* * *
Following afternoon tea Father O’Long suggested a tour of inspection. After thanking Mrs Finnegan we were ushered out and led across some neatly cut grass toward the accommodation and school buildings. At the same time Father began expounding his views on the subject of boys being given opportunities to become self-reliant, something I would later recognise as one of his favourite subjects.
Our path took us past a couple of tall travellers palms and, on approaching the second of them, there came a sudden vigorous rustling sound. On looking up I saw a large turquoise-blue snake weaving frantically about the stems of the big leaves. It was about a metre and a half in length and seemed highly agitated by our presence. Suddenly the snake it lost its grip and plummeted to the grass, practically at my mother’s feet.
My mother gave a scream of such pitch and intensity it would have reduced any nearby crystalware to a fine white powder. A microsecond later she was trying to scrabble up onto to my father’s shoulders.
The snake, meanwhile, was lying prone on the grass and jerking spasmodically. It then seemed to expire, doubtless from the injuries sustained in what was obviously a fall of some magnitude.
“Get away from it Kevin it's a snake!” barked my Mother, assuming I had somehow been rendered blind.
“Oh dear,” said Father O’Long. “Please don't be alarmed, it’s perfectly harmless.”
“It looks perfectly dead,” Dad replied. “Whatever sort of snake is it?”
“Well despite its turquoise colouring it’s actually a green tree snake,” Father explained. “‘Lazarus’, we call it. It comes back to life, you know.
“The problem is, I keep forgetting not to walk so close to its palm tree. And then, when you least expect it, off it goes again with its little act.”
I moved closer to the snake, consumed with curiosity. Until then I’d thought snakes generally were angry and aggressive, but Father O’Long’s comments had tempered this and just the sight of it soothed my lingering doubts. Here was simply the most beautiful wild creature I had ever seen.
“Is it unconscious, Father, or has it been hurt?” I asked.
The priest smiled. “It is neither, my boy; this is merely an act. Once we go it will return to its palm as if nothing had happened.” He turned back to my parents and continued with his commentary as they ambled away.
Instead of joining them I lay forward on the grass and began slowly moving nearer to where the snake was lying – belly-up and motionless as if dead – and from closer up I could see what Father meant. It was clearly watching me with a black beady eye.
Later I discovered that ‘Laz’ – as the boys called it – was more or less an unofficial school mascot. I also learned how visiting students were introduced to it by being manoeuvered as near as possible to its palm tree. As a result Lazarus’ reputation had spread widely – and ours with it, as it happened – with the odd new boy or visiting students turning up from surprisingly far afield, all forewarned.
It was also suspected (I was later informed), that even Father O’Long was inclined to enjoy this little prank, though when this was put to him he would neither confirm nor deny it. Instead he used the opportunity to lecture us about manners and respectable behaviour.
It must also be said, however, that in the event of a complaint, Father would assure the outraged parent or headmistress of the culprits’ prompt identification and their summonsing to his office. This we believed was a very carefully and precisely worded statement, with any notion of the events following such a summons being left to the complainant’s imagination. They would know, of course, that Father O’Long was a man of his word.
Under more normal circumstances, any order to attend Father’s office would carry with it all the anticipation and dread which accompanies a condemned prisoner to the gallows. On these occasions, however, events following the summons often included the elements of a well-rehearsed farce.
Firstly, the boy or boys called would knock on Father’s office door and await the call to enter. Father would keep them waiting, knowing who it was via his alleged x-ray vision (or more likely via the concealed mirror we’d never been able to locate) – choosing to see them when there were no witnesses present (we believed).
On opening the door he would enquire in a forthright manner: “Why are you boys hanging about? Haven’t you something better you could be doing?” (As opposed, in more dire circumstances, to naming them through the closed door and adding, “Ahhh yessss; please come in.” ...pitched a fraction of a decibel above the threshold of audibility and several degrees below that of liquid nitrogen.)
The correct answer to his question was: “Yes Father, but we were told to come to your office.” (“You must be honest, boys. Don’t try and avoid an issue simply because you perceive an easy way out.”)
Father would then say, “And so you have. But I’ve been particularly busy today and...” (in spite of his legendary facility of total recall) “...whatever it was I required you for has slipped my mind. Are you troubled by something you’ve done perhaps?”
The correct answer to this was always: “Yes, Father...”
(All boys should have “something which troubles them” in readiness, even if it’s just the shirking of appointed duties. Having a tortured soul as a result of kicking the school cat in a fit of temper is meatier, so to speak – whether you did it or not. Trifling things like forgetting to clean your teeth are just not good enough.)
“...Yes, Father. We were showing some of the girls from St. Triffid’s around (or whomever) and we accidentally went past Laz’s palm tree and he fell out and nearly landed on them and we tried to say we were sorry but the Senior girls were going to beat us up so we...” etc etc. (“Always give a good concise explanation, boys, so your superiors can judge matters fairly and even-handedly.”)
He would then say, “As a matter of fact I do recollect a phone conversation with their Mother Superior, Sister Vitriol (or whomever) ... something about some of the girls seeing Lazarus, I think. This might explain the screaming we heard briefly during the course of the afternoon.
“Tell me, how did the girls react?”
“They screamed, Father.”
“Well, boys; that wasn’t very gentlemanly. You must remember, seeing large serpents falling from trees can be somewhat alarming for those who are unaccustomed to such things.”
“Yes Father.”
“Indeed. And try not to let it happen again, please.”
“No Father.”
“Now you know my feelings about these pranks, boys. In fact, I believe the less said about this the better.”
“Yes Father.”
“So you will each put a shilling in the poor-box, thank you. Now, shall we get back to our studies?”
“Yes Father. Thank you Father.”
It was particularly important that at no time during the foregoing should any boy adopt an expression other than one of Deepest Serious Concern. Father was quite capable of changing both his demeanour and the script should he perceive any lack of propriety.
Actually, it was suspected Father O’Long found these little tableaus amusing. We believed he would wait discreetly at his office window to watch events unfold – though this was never proven. Whatever the case, we boys felt it only common courtesy to oblige.
Father O’Long:
“It has come to my attention that certain boys have been…”
Father O’Long and my parents were now some distance away and the snake was still lying belly-up at the foot of the palm tree, yet all the while its head had remained correctly orientated, turning millimetre by millimetre as it watched them depart.
During this I had remained motionless and so had lost the snake’s attention. Suddenly, in a single fluid movement, it quickly righted itself then flowed across the grass and up the palm tree.
And as I got to my feet the thought came to me that I had witnessed something special. I must say, too, that when I walked acro
ss to where my parents and Father O’Long were talking I felt by comparison not unlike a slightly uncoordinated experimental robot.
Kevin Cassidy The Cassidy Chronicles Page 5