Amongst Women by John McGahern Page A

boiling. Did she want to scald the face off a man? God, O God, O God, did she not know anything? Look at the holes in these socks. ‘Where, O God, is that woman now? Has a whole army to be sent out to search for you whenever you’re needed?’

    She did not try to defend herself. ‘Coming, Daddy. Coming,’ she would call, often arriving breathless. Not once did she protest at the unfairness. She seemed willing to go to almost any length to appease, lull his irritation to rest, contain all the exasperation by taking it within herself. This usually redoubled it. He seemed intent now on pushing to see how far he could go and she appeared willing to give way in everything in order to pacify.
    The children were deeply ashamed: ‘He used to be like that when Luke was here, Rose; only it was worse.’
    ‘These flare-ups happen in every family. It is easy to exaggerate.  I’m sure Daddy never meant any harm. These things can be taken too much to heart.’ She would not hear the accusation.
    ‘It’s true what Mona says.’
    ‘Now, these things can be exaggerated out of all proportion. Daddy may act like that – none of us are all that good – but he never means it. I know how much he loves everybody in the house.’
    ‘It’s just not fair.’
    ‘You should know you’ll not change your father now and he means everything for the best for the whole house,’ she argued forcibly but the strain was showing on her own drawn, anxious features.
    Then one evening as she was tidying up the room he said as quietly as if he were taking rifle aim, ‘There’s no need for you to go turning the whole place upside down. We managed well enough before you ever came round the place.’
    She did not try to answer or to turn it aside. It was again as if she had been struck, her hands barely moving along the surface of the dresser she had been wiping clean of dust, her head going low, and when she finished she went to put the damp cloth carefully beside the sink, moving a simmering saucepan from the hotplate. Such was the slowness and enclosedness of all her movements that the girls instinctively looked up from their school books to follow her closely. Moran watched every move under cover of reading the newspaper. Then, with the same shocking slowness, without a word, without looking at anyone, she went to the door, opened it, and let it close softly behind her. They heard her open and close the bedroom door likewise. There was complete silence.
    Moran rattled the newspaper a few times but by the time he could look around the three children were locked back into their school books. After a while Moran tired of looking at the newspapers and went outside though it was almost night.
    ‘What happened?’ Michael asked laughingly, hoping to make light of what had taken place.
    ‘Rose went to bed,’ Mona answered without looking up from her books and though the boy thought about it for a while he did not ask anything further.
    When Moran came back he was even more restless. He went through the newspaper again. Then he got pen and writing pad and sat at the table. He deliberated for a long time in front of the pad, and then suddenly rose and put it away without writing anything.
    ‘We better say the prayers,’ he said, taking his beads from the leather purse. As they prepared to kneel he added, ‘Open the doors in case Rose wants to hear.’ Mona went and opened both doors. At the bedroom door she called softly, ‘Rose, we’re starting the Rosary.’ But not even a whisper came from the room. Mona came in. ‘The doors are open,’ and took her place without looking at anyone.
    ‘Thou, O Lord, wilt open my lips.’
    ‘And my tongue shall announce Thy praise,’ their response was like a muted echo.
    The doors stayed open but no murmur came from the other room. Moran paused after the First Decade. Rose always recited the Second Decade but when no sound whatever came from the room he nodded severely to Mona to begin. On the completion of