M. Hyland - Carry Me Down

‘Well, she’s always said she’ll take me to Niagara after my Leaving is finished, but I want to go sooner. She says we can’t afford it now and I was wondering whether you could help.’

She laughs. ‘She’s the cat’s mother.’

‘Sorry. I meant Mammy. All I want to know is whether you could help us with the money.’

‘That’s blunt.’

‘Maybe you could come too.’

‘Where do you think my money comes from?’ she asks. She laughs again and I look down at the red swirls in the carpet, but they make me dizzy. I look back up. ‘You got a whole lot of money when Grandad died, didn’t you? From all the jewellery you sold, and from the shop and things like that.’

‘And how long do you think that money will last?’ She moves forward in her recliner.

‘A long time,’ I say.

‘Maybe it would be better to wait until you’ve finished your schooling, and …’

Suddenly she stops talking. She looks past me, over my shoulder, towards the door behind me, as though I am not there.

‘Granny?’

‘Yes.’

‘I was really hoping …’

‘And I was really hoping you wouldn’t turn out like your father. Do you know he thinks he has a right to my money? Yes. He thinks if I didn’t spend any on myself, he’d have a nice living allowance.’

Her voice is loud now and she doesn’t look at me, she looks at my elbow.

‘But bearing children doesn’t make a woman a martyr. And those that sacrifice too much for their children are often sorry.’

It is as though I’m not in the room.

‘Next year I think I’ll go on a cruise around the world. Maybe I’ll go twice. Until my head spins!’

‘But why does Da have to work when he’s studying for an exam at Trinity?’

She looks at me as though I have hit her. ‘He’s had three years of study. If he was serious, he’d have done that exam by now. If I believed your father was going to study for his degree, I’d not nag him to work, but I don’t believe him.’

Now she almost shouts. ‘And I’ve got exactly nine days of patience left. Yes, that’s all. Nine days of patience left and then the light goes out!’

‘That’s not fair,’ I say.

She points behind me and laughs. ‘You’re not always as quick as you like to think you are, young John Egan.’

I look behind me at the door, and I see what she has been staring at. In the two-inch gap under the door, there is a pair of black shoes. Somebody is standing outside; somebody has been standing outside all the while.

I thought Da had gone into town on the bus, and I didn’t hear him come back in. I get out of the armchair and rush towards the door, but my grandmother stands and grabs hold of my shirt.

‘Leave it, John. There’s no point going after an eavesdropper. There’s no good whatsoever in going after him.’

But I can’t help it. I open the door and look. He has gone.

‘Sit,’ she says. ‘There’s more I need to say.’ I sit down and she reaches across to take my hand. It’s a long way for her to stretch but I don’t lean forward to make it easier.

‘Will we have to leave now?’ I ask. ‘Will you throw us out?’

‘Of course not. I’d never ask you to leave here.’

‘Do you swear?’

‘I’d swear on the Holy Bible only it’s over there on the dressing table,’ she says. ‘Maybe if I shout, the Bible will hear me.’

She jokes, but there is nothing funny in what she says and I will not laugh. Besides, she is lying.

Her voice is high-pitched, she doesn’t blink and doesn’t wave her hands the way she usually does. Her hands are dead in her lap.

‘All right,’ I say. ‘That’s good.’

‘And as for Niagara,’ she says, ‘if your mother has promised she’ll take you there when you’ve finished your Leaving, I’m certain she’ll do it. Your mother doesn’t break promises.’

Maybe Mammy forgot, but I now know she hasn’t asked Granny about Niagara like she said she would.

‘I’m going to watch TV now,’ I say.

But I don’t watch television. I look everywhere for my father. I go outside and wait for him by the front gate. It is very cold and the cows in the paddock across the road have steam blowing from their nostrils. I rub my hands together and jog up and down on the spot. Some of the cows look at me. Usually I wave at them or say hello, or stare back. Animals are good at staring and they don’t mind it.

After nearly an hour of waiting outside by the gate I go into the kitchen. I eat a jam sandwich and then I go to the living room and watch television by the fire until half five. At half six I hear my mother coming through the front door. I go out to the hallway to greet her. I watch her carefully as she removes her coat. She stands for a moment, looking around.

‘Let’s have a cup of tea,’ she says.

I go with her into the kitchen and watch while she puts the kettle on the range and rinses two cups. When the tea is made she shuts the door. She opens a packet of Digestives and puts six of them on a plate. I don’t want to tell her I didn’t go to school.

‘Is that all we’re having for tea?’

‘I had a big dinner at twelve o’clock at the church hall. But I’ll make you some soup if you want.’

‘Where’s Da?’ I ask. ‘Did you see him on the way home?’

‘He’s probably gone to visit your Uncle Jack while he’s in Gorey.’

‘Why is Uncle Jack in Gorey? Where is he staying? In a hotel? What is he talking to Da about?’

‘Your uncle’s here from Dublin on business.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘Boring business.’

‘What kind?’

‘Mind-your-business kind of business.’

I don’t laugh. I stand up and walk around the table. I walk around it twice. I don’t really know that I’m doing it until she says, ‘Sit down!’

I sit and scratch my head. ‘You’ve been like a crazy ghost,’ she says. ‘What’s the matter?’

I’ve been waiting for her to ask me but, now that she has, it’s not the way I wanted her to ask. ‘Why am I like a ghost?’ I ask.

She puts her hand on my hand. She looks tired. There are bags under her eyes, almost black, and she has grey hairs. I don’t know how long they’ve been there, but her hair is messy today and the grey sticks out.

‘I’m sorry, John. I only mean that you creep around. You keep appearing in places.’

‘What places?’

‘You come to my room and don’t respect my privacy, or your father’s.’

‘That’s not true.’

She ruffles my hair and pretends to laugh. I pull away. She has no choice but to speak to me in a different way. ‘Oh, but you do, John. When I lie down to take a nap, suddenly you appear. I’m thinking of getting one of those Do Not Disturb signs from a hotel.’

She is trying to make me laugh, to cover up for the bad things she has said.

‘All right,’ I say, ‘I’ll leave you alone.’ I stand up.

‘John, darling. Please sit down. I don’t want you to leave me alone, I just want you to tell me what’s wrong. Will you tell me?’ She tugs on my arm until I sit down again.

‘Everything is different,’ I say. ‘You’re different and Da’s different and Granny’s different and even Brendan is different.’

‘Well, I don’t know about Brendan, but people who love each other sometimes have disagreements.’

‘That’s not it,’ I say. ‘Everybody is strange with me. Nobody treats me the same as they used to.’

She takes her hand away from mine and puts both hands around her cup. ‘You’re growing up, John. Sometimes things change when you grow up and it takes a while to get used to them.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like people don’t baby you any more. They don’t mollycoddle you. Be flattered by that. When people see you can stand on your own two feet, then they’ll not let you lean on them. If you can stand straight and tall, then that’s what people will expect of you. The tougher and stronger you are, the less they’ll look after you.’