Maeve Binchy - Evening Class

When it happened, it happened very unexpectedly. There was no Fair, there would be no drinking, none of those large whiskies thrown back in the company of men who were more jovial and who were made merry by drink. She didn't fear his return that night which was why it was such a shock to see him drunk, his eyes blurring, not focusing, his mouth drooping at one side.

'Don't look at me like that,' he began.

'I'm not looking at you at all,' she said.

'Yes, you are, yes you bloody are.'

'Did you get any heifers?'

'I'll give you heifers,' he said taking off his belt.

'No, Shay, no. I'm having a conversation with you, I'm not saying a word against you. NO!' Tonight she screamed rather than speaking in the demented pleading whisper to prevent her brother and her son knowing what was happening.

The scream seemed to excite him more. 'You are a slut,' he said. 'A coarse slut. You can't get enough of it, that's always been your problem even before you were a married woman. You are disgusting.' He raised the belt and brought it down first on her shoulders, then on her head.

At the same time his trousers fell to the floor and he ripped at her nightdress. She moved to get the bedroom chair to protect herself but he got there first and, raising the chair, he broke it on the edge of the bed and came at her with it raised aloft.

'Don't, Shay, in the name of God don't do this.' She didn't care who heard. Behind him at the door she saw the small frightened figure of Gus, his hand in his mouth with terror, and behind that was Laddy. Wakened by the screams, both of them transfixed by the scene in front of them. Before she could stop herself Rose cried, 'Help, Laddy, help me!' And then she saw Shay being pulled back, Laddy's huge arm around his neck restraining him.

Gus was screaming in terror. Rose gathered her torn nightdress and, uncaring about the blood flowing down her forehead, ran to pick her son up in her arms.

'He's not himself,' she said to Laddy. 'He doesn't know what he's doing, we'll have to lock him in somewhere.'

'Daddy,' screamed Gus.

Shay broke free and came at the mother and child. He still had the leg of the chair in his hand.

'Laddy, for God's sake,' she implored.

Shay stopped to look at Laddy, the big boy with his face red and sweating, standing in his pyjamas, uncertain, frightened.

'Well, Lady Rose, don't you have a fine protector here. The town simpleton in his pyjamas, that's great to see, isn't it. The village idiot going to look after his big sister.' He looked from one to the other, taunting Laddy. 'Come on then, big boy, hit me now. Hit me, Laddy, you big fat queer. Come on.' He had the chair leg with the spiky pointy bit where it had snapped making it a dangerous weapon.

'Hit him, Laddy,' Rose cried, and Laddy's big fist came out and hit Shay hard across the jaw. As Shay fell his head hit the marble washstand. There was a crunching sound and his eyes were open as he lay on the floor. Rose put Gus down on the floor gently, the child had stopped crying now. The silence lasted for ever.

'I think he's dead,' Laddy said.

'You did what you had to do, Laddy.' Laddy looked at her in disbelief. He thought that he had done something terrible. He had hit Shay too hard, he had knocked the life out of him. Often Rose had said to him: 'You don't know your own strength, Laddy, go easy with this or that.' But this time there wasn't a word said against him. He could hardly believe what had happened. He turned his face away from the staring eyes on the floor.

Rose spoke slowly. 'Now, Laddy, I want you to get dressed and cycle into town and tell Kenny that poor Shay had a fall and hit his head and he'll tell Father Maher and then they'll drive you back here.'

'And will I say…?'

'You'll say that you heard a lot of shouting and that Shay fell and that I asked you to go for the doctor.'

'But isn't he… I mean, will Kenny be able to…?'

'Kenny will do what he can and then he'll close poor Shay's eyes for him. Will you get dressed and go now, Laddy, there's a good fellow?'

'Will you be all right, Rose?'

'I'll be fine, and Gus is fine.'

'I'm fine,' Gus said, his finger still in his mouth and holding on to Rose's hand.

Laddy cycled furiously through the dark, the light on his bicycle bobbing up and down through the frightening shadows and shapes of the night.

Kenny and Father Maher put his bicycle on the roof of the doctor's car. When they got home Rose was very calm. She had dressed in a neat dark cardigan and skirt with a white blouse, she had combed her hair slightly over her forehead to hide the cut. The fire was burning brightly, she had built it up and burned the broken bedroom chair. It was in ashes now. No one would ever see that it had been used as a weapon.

Her face was pale. She had a kettle ready for tea, and candles for the Last Sacraments. The prayers were said, Laddy and Gus joining Rose in the responses. The death certificate was written, and it was obviously by misadventure and due to intoxication.

The women who would lay him out would be there in the morning. The sympathies that were offered and accepted were formal and perfunctory. Both the doctor and the priest knew that this was a loveless marriage of convenience, where the hired hand had made the woman of the house pregnant. Shay Neil couldn't hold his drink, that was known.

Kenny was not going to speculate about how Shay had fallen, nor was he going to discuss the fresh blood on her face. When the priest was busy elsewhere the doctor took out his black bag and without waiting to be asked to do so, gave the wound a quick examination and dabbed antiseptic on it. 'You'll be fine, Rose,' he said. And she knew he wasn't just talking about the cut on her forehead. He meant about everything.

After the funeral Rose asked all her family back to the farm, and they sat around the table in the kitchen to a meal that she had prepared carefully. There had been only a few of Shay's relations at the funeral and they had not been invited back to the farm.

Rose had a proposition to make. The place had no happy associations for her now, she and Gus and Laddy would like to sell it and live in Dublin. She had discussed it with an estate agent and had been given a realistic idea of what it would sell for. Did any of them have any objection to the place being sold? Would any of them like to live in it? No, none of them wanted to live there, and yes they were all enthusiastic and happy for Rose to sell the farm.

'Good.' She was brisk.

Were there any keepsakes or mementoes they might like to take?

'Now?' They were surprised at the speed.

'Yes, today.'

She was going to put the house on the market next day.

Gus settled in a Dublin school, and Laddy, armed with a glowing reference from Mrs. Nolan, got a job as a porter in a small hotel. He was soon regarded as part of the family and invited to live in. This suited everyone. And the years passed peacefully enough.

Rose took up nursing again. Gus did well at school and went into a Hotel Management course. Rose was still a presentable woman in her forties, she could have her chances of marrying again in Dublin. The widower of a woman she had nursed seemed very interested in her, but Rose was firm. One loveless marriage behind her was enough. She wouldn't join again unless it was someone she really loved. She didn't mind missing out on love, because she didn't really think she had. Most people didn't have anything nearly as good as Gus and Laddy in their lives.

Gus loved his work, he was prepared to do the longest hours and the hardest jobs to learn the hotel business. Laddy had always taken the boy to football matches and boxing matches. He remembered the fortune teller. 'Maybe she meant I was going to be interested in sports,' he told Gus. 'Maybe she didn't mean good at it, more involved in it.'