by Anne Bennett
It was worse when Joe began going to the socials run by the Church every other Saturday evening.
Biddy had tried kicking up about that, tried forbidding him to go, when he told his family that first Saturday night as they sat eating around the table, but he stood his ground. ‘I am over twenty-one and you have no right to forbid me anything.’
‘No right,’ Biddy shrieked. ‘I am your mother, I have every right.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ Joe said in a low, but firm voice. ‘This is my leisure time, which I have earned. As long as I do all the work that Daddy wants, then how I spend my leisure time should be my own decision.’
‘The boy’s right,’ Thomas John said. ‘All work is no good to anyone. I used to like a dance at the same age, as you did yourself, Biddy.’
‘Aye, but in a neighbour’s house, just.’
‘Times have changed, Biddy. Give the boys their head,’ Thomas John said. Glancing across the table to Tom, he asked, ‘I suppose you will be going along with him?’
‘No,’ Tom said. ‘Tell you the truth, I have no fancy for it.’
‘I should like to go,’ Nuala said.
‘Huh, you,’ Finn said disparagingly. ‘It’s not the place for weans.’
Tom smiled at his pretty wee sister, who was getting more like Aggie with every passing year. ‘Time enough, pet,’ he said. ‘When you are a wee bit older.’
‘But, Tom, it takes so long to grow up.’
‘Aye, and there is not a blessed thing you can do to hurry it up,’ Thomas John said.
‘And, anyway, I don’t want my wee girl grown into a woman too soon,’ Biddy added.
‘There are great advantages for you in being a child, anyway,’ Finn said. ‘You are expected to do nothing and get away with blue murder.’
‘I do not. That’s not true.’
‘Oh yes it is.’
‘That will do, Finn,’ Thomas John said.
‘I was only saying.’
‘Well, don’t say. We don’t want to hear it.’
‘Aye,’ Biddy put in. ‘Don’t be teasing and upsetting the child.’
‘I wouldn’t be upset by anything he says, Mammy,’ Nuala said. She tossed her head and gave Finn a withering look. ‘He probably can’t help being horrid.’
Tom and Joe burst out laughing and Joe gave his younger brother a cuff as he got to his feet. ‘Follow that, boyo,’ he said as he made his way to the bedroom to change.
‘You should come with me,’ he suggested to Tom, who had followed him in.
‘Sure, I am no good at the dancing,’ Tom said, ‘nor talking with women. I never know what to say. They would think me a dull old stick.’
‘Aye, they’d think that, all right,’ Joe said ruefully. ‘A complete dullard and one set to inherit this farm one day. I tell you, Tom, that alone will guarantee your popularity from all the mamas there. They would be pushing their unattached daughters your way all night long.’
‘That’s not something I am up for either,’ Tom said with a shiver.
‘What is the matter with you?’ Joe asked.
‘Nothing. I am just different from you, that’s all.’
‘But you go nowhere and see no one.’
‘Well, what of it? I don’t go running to you complaining.’
‘But it’s not a natural way to be going on at all.’
‘It’s my way and I am happy with it.’
‘All right,’ Joe said. ‘If you want to die a sad and lonely old man then it is your lookout.’
‘Right,’ said Tom. ‘I’m glad that we have established that at least.’
He knew that marriage was not for him. How could he convince any doting mama that he was an honest and reliable man, well able to take care of her daughter, when he had another man’s blood on his hands? And if he was to overcome that and marry one of the buxom beauties he had glimpsed a time or two at Mass, he would have to confess to the dreadful thing he had done. There could never be such a big secret to hang between a wife and her husband. Joe knew nothing of that, of course, nor did he have to know. It was a burden for Tom to carry alone.
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘can you just see Mammy welcoming another woman in here?’
‘I can’t believe I am hearing this,’ Joe said. ‘Are you going to let Mammy dictate to you all the days of your life?’
Tom shrugged. ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I probably am.’
‘God Almighty!’ Joe said. ‘No wonder Aggie ran away.’
Tom turned instinctively to the door that opened on to the kitchen as he cautioned, ‘Ssh, Mammy will cut your tongue out if she hears you speak Aggie’s name.’
‘Well, she isn’t likely to through the door, is she?’
‘I don’t know so much,’ Tom said with a grin. ‘She has ears on her like a donkey.’
‘Well, anyway, the whole thing is stupid,’ Joe said. ‘I remember the hullabaloo when she went missing and it is a mystery where she disappeared to and all, but never to be allowed to talk about it since is madness. You mind Finn cried for her for days because she had the rearing of him nearly as much as Mammy, and now all that will have faded from his mind.’
‘Aye, and Nuala won’t know that she ever had a sister.’
‘No, she won’t,’ Joe agreed. ‘Tell you the truth, I have trouble remembering what she looked like.’
‘Nuala is her double,’ Tom said. ‘Course, Aggie didn’t have the fine clothes that Mammy buys for Nuala, or as much time and attention spent on her hair, and Aggie was often grey with exhaustion for Mammy allowed her little leisure time, but essentially they are very alike. Nuala has something else too, the confidence that she is loved by each and every one of us.’
‘Doted on, more like, don’t you mean?’ Joe said. ‘Don’t know why we bother either, because Mammy and Daddy between them could do a decent enough job on their own. Finn wasn’t so far wrong tonight.’
‘Finn is as bad as the rest of us, for all his teasing,’ Tom said. ‘It is very hard to refuse Nuala anything with her cheeky face and those eyes that dance in her head.’
‘Aye, and the smile that looks as if someone has turned a light on inside her.’
‘Do you mind when she was wee and we did cartwheels and somersaults to get her to smile at us like that?’ Tom said.
‘I mind it very well,’ Joe said. ‘And I will tell you something else too: we haven’t changed that much.’
Tom laughed. ‘No, you are right there, Joe.’ He added, ‘But I wish Mammy wouldn’t praise her so much outside of the house.’
‘Aye,’ Joe agreed. ‘I mean, to hear Mammy talk, Nuala is the most beautiful, clever and talented child in the whole of Ireland. There is none to match her.’
‘I know. And she keeps on saying it. She doesn’t seem to see that going on like that is bound to upset some of the townsfolk, particularly if they have daughters of their own.’
‘Well, you’ll never change her,’ Joe said. ‘Mammy is a law unto herself.’
‘Aye,’ Tom said glumly. ‘Don’t I know that well enough?’
After Nuala turned twelve and left school, she began making the weekly trip to Buncrana as well. If she was there to help her mother, Tom would often elect to stop behind on the farm. There was always plenty to do, though Finn couldn’t understand him.
‘Don’t you ever want to get away from this place?’ he asked as he and Tom stood in the yard and watched the old horse pull the cart up the lane.
‘What place?’
‘The farm. Where else?’
‘No, not really.’
‘God, Tom, you’re an odd man altogether.’
‘Maybe it’s because I know the farm will be mine one day.’
Finn shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I know that even if I was handed the farm on a plate, I would still want to leave it sometimes. As it is…’
‘What?’
‘Well, there will be little for me here,’ Finn said. ‘And I don’t intend to spend my life grubbing about in th
is place for little or no reward.’
‘You would always have a home here,’ Tom replied.
‘Thanks,’ Finn said, ‘and I know you’d never throw me out, but a man wants more from life than just a roof over his head. Don’t worry about it, I realised some time ago that the farming life is not for me.’
‘Joe says much the same.’
‘Good job you like it then.’
Tom shook his head. ‘Don’t know whether there was much like or dislike about it,’ he said. ‘I just knew as I grew up that this farm would be mine one day and I think I just sort of got on with it, whereas you and Joe…’
‘Are different, and no worse for that,’ Finn said. ‘We didn’t start off talking about me and Joe, though, did we, but about you?’
Tom grinned. ‘Not a lot to say about me. And what there is can be dealt with in a couple of sentences.’
‘Oh, Tom!’ Finn cried, exasperated. ‘Where is your fire and enthusiasm for life?’
Tom was a wee while answering, and then he said, ‘You know I don’t recall having much of that type of thing myself, not even when I was your age.’
‘Don’t you ever wonder what is out there, beyond Buncrana?’
‘I might have wondered a time or two but never had any desire to go and find out.’
‘All right,’ Finn said. ‘Let’s stay in Buncrana, that great metropolis. Why don’t you go to the socials with Joe a time or two, or ask some of the girls mooning after you at Mass if they would like to walk out with you that afternoon?’
‘Don’t be daft, Finn,’ Tom said. ‘No one moons after me.’
‘They do then.’
‘They don’t,’ Tom said firmly. ‘You’re making it up.’
‘I’m not,’ Finn maintained. ‘I don’t even know why you are acting so surprised. You are a fine and handsome man. Look at the fine head of hair you have and those big brown eyes. Your only bad feature is that you don’t smile enough. When you do you are really handsome, far better-looking than Joe, and added to that you are decent and respectable.’
Tom, however, knew that he was far from being decent and respectable, and he never thought of himself as good-looking in any way. But he was intrigued enough to ask, ‘Go on, then. Who are these hordes of females who think I am so wonderful?’
‘Oh, no,’ Finn said, ‘you will get no names from me. If you were less pious and more worldly you would have discovered them for yourself. Have a peep around next time. And some of them are, well, you know,’ he said, letting his hands trace a woman’s figure in the air, then gave a knowing wink.
‘Finn!’
‘Don’t tell me you don’t think of it in your bed at night, for I’ll not believe it,’ Finn said. ‘Anyway, I am not going to wait for the girls to fall at my feet at Mass. I am going looking for them.’
‘Now, what do you mean?’
‘I mean that I am going to go to the socials with Joe.’
‘But you are only—’
‘Sixteen, I know,’ Finn said. ‘Other fellows my age go, because they have told me.’
‘You’re mad,’ Tom declared. ‘Mammy will never stand it.’
‘She will have to stand it,’ Finn said, ‘for I am determined upon it, and whether she likes it or not I will be away tonight with Joe.’
And Tom knew he would. He would risk his father’s displeasure and even his mother’s terrifying rage. He would stand firm and in the end get what he wanted. Joe did that too. It was only Tom that couldn’t seem able to cope with that.
Maybe, he reflected, something had been left out of his make-up, or maybe it was the result of his upbringing or the dreadful events of that Sunday afternoon. Whatever it was, he knew that while his brothers would probably go out and conquer the world, he would plod along on the farm and stay with his parents all the days of his life. As for the girls Finn said had an eye for him, well, they would have to cast it elsewhere.
‘Come on, then,’ he said to his young brother with a smile. ‘Let’s get all the jobs finished before they get back, for if everything isn’t done to my satisfaction, I might be the one stopping you going to the social.’
Finn went willingly enough. Tom was all right, as big brothers went, he thought, though he never would understand him in a million years.
* * *
Later, Tom always thought that it was from that morning that he sensed a change in Finn. He had always been restless, as if he had a spring coiled inside him that was going to unravel at any time and surge out of him. This personality wasn’t particularly good on a farm that dealt with animals. In fact, Thomas John didn’t particularly like him at the milking because he said he could get only half a pail of milk from any cow, whereas he and Tom could get a full pail, and even Joe usually managed three-quarters of one.
Now Finn’s restlessness turned almost to belligerence. He seemed to be constantly at odds with his parents, demanding things that Tom and Joe had never even given a mind to – like a wage, for instance.
Biddy bought all the clothes she thought they needed. Once, most of Finn’s had been handed down from his brothers, but the strip of wind he had been at sixteen had developed into a well-muscled young man only slightly shorter than his two brothers as he neared eighteen, and that was no longer an option. Finn said he should have some say in the work clothes he wore nearly every day of his life, not to mention his suit and shirts for Mass. This suit he also wore to the socials he went to with Joe, for he had fought and won that battle. He also wanted money in his pocket to spend as he wished.
Biddy couldn’t understand him at all. Hadn’t he food in his belly, clothes on his back and a good fireside to sit beside, she asked, and didn’t she give him money when he went out with Joe?
‘Aye, and what a paltry meagre amount it is,’ Finn said scathingly. ‘Doled out like I was a wean.’
‘You’re little more,’ Thomas John growled. ‘And not too big for a good hiding, my boy, and don’t you forget.’
Finn looked at him pityingly, for Thomas John had never laid a hand on any of them, leaving that job to Biddy. Finn had asked him about it once, and he had said he was too big a man to go around hitting weans. Many times, as Finn was growing up, he had wished his father had got over this aversion, for he had the feeling he would not have hit them with the full force of his hand. Their mother, on the other hand, would hit them with all the strength she had. Any sort of measured response had no place in her life at all.
But it did mean that Finn was not afraid of his father, and for all his truculence he valued Thomas John’s opinion. Not that he was afraid of his mother; the time was dead and gone when she could terrorise him. So now he said to his father, ‘I don’t see why I am threatened for asking for a wage for the job of work I do. It isn’t a strange thing to ask for. The least job a man does in Buncrana he gets a wage for.’
‘You’re not a man, not yet.’
‘Then don’t expect me to work like one,’ Finn retorted.
‘Your brothers have never made demands like this,’ Biddy said, her lips a slash of ill humour on her face. ‘They have more respect.’
Finn’s eyes strayed to the window where his brothers were walking down from the fields for their dinner, laughing about something, and suddenly Finn felt on the outside of his family – not a part of it, but as if he were a stranger looking in. He turned to face his parents.
‘I am not like my brothers, though, am I? No one person is like another. Everyone is an individual and you can’t seem to see that.’
Later, with nothing resolved and the meal eaten, Thomas John told Finn to go to the woodshed where there were piles of wood to saw and chop. Usually after dinner they sat before the fire with cups of tea, while Thomas John and his two elder sons would have a smoke of their pipes.
For a few moments Finn, after staring at his father, did not move, until Tom wondered if he intended to defy him. In fact Finn did consider it. It was as if everyone was holding their breath. Then Finn got to his feet slowly, scrapin
g his chair on the flagstone floor. Tom was able to breathe easily again as he watched his brother pull his jacket from behind the door and leave the cottage in a flurry of discontent.
Nuala gave a sigh. She knew that Tom and Joe wouldn’t have any idea why Finn was acting the way he was, but she had been in the room during Finn’s earlier altercation with their parents, though she had said nothing, knowing that it wouldn’t be helpful. She knew her mother wouldn’t let her help with washing the dishes, because she always said it would make her hands red and rough. Biddy would let Nuala do so little that she often felt bored, and so as soon as she could, she slipped out of the door.
She found Finn sitting on the chopping block in the woodshed with the wood that he had obviously made no start on scattered about his feet, and his face the picture of misery.
‘Why are you so cross?’ she asked.
‘You’d hardly understand,’ Finn said. ‘Don’t you get everything you want and your own way in everything?’
Nuala was too truthful a girl to try to deny this and she said instead, ‘Doesn’t mean that I can’t listen.’
Finn sighed. ‘All right then. This isn’t what I want, for a start.’
‘What isn’t?’
‘This,’ Finn cried, throwing his arm out expansively. ‘The farm, this life, everything. I feel a bit like a cuckoo in a strange nest, for all I have been born and bred to this. I want to travel and see different things and meet different people. I want to live a bit before I get tied down. Can you understand that?’
Nuala nodded. ‘For all you say I have everything, and I know that you’re right, some days I am so bored that I could scream. I can’t help feeling that any man who takes me on will have made a bad bargain because I won’t have the least idea of how to cook or clean a house, and when the babies come, dear Lord, I won’t know the least thing about babies.’
‘I thought that sort of thing came naturally.’