John McGahern - Amongst Women

‘He said there was a fight. He said he was afraid of the gun.’ It was Sheila’s turn to attack, tired of deflecting Moran’s aggression.

‘I knew I’d be blackened. I’d never harm any member of the family. Anything I ever did was done for what I thought was in the best interests of those concerned. Sometimes what I did might have been misguided but it was always meant for the best.’ Whenever Moran turned moralistic the girls knew that some resolution had been reached.

The headlights were already lighting up the dark yew at the gate. Rose was so nervous that she did not come out to meet them at the door. They found her deep within the kitchen, pretending that she had not heard the car’s return. As she quickly dried her hands and ran towards them, her excess of gladness and affection masked an anxiety that had gnawed at her since Michael first ran away.

‘He went to London. They had to give him the money,’ Moran announced to Rose. The two girls were able to drop their apprehensiveness for the first time since they left Dublin and they embraced Rose wholeheartedly.

‘We had to give him the money,’ Mona said. ‘We couldn’t make him come home.’

‘Poor Michael,’ Rose said. ‘He thinks the streets of London are paved with gold and that there are girls falling out of houses everywhere.’

‘He’ll get his eyes opened,’ Moran said.

In that one exchange the facts of his going were glossed over and instantly everyone made haste to return to the everyday. Rose made a big fry for tea as if it were a special Sunday. She kept chatting and laughing all through the meal and afterwards relayed fresh scraps of news as she washed up with the girls — new dresses and styles worn to Mass by those who had come home from England or America and how they had thought the scissors were lost and they would have to buy a new pair, but only the day before yesterday she came on them in an old boot of Daddy’s; they must have fallen into the boot …

‘There are none more blind than those who will not see,’ Moran said humorously.

‘Now Daddy. You know I looked day and night,’ Rose protested while joining in the laughter.

‘There are none more blind,’ Moran repeated and laughed even louder. They were relieved. His mood was clearing. As soon as they had the dishes dried, the room tidied, Moran suggested that they say the Rosary and they all knelt. At the very end he offered a special prayer for Michael and all absent members of the family and that no harm come to them in London. For the rest of the evening they played cards. In the silence of the card-playing, with only the sound of the trees stirring around the house outside in the darkness, Sheila more mused than asked, ‘I wonder what they all are doing in London at this very minute.’

‘They are probably sitting in a room just like we are,’ Rose said gently to turn aside any unease the question could bring.

‘Hearts were led,’ Moran said vigorously. ‘Let nobody fall asleep yet.’

‘Don’t worry, Daddy,’ Mona said emotionally as she stooped to kiss him good night. ‘Michael will be all right.’

‘Fear not for me but for yourselves and for your children.’ Moran quoted ambiguously in the same half-playful mood he had assumed all evening.

‘Maggie will look after him,’ Sheila chose to ignore the quotation.

‘It would have been better if he’d had the manners to learn his lesson here,’ Moran pronounced the words slowly, this time unmistakably in his own voice. ‘Now he’ll have to learn his lesson from the world. The world will not care much about him.’

‘Good night, Daddy,’ Sheila kissed him.

‘God bless you,’ Moran responded. Then both girls went to kiss Rose.

Next day was a Saturday. By the time the girls got up Rose had the fire long lit, the grey cat stretching in front of the stove.

‘I thought she wasn’t let in,’ Mona asked as she stooped to stroke the cat. She was fond of all animals.

‘She wasn’t,’ Rose said. ‘Then Michael started to let her in. Now, sometimes, we leave her be. She feels she has rights.’

The room was warm and comfortable. They could have anything they wanted for breakfast, even grilled lamb chops, but they had orange juice, hot porridge, tea and toast. Moran came in from outside and sat by the fire and had tea. He was in marvellous good humour and started to tease them about their long sleep. They had come home expecting trouble and recrimination but found instead this pleasant warmth and good humour. They were ashamed of their fear. Their hearts were eager to respond to the warmth of the house. They would have been content with far less than what they were now being given. Mona wiped a clearing on the windowpane to look out on the dear fields and trees and the view that framed them against the far sky.

Then Mona noticed the corner of a new shed that a neighbour had built which intruded on the view. When Sheila came to the window she was outraged. ‘I’m used to it now,’ Rose said. ‘It doesn’t matter all that much.’ Though Moran resented the shed he pretended to be in favour of it in order to provoke the girls more. Afterwards they walked with the old sheepdog in the fields to get a better view of the offence.

Their strong need of each other drew them together, the absence of the others. In the evening they all went into town to do some shopping. Moran sat in the car while Rose and the two girls went off together. Rose knew many people in the town and she stopped to greet them. By comparison the girls were stiff and awkward with people, unsure how to act.

‘Daddy doesn’t like to see me talking to too many people. He thinks it’s a waste of time but the time is often wasted anyhow,’ Rose confessed to them, as if she were slightly delinquent, while hurrying back to the waiting car. ‘You know Daddy hates to be left waiting too long.’

The car was parked past the post office along the railings of the sunken tennis courts and he sat looking out at the people that passed by without acknowledging them or being acknowledged. He had to shake himself out of his lethargy when he saw Rose and the girls approach.

‘You must have bought the town,’ he said when they opened the car door.

‘We hadn’t the time,’ Rose said. ‘Or the money.’

‘I’m sure you bought lots anyhow.’ He hadn’t grown impatient waiting. He started the car at once and drove home.

They put more wood on the fire, made tea, said the Rosary, played cards until they kissed good night, the whole world shut away outside. Moran could not have been more charming during the whole weekend. He did not need to be very charming. They had learned to accept him in all his humours: they were grateful for anything short of his worst moods, inordinately grateful for the slightest goodwill, what they barely would have accepted from an equal.

‘I’m thankful for all you did for Michael,’ he surprised them by saying as they waited in the car outside the railway station the next evening.

‘We’re sorry we couldn’t get him to come home,’ Mona mumbled.

‘I know you did your best. That’s all anybody in the family can do.’

On the platform he kissed them as the train drew in. They told him they would be down again before very long. The two sisters were silent as the train crossed the Shannon, travelling through fields. As the train was pulling into Dromod, the small platform black with people like themselves returning to Dublin at the end of the weekend, Mona said in an emotional voice, ‘No matter what they say, Daddy can be wonderful.’

Sheila nodded her head in vigorous agreement, ‘When Daddy’s nice he’s just great. He’s like no other person,’ and even the small white stones under the lights on the station platform took on a special glow.