Máirtín Ó Cadhain - Graveyard Clay - Cré na Cille

“Ah, I wouldn’t like to be talking about it,” says I. “You’re neighbours …”

“Neighbours! We’re sisters,” she says. “Didn’t you know that? … You’re a stranger. Yes indeed, sisters. But even if we are, may no corpse go to the graveyard ahead of her! What did she say?”

“Ah, it’s difficult to talk about,” says I. “Only for my tongue was too long I wouldn’t have mentioned it at all.”

“What did she say?” says she. “Out of this house you will not go till you tell me.”

“Have it your way,” says I. “She said I’d only be wasting my time coming in here; that you couldn’t afford to pay insurance in this house …”

“The pussface! The bitch! …” says she. “It would be a sorry day indeed that we wouldn’t be able to pay it as well as Nell. And we will pay it. You’ll see that we’ll pay it …”

Her son and his wife came in. The arguing began. Herself trying to take out insurance on two of the children; the married couple bitterly opposing her. “I’m in a hurry,” I said. “I’ll leave you to it. Maybe you’ll have a definite word for me the day after tomorrow: I’ll be going back up to Nell’s again. She told me to come back and that she’ll take out insurance on the old man who’s living on his own up there …”

“Tomás Inside!” says she. “Ababúna! Tomás Inside. Another of her schemes to get his land away from us. Could we take out insurance on him? … I’ll pay for it myself out of my half-guinea of a pension …”

It was truly the Battle of the Sheaves 11now. They began to spin around each other all over the house as if they were dancing a three-hand reel. The son and his wife would have liked to break my neck outside on the street. But Caitríona protected me and kept me inside till the papers were filled out … And filled out they were. She had to have her way in the end. It was the greatest danger I was ever in during all my time in insurance.

That’s how I fooled Caitríona. I couldn’t help it. Tricks of the trade …

— That’s a damned lie! That’s a damned lie! You didn’t fool me! If you did, you fooled Nell too …

— Nell never mentioned yourself or Tomás Inside. The tricks of the trade, Caitríona dear …

— Hey, Muraed … Do you hear me? … I’ll explode! …

6

… That same Peadar the Pub is a stiff-lipped fellow too. Even though I went against the current in voting for him, he never thanked me for it or anything. If he was any way civil he could have easily spoken to me and said: “Caitríona Pháidín, I’m grateful to you for giving me your vote. You were a woman of courage, to defy all the Fifteen-Shilling crowd. We did well against Nóra Filthy-Feet …” But he didn’t. He should have ignored the fact — especially during an election — that I’m still without a cross.

I should have told Siúán the Shop a long time ago that I’m going to get the cross. Why should I be concerned about her? It’s ages since I was at the mercy of her credit. I might as well tell her, now that the excitement of the Election is over …

Hi, Siúán. Siúán the Shop … Are you there? … Siúán, are you there? … Do you hear me, you Pound crowd? … You can’t all be asleep? … I’m looking for Siúán the Shop … It’s me, Caitriona Pháidín, Seán Thomáis Uí Loideáin’s wife. Siúán, I’m getting a cross of Island limestone put up over me in a … in a very short time. A cross like the one on Peadar the Pub, and railings round my grave like there are on yours, Siúán …

Don’t be annoying you — is that what you said, Siúán? I thought you’d be pleased to hear about it, Siúán … You don’t want to have anything to do with the Fifteen-Shilling people from now on? I voted for Peadar the Pub, Siúán. I drew the wrath of all the Fifteen-Shilling crowd down on me by doing so … You’d prefer to do without my vote? Ababúna! You’d prefer to do without my vote! … Propriety forbids the people in the Pound Plot to talk to Fifteen-Shilling people! Now, what do you know? … I can wear my tongue out talking, you say, but you won’t pay any heed to me … You’re not willing to talk to a chatterbox like me any more? … A chatterbox, Siúán! You’re not willing to talk to a chatterbox like me any more! …

Have it your way so, you wretch. You’ll speak to me a long time before I’ll say a word to you again. You’ve no cause to be stuck-up, if you only knew it! … Just because you had a little shop above ground, and were destroying the country with your clogs … I know well what’s irritating you, you wretch! I voted for Peadar the Pub in the election. I wish I hadn’t! Yourself and himself begrudge me a cross and railings as fine as the ones on yourselves. I’ll be as good as you then …

That wretch Siúán. By Dad, how the world has changed …

— … “Tomás Inside was there with his britches to-orn

But aid was fo-orth-coming on either si-ide …”

— … Nóra! Nóra Sheáinín! …

— Hoy! How are tricks? Are you over election exhaustion yet? I feel a bit worn-out myself.

— You’ll forgive me, Nóra …

— Arrah, Peadar dear, why wouldn’t I? A word to the wise is sufficient. There was a rumpus — a stink , as people of culture would say — between us, but that doesn’t matter. “For the small-minded, to forgive a wrong is a heroic deed. For the noble-minded it is only a passing need,” as Jinks said in Sunset Tresses. Honest …

— Ababúna! Peadar the Pub is talking to Nóra Sheáinín again, even though he vowed and he swore during the Election that he’d never speak another word to her. Oh, what’s the use in talking! …

What was it he called her? … Bitch and harlot and hussy! Nóirín Filthy-Feet. Nóirín of the Sailors. The Drunkard from Mangy Field of the Puddles and Ducks. He said she was drinking secretly in his snug; that she often had to be carried home; that she began to sing at the top of her voice when Tiúnaí Mhicil Tiúnaí’s funeral was passing his door; that she robbed a cattle-jobber 12from down the country inside in his parlour; that she drank porter from the black butler the Earl used to keep; that she began to throw bottles when she was drunk; that she brought Seán Choilm’s big puck goat into the shop in a drunken bout, got it in behind the counter, perched it up on top of a tapped half-barrel and started combing its beard and plying it with porter; that she used to be hugging Tomás Inside …

But what’s this he used to call her? … Isn’t it awful I can’t remember? … That’s it, upon my soul! A So-an’-so . I must ask the Master, if he ever gets back to being his old self again, what a So-an’-so is.

He called her a So-an’-so , then, and he’d call her worse if he could think of it. After all that, he’s talking to her as friendly as if there’d never been a cross word between them. And he wouldn’t even thank me for voting for him …

Just because I don’t have a cross over me … If that’s the reason. Or maybe it’s because Nóra used to leave a lot of drink-money with him above ground. Neither Peadar the Pub nor any other Peadar would have much of a pub if they depended on my custom. He knows very well he’d have neither cross nor credit here only for Nóra of the Pints and her likes … I was never a drunkard … And all the same, it’s many a time I was tempted by his window.

— … Indeed, Peadar. The cultural people all voted for me, and the Fifteen-Shilling people too, apart from Caitriona Pháidín, and God help us, that jade has neither culture nor upbringing. I’d rather do without Caitríona’s vote, although it still would have been mine, were it not for one reason. Caitríona voted for you, Peadar, because she was worried about the goods she left unpaid for in your shop. Honest!