Unspoken

by Gerard Stembridge

  Ann felt a bit sorry for that poor young Brother. What age was he? He looked younger than Ritchie. He was probably afraid some of these angry mothers would go for him. He finally got the gate open and the Minister held up his hands to calm everyone down. As he walked out, the mothers moved back, dragging their children and pulling their prams and everyone started shouting at the same time but he said, ‘Ladies! Ladies!’ Ann was one of the first to shut up and she wished that some of the younger mothers, who were very loud, would give the man a chance to speak.

  ‘I know why you’re all here. I understand that each of you got a letter this morning saying there was no place for your son in the secondary school.’

  Martin got an awful shock. All the women started roaring again and he felt his mam squeeze his hand even more. Was he being thrown out of school?

  ‘Please ladies, please. I have news for you all. I’ve just had a meeting with the Brother Superior and I’m delighted to be able to tell you that it’s all been a very unfortunate mistake. Brother Scully and I have sorted it out. As you know, this is the first year of my free education scheme and even though schools the length and breadth of the country have been very happy to sign up, including CBS here, there was always bound to be what I suppose you’d call teething troubles. One of these is that there are a lot more boys who want to continue in school, I’m glad to say, but of course that also means a lot more classroom space is needed and the good news is that Brother Scully has assured me he will take care of that. Immediately.’

  The women cheered and Martin felt his mam pushing him forward as she waved her letter at the Minister.

  ‘What’s your name, young lad?’

  The Minister’s eyes were friendly, but Martin wished he had looked at anyone else except him. It was the worst reddener he ever felt. If he didn’t answer, his mam would say this is my little boy Martin or something and then everyone would think he was some kind of a dummy. That would be even worse than his red face. When Martin opened his mouth he could hardly hear himself speak.

  ‘Martin Strong.’

  ‘Well, Martin, I hope you’re looking forward to going back to school next week because you and every other lad who passed his entrance exam – every one of you, mind – will get a letter in the next couple of days confirming that you have a free place in the secondary school here. You have my word on that.’

  Ann had never ever voted for Dom before, but right then she said a silent prayer of thanks and made a promise that she’d vote for him as long as she lived.

  ‘Do you hear that, Martin? You’ll be going to secondary school after all.’

  Martin, who until a minute ago hadn’t known that he wouldn’t be, was just glad that he didn’t have to answer any more questions and was even happier when his mam gave him two bob and said he could go to the pictures.

  Ann was so thrilled at the way things had turned that, after Martin went off, she decided to call up to Mona, who was his godmother, and tell her the good news. Her sister was delighted, but of course once she started on her own gossip there was no hope of a quick getaway, so by the time Ann got back Fonsie was already home from work, sitting in the scullery finishing his letter to the Christian Brothers. It was on the tip of Ann’s tongue to tell him that there was no need, it had all been sorted out, but when Fonsie proudly showed her what he had written, she hadn’t the heart to disappoint him after he’d made such an effort. So she just said it was a great letter and would surely do the trick. Afterwards, of course, she realised that Fonsie was bound to find out because Martin would tell everyone what had happened but for some reason he never mentioned it. Not a single, solitary word. So when, a few days later, just as the Minister had promised, the letter came from the school offering Martin a place, Fonsie was delighted that he had sorted it all out.

  ‘Mam, Mam, Mam, Mam. Mam!’ Francis’ voice dragged Ann back to the present.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is there any more liver, Mam?’

  ‘No, you’ve had enough. Anyway, look at the time. Come on, you all have to get back to school.’

  As they got up from the table, Ann’s eyes met Martin’s. It seemed to her that he looked away quickly. Was he still embarrassed about the way he had clutched her hand tight that day at the school gates? She’d never forget how red his face went when the Minister asked him his name. She’d been just about to answer for him but he got it out somehow. Martin was a great one for shouting and fighting out on the green but, for all his show, Ann knew he wasn’t as tough as he pretended to be.

  *

  The dry weather had made it a nice, handy day for Fonsie so far. By five o’clock he had tipped his last three hundredweight of Polish into Mrs Kenny’s coal bunker up in Cratloe. If he got back to Tedcastles in time, he could load up again and get to a few customers nearer town. That would make the day well worthwhile. Coming down the hill, he slowed the lorry at Setright’s corner just as the bus to Shannon passed by on the main road. Fonsie thought he spotted Gussie on it, but Gussie didn’t see him because he was staring out the window, lost in his own world as usual. He was on the late shift in the airport bar so he was probably fed up. He hated working at night. Interfered too much with his hectic social life, Fonsie thought. Gussie was one of those people who never seemed to realise how lucky he was to have a job to go to. Maybe he’d learn.

  *

  As soon as she got home from school, Marian Strong went to her little bedroom where she could do her English ecker in peace. They were studying ‘The Trout’ by Seán O’Faoláin and Miss Dillon had set them a question to answer. ‘Compare Julia’s new understandings about life with her younger brother’s view of the world.’ Marian made a little list in rough:

  One: Julia wasn’t afraid to enter the tunnel like her little brother was.

  Two: Julia understood that the trout they found was a real breathing fish who might die if it was left in the tiny secret pool of water. But her little brother thought it was like a magic fish in a fairy story.

  Three: Julia didn’t believe in fairy tales any more. Her brother did.

  By coincidence, as she re-read the story to get more ideas, her own little brother Francis came in, without knocking of course and he wasn’t in the room two seconds before he started asking questions. What story was she reading? Would he like it? He looked at her other books. What was Romeo and Juliet about? Who was Shakespeare? Marian wondered was Francis like the little brother in ‘The Trout’? He was clever in some ways, but there was so much he didn’t understand yet. Francis would probably think that he could read the stories in Marian’s anthology and understand every word, but he was far too immature to see the hidden meanings because he was still just a child, really, unlike Marian, who was now able to see hidden meanings in stories. It was one of the things she liked most about studying them. That gave her an idea for her ecker. Was this what was happening to Julia in ‘The Trout’? Was she discovering hidden meanings in things? Marian scribbled that down in her copybook before she forgot it. She was just going to throw her little brother out, so she could concentrate better, when her mam shouted upstairs, ‘Marian, come down and get started on this ironing. Gussie needs a clean shirt for work.’

  Even though his sister told him to get out of her room as she went downstairs to do the ironing, Francis stayed behind and picked up the book she had been studying. Exploring English, an Anthology of Short Stories by Augustine Martin. The book was open at ‘The Trout’. Francis had no interest in fish so he checked the list of titles to see if there was any other story he might like to read. ‘An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge’ sounded good. So did ‘The Majesty of the Law’ and ‘The Green Door’. The name of one of the authors looked mysterious. Saki. Was he from Japan or China or somewhere? Marian was fourteen – would he have to wait until he was that old before he could read this book? He saw a story called ‘My First Confession’. Well, he had made his first confession a long time ago, surely he’d understand this easily. As he turned the pages to find it, he
was distracted by something he saw on Marian’s dressing table; a doll in a long pink dress. Marian had had it since she was a small girl. He didn’t know why she kept it because she was too old to play with dolls now. Francis had never been interested in any kind of doll, but the long pink dress now made him think of something that had been on his mind. The day before he’d been out on the green messing with Tommy Duggan and Ger Doherty and Brendan O’Driscoll. Tommy’s sister Val had come over. She was always sticking her nose in and no one wanted her to be there. After a while, when she wouldn’t go away, Ger Doherty got really fed up and he said words that shocked Francis. He said, ‘Fuck off’ll ya!’ and Val said, ‘I won’t, I’ve as much right to stand here as you and I’m going to tell your da what you said.’ That made Ger really angry and he said something even worse. ‘Do you want a kick in the mickey, do you?’ and he looked like he really meant it. Ger was nearly nine. But Val wasn’t scared, she just laughed in his face. She said, ‘You can’t kick me in the mickey because girls don’t have mickeys. You mean you don’t know that?’

  No one knew what to say.

  Ger Doherty went all red and then he tried to grab Val but she ran off and he chased her but she ducked inside her front gate. Francis was afraid to ask Tommy or Brendan if what Val said was true or a lie because then they would know that he didn’t know. But how was he supposed to know? Marian was his only sister. She was much older and had her own room and he had never even been in the bathroom at the same time as her or anything like that. Tommy acted like he knew. ‘Big fool,’ he said about Ger Doherty. So did that mean it was true? But it sounded mad. If girls didn’t have a mickey, what did they have?

  Now, Francis was looking at the doll and wondering if there was a clue to the mystery under the long pink dress. He heard the front door slam. He looked out the window and saw Gussie leaving for work wearing his freshly ironed white shirt. Francis listened. The only sound in the house were the voices of his mam and sister far off downstairs. He picked up the doll and sat down on Marian’s bed. She had long black hair and blue eyes that stared at him. It was an old doll, so the eyes didn’t move and the arms and legs went back and forth but they didn’t bend. Francis decided to investigate if what Val Duggan said was true or not. He turned the doll upside down and looked up her dress. Her legs seemed very long and she was wearing tiny pink knickers. He would have to take them off to reveal the truth. For some reason he was a bit scared now. He kept the doll steady by holding the head between his knees and, with one hand, held the dress out so there was more room for the finger and thumb of his other hand to reach up her long legs. Just as he caught hold of the little knickers, his mam’s voice stopped his heart.

  ‘What are you doing? You dirty thing. You dirty thing! Put that down immediately. Mother of God!’

  Francis jumped up and the doll fell to the floor. He could tell from her face and her voice that he had done something awful and he couldn’t try to explain why he did it because that was more awful. ‘Get out, you dirty thing. You dirty thing!’ Francis ran out of the room and down the stairs, his mam’s voice shaming him with every step. ‘Get out of this house. I don’t want to see you ’til your father gets home, you dirty animal! He’ll deal with you. Get out!’ Francis heard Marian come out to the hall but he turned his face away, grabbed open the front door and ran out.

  *

  Having spotted Gussie on the bus, Fonsie took it as a lucky sign when, about twenty minutes after that, he saw Ritchie on his Honda 50 waiting at traffic lights. Ritchie saw his dad as well and gave him a big wave and a smile as he drove through. Fonsie knew Ann would enjoy that coincidence when he told her later on tonight. Ritchie wasn’t travelling towards home, so he wondered where he was off to. It couldn’t be to see his girlfriend, Dolores Spaight, because Ann had told him that she had broken it off a few nights ago. Which was a pity. Dolores, a salesgirl in Roches Stores, had seemed very nice. Of course Ritchie could do no wrong in Ann’s eyes, so she had made out that Dolores had treated him very badly, but Fonsie was more inclined to think there was probably two sides to the story. Anyway, from the big smile on his face as he waved, Ritchie didn’t seem too put out. He was only twenty, and these things happened.

  Ritchie was in a very good mood as he rode to Peter Malone’s house. His pal had invited him to come and listen to his latest favourite new album, Days of Future Passed. The Malones’ small back extension was becoming more like Peter’s private music room. It was full of his stuff. He had over three hundred albums – about 295 more than Ritchie had – and probably five hundred singles. He had them all arranged according to when he bought them. Before putting on Days of Future Passed Peter told Ritchie how important it was that they listen to all of side one in total silence, which was a bit of a joke, as he was the one who never shut up when they listened to music. So they sat there without as much as a whisper although Peter nearly drove Ritchie spare looking over at him to see how he was reacting and a few times he held his hand up or pointed a finger to draw attention to a particular thing in the music. At first Ritchie was puzzled that none of the songs seemed to end, they just drifted from one to another. Then he got into it and found the whole effect sort of dreamy and relaxing. When side one, ended Peter leapt from his seat to turn the record over. ‘Ha? Ha? Whatja think? Ha? Amazing isn’t it? Unreal. Ha? Like, they’re taking the whole thing onto another level aren’t they? It’s way out there. An album isn’t just a collection of songs any more. That’s all gone man, gone. And wait’ll you hear, I swear. Side two is savage altogether.’ He dropped the needle and sat down again. Ritchie hadn’t got a word in. His pal had just assumed that he was knocked out by Days of Future Passed as well. Ritchie preferred side two because it had ‘Nights in White Satin’ on it, the only song he recognised. The album version was longer than the single version, with one of the band saying a little poem at the end. Peter did not jump up when it finished. Instead he just sat back and shook his head. Ritchie thought he’d better make some comment.

  ‘The flute is good, isn’t it?’

  ‘Unreal. Unreal. That flute is inspired, man. The whole symphonic vibe is fuckin’ inspired.’

  They both agreed that side two was definitely worth hearing again. Mrs Malone nearly ruined it by coming in to ask if they wanted their tea but she retreated quicky when her son waved her away impatiently. After their second listen, Peter continued rapping about the album as they collected the mixed grill that his mother had got ready for them and took it back to the room. Ritchie couldn’t match Peter’s note by note familiarity, so he let him do nearly all the talking while he looked through his pal’s other recent purchases. He picked out Gentle on my Mind, and asked to play it. He liked Glen Campbell’s voice. They played side one but then Peter insisted on playing Days of Future Passed again. After that Ritchie definitely had enough of the Moody Blues and suggested going to South’s. A bunch of fellahs and girls from the Cecilian’s Musical Society came in after rehearsal. Peter and Ritchie knew some of them and managed to get talking with two great-looking birds, Carmel and Áine. Ritchie fancied Áine, the blonde with the happy giggle, so he hoped that Peter was into Carmel. By closing time they were all getting on really well, and the girls said yes when Peter suggested they go on to the 2Club. It occurred to Ritchie that he hadn’t told his mam he’d be home so late. What the hell. She’d surely remember to put the key under the mat for him.

  *

  It was getting dark when a bone-tired, coal-blackened but carefree Fonsie arrived back to find the house in a state of silent misery. The television was turned off, two of his children, Marian and Martin, were at the kitchen table, tear-stained, and there was no sign of Ann. Instead, her sister Mona and Mary Storan were waiting, both looking very heavy-hearted. Words tumbled from four people at once and it was impossible for Fonsie to understand anything.

  ‘Fonsie, thank God you’re home.’

  ‘Dad, Mam’s in hospital.’

  ‘Bernard McMahon hit Francis on the ear with his hu
rley.’

  ‘Ann took him to accident and emergency.’

  ‘Hold on, I can’t listen to you all. Mona. Let Mona speak.’

  His sister-in-law, delighted to be the one to tell all, said, ‘Well,’ and paused for a moment. Then of course, instead of telling Fonsie what he wanted to know, she started by talking about herself.

  ‘I was at home – this was about six o’clock, now – and I was just about to put Seán’s tea on the table when Marian arrived – God help us, she was breathless from running – and she told me that Ann had to bring Francis to Emergency because he was after getting a clatter on the head with a hurley –’

  ‘I saw what happened, Dad, it was Bernard –’

  ‘Shh, Martin!’

  ‘So I came over here straight away. Well, no, first I dropped in on the way to tell Mary, you know, on account of Francis’ being her godchild.’

  Mary Storan couldn’t stay quiet a second longer.

  ‘I got an awful shock, Fonsie. I was thinking what if he’s brain-damaged? So of course I said I’d go down to the hospital. Well –’

  ‘And I came here and made these two their tea and at around seven Billy Benson called in to say he’d got them to the hospital all right and hopefully Francis would be seen to very quickly. He said his ear was all red and swelling up like a balloon but, hopefully, there wouldn’t be any internal damage.’

  ‘Oh Janey.’

  ‘Oh, that isn’t the half of it, Fonsie. Wait ’til you hear.’

  ‘But what happened? Martin, who did you say hit him?’

  ‘I told you Dad. Bernard McMahon.’

  ‘But why? Was it an accident?’

  ‘No, on purpose.’

  Marian felt like she’d burst if she didn’t say her piece.

  ‘Francis ran out on the green after Mam caught him doing something up in my bedroom, I don’t know what, but she was shouting at him and then a few minutes after that Martin came in –’