‘Indeed I will, in fact, Mass in the monastery chapel was for the repose of his soul this morning. Seán Tobin was a good man, he is resting at the right hand of the Lord, you can be sure. I know his body is coming home later today and that’s going to be hard for you all. Now, if I’m not intruding, might I make a suggestion? I have a few things inside that I need help moving, schoolbooks and the like, now that the term is over. Maybe if Liam had a spare few minutes he might give me a hand. I have young Lynch in here as well, but we need another pair of hands, so if it’s not too much trouble?’
Mammy held the priest’s gaze for a moment as if something unspoken was passing between them and she replied, ‘Of course, Father Aquinas, I’m sure Liam wouldn’t mind helping. Seán...I mean Seán’s body is coming at four, but we were just going to the church to say a prayer when...’
‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Tobin,’ he interjected. ‘I’ll send him down before four, you have my word. Now, Liam, let’s go and find Patrick and see what can be done, shall we?’
Liam caught his mother’s eye and she nodded and smiled weakly. He followed the priest into the monastery. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was sort out books, but there was nothing else to do either. He wanted to run away from himself, from his thoughts, the reality of his horrible life.
Patrick was standing in the middle of the hall with long tables set up all around, heaving under the weight of schoolbooks, copies, jotters, and pencil cases.
‘The hardworking parents of this city do everything in their power for their offspring to have all they need for school and this is the regard those young bucks have for them. These books have been found around the school during the year. Our job is to catalogue them, see what we have and then, er, redistribute them to people who might have a bit more respect for them. So, Liam, Patrick is gathering up all the English books; you can gather all the Irish and pile them on that table over there—Maths and Science on the other side, and Latin and French under the window. Anything else ye can put over by the door, and we’ll go through them when we’ve time.’ With that, the priest swept out of the room, leaving the two boys alone.
Liam stood motionless in the rectangle of tables when Patrick came over. They’d not seen each other since the day of the exam, over ten days ago.
‘I was going to call over, but I didn’t know if I should...’ Patrick began.
‘It’s all right. I wasn’t really...’ Liam didn’t know what to say.
‘Yeah, I...it’s terrible about your da. My mam got a Mass said.’ Patrick was trying, Liam knew, but just like himself he had no idea what to say.
‘We better get these books sorted before he comes back and murders us.’ They smiled in shared complicity, both knowing that the priest would do nothing of the kind.
He did arrive back after about half an hour but with lemonade and cake. He made a makeshift table out of the piles of books and called them from their work.
‘Now, Mr Tobin and Mr Lynch, all that sorting is thirsty work,’ he smiled, handing them each a bottle of lemonade. The bubbles fizzed in Liam’s mouth, and he took an iced bun from the plate. Patrick did the same and, to their astonishment, Father Aquinas followed suit. They never in their wildest dreams imagined a priest would drink lemonade, or eat a sticky bun. The three sat munching companionably and Liam felt the closest to normal he had felt since he heard the news.
‘I suppose ye are wondering why ye got no letter about the scholarship?’ he said between bites.
Liam had wondered before Kate told them about Daddy but since then, it never entered his head. He knew though by looking at Patrick that he thought about nothing else. Both boys remained silent, unsure of what to say.
‘Well, Liam, you’ve had enough to be thinking about, I suppose, but anyway, the reason ye got no letter is because I wanted to tell ye myself. Ye both got it.’ He took a big slug of his lemonade.
Liam and Patrick looked at each other. Could it be true? Were they going to secondary school together? Patrick’s face split in a grin as wide as Cork harbour and Liam couldn’t help but smile too. His father would be so proud, would have been so proud, he corrected himself. Daddy would only be able to see him from heaven. Patrick was so happy, he could hardly contain it. He looked from the priest to Liam repeating, ‘Oh wow! I got it! I got the scholarship!’
Finishing off his lemonade, the priest dug into his soutane pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper.
‘The first year booklist. Ye better get back to those tables and collect the best ones before the free-for-all next week. Now I’ve to go, but Liam, make sure you’re home by three in time to get cleaned up and everything. It’s going to be a very hard few days for you and the whole family, so be patient with people and tell your mother about the scholarship when the time feels right. Maybe Patrick could hang around with you over the next while to keep you company. Funerals can be lonely times even when loads of people are around. Ye are both scholarship lads now, and I won’t lie to ye, some of the others attending St Bart’s will look down on ye because ye don’t come from the backgrounds they do but don’t mind them and stick together, and ye’ll be grand. The best of luck to both of ye.’ He stood up and shook each of their hands before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the room once more.
Chapter 8
The rosary around the closed coffin, the removal from the funeral home to the church the following day, the endless flow of people through the house, the cups of tea, the uneaten sandwiches, and the cakes piled high on the kitchen table—it all passed in a blur.
The morning of the funeral, Con helped him tie his black tie, and he wore long trousers for the first time in his life. They were an old pair of Con’s he got when he first started working. The fabric felt strange on his legs as he walked across the road with his black-clad family. Patrick was sitting in the church when they arrived, about ten rows back from the coffin, which had lain overnight in the Church of St Teresa. The Goldie Fish on top of the steeple glittered in the sunlight as the community gathered to pay their last respects to Seán Tobin. Liam wished he could sit with his friend rather than in the front row with Mammy and the others where everyone would come and shake his hand and tell him they were sorry for his trouble. He never knew what to say so he said nothing. He couldn’t come to terms with the reality that it was Daddy in the coffin.
Usually when someone died, the coffin was open for the first part—the rosary—but because Daddy died so long ago, they couldn’t do that. He never got to see him in his coffin. Patrick said maybe it was for the best, better he remember him the way he was when they were all happy. But Liam tried to explain it was like he couldn’t make his brain believe it. His strong father, whom everyone liked, the man, who was strong as a horse but gentle as a lamb, was dead and lifeless in a wooden box. That’s how Mrs Lynch described him when she came to pay her respects the other night. Liam never thought of Daddy as either a horse or a lamb, but he knew what she meant.
He sat beside Mammy because he knew none of the others would. They were polite to her in front of people and they put on a show for the neighbours, but he knew how they really felt. He tried to ask them to be nicer to her, Molly and Annie especially, but they just said that Kate and Con were right, it was Mammy’s fault and they couldn’t forgive her. Molly was really mean to him and said he was only sucking up to Mammy because that’s what he always did and that he was just trying to be her pet. Annie told her to shut up and said it wasn’t Liam’s fault and that she shouldn’t take it out on him, he didn’t understand. He wanted to scream at them that he did understand but he knew he’d never win against the two of them so he just left it.
James, the undertaker, came up and asked him if he’d like to shoulder the coffin. He never thought they would let him because he was too small, way smaller than the other men who were carrying his father to his grave.
‘Am I not too small?’ he asked.
‘Of course not,’ James replied. ‘No pr
essure, only if you want to. We can have four men at the four corners and Con can be opposite you. Your shoulder won’t touch the coffin, but you can balance it with your hand.’
‘I want to,’ he answered.
The funeral Mass went in a blur. Father Aquinas, Father Mac, Father O’Donnell, and Monsignor McGregor from the school concelebrated. Liam knew it was a great honour to have so many priests on the altar. Father Mac did most of it, talked about Daddy like he knew him well, which of course he did. He talked about him as a young man growing up in Blackpool, playing hurling for Cork, meeting Mammy and all of the family coming along. He talked about how Seán Tobin was abstemious, and though Liam wasn’t too sure what that meant, it sounded like a good thing. How he was a great neighbour and friend to everyone he met. Liam could imagine some people nudging each other when he said that, nodding spitefully. ‘Oh, he was all that, especially to young pretty widows,’ he imagined them saying. He forced those thoughts from his mind and tried to focus once more on Father Mac.
The choir sang some hymns. Nothing Liam particularly liked, and he wondered who picked them, Mammy probably. At the end, Kate went up to the lectern and Liam watched as she composed herself to speak.
‘Dear Lord in heaven we ask you
To bless this home of ours,
To guide us and protect us,
Beneath Heaven’s shining stars.
To protect your faithful servants
As we travel near and far,
We worship and adore you Lord,
Beneath Heaven’s shining stars.’
Hearing his sister recite the final prayer of the Tobin family’s nightly rosary removed the last bit of composure he had. Molly and Annie clung to each other and fat tears flowed unchecked down Con’s face. Liam squeezed his mother’s hand and tried to reach her, but she was miles away, drowning under waves of crashing, painful grief.
The priest then came down and as he was swinging the thurible over the coffin, he said the prayers Liam had heard thousands of times before as he served funeral Mass as an altar boy. The smell of incense wafted around the church.
‘Into your hands O Lord we commend the spirit of our brother Seán. Acknowledge we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen. May his soul and the souls of all the departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.’
The undertakers gathered round and ushered Liam towards the coffin. He was placed in front with his Uncle Willy who was also short. Con was behind him with Daddy’s brother Tony, and the final pair were another two uncles. They lifted the coffin and Uncle Willy put his hand on Liam’s shoulder. He could feel the coffin almost touching his other shoulder though he didn’t bear the weight, he wasn’t tall enough. He put his arm on Uncle Willy and his free hand on the front of the coffin in case it slid forward. Once James was satisfied it was being carried securely, they began to walk slowly down the aisle. People wiped their eyes on either side. The church was packed, and there were even more people outside. Liam felt proud of his father; the knowledge that so many people liked Daddy and came to his funeral meant something to him.
He spotted Patrick out of the corner of his eye, and his friend gave him a nod of encouragement. It was unusual to see Patrick so serious but then this was a very serious occasion, Liam supposed.
The coffin was placed in the hearse and more people came forward to express their sympathy. He walked over to the back of the hearse and put his mother’s arm in his. Con stood behind them with the girls on his arms, and behind them were the rest of the family—aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbours, and friends. It struck Liam how well they organised themselves in rank of closeness to the family without anyone telling them where to stand. People just seemed to know.
They walked behind the hearse all the way to the graveyard. Daddy was going to be buried with his parents, and the idea gave Liam some comfort. Nana Tobin and Granda were really nice and before they died, they used to visit often, bringing sweets and cakes. He was glad Daddy was going to be with them. Nana died three years ago, and Granda died within six months of her. Mammy was fond of saying that he died of a broken heart. Mammy was right, Granda didn’t like living without Nana. He hoped his mother didn’t die of a broken heart now. That would be too much to bear.
He never noticed the figure standing at the graveside as the funeral cortege approached. It wasn’t until they stopped right beside the big black hole that he saw her. Everyone was silent and people stared. Mrs Kinsella was dressed in a black coat, but she had a bright red scarf around her neck and was wearing a lot of makeup. She was dabbing her eyes with a black lace handkerchief, much more glamorous than the white cotton ones the other women carried.
She stood on the far side of the grave alone as the crowd gathered round. Despite the hundreds of people, nobody stood near her. Liam felt Mammy stiffen and stare at her. Nobody knew what to do, she wasn’t welcome here, surely she knew that. No one had seen her since that terrible night when she screamed and begged Daddy to go with her.
Mr O’Connor, the undertaker, whose funeral parlour was only a hundred yards from the Tobins’ house knew the whole sorry tale and so decided to intervene. He walked around the grave as Father Mac and the other priests were putting on their vestments and preparing the aspersorium full of holy water to be sprinkled on the coffin. Liam didn’t want to watch what happened next. Instead he focused on the familiar actions of the priests. They didn’t wear the alb and chasuble that they wore at Mass, the floor-length garments were too cumbersome to wear outside, and it was considered undignified for a priest to disrobe in front of the congregation so they just brought the stole and placed it around the neck over the long, black everyday soutane. Priests could wear a black, white, or purple stole and on this occasion, Father Mac was wearing white to symbolise hope.
He was trying hard to focus on the priests, but it was impossible. Mrs Kinsella was shouting at Mr O’Connor. ‘Get your hands off me! I am entitled to be here. This is a graveyard, not a private house, I am a free citizen and I’m allowed to go where I like.’ Her voice kept rising in volume as she warmed to her theme.
Mr O’Connor was now red-faced and was trying to usher her away from the graveside, but she wouldn’t go. Then Con stepped forward and crossed the grass at the bottom of the hole the gravediggers had dug.
‘Mrs Kinsella, please leave my family to grieve for our father. We need this time, so I’m asking you politely to leave us now.’ He seemed so dignified, so calm, not at all like the Con Liam knew. The Con he knew would have hit her a clatter.
‘But I loved him too...’ she wailed as black makeup smeared all over her face.
Mammy stood without moving. Molly, Annie, and Kate were transfixed in horror as the scene unfolded. Instinctively, they took their mother’s arms. Then Liam spotted Father Aquinas talking to two of the Murphys—the huge older brothers of the dreaded John-Joe. They nodded and walked purposefully towards her and, without any discussion at all, picked her up, one on each side, and lifted her body out of the graveyard as she screamed, ‘Seán, Seán, don’t leave me,’ all the way out.
Liam felt empty as his father’s coffin was lowered into the ground. That was the bit he was dreading the most but in the end it was all right. It didn’t matter where Daddy’s body was; his soul was in heaven with God and all the saints and Nana and Granda and everyone who had died.
After the funeral, everyone came back to the house where even more food and drink had arrived. Mrs Lynch seemed to be coordinating things and everyone was eating and drinking within minutes.
Patrick came and stood beside him.
‘You don’t have to,’ Liam said flatly.
‘Have to what?’ Patrick seemed genuinely confused.
‘Mind me like this, I know Father Aquinas told you to but I’m not a baby.’
>
‘I wasn’t minding you. I just thought you might need a friend. Sorry,’ he said, and moved away down the hall and out the front door.
Instantly, Liam felt bad. Patrick was a great friend and here he was being horrible to him. Glancing around, he realised no one would miss him if he left. Con was talking to Uncle Willy with a girl beside him. She was small with dark hair and she looked nice. Maybe she was the famous Hilda. Kate was packing her things upstairs because she was getting the boat back to England tonight—the place where she worked had been more than generous with time off, but she needed to get back to work. The twins were nowhere to be found as usual, and Mammy was sitting beside the stove, surrounded by her relatives.
Liam took his jacket from behind the door and went out into the street. It was dusk now, and everyone was either at the Tobins or at home in their own houses. He walked in the direction of Patrick’s house to apologise. He knew Mrs Lynch and Connie and Baby Anna, who’d been born ten days previously, were at his house so Patrick probably was at home on his own. He reached the door and was about to knock when he heard shouting from within. Joe Lynch was home and he was plastered again. The funeral of Seán Tobin was the excuse this time though he didn’t ever need one. He didn’t bother to come to Mass and Liam suspected Father Aquinas or some of the neighbours kept him from the house. Liam had overheard another of the neighbours saying that Joe Lynch was insisting on coming to pay his respects, shouting that ‘Seán Tobin was the only man around here who treated him with respect.’
He wasn’t allowed in anyway, and Liam was glad. The carry-on with Mrs Kinsella was bad enough without having Joe Lynch roaring and making everyone nervous as well. Liam wondered why Patrick’s father should feel that way, especially since it was Daddy who had to get involved so often when Joe was drunk and dangerous. He remembered how kindly his father spoke of Joe Lynch and it made sense. Daddy never spoke to him the way other people did as if he were worthless. No matter how bad he got, and sometimes it was very bad, Seán intervened but always kept Joe’s dignity. He knew that Joe had had a hard life and Liam supposed he felt sorry for the man.
Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars Page 83