Michael O’Sullivan,’ he would say and, as often as not, hug the person who had asked.
If you wanted Maura to come and clean your house you took Michael as well. And as they walked from job to job each day Maura used to point out the houses that she loved to her son – the little gate lodge, ever more covered with ivy and choked with nettles, that stood at the end of the long avenue up to The Glen, and there was the one near Miss Ross which she was going to paint pink if she ever bought it.
At night she would take the doll with the china hands and face out from its cabinet and the two cups and saucers she had been given by Mrs Ryan. There was a little silver plate, which had EPNS on the back, that Eileen Dunne had given when she stood as godmother to Michael. She said that this meant it wasn’t real silver, but since the S stood for silver Maura thought it deserved a place in the cabinet. There was a watch too, one that belonged to Gerry. A watch that didn’t go, but might go one day if it were seen to, and would hang on a chain. When Michael got to be a man he could call it his father’s watch.
Most people forgot that Michael ever had a father; the memory of Gerry O’Sullivan faded. And for Maura the memory began to fade too. Days passed when she didn’t think of the handsome fellow with the dark eyes who hadcared enough to marry her, but hadn’t got the strength to stay when he knew his child was handicapped. She had never hated him, sometimes she even pitied him that he didn’t know the great hugs and devotion of Michael his son, who grew in size but not greatly in achievement.
Maura had got glances and serious invitations out from other men in the town, but she had always told them simply that she wasn’t free to accept any invitation. She had a husband living in England and really there could be no question of anything else.
Her dream remained constant. A proper little home, not the broken-down cottage where only the hopeless and the helpless lived, where she had grown up and wanted to escape.
Then the Darcys came to Shancarrig. They bought a small grocery shop like the one Nellie Dunne ran, and they put in all kinds of newfangled things. The world was changing, even in places like Shancarrig. Mike and Gloria Darcy were new people who livened the place up. No one had ever met anyone called Gloria before and she lived up to her name. Lots of black curly hair like a gypsy, and she must have known this because she often wore a red scarf knotted around her neck and a full coloured skirt, as if she was going to break into a gypsy dance any moment.
Mike Darcy was easy-going and got on with everyone. Even old Nellie Dunne who looked on them as rivals liked Mike Darcy. He had a laugh and a word for anyone he met on the road. Mrs Ryan in the Commercial Hotel felt they were a bit brash for the town, but when Mike said he’d buy for her at the market as well as for himself she began to change her tune.
It was good to see such energy about the place, she said, and it wasn’t long before she had the front of thehotel painted to make it the equal of the new shopfront in Darcy’s. Mike’s brother, Jimmy Darcy, had come with them. He was a great house-painter and Mrs Ryan claimed that even the dozy fellows from down in the cottages, who used to paint a bit when the humour took them, seemed to think Jimmy did a good job. Mike and Gloria had children, two tough dark little boys who used to get up to all kinds of devilment in the school.
Maura didn’t wait to see whether the town liked the Darcys or not; she presented herself on the doorstep the moment they arrived.
‘You’ll be needing someone to work for you,’ she said to Gloria.
Gloria glanced at the round eager face of Michael, who stood holding his mother’s hand. ‘Will you be able to make yourself free?’ she asked.
‘Michael would come with me. He’s the greatest help you could imagine,’ she said, and Michael beamed at the praise.
‘I’m
If you wanted Maura to come and clean your house you took Michael as well. And as they walked from job to job each day Maura used to point out the houses that she loved to her son – the little gate lodge, ever more covered with ivy and choked with nettles, that stood at the end of the long avenue up to The Glen, and there was the one near Miss Ross which she was going to paint pink if she ever bought it.
At night she would take the doll with the china hands and face out from its cabinet and the two cups and saucers she had been given by Mrs Ryan. There was a little silver plate, which had EPNS on the back, that Eileen Dunne had given when she stood as godmother to Michael. She said that this meant it wasn’t real silver, but since the S stood for silver Maura thought it deserved a place in the cabinet. There was a watch too, one that belonged to Gerry. A watch that didn’t go, but might go one day if it were seen to, and would hang on a chain. When Michael got to be a man he could call it his father’s watch.
Most people forgot that Michael ever had a father; the memory of Gerry O’Sullivan faded. And for Maura the memory began to fade too. Days passed when she didn’t think of the handsome fellow with the dark eyes who hadcared enough to marry her, but hadn’t got the strength to stay when he knew his child was handicapped. She had never hated him, sometimes she even pitied him that he didn’t know the great hugs and devotion of Michael his son, who grew in size but not greatly in achievement.
Maura had got glances and serious invitations out from other men in the town, but she had always told them simply that she wasn’t free to accept any invitation. She had a husband living in England and really there could be no question of anything else.
Her dream remained constant. A proper little home, not the broken-down cottage where only the hopeless and the helpless lived, where she had grown up and wanted to escape.
Then the Darcys came to Shancarrig. They bought a small grocery shop like the one Nellie Dunne ran, and they put in all kinds of newfangled things. The world was changing, even in places like Shancarrig. Mike and Gloria Darcy were new people who livened the place up. No one had ever met anyone called Gloria before and she lived up to her name. Lots of black curly hair like a gypsy, and she must have known this because she often wore a red scarf knotted around her neck and a full coloured skirt, as if she was going to break into a gypsy dance any moment.
Mike Darcy was easy-going and got on with everyone. Even old Nellie Dunne who looked on them as rivals liked Mike Darcy. He had a laugh and a word for anyone he met on the road. Mrs Ryan in the Commercial Hotel felt they were a bit brash for the town, but when Mike said he’d buy for her at the market as well as for himself she began to change her tune.
It was good to see such energy about the place, she said, and it wasn’t long before she had the front of thehotel painted to make it the equal of the new shopfront in Darcy’s. Mike’s brother, Jimmy Darcy, had come with them. He was a great house-painter and Mrs Ryan claimed that even the dozy fellows from down in the cottages, who used to paint a bit when the humour took them, seemed to think Jimmy did a good job. Mike and Gloria had children, two tough dark little boys who used to get up to all kinds of devilment in the school.
Maura didn’t wait to see whether the town liked the Darcys or not; she presented herself on the doorstep the moment they arrived.
‘You’ll be needing someone to work for you,’ she said to Gloria.
Gloria glanced at the round eager face of Michael, who stood holding his mother’s hand. ‘Will you be able to make yourself free?’ she asked.
‘Michael would come with me. He’s the greatest help you could imagine,’ she said, and Michael beamed at the praise.
‘I’m
Similar Books
