Echoes by Maeve Binchy Page A

asked without much hope.
    â€œWell, if that’s the kind of thing you’re going to be saying . . .” He turned away in disgust. To suggest that boys would do the washing! Clare was being very difficult altogether.
    â€œOh, all right! ” Clare slammed closed the story of Jason and the Golden Fleece. She only knew Jason, his father, his two wicked step-uncles and the name of the ship. There was a huge cast still to master, so it would mean waking up early . . . again.
    Â 
    â€œClare, come here till I teach you to darn.”
    â€œNo, Mammy, I don’t want to learn to darn.”
    â€œYou that wants to learn everything? Look, it’s very simple. Do you see this hole, what we have to do is to make a criss cross . . .”
    â€œNo, Mam, I’d like not to know how to do it. Ever.”
    â€œWhy, child? When you have a home of your own you’ll want to know.”
    â€œBut if I know now, I’ll be darning Tommy’s socks, and Ned’s, and Dad’s, and Jim’s, and Ben’s, and maybe even Chrissie’s.”
    Agnes put her arm round the thin little figure, and smiled. “Aren’t you the funny little thing?”
    â€œNo, Mammy, I’m the sensible little thing. I’ll never learn to darn, never.”
    Agnes was annoyed to see her affection rejected. “Have it your own way, and you can go and do the washing up if you’re not going to take advantage of the lessons I was going to give you.”
    â€œBut . . .”
    â€œChrissie won’t be in—their class have a special extra class today.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Clare said glumly. “Of course they do.”
    Â 
    â€œHave you a cold, Clare?”
    â€œNo, it’s just a cough, Mam. Dust or something in my throat, I think.”
    â€œHave a drink of water then.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œClare, don’t spend all day in the kitchen. Come back and help me with these boxes, and put a scarf or something round your mouth if you’re breathing in all the dust.”
    â€œMam, when we’ve finished this lot, can I go and do—”
    â€œDo your homework, do your homework. Why is it that you’re the only one in this family who has to make the excuse of doing your homework? Look at the rest of them.”
    â€œI know. Look at them, Mam.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œNothing.”
    Â 
    Often Clare had to do her homework in bed, there was literally no other place and no other time. This made Chrissie very cross. She grumbled loudly if Clare turned on the torch.
    â€œYou’re spoiling my sleep and ruining your own eyes. You’ll be blind soon and we’ll have to take you round by the hand and you’ll have a white stick,” Chrissie said with satisfaction.
    â€œShut up, Chrissie. I’m learning something. I can’t get it into my head if you keep distracting me.”
    Chrissie was surprised at the strength of the reply. “I’ll tell on you. If you don’t stop that mumbling and learning and having a light on, I’ll tell. That will put a stop to it.”
    There was no reply. With her hands in her ears and eyes closed Clare was repeating under her breath the words, “Do Ghealadh mo chroi nuair chinn Loch Greinne,” over and over.
    â€œYou’re as thick as the wall,” said Chrissie. “You mean you don’t even know one line after all that saying of it?”
    â€œI don’t know what Ghealadh means. It’s hard to learn when you don’t know what something means.”
    â€œAh, will you come on out of that. You don’t know what any of it means. How would people know what Irish poetry meant? It’s just words.”
    â€œIt means something happened to my heart when I saw Loch Greinne, but I don’t know what happened. Ghealadh, what would that mean?”
    â€œIt might mean Stop. My heart stopped dead when I saw Loch