“As he went with the hobnailed boots back down the hollow boards between the rows of desks, he spoke to the children. ‘Excuse me now, children, for interrupting your lessons but I had a few little important words that had to be said to your mistress. Now go back to your books and work hard and pay heed to everything your mistress tells because that’s how you’ll learn to get on well in the world and be happy and make your poor parents happy. Excuse me now, children. I’ll not take another minute from your lessons.’
“Missus Kilboy hadn’t said a single word throughout. As soon as John Quinn left she went to the Master’s room and they both went out into the porch where the children couldn’t see or hear. They were a long time in the porch and when Missus Kilboy came back the children could see she had been crying.
“None of the Quinns were ever beaten after that but they weren’t given much attention or schooling either. The teachers were afraid of John Quinn and that was their way of dealing. He came back to the school more than once to complain that his children were being overlooked and cold-shouldered but there was nothing he could prove. Let nobody try to best the guards or the doctors or teachers. They have their own ways of getting back at you.
“It didn’t seem to hold any of the Quinn children back. They were strong for their years and as soon as they got to fourteen or sixteen they all hit for England. They got on the best there. A few of them are said to be millionaires and they all think the world of John Quinn. Many more normal parents aren’t thought nearly as well of or as honoured by their children.
“He didn’t bother much with women while he had the children. He was too busy and too well known around, and to go into a houseful of small children with John Quinn at the head of affairs wasn’t much of a draw for any woman. When the children were thinning out he started. He got them from newspapers and magazines and agencies. He got women from all over. You’d be surprised at how many poor people are going round the world in search of a companion and John Quinn was the boy to find them: ‘Gentleman Farmer with Lakeside Residence’ was his calling card. I seen severals. There were no beauties but they say he got money from some of them and I saw them buy a world of groceries for the house while John waited next door in the pub with his bottle of stout.
“Missus O’Brien he definitely sold. He had her for several months until he tired of her and a replacement no doubt was lined up. She was a great housekeeper who had worked for a rich family in the North. They thought a sight of her and keep in touch with her to this very day. She was a little bit innocent, that’s all that was wrong with her. She’d believe anything you’d tell her and she adored John Quinn. However he engineered it, he got her to marry Tom O’Brien, who was hardworking and looking for a woman, and money changed hands. They were wonderfully happy and still are. In no time she had the place shining, with hens and geese about the yard, and they got a bathroom and washing machines and the whole show. John Quinn wasn’t one bit pleased it turned out so well — he’s like your dog — and felt he should have got more money. Those rich people she worked for visit her every year and take her and Tom O’Brien out to a big meal and drinks in the Central in town.
“The strange thing is that she is still as sweet as ever on John Quinn. A few months back Tom O’Brien was in hospital and in no time John Quinn was around. She was delighted to see him and had the welcome of the world. John was in his element, being fed royal, his eye out for whatever else was going. It was the neighbours who ran him, warning him not to darken the place again till Tom got out of hospital. She wasn’t one bit pleased when she got to know what happened. If anything was to happen to Tom he’d be in there like a shot in the morning and as sure as day she’d have him.”
“Would the priest not have some say?”
“None. Early on he called to the house but he was wasting his breath. Nobody could best John Quinn. He delights in taking every woman he has up into the front seat of the church, genuflecting and allowing her into the seat first, kneeling in adoration. You’d have to die at the performance. Then as soon as Mass is over he takes the woman up to the candleshrine. They light two small candles. The two of them together light a third candle and then set the candle on the spikes between their own two candles. The third candle is for a wish, ‘Always wish for something good and happy for yourself, Maura. There’s no use in a star falling and no one seeing it and no one making a wish. Always wish something for yourself.’ You’d nearly die. If John Quinn was ever an actor our Johnny and even Patrick Ryan would be only trotting after him. And the ladies lap it up — good-o.”
“And that’s the sort of church you’re trying to get me to return to,” Ruttledge said.
“The fellow doesn’t go to church for religion,” Mary said dismissively. “He only goes to see shows like John Quinn. It’d be a poor lookout if people were to follow him to church.”
Jamesie enjoyed the chastisement, but then countered, “We go to the door of the church anyhow, which is more than can be said for some others present whose names will not be mentioned,” he intoned loftily.
“Why did John Quinn marry if he could have all those other women without benefit of ceremony?”
“I’m surprised at you asking. There could be only one reason. He thought she had money. Maybe as well he was finding it that bit harder to get women. Like the rest of us he’s getting no younger. His name as well was probably going ahead of him. He was getting too well known.”
“And had she money?”
“I think she had but John didn’t get his hands on any. She wasn’t that foolish. She may have parted with some things but she didn’t part with money.”
“That fella,” Mary said with disapproval, but went on to say, “John always had horses. He had a white stallion then. When the odd mare used to come to the house he’d order the wife out to the yard to watch the performance. ‘Natural and healthy, what God intended,’ he’d say. The flat-bottomed boat he keeps below in the reeds is a living danger. Of course he had her out in the boat. He could be trying to get the money out of her. I’m sure she wasn’t far from the truth when she asked was he thinking of throwing her in. A lot he cared about the birds and the blue mountain and the swans sailing.”
“Why would he regale us with the poetry?”
“Because he thought it would suit, that it would go down well. It might help get Kate here on his side. John would watch mice at a crossroads,” Mary said with the same dismissiveness as she described Jamesie’s churchgoing.
“Anyhow it wasn’t long till she left. The brother took her back. I don’t think John got a farthing, which was a God’s charity. They were decent, quiet people who minded their own business. They had no idea what John was like. Somebody was telling me not long ago that the poor thing isn’t all that well.”
“If anything were to happen to her, John will be marching up the aisle again. Mark my words,” Jamesie said.
“He’d be trying anyhow whether he’d succeed or not. He’s a pure disgust,” Mary said.
“Look how he’s beating around. See how he’s round to Kate looking to get women from England.”
“He’ll not get very far with Kate,” she said.
“The poor fella is only doing his best. He’s contributing to the race. Like the rest of them he’s only trying to find his way to the boggy hollow,” Jamesie rubbed his hands together, slyly looking out of hooded eyes.
“You, you, you—are a pure disgust as well!” Mary said, and added, “No wonder Lucy can’t stand this fella!”