LIE CLOSE TO THE WAWALL SAYS BRIAN O’LINN—
It was all like that, funny and easy. I sang it in school and Miss Watkins stopped me after the verse about Brian O’Linn going acourting because she thought it was going to get dirtier. It didn’t but she didn’t believe me.
I sang the last verse in the yard during the little break at eleven o’clock.
–It’s not dirty, I warned them.
–Sing it anyway; go on.
–Okay, but—
–BRIAN O’LINN—HIS WIFE AND WIFE’S MOTHER—
They laughed.
–It’s not—
–Shut up and keep singing.
–WERE ALL GOING HOME O’ER THE BRIDGE TOGETHER—
THE BRIDGE IT BROKE DOWN AND THEY ALL TUMBLED IN—
WE’LL GO HOME BE THE WATER SAYS BRIAN O’LINN—
–That’s stupid, said Kevin.
–I know, I said.—I told you.
I didn’t think it was stupid at all.
Henno came over and broke us all up because he thought there was a fight. He grabbed me and said that he knew I was one of the ringleaders and he was keeping an eye on me and then he let me go. He didn’t have our class yet—that was the year after—so he didn’t know me.
–You mind yourself, sonny, he said.
–SHE’S A LONGHONG GOHHON—
I couldn’t do it; I didn’t even know what Hank Williams was singing.
Da hit me.
On the shoulder; I was looking at him, about to tell him that I didn’t want to sing this one; it was too hard. It was funny; I knew he was going to wallop me from the look on his face a few seconds before he did it. Then he looked as if he’d changed his mind, like he’d controlled himself, and then I heard the thump and felt it, as if he’d forgotten to tell his hand not to keep going towards me.
He hadn’t lifted the needle.
–A MAN NEEDS A WOMAN THAT HE CAN LEAN ON—
BUT MY LEANING POST IS DONE LEHEFT AND GONE
I rubbed my shoulder through my jumper and shirt and vest; it was like it was expanding and shrinking, filling and shrinking. It wasn’t that sore.
I didn’t cry.
–Come on, said Da.
He lifted the needle this time, and we started again.
–I WENT DOWN TO THE RIVER
TO WATCH THE FISH SWIM BYYY—
He put his hand on my shoulder, the other one. I wanted to squirm it away but after a while I didn’t mind.
The record player was a red box. He’d carried it home from work one day. You could pile six records in it, over the turntable. We only had three; The Black and White Minstrels, South Pacific and Hank Williams The King of Country Music. When he brought the record player home we only had one, South Pacific. He played it all Friday night and all the weekend. He tried to make me learn I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair but my ma stopped him. She said if I ever sang that in school or outside they’d have to sell the house and move somewhere else.
It played 33s and 45s and 78s. 33s were L.P.s like the three we had. Kevin smuggled his brother’s record, I’m A Believer by The Monkees, out of his house. It was a 45. But my da wouldn’t let us play it. He said there was a scratch on it; he didn’t even look at it. He wasn’t even using the record player. It was his. It was in the same room as the television. When he was playing it the television stayed off. He once put on the Black and White Minstrels at the same time they were on the television and he turned the television sound down but it didn’t work. The singer’s mouth, the black fella that sang the serious songs, was opening and shutting when the record was over and the needle was about to go up, but it didn’t. It kept going over the scratch. Da had to lift it.
–Were you messing with this? he said to me.
–No.
–You then; were you?
–No, said Sinbad.
–Somebody was, he said.
–They didn’t touch it, said my ma.
My face burned when I was waiting for something else to happen, for him to say something back to her.
Once, he put on Hank Williams during The News. It was brilliant; it was like Charles Mitchell was singing NOW YOU’RE LOOKING AT A MAN THAT’S GETTING KIND O’ MAD, I’VE HAD A LOT O’ LUCK BUT IT’S ALL BEEN BAD. We all roared. Me and Sinbad were let stay up half an hour later.
When we got the car, a Cortina like Henno’s, a black one, Da drove it up and down the road, learning how to drive it, teaching himself. He wouldn’t let us into it.
–Not yet, he said.
He went up to the seafront. We followed him; we could keep up with him. He couldn’t turn it to go back down to the house. He saw us looking and called us over. I thought he was going to kill us. There were seven of us. We all baled in the back and we reversed all the way back to the house. Da sang the Batman music; he was mad sometimes, brilliant mad. Aidan had a bleeding nose when we got out. He was whinging. Da got down on his knees and held Aidan’s shoulders. He wiped his nose with his hankie and got him to blow into it, and told him he’d have great crack picking the dried blood out of his nose when he went to bed later and Aidan started laughing.
They all went down to the field behind the shops to find the big boys’ hut and wreck it but I didn’t go; I wanted to stay with Da. I sat beside him up and down the road. We went to Raheny. When he was turning he went right over the road and brushed the ditch.
–Stupid place to put a ditch, he said.
A fella honked at him.
–Bloody eejit, said my da, and he honked back when the fella was gone.
We came back to Barrytown along the main road and Da put the foot down. We rolled down our windows. I stuck my elbow out but he wouldn’t let me. He parked outside on the verge two gates down from our house.
–That’ll do us, he said.
Sinbad was in the back.
We went on a picnic the next day. It was raining but we went anyway; me and Sinbad in the back, my ma beside my da with Catherine on her knee. Deirdre wasn’t born yet then. My ma’s belly was all round, filling up with her. We went to Dollymount.
–Why not the mountains? I wanted to know.
–Stay quiet, Patrick, said my ma.
Da was getting ready to go from Barrytown Road onto the main road. We could have walked to Dollymount. We could see the island from where we were in the car. Da made it across and right. The Cortina jerked a bit and made a noise like when you pressed your lips together and blew. And something scraped when we went right in to the kerb.
–What’s that sound from?
–Shhh, said Ma.
She wasn’t enjoying herself; I could tell. She needed a decent day out.
–There’s the mountains, I said.
I got between her seat and his seat and pointed out the mountains to them, across the bay, not that far.
–Look.
–Sit down!
Sinbad was on the floor.
–There’s forests there.
–Stay quiet, Patrick.
–Sit down, you bloody eejit.
Dollymount was only a mile away. Maybe a bit more, but not much. You had to cross over to the island on a wooden bridge; the rest was boring.
–The toilet, said Sinbad.
–Jesus Christ!
–Pat, my ma said to my da.
–If we go to the mountains, I said,—he can go behind one of the trees.
–I’ll swing you from one of the trees if you don’t sit down out of my light!
–Your father’s nervous—
–I’m not!
He was.
–I just want a bit of peace.
–The mountains are very peaceful.
Sinbad said that. The two of them laughed, Ma and Da in the front, especially Da.
We got there, Dollymount, but he had to drive past the bridge twice before he could slow down enough to turn onto it and not miss it and drive through the sea wall. It was still raining. He parked the car facing the sea. The tide was way out so we couldn’t see it. Anyway, with the engine off the wipers weren’t working. The best thing about it was the noise of the rain on the roof. Ma had an idea; we could go home and have the picnic there.