Goodbye to the Hill

by Lee Dunne

  I had a very busy afternoon in the office and I was glad of that, telling myself that I’d talk to Mr. Hayes in the morning.

  After work I went straight home. It was no good putting it off any longer. Ma had to be told and the more I put it off the harder it was becoming to face it.

  ‘You’ve done what?’

  Ma turned from the gas stove and there was a bite in her voice that I’d never heard her use except to my father.

  ‘I’ve taken a job in show business. I’m starting on Monday week.’

  The words jumped out of my mouth, but this was one time when my funny man façade wasn’t any good to me.

  ‘You’re not going. You’re not leaving that job. I won’t let you be so bloody foolish.’

  Her eyes were filled with tears from the effort she was making to control her temper, the first time she had ever sworn at me.

  ‘Ma, listen. It’s something I want to do.’

  ‘I will not listen!’ She screamed at me and put the frying pan down hard enough for the chips to spill all over the floor.

  ‘I will not listen to you. But you just listen to me.’ She was shaking with temper. ‘I’ve stood by and let you do what you liked, and if this is the result may God forgive me for it. You’ve become a drunken young pup.’ Her words were like blows in the face. ‘An oul’ man before your time, but by God you’ll listen to me now. You’ll listen and you’ll do what I say.’

  ‘Ma.....’

  ‘Shut up!’ she screamed. ‘God blast you, shut up!’

  She sank onto a chair and she was shaking so much and her face was so white that I thought she was going to pass out. I reached across the table, trying to take her hand, but she pulled away from me with such force that cups were smashing to the floor.

  ‘I’ve got to go, Ma. I’ve got to get away from here.’

  ‘You won’t leave that job. I won’t let you ruin your life.’ She sobbed. ‘You bloody young fool, I’ve watched my own life dry up because I followed my heart, and that’s just what you’re doing. You’re too young to know your own mind.’

  ‘I know what I want, Ma, and I don’t want an office job for the rest of my life.’

  She began to sob, her body shaking from the force, and my insides twisted at the sound. It was useless trying to reason with her. She was twenty times more stubborn than I was.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Ma, but I’m going. I’ve got to.’

  She looked at me, and if it was possible for her to hate me she did at that moment. Her eyes were flat with anger like they’d been that time the oul’fella was going to hit Larry for his endless coughing before he died of the Galloping Consumption.

  ‘I’d sooner see you dead at my feet first.’

  Her words were cold now and she chilled me with the sound of her voice.

  I held back my tears. ‘Ma, be fair. I’ve always tried to help you. For as long as I can remember, I’ve tried. Now I’ve got to just think of myself.’

  ‘Help me! Help me!’ she hissed. ‘Oh God, you’re a great one altogether, aren’t you? With your few bob when you were up to something that you knew wasn’t right. God, Paddy, you must think I’m awful stupid. Like the two pound you gave me when you told that cock- and bull-story about the suit that you brought back from your holiday and you with pucks of money in your pocket. It’s an awful pity someone hasn’t given you a medal.’

  I didn’t say anything. I suppose she must have gone down my pockets. That was something I’d never have expected of her. But that didn’t hurt as much as knowing I’d been caught out in a lie.

  ‘I don’t know where you got the stuff and I don’t know where you got the money, and I don’t care a damn.’ She stood up and she began to weep again. ‘Go on, do what you like. Go to Hell for all I care, but listen to me, mister. You leave that job and you’ll never darken this floor again. As God is my judge, I’ll never speak to you again, not as long as there’s a breath in my body. And that’s my final word to you.’

  Ma turned her back on me and I knew there wasn’t anything I could do for her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ma’ I said, ‘I love you as I’ve always done.’

  I stood up from the table and I went out to the street, not seeing where I was going for the scalding tears that hurt my eyes.

  She’d understand some day. Some day she’d forgive me for hurting her so. She was my mother and she knew that I loved her. Sometime she’d know that I left her because I had to get up and go.

  I drank whiskey in Ranelagh and nothing was further from my mind than Jimmy Frazer and my promise to him to join his show. Just then I wanted nothing more than to move out. To go somewhere, anywhere, and just keep on going.

  When I got off the bus at Dun Laoghaire I was cold and my insides were still numb from the shock of Ma’s words. People who hurt easily have the power to hurt others, more than they know. As long as I lived I’d never forget the way she looked at me that evening.

  I bought a ticket for Holyhead, and as I went up the gang-plank I realised that I didn’t have so much as a clean shirt under my arm. But the thought went as quickly as it had come, and in a few minutes I was drinking from the small bottle that I had with me, feeling that if I drank a gallon, I’d still be cold inside.

  I watched the lights of the harbour slide away from the old mail-boat and the sad part was that I felt nothing. I was alone on the upper deck. I was a part of the night, like a shadow standing among shadows.

  The End

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