the door? What if her mother had seen the case?
“B UT YOU DID. A ND SHE DIDN ’ T. ”
The voice!
She swerved across the road.
“ What in God ’ s name are you doing? ”
“ Sorry, Mammy, me hand slipped. ”
“Y OU ARE PROTECTED. ”
“I am?”
“ I am what? What’s got into you? What are you saying?” Martha Clare, still high on the boil. Ruby’s transgression setting the tone for a whole day of hectoring. She sat rigid in her Sunday best, mushroom dress and buff sandals, handbag clasped tightly in her lap.
“Sorry, Mammy.”
“And why did you have your bedroom door locked? What’s that about?”
“I THOUGHT I HEARD A NOISE DOWNSTAIRS. ”
“I thought . . . I thought I heard a noise downstairs.”
“T HAT ’ S WHY I WOKE UP AND COULDN’T GET BACK TO SLEEP. ”
“That’s why I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“S O I LOCKED THE DOOR, TO BE ON THE SAFE SIDE. ”
“So I locked the door, to be on the safe side.”
“Could you not have gone down and looked, then?”
“I WAS AFRAID TO. ”
“I was afraid to.”
“Oh, you were afraid to, were you? It was all right that I was lying asleep with my door wide open. You didn’t have much thought for me , did you? Could have been murdered in my bed. But as long as you were safe, what did you care?”
“L OCK YOUR DOOR FROM NOW ON, THEN. W OULDN’T THAT BE THE SENSIBLE THING TO DO ? ”
“Lock your door from now on, then. Wouldn’t that be the sensible thing to do?” Ruby had the words out before knowing it. Someone else was speaking through her—and she knew who it was.
Mrs. Clare turned in the seat, appalled.
“How dare you tell me what to do in my own home?!”
“I T’S MY HOME, TOO. ”
Ruby stared straight ahead. Her mouth clamped shut.
“G O ON, SAY IT. S AY IT! I T’S MY HOME, TOO. ”
“It’s my home, too.”
The mother slapped the dashboard hard.
“Stop this car this minute!”
Ruby kept her eyes steady on the road. She found her grip on the steering wheel relaxing. A calmness was descending, unknotting the tension, not only in her hands but in her stomach and head as well. It was a good feeling. She was free. Free to say what she felt. The words flowing from her like the purest water, pooling into sentences that were hers and hers alone.
“You want to get to Mr. Cosgrove’s on time, don’t you? You were in an awful hurry to leave the house. So, really, there is no time to stop.”
“Right, that’s it! You’re not yourself. I’m going to ask Dr. Brewster to get you in. I’ve had enough of you. Causing all that upset for May and June at the weekend. Now this .”
“What upset? May and June caused it by talking nonsense. And you finished it by hitting me. I did nothing wrong. So if anyone needs to ‘go in,’ as you say, it’s perhaps all three of you.” She looked across at her mother. “But most especially you .”
The color had drained from Mrs. Clare’s face. She was apoplectic with rage.
“Oh Jesus, what have I reared at all? Father Kelly will have to come and pray over you. ’Cos the Divil himself is standing in you to the neck.”
Ruby ignored her. She slowed for the thirty-mile zone and cruised down the main street.
“Let me out of this car. Let me out this minute!” The mother frantic now, fumbling for the door catch.
“Well, you’ll just have to wait until I stop,” Ruby said.
She swung the vehicle left, reversed into a spot on the main square, and cut the engine.
Martha clambered out, her cane clattering to the ground. Ruby went to her aid.
“Don’t you dare touch me! I’m warning you. You’ve done it this time.”
“Done what?”
“You just wait till I get you home. ”
“Then what? Slap me again? I’m thirty-three, not thirteen.”
“You’ll not talk to me like that. By Christ —”
“How are you, Mrs. Clare?” A jaunty male voice.
They turned to see Father William Kelly, the local parish priest, raising a trilby off his shiny
“B UT YOU DID. A ND SHE DIDN ’ T. ”
The voice!
She swerved across the road.
“ What in God ’ s name are you doing? ”
“ Sorry, Mammy, me hand slipped. ”
“Y OU ARE PROTECTED. ”
“I am?”
“ I am what? What’s got into you? What are you saying?” Martha Clare, still high on the boil. Ruby’s transgression setting the tone for a whole day of hectoring. She sat rigid in her Sunday best, mushroom dress and buff sandals, handbag clasped tightly in her lap.
“Sorry, Mammy.”
“And why did you have your bedroom door locked? What’s that about?”
“I THOUGHT I HEARD A NOISE DOWNSTAIRS. ”
“I thought . . . I thought I heard a noise downstairs.”
“T HAT ’ S WHY I WOKE UP AND COULDN’T GET BACK TO SLEEP. ”
“That’s why I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“S O I LOCKED THE DOOR, TO BE ON THE SAFE SIDE. ”
“So I locked the door, to be on the safe side.”
“Could you not have gone down and looked, then?”
“I WAS AFRAID TO. ”
“I was afraid to.”
“Oh, you were afraid to, were you? It was all right that I was lying asleep with my door wide open. You didn’t have much thought for me , did you? Could have been murdered in my bed. But as long as you were safe, what did you care?”
“L OCK YOUR DOOR FROM NOW ON, THEN. W OULDN’T THAT BE THE SENSIBLE THING TO DO ? ”
“Lock your door from now on, then. Wouldn’t that be the sensible thing to do?” Ruby had the words out before knowing it. Someone else was speaking through her—and she knew who it was.
Mrs. Clare turned in the seat, appalled.
“How dare you tell me what to do in my own home?!”
“I T’S MY HOME, TOO. ”
Ruby stared straight ahead. Her mouth clamped shut.
“G O ON, SAY IT. S AY IT! I T’S MY HOME, TOO. ”
“It’s my home, too.”
The mother slapped the dashboard hard.
“Stop this car this minute!”
Ruby kept her eyes steady on the road. She found her grip on the steering wheel relaxing. A calmness was descending, unknotting the tension, not only in her hands but in her stomach and head as well. It was a good feeling. She was free. Free to say what she felt. The words flowing from her like the purest water, pooling into sentences that were hers and hers alone.
“You want to get to Mr. Cosgrove’s on time, don’t you? You were in an awful hurry to leave the house. So, really, there is no time to stop.”
“Right, that’s it! You’re not yourself. I’m going to ask Dr. Brewster to get you in. I’ve had enough of you. Causing all that upset for May and June at the weekend. Now this .”
“What upset? May and June caused it by talking nonsense. And you finished it by hitting me. I did nothing wrong. So if anyone needs to ‘go in,’ as you say, it’s perhaps all three of you.” She looked across at her mother. “But most especially you .”
The color had drained from Mrs. Clare’s face. She was apoplectic with rage.
“Oh Jesus, what have I reared at all? Father Kelly will have to come and pray over you. ’Cos the Divil himself is standing in you to the neck.”
Ruby ignored her. She slowed for the thirty-mile zone and cruised down the main street.
“Let me out of this car. Let me out this minute!” The mother frantic now, fumbling for the door catch.
“Well, you’ll just have to wait until I stop,” Ruby said.
She swung the vehicle left, reversed into a spot on the main square, and cut the engine.
Martha clambered out, her cane clattering to the ground. Ruby went to her aid.
“Don’t you dare touch me! I’m warning you. You’ve done it this time.”
“Done what?”
“You just wait till I get you home. ”
“Then what? Slap me again? I’m thirty-three, not thirteen.”
“You’ll not talk to me like that. By Christ —”
“How are you, Mrs. Clare?” A jaunty male voice.
They turned to see Father William Kelly, the local parish priest, raising a trilby off his shiny
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