We were first cousins once removed, Margaret. Young Paudeen, Caitriona’s father, and Fireside Tom were cousins …
— … “I’ve a small bit of land and a nice little shack …”
— Fireside Tom’s bit of land is rubbing up beside Nell’s, and there’s a lot more gab about hers than Caitriona’s, because hers is farther away, and she has plenty of it anyway …
— … “And I know two who can pay my rent …”
— Caitriona was always crawling her way up to Fireside Tom’s place trying to coax him down to her own, not entirely because of his land, but just to spite Nell …
— But hang on, Margaret, wasn’t she driving Paddy totally nuts …
— If he was up to his balls in work she’d be bugging him to go on and help Fireside Tom, anyway …
— Paddy Caitriona is a decent guy …
— A great neighbour, to tell the truth …
— He never had his eye on Fireside Tom’s land …
— He never felt much like toddling up to help him, but just for the sake of peace …
— … “And Nell is gre-eat at digging di-itches …”
— I rarely got so much fun out of anything, I’d say …
— I’d say you never got as much fun out of anything, true …
— But you didn’t see the half of it …
— I saw enough …
— If you were in the same town land …
— I was near enough to them. What I didn’t see, I heard. Wasn’t the whole country talking about them? …
— There wasn’t a single soul in the whole town land that wasn’t weak with the laughter from morning to night. You wouldn’t believe half of it, even if I told you …
— Of course, I’d believe it. Nearly every Friday when we drew the pension myself and Fireside Tom would toddle into Peter’s Pub for a couple of scoops, and he’d go through it all backwards and forwards …
— Careful now. Do you know that Caitriona Paudeen’s buried here a little while — in the Fifteen Shilling Place. Maybe she’d hear you …
— Let her for all I care. And everyone else in the Fifteen Shilling Place also, if they want to. Yea, like, I’m really worried about them. Themselves and their airs and graces. You’d think we were only muck and garbage …
— All the same I wouldn’t want Caitriona to hear me. I was in the same spot as her all her life, and she was a good neighbour, except that she seriously had it in for her sister Nell. Fireside Tom was the only one who really gained in any way from all the spite …
— He often told me that when we were having the few scoops …
— You’d see Caitriona heading out in the morning driving the cows to the top of the fields. She’d deliberately take the long way round home in order to go by Thomas’s hoveclass="underline"
“How’s the form today, Tom? … I see those two turf creels you have there are on their last legs. Do you know what, I think I have two of them sitting at home somewhere, and they’re not needed at all as Patrick was out weaving baskets only the other day, and he made himself two new ones …”
Tom would get the baskets.
Caitriona would hardly have vanished over the brow of the meadow when Nell would be down quicker than shit through a goose:
“How’s the form today, Tom? … Do you know, I think that those trousers of yours aren’t that good. They could do with a few patches … But I don’t know if they’d be worth it. They’re totally in shreds. As it happens, we have a pair at home and they’re as good as new for all the wear they got. They were made for Jack, but the legs were too thin, and he didn’t wear them twice …”
Tom would get the trousers.
— Didn’t he tell me as much? …
— Another day then Caitriona would be there again:
“How’s the form today, Tom? … Didn’t I just notice that the fences on the field over there are completely flattened … The donkeys in this town land are a terrible curse, Tom. God’s honest truth. They’re a terrible curse when they’re not kept locked up in their own outhouse. Gut Bucket’s old donkey, and the one that Top of the Road has are bad enough, but the nastiest of all are the ones over there”—she meant Nell—“and she lets them run wild … Of course an elderly man like yourself can’t be expected to go around driving out donkeys. You have enough to be thinking about. I’ll have to tell Pat that the fences are down …”
The fences would be repaired for Fireside Tom …
— But of course, didn’t he tell me himself …
— Nell would pop down:
“How’s the form today, Tom … There’s nothing done in this field, God bless you. Nothing sown, only in a tiny little corner. You only have about a fortnight more. But it’s hard to do a decent stroke of work if you’re all on your own. It’s a bit late for sowing spuds now. Isn’t the best of May over and done with already! … It’s a disgrace that that other crowd”—meaning Caitriona’s family—“wouldn’t give you a day’s help, and they’re already finished a fortnight ago … I’ll have to tell Peter to drop around tomorrow. Nothing better would suit the two of us for the rest of our lives, Tom, but to be on both sides of the fire together …”
The field of potatoes would be dug for Fireside Tom …
— What makes you think he didn’t tell me that often enough? …
— Nobody would really have the least clue that was going on after that, apart from those from the same place … Caitriona was always trying nonstop to rope him in and to have him all to herself, alone. But listen to me now, by the burnt balls of the morning! I’m telling you that Tom was no slouch, despite the way everyone was trying to take him for a ride …
— Do you actually think that I don’t know this? …
— Nobody would really know anything, apart from the closest neighbours … Tom was as fond of that wreck of a hovel as a king would be of his palace. If he hooked up with one sister, then sure as hell, the other would disown him. And neither of them would have the least time for him if he let go of his grubby patch of land. But he didn’t. Fireside Tom was a class of a cute hoor and certainly didn’t come down in the last shower.
— Do you think I hadn’t a clue about all of this already? …
— No, you hadn’t a clue, no more than anyone else who were not their neighbours … But it was when he got really stocious — on a fair day, or a Friday, or whatever — that’s when we heard the real fun. That’s when he got horny to get married.
— For the love of God, do you think that I didn’t often see him scuttered in Peter’s Pub? …
— I saw him there once, and to tell you the truth, he was a howl. That’s not more than five years ago: the year just before I died:
“I’m up for it to get married,” he said. “I have a nice patch of land, a pension of half a guinea, and I’m as fit as a spring chicken. I swear to Jaysus, I’ll get married. I’m telling you truthfully, I’ll get married yet … Give me that bottle of whisky, Peter”—Peter was alive then—“only the best now. I swear to Jaysus I’m off on the hunt.”
— I remember that day really well. That’s when I twisted my ankle …
— Just then Caitriona’s in the door and whispering in his ear:
“Come on away home with me now, Tom, and our Patrick will go out looking for a woman for you, but just put your heads together about it …”
Then Nell comes in and starts whispering in his other ear. “Come on away home with me, Tom my darling. I have a strip of steak and some whisky. As soon as you’ve had a bite to eat Peter will be off looking for a woman for you …”