shown her his mickey. The guards never found him. He knew when you were on your own.
—He was in the army during the war, said Aidan.
There was just me and Aidan and Liam. Kevin had had to go somewhere with his ma and da; his granny was sick and he had to wear his good clothes. He had a note to let him out of school early. I was glad that Kevin wasn’t coming, but I didn’t say anything.
—How d’you know? I said.
I didn’t say it the way I would’ve if Kevin had been with us.
—He got shot in the head and they couldn’t get the bullet out properly so that’s why he’s mad.
—We should still kill him.
—Yeah.
—I’d say Kevin’s granny is dying, said Liam.—We had to wear our good clothes when Ma died. D’you remember?
—No, said Aidan.—Yeah. There was a party after.
—A party?
—Yeah, said Aidan.
—Yeah, said Liam as well.—Kind of. Sandwiches and the grown-ups had drinks.
—So did we.
—Some of them sang songs.
I wanted to go home.
—I don’t think we’ll find him, I said.—It’s too bright.
They agreed. No Chicken or Scaredy cat or anything like that. I got my bag and slowed myself, made myself walk normal. I got a leaf off Hanley’s tree and folded and watched the crease getting darker and where the leaf broke. I got to the gate.
She was still in her dressing gown. That was all.
—Hello, she said.
—Hi, I said.
Sinbad was already home with his shoes off. There was nothing wrong with her to see.
—Are you still sick?
—Not really, she said.—I’m fine.
—Do you want me to go to the shops?
—I don’t think so, she said.—Francis was singing his new song for me.
—We had crisp sandwiches for our lunch, I told her.
—So I believe, she said.—Will you finish it for me, love?
—TALLY-HO HOUNDS AWAY -
Sinbad looked sideways at the lino.
—TALLY-HO HOUNDS AWAY -
TALLY-HO HOUNDS AWAY
ME BOYS AWAY --
Ma started clapping.
She was in her dressing gown the next day as well but that was only because she hadn’t got dressed yet. She was better. She looked straighter. She moved quicker.
I’d stayed awake all night, as long as I could, most of the night. There was nothing. I woke up early—half bright. I got out of bed. I didn’t make noise when my feet got to the floor. I got to their door, over the creak just on front of it. I listened. Nothing. Asleep. My da’s noise. My ma’s noise under it. I went back. Bed was nice when you got back in after you got out for a bit when it was still warm. I kept my feet up near me. I didn’t mind being awake. I was the only one. I looked across at Sinbad. His head was where his legs were supposed to be. His feet were somewhere. I could see the back of his head. I looked. I saw his breathing. There were birds outside, loads of them; three different kinds. I knew: they were getting at the milk. There used to be a bit of a roof slate beside the step for the milkman to put on top of the bottles to stop the birds from getting at them but it was gone now. Then there was a biscuit tin lid and a big stone to put on top of it but they were gone as well; the lid was, I didn’t look for the stone. I didn’t know why everyone tried to stop the birds from drinking the milk. They only took the top bit, hardly any. I heard the alarm going off in their bedroom. I could hear the clock on the wood of the cabinet on my da’s side. I heard the alarm being stopped. I waited. I heard her coming to the door. I’d shut it properly after me. I pretended I was asleep.
—Good morning, boys.
I still pretended. I didn’t have to look; I knew it from her voice. She was better.
—Wakey wakey!
Sinbad laughed. She was tickling him. He was whinging as well, funny and annoyed. I waited for my turn.
That didn’t mean that there was nothing wrong, that nothing had happened. All it meant was that if something had happened between them, if they’d had a fight, she was better now. It was the first time she hadn’t got up, except for two days after she came home from the hospital after having Deirdre. She was in bed when we got home from our auntie’s; that was where we’d been when she was in the hospital. Our Auntie Nuala. She was my ma’s big sister. I didn’t like it there. I knew what was happening but Sinbad didn’t really, not really.
—My mam’s in the hop-sital.
He didn’t talk like that now. He was better at it.
She was in bed when we came home. We came home on the bus, two buses, with our uncle.
I kept watch. I listened.
—They had a party, I told Kevin.—After the fu
neral. In the house. Singing and all.
I went to the shops for Henno to get him two cakes for his lunch.
—A packet of Mikado if she’s no cakes left.
He said I could have a ha’penny out of the change for doing the message so I got a gobstopper with it. I showed it to Kevin under the desk. I wished I’d bought something different now, something I could have shared with Kevin.
When Henno told us to go asleep Kevin dared me to eat the gobstopper without being caught. If I took it out of my mouth because Henno could hear noises or he was coming down to check our copies, if I chickened, I’d have to give the rest of the gobstopper to Kevin. All he’d have to do was run cold water from the tap over it.
Henno went out to talk to James O‘Keefe’s ma just after I put the gobstopper into my mouth. Missis O’Keefe was shouting. Henno warned us and shut the door. We could still hear her. James O‘Keefe wasn’t in school. I sucked like mad. She said that Henno was always picking on James O’Keefe. I made the gobstopper go round and round, rubbing it off my cheeks but mostly the roof of my mouth and my tongue. It got smoother. I couldn’t take it out of my mouth. I got Ian McEvoy to look; I opened my mouth: the gobstopper was white. I’d licked the outside off it. He was every bit as intelligent as the other boys, she told Henno. She knew some of them and they were nothing to write home about. Henno opened the door and warned us again. Calm down now, Missis O‘Keefe, we heard him saying. Then he was gone. There were no more voices outside. He’d gone somewhere with Missis O’Keefe. We started laughing because everybody was watching me trying to eat the gobstopper. They kept saying He’s coming and pretending that he was but I didn’t fall for it. He was gone for ages. When he opened the door the gobstopper was small enough to swallow if I had to. I’d won. I looked at Henno’s face and swallowed it. I had to push hard; my throat was sore for ages after it. Henno was real nice for the rest of the day. He brought us out to the pitch and showed us how to solo the ball. My tongue was pink.
They were fighting all the time now. They said nothing but it was a fight. The way he folded his paper and snapped it, he was saying something. The way she got up when one of the girls was crying upstairs, sighed and stooped, wanting him to see that she was tired. It was happening. They probably thought they were hiding it.