“Everybody thought that John Quinn was only acting the fool and they kept on talking and laughing and chatting away. ‘It wouldn’t be John if he didn’t do things different. He’s a holy terror. It wouldn’t be John if things happened like for everybody else,’ and they began to wonder what strange thing he had to show Margaret over on the shore. He was not known then as he is known now.
“They reached the top of the slope where the rock field slopes down to the shore. There’s little earth and in places the rock is bare. In dry spells the grass there turns red on that part of the shore.
“They stood for a while in full view. Though the yard had turned quiet as a church what they were saying couldn’t be heard. They were too far off. John Quinn put the blanket he had brought down on the rock. Margaret looked as if she was trying to break away but he could have held her with one hand. It was over before anybody rightly knew. He lifted the blue dress up over her head and put her down on the blanket. The screech she let out would put your heart crossways. John Quinn stood between her and the house while he was fixing his trousers and belt. He must have been afraid she’d try to break back on her own but she just lay there on the ground. In the end he had to lift her and straighten her dress and carry her in his arms. The mother and father stood there like a pair of ghosts. Not a word was spoken.
“Once the rush to get away started, you never saw the like. A few went up to the old pair before leaving but most just cut for the road. What could they say? It was clear that Margaret didn’t even want to face back to the house after what had happened. By the time he carried her into the yard the whole place had emptied. There might never have been a wedding except for the scattered flowers and the long trestle table weighted down with all sorts of food and drink under the chestnut tree. The musicians were the last to leave without playing a note. Poor Tom Sweeney walked them all the way out to the gate at the road without uttering a word. He tried to give them a fistful of money but none of them would take as much as a penny. When he kept pressing the money, all Packie Donnelly — who was as decent a man as you’d find as well as a great fiddle player — all Packie did was to put his arm round poor Tom’s shoulder and hold him tight to show that they understood everything and wanted nothing and that no fault or blame was attached in their minds to him. In those sort of cases sympathy is nearly the hardest thing of all to take and Tom Sweeney who hadn’t said a word up to then started bawling like a child. What could they do but look at one another and say how things could turn out all right yet in the end and hurry away? It’s a terrible thing to see an old man bawling. People always say that things will turn out all right in the end when there’s never a chance of them turning out right.”
“He must have been out of his mind.”
“Not one little bit out of his mind, Kate.”
“How could he have done what he did otherwise?”
“There’s a method in everything John Quinn does. It’s all thought out. In those days when a man married into a place he had little shout. He was expected to take a back seat. Some were not much more than servants. From the minute John Quinn took the reins into his hands on the way from the church till he brought Margaret as far as the rock, he was showing who was going to be boss and that everything was going to be under him from that day out.”
“You’d think he’d be ashamed, if nothing else.”
“Not one little bit. He’d glory that it was in full view. It was said he didn’t let Margaret wear knickers in the house so that he could do her there and then whenever he wanted, against the table or the wall and all the better if it was in front of the old pair.
“They lasted no time. They faded away. Tom Sweeney never let a morsel of food pass his lips for weeks before he died. Margaret had the eight children, and then she got bad. One morning Johnny was out with the gun he saw her walking in her nightdress in her bare feet in the dew before it was fully light to see if the coolness would ease the pain. In the end the schoolchildren didn’t want to pass the gate on their way to school because they were frightened by her cries. When they laugh over his cavortings and carry-on, they should not forget the full story,” Jamesie said.
“He can’t be blamed for her death?”
“No. It could have happened anyway. The place had been a little paradise. The animals would nearly talk to you they were that well looked after. Tom Sweeney grew every sort of vegetable — beans, peas, lettuce, parsnips, you name them — he had hives; the apple trees were pruned into shapes like bowls or cups and he was a master thatcher. He grew his own straw and thatched a seventh of the roof every year. The seven years could be seen side by side in the different shades of the straw in the thatch, from golden brown to what was nearly black with rain. John Quinn planted nothing but potatoes and cabbage and maybe turnips. He put a tin roof over the thatch and sold the bees and the hives. I don’t think he ever put a spade in the vegetable garden. The fruit trees went wild. There were several cats around the place. They used to line up in a row when Tom Sweeney was milking. I’m afraid the cats got short shrift. Anything not drawing to John Quinn’s mill wasn’t going to last long about a place.
“In fairness he was good enough with the children. He turned himself into a middling cook after the mother died and had always a big pot of something tasty bubbling by the fire. The children were all strong and good-looking, wonderful workers, and John showered them with praise so that they’d try to outdo one another. Naturally he didn’t forget himself either when he was handing the praise around and he learned to sew and to cobble.
“At the time there were terrible beatings in the schools. Some of the teachers were savages. People were afraid to speak out but John Quinn wasn’t afraid. There was a Missus Kilboy who was a terror with the cane. She’d swipe you round the legs as well as murder your hands; and if you tried to cover your legs with your arms, the arms and back would get it as well.
“None of the children ever forgot his appearance at the school. He knocked very politely before lifting the latch and coming into the classroom, the heavy hobnailed boots loud on the hollow boards. His voice was dripping with politeness. ‘Excuse me now, children, for interrupting your lessons but I have just a few little words to say to your mistress here that won’t take long.’
“Naturally the children were delighted and sat up in the desks, all full of ears. ‘Sorry to be taking time away from the lessons, Mistress, but my two little girls came home crying from school yesterday evening. Their hands were so swollen they weren’t able to hold their spoons to eat the dinner. They were still crying when it was time for them to go to their bed. You might have noticed now, Mistress, that they weren’t at school today.’
“What could she say? John Quinn had her cornered. The children were drinking in every word. John Quinn’s voice couldn’t have been sweeter. He was like a cat purring over a saucer of milk.
“ ‘Now, Mistress, if this ever happens again I’m afraid it’ll go a lot further than this and it could be that when the courts are finished with the case you could be looking for another position. That’d be a pity to happen in a small place like this where everybody is happy and getting on well together. It can bring in bad feelings between people. And sometimes these are hard to forget. Now my pair of little girls are coming back to school tomorrow and nothing like that must ever happen again. Don’t as much as lay a hand on those little girls. That’s all I have to say for now. I won’t take another minute away from the good lessons.’