Brooklyn by Colm Tóibín Page A

two days. She would try to put those two days behind her. No matter what she dreamed about, no matter how bad she felt, she had no choice, she knew, but to put it all swiftly out of her mind. She would have to get on with her work if it was during the day and go back to sleep if it was during the night. It would be like covering a table with a tablecloth, or closing curtains on a window; and maybe the need would lessen as time went on, as Jack had hinted it would, as Father Flood had suggested. In any case, that was what she would have to do. As soon as Mrs. Kehoe appeared with tea things on a tray, Eilis clenched her fist when she felt that she was ready to begin.
    After the evening meal Father Flood came and Eilis was summoned once more into Mrs. Kehoe’s private quarters. Father Flood was smiling and went towards the fireplace as soon as Eilisappeared as if to warm his hands, even though there was no fire lit. He rubbed his hands together and turned towards her.
    “Now I’ll leave the two of you in peace,” Mrs. Kehoe said. “If you need me, I’m in the kitchen.”
    “The power of the Holy Roman and Apostolic Church is not to be underestimated,” Father Flood said. “The first thing I found was a nice devout Italian secretary who told me what courses are full and what courses are really full, and most important told me what not to ask for. I told her the whole story. I had her in tears.”
    “I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Eilis said.
    “Oh, cheer up. I got you into the night class in bookkeeping and preliminary accountancy. I told them how brilliant you were. You’re the first Irish girl. It’s full of Jews and Russians and those Norwegians I told you about and they’d like to have even more Italians, but they’re too busy making money. The Jewish fellow who runs the place looked like he never saw a priest in his life before. He stood to attention when he saw me like it was the army. Brooklyn College, only the best. I paid your tuition for the first semester. It’s Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, seven to ten, and Thursday, seven to nine. If you do it for two years and pass all their tests, there’s no office in New York won’t want you.”
    “Will I have time?” she asked.
    “Of course you will. And start next Monday. I’ll get you the books. I have a list here. And you can spend your spare time studying them.”
    His good humour seemed strange to her; it seemed he was putting on a show. She tried to smile.
    “Are you sure this is okay?”
    “It’s done.”
    “Did Rose ask you to do this? Is that why you are doing it?”
    “I’m doing it for the Lord,” he said.
    “Tell me really why you are doing it.”
    He looked at her carefully and left silence for a moment. She returned his gaze calmly, making clear that she wanted a reply.
    “I was amazed that someone like you would not have a good job in Ireland. When your sister mentioned that you had no work in Ireland, then I said I would help you to come here. That’s all. And we need Irish girls in Brooklyn.”
    “Would any Irish girl do?” Eilis asked.
    “Don’t be sour. You asked me why I was doing it.”
    “I’m very grateful to you,” Eilis said. She had used a tone that she had heard her mother use, which was very dry and formal. She knew that Father Flood could not tell whether she meant what she said or not.
    “You’ll make a great accountant,” he said. “But a bookkeeper first. And no more tears? Is that a deal?”
    “No more tears,” she said quietly.
     
    When she came back from work the following evening he had left a pile of books for her as well as ledgers and copy books and a set of pens. He had also arranged with Mrs. Kehoe that she could take a packed meal with her the first three days of each week at no extra charge.
    “Now, it will be just ham or a slice of tongue and some salad and brown bread. You’ll have to get tea somewhere along the way,” Mrs. Kehoe said. “And I told Father Flood that since I