Anne Bennett - Pack Up Your Troubles

He wondered what the problem was at home and hoped it wasn’t serious, but taking the children into school could only benefit them even if it were for just a short time. He’d had to mention it to Father O’Brien, but he couldn’t foresee any opposition there and he smiled at the children and welcomed them to the school.

They’d been there about ten days when Maeve received a letter from Father Trelawney. In it he expressed Brendan’s regret for the way things had turned out. Father Trelawney said he was truly sorry and he promised things would be different if she returned. Maeve passed it over to her mother to read and when Annie gave it back to her she screwed it into a ball and threw it on the fire.

‘You don’t think he might change?’ Annie said. ‘You’ve given him a shock, leaving him – mightn’t that bring him to his senses?’

Maeve shook her head. ‘He was always sorry when he hit me at first,’ she said. ‘That didn’t last, though. No, Mammy. I can’t risk it. Not for me and the child I’m carrying, nor for Kevin and Grace. Do you want me to go? Are you worried that I’ve broken my marriage vows?’

‘All I want is for you to be happy, child,’ Annie said. ‘And I’ll abide by your decision.’

‘I wonder what the priest would feel if he’d seen the mess Brendan has left me in after a particularly bad beating,’ Maeve said bitterly. ‘Or caught sight of the weals on Kevin’s back. God, Mammy, I can’t go back to that.’

‘Calm yourself, child. Sure, no one’s forcing you to.’

‘Father O’Brien is having a damn good try and now the priest from St Catherine’s has joined in.’

‘Sure, isn’t that their job?’ Annie said placatingly. ‘Are you going to write back to the man?’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Is that wise, pet?’ Annie said. ‘Tell him how brutal Brendan is to you. Tell your side of the story.’

‘It’s too late for that, Mammy,’ Maeve said resignedly. ‘He and Brendan are great friends. Sure Brendan has got in with his excuses and he’ll never believe different. I never went to him for help while I was there. Why should he believe anything I say now?’

Annie wasn’t sure whether ignoring the letter was a wise course of action or not. But the decision had to be Maeve’s and she said nothing more on the subject.

Just over a week later Maeve got a letter asking her to call at the school to discuss Kevin’s progress.

‘What have you done?’ she asked her son that evening.

‘Me? Nothing,’ Kevin said. ‘Why?’

‘The headmaster wants to see me and whatever it is, it’s about you.’

But Kevin couldn’t enlighten her and Maeve saw no expression of guilt on his face as he said, ‘I don’t know, Mammy.’

Despite that, Maeve was sure Kevin was lying. She was sure Mr Monahan would tell Maeve about his misbehaviour in the classroom, his pranks in the playground, or his lack of progress in his studies. As she sat in the headmaster’s stuffy little room, two days later, she was totally unprepared for what he did say.

‘Remove him from the Communion classes?’ she repeated. ‘But why? I know he’s not been here long, but he’d been doing the classes at St Catherine’s in Birmingham since January. He knows most of the catechism. We test him on it in the evenings.’

The headmaster coughed nervously. He hated saying what he had to say and Maeve could see he did. She’d sensed his sympathy for her and Kevin too, but knew it would be Father O’Brien’s doing. She saw it as clearly as if he were standing before her pontificating. He’d say the sins of the fathers are visited on the children as the Good Book said, even to the third and fourth generation. He’d remind Mr Monahan where his duty lay, and that wasn’t welcoming to the Communion rails for the first time the son of a wife who’d upped and left her husband. He’d be sure Mr Monahan could explain that adequately to Maeve Hogan. That was, of course, if he wanted to keep his job.

Mr Monahan faced Mrs Hogan and coughed nervously. ‘Mrs Hogan, it’s more to do with influence in the home. Father O’Brien thinks that Kevin might not be picking up the right example. Maybe it would be better to wait for a year or so, when his future is more settled.’

Maeve felt her face burning with embarrassment at the same time as furious anger filled her being. She stared at the middle-aged man before her and knew he was just Father O’Brien’s lackey. ‘Do I have a choice in this?’ she asked in clipped precise tones. ‘Or has Father O’Brien already decided and his decision is final?’

‘I . . . I could ask him for you,’ the headmaster said.

‘Don’t worry,’ Maeve said. ‘I’ll ask him myself.’

She swung out of the headmaster’s office, her blue eyes smouldering and her cheeks red, and out into the church, where she found Father O’Brien in one of the pews reading his Office – the prayer book priests had to read every day. Even in her rage, she noted thankfully that the church was deserted. Early Mass was over, and no one was doing the flowers for the altar, or cleaning the place. The priest turned at her arrival and laid the book down in the pew beside him, and Maeve glared at him across the expanse of the church as she strode angrily towards him.

‘How low can you sink?’ she demanded.

The priest’s brown eyes looked puzzled, but his mouth had a sardonic smile playing around it as he said, ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You know full well what I’m talking about. I’ve just come from the school.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Father O’Brien said.

‘What right had you to take out your spite against my son? It’s me you’re angry with, not him.’

‘I assure you, I did not take the decision over spite against anyone,’ Father O’Brien said. ‘I am not angry with you either, more disappointed. You were always headstrong, Maeve, even as a wee girl, but I never expected you to do anything like this.’

Maeve ignored the things the priest said about her. In her opinion she was here to discuss just one issue. ‘Mr Monahan said Kevin is to be removed from the First Communion class and it was at your suggestion.’

‘He is correct.’

‘What right have you?’

‘I have all manner of rights, Maeve,’ the priest said. ‘But what right had you to uproot your children from their home and their father and bring them over here to Ireland, and once here, you refuse to either discuss it or consider returning? You are damaging your children.’

‘I am not,’ Maeve protested. ‘I’m their mother and I’m doing what I think is best for them.’

‘Ah, yes. I’m glad we’ve got to that point,’ the priest said. ‘Where is their father in all this?’

‘Their father is—’

‘Does he have no rights?’

‘No. No, he bloody well doesn’t,’ Maeve cried. Her rage had reached boiling point and she could see sparks in front of her eyes. ‘He has thrown them away. Do you know, you arrogant sod, that the bastard you want me to return to has killed, by his own brutality, a child I had carried for six months and one of the reasons I left this time was to protect the one I’m carrying now?’

‘I know that is what you would like people to believe,’ the priest said.

‘What the hell do you mean?’

‘I mean, your husband told Father Trelawney all about it. It appeared to be a tragic accident,’ the priest said. ‘Your husband admits he pushed you. He was administering punishment to young Kevin for not coming in when he was called, and what father wouldn’t? He said you were like a wild animal, screaming and trying to rake his face with your nails and kick his legs. He pushed you and you fell against the fireguard. Next minute, you were on the floor groaning.’