The Chisellers by Brendan O'Carroll Page A

call his name. His legs turned to jelly, his stomach went queasy and he felt light-headed. He suddenly found himself closing the office door from the inside without remembering how he had got up and walked to the door at all. The room was sparsely decorated. There were four filing cabinets, dark green in colour, and beside them was a table stacked up with even more files. There was a huge map on one wall which took in counties Dublin, Kildare, Wicklow, Louth and Meath. The title on the map read Eastern Health Board Area. In the centre of the room was a well-worn dark brown wooden desk behind which sat a rather gaunt-looking man, wearing thick black-rimmed glasses. He had on a navy suit, blue shirt and tie, and had a head that refused to believe it was bald, with a thick growth of hair on each side and what looked like twenty banjo strings across the top. Without speaking, the man indicated a chair on the opposite side of the desk on which Simon promptly sat down. He remained quiet for a couple of moments while the man read the application form he held in his hands. Simon recognised his own writing on the back page. The bald man gently placed the application form on the desk in front of him, looked up at Simon and began.
    ‘Su ... su ... so ... yo ... yo ... you are Si ... Si ... Simon Ba ... Ba ... Browne.’
    For a moment Simon was stunned. He slowly nodded his head in assent.
    The man went on. ‘Su ... su ... so, wa ... wa ... why do you want to leave sa ... sa ... school, Si ... Simon?’
    For the first time Simon spoke. ‘I wa ... want ta ... to wo ... work, and eh, an ... anyway mi ... my teacher sa ... sa ... says I’m a sl ... sl ... slow pupil.’
    Simon started work as the new trainee porter in St Patrick’s hospital the following Monday.

     
    That same week Agnes received a letter from her sister Dolly. Before even going on to tell Agnes of her latest complaint - a constant headache which she suspected was a brain tumour - Dolly expressed great delight that Agnes would be coming on a visit with young Trevor; and although Agnes had told Dolly in her letter of her bingo win, the two crisp $20 bills accompanied Dolly’s letter yet again. Within hours of receiving the letter Agnes set off to book her flights.
    Constellation Travel in Liffey Street was owned and run by the Donegan brothers, Joe and Tim. Along with the two men, bachelors and in their fifties, the company had only one other employee and that was Margaret Sharp, who did secretarial work for the men. On the day Agnes arrived at the office, Margaret was out sick and Joe was delivering tickets to a client across town. Tim was a little disgruntled - dealing with members of the public was not his forte, and he dreaded being left to mind the store. Tim was on the ‘phone when Agnes entered the office. He indicated as much to her and he hoped by the time he was finished his call that Joe would have returned. In the meantime, Agnes browsed through a couple of brochures, speaking the names of the destinations aloud.
    ‘Mag-a-loof. Jesus!’ She picked up another brochure. ‘Santa-pooz-na. Mother of God!’
    Tim was now standing at the counter and by way of opening the conversation, he said to Agnes, ‘Well, Madam, fancy a trip to the sun?’ He smiled.
    Agnes spun around to face him. ‘Oh God no, luv! I’d never go anywhere I couldn’t pronounce.’
    ‘Well then, what can I do for you?’ Tim suspected this lady was here to enquire about a trip to Lourdes. Another miracle-chaser, he thought.
    Agnes placed her handbag on the counter and smiled at the man. ‘I want to go to Canada.’
    Tim returned the smile. He took a pad and pencil and began to make notes. ‘Right, Canada. And where in Canada?’
    ‘Me sister’s.’
    Tim looked up from the pad. The lady was still smiling, so this obviously wasn’t a joke. He tried again.
    ‘And where does your sister live?’
    ‘I told yeh - in Canada.’
    ‘Yes, but whereabouts in Canada?’
    ‘Oh sorry,