‘What happened to your man?’
‘He was up for murder. He’d have swung at the time but for the Bishop, who got him certified. They say that after a few years he was spirited away to Australia. He was as sane as I was.’
‘It seems to be a more decent time now,’ I said.
‘It’s by no means great, but it’s certainly better than it was.’
A few people had come into the bar by this time. They looked our way but no one joined us at the fire. He’d had four drinks, and his face was flushed and excited. He wanted to know what poets my generation was reading. He seemed unimpressed by the names I mentioned. His own favourite was Horace. ‘Sometimes I translate him for fun, as a kind of discipline. I always feel in good spirits afterwards.’
Almost absently he spilled out a number of coloured capsules from a small plastic container on to the table, got a glass of water from the bar. ‘It’s the old ticker. I’m afraid it’s wobbly. But I hope not to embarrass my friends,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry. That’s lousy luck to have.’
‘There’s no need,’ he answered laughing as we took leave of one another. ‘I’ve had a good innings.’
Kennedy didn’t call to the digs next morning, and I made my own way to the school. As I came through the gates I saw that he had all the classes lined up on the concrete, and he was looking so demonstratively at his watch that I checked the time on my own watch. I was in time but only just. Before I got any closer he’d marched his own classes in, disappearing behind a closed door. Instead of coming round with the roll books that morning, he sent one of the senior boys, and at the mid-morning break I found myself alone on the concrete for several minutes, but when he did join me his grievance spilled out at once.
‘I heard yourself and Mr Beirne had a long session in the Bridge House last night.’
‘He called at the digs. It was more comfortable to cross to the Bridge.’
‘I suppose plenty of dirt was fired in my direction.’
‘None. He said the fact that you’re not in the INTO must be no concern of mine. It was the only time you were mentioned.’
‘That was very good of him. There are many people around here who would think him not fit company for a young teacher,’ he said angrily.
‘Why?’
‘Every penny he has goes on booze or books and some of the books are far from edifying, by all accounts. He’s either out every night in the bars, or else he shuts himself off for weeks on end. They say his wife was dead in the house for most of a day before he noticed. The priests certainly think he’s no addition to the place.’
‘He seemed an intelligent man.’
‘He knows how to put on a good front, all right.’
‘He seemed very decent to me.’ I refused to give way.
‘He’s no friend of mine. You can take my word for that. All that crowd would have had my guts for garters if they got the chance. They’ll have a long wait, I can tell you. When I came to this town we hadn’t two coins to clink together. Every morsel of food we put in our mouths that first month here was on credit. But I worked. Every hour of private tuition going round the place I took, and that’s the lousiest of all teaching jobs, face to face for a whole hour with a well-heeled dunce. Then I got into surveying work with the solicitors. I must have walked half the fields within miles of this town with the chains. I was just about on my feet when that strike was called. The children were in good schools. Why should I put all that at risk? It wasn’t my strike. Some of the ones that went on strike will be in hock for the rest of their days. And if it had lasted even another month they’d have had to crawl back like beaten dogs. Do you think that it was easy for me to pass those pickets with their placards and cornerboy jeers every school day for the whole of seven months? Do you think that was easy?’
‘I know it wasn’t easy.’
There was a Mass that Friday for the teachers and children of the parish, an official blessing on the new year, and we were given the day off to attend the Mass. Kennedy called for me and we walked up the town together to the church. At the top of Main Street we ran straight into Owen Beirne. Rather than cut us openly, he crossed to a fish stall and pretended to be examining the freshness of a tray of plaice as we went by.
‘Your friend Beirne hadn’t much to say to you today. You were in the wrong company.’
‘I don’t mind,’ I said.
As we came up to the railings of the church, a red-faced hulk of a man, obviously a teacher, the gold fáinne and metal tricolour in his lapel, stared at Kennedy in open hostility, cleared his throat, and spat out into our path. Kennedy said nothing as we hurried into the church. After Mass little groups of teachers stood about in the church grounds, shaking hands, joking, but as soon as we approached they fell silent or turned away. Not a single person spoke to us or raised a hat or even bowed. We passed out in total silence. I had never run such a gauntlet. I had the feeling as we walked back through the town that Kennedy was desperately searching for something to say but that he was too disturbed to settle on any one phrase.
‘You might as well come into my place for a cup of tea or something,’ he said eventually. ‘You have a good hour yet to go till your lunch.’
His house was empty and he made the tea himself. ‘They can try as hard as they are able but they can’t harm me now,’ he began slowly as he made the tea. ‘In another two years Oliver will be qualified. By that time, the pair of girls will be on their way into the civil service or training college. That summer we’ll buy the car. We could buy it now but we decided to wait till we can do it right. It’ll be no secondhand. That summer we’ll take the first holiday since we were married. We’ll drive all round Ireland, staying in the best hotels. We’ll not spare or stint on anything. We’ll have wine, prawns, smoked salmon, sole or lobster or sirloin or lamb, anything on the menu we feel like, no matter what the price.’
I was beginning to think that people grow less spiritual the older they become, contrary to what is thought. It was as if some desire to plunge their arms up to the elbow into the steaming entrails of the world grew more fierce the closer they got to leaving. It was a very different dream to the young priest’s, cycling round Ireland with a copy of the Rambles all those years ago.
‘Have you noticed Eileen O’Reilly?’ he changed as we sat with the cups of tea.
‘She’s very pretty,’ I said.
Eileen O’Reilly worked in one of the solicitor’s offices. She was small and blonde with a perfect figure. I thought she’d smiled at me as she passed on a bicycle during a lunch hour. She was standing on the pedals to force the bike across the hill.
‘If I was in your place, I’d go for her,’ he said wistfully. ‘She has no steady boyfriend. I do surveying for her office and we always have a joke or an old flirt. When I brought up your name a few days back she blushed beetroot. I can tell she’s interested in you. In two years Oliver will be qualified and I’ll have no more need of the surveying. I could hand it over to you. You’d not be rich, but with the fees on top of the teaching you’d be very comfortable for a young man. You could well afford to marry. I’d not leave her hanging around long if I was in your boots. In two years’ time if you stayed on at the school here and married Eileen I’d give you the surveying. There’s nothing to it once you get the knack of the chains.’
High Ground
I let the boat drift on the river beneath the deep arch of the bridge, the keel scraping the gravel as it crossed the shallows out from Walsh’s, past the boathouse at the mouth, and out into the lake. It was only the slow growing distance from the ring of reeds round the shore that told that the boat moved at all on the lake. More slowly still, the light was going from the August evening.
I was feeling leaden with tiredness but did not want to sleep. I had gone on the river in order to be alone, the way one goes to a dark room.
The Brothers’ Building Fund Dance had been held the night before. A big marquee had been set up in the grounds behind the
monastery. Most of the people I had gone to school with were there, awkward in their new estate, and nearly all the Brothers who had taught us: Joseph, Francis, Benedictus, Martin. They stood in a black line beneath the low canvas near the entrance and waited for their old pupils to go up to them. When they were alone, watching us dance, rapid comment passed up and down the line, and often Joseph and Martin doubled up, unable or unwilling to conceal laughter; but by midnight they had gone, and a night of a sort was ours, the fine dust from the floor rising into the perfume and sweat and hair oil as we danced in the thresh of the music.
There was a full moon as I drove Una to her home in Arigna in the borrowed Prefect, the whole wide water of Allen taking in the wonderful mysteriousness of the light. We sat in the car and kissed and talked, and morning was there before we noticed. After the harshness of growing up, a world of love and beauty, of vague gardens and dresses and laughter, one woman in a gleaming distance seemed to be almost within reach. We would enter this world. We would make it true.
I was home just before the house had risen, and lay on the bed and waited till everybody was up, then changed into old clothes. I was helping my father put up a new roof on the house. Because of the tiredness, I had to concentrate completely on the work, even then nearly losing my footing several times between the stripped beams, sometimes annoying my father by handing him the wrong lath or tool; but when evening came the last thing I wanted was sleep. I wanted to be alone, to go over the night, to try to see clearly, which only meant turning again and again on the wheel of dreaming.
‘Hi there! Hi! Do you hear me, young Moran!’ The voice came with startling clarity over the water, was taken up by the fields across the lake, echoed back. ‘Hi there! Hi! Do you hear me, young Moran!’
I looked all around. The voice came from the road. I couldn’t make out the figure at first, leaning in a broken gap of the wall above the lake, but when he called again I knew it was Eddie Reegan, Senator Reegan.
‘Hi there, young Moran. Since the mountain can’t come to Mahomet, Mahomet will have to come to the mountain. Row over here a minute. I want to have a word with you.’
I rowed slowly, watching each oar-splash slip away from the boat in the mirror of water. I disliked him, having unconsciously, perhaps, picked up my people’s dislike. He had come poor to the place, buying Lynch’s small farm cheap, and soon afterwards the farmhouse burned down. At once, a bigger house was built with the insurance money, closer to the road, though that in its turn was due to burn down too, to be replaced by the present mansion, the avenue of Lawson cypresses now seven years old. Soon he was buying up other small farms, but no one had ever seen him work with shovel or with spade. He always appeared immaculately dressed. It was as if he understood instinctively that it was only the shortest of short steps from appearance to becoming. ‘A man who works never makes any money. He has no time to see how the money is made,’ he was fond of boasting. He set up as an auctioneer. He entered politics. He married Kathleen Relihan, the eldest of old Paddy Relihan’s daughters, the richest man in the area, Chairman of the County Council. ‘Do you see those two girls? I’m going to marry one of those girls,’ he was reported to have remarked to a friend. ‘Which one?’ ‘It doesn’t matter. They’re both Paddy Relihan’s daughters’; and when Paddy retired it was Reegan rather than any of his own sons who succeeded Paddy in the Council. Now that he had surpassed Paddy Relihan and become a Senator and it seemed only a matter of time before he was elected to the Dáil, he no longer joked about ‘the aul effort of a fire’, and was gravely concerned about the reluctance of insurance companies to grant cover for fire to dwelling houses in our part of the country. He had bulldozed the hazel and briar from the hills above the lake, and as I turned to see how close the boat had come to the wall I could see behind him the white and black of his Friesians grazing between the electric fences on the far side of the reseeded hill.
I let the boat turn so that I could place my hand on the stone, but the evening was so calm that it would have rested beneath the high wall without any hand. The Senator had seated himself on the wall as I was rowing in, and his shoes hung six or eight feet above the boat.
‘It’s not the first time I’ve had to congratulate you, though I’m too high up here to shake your hand. And what I’m certain of is that it won’t be the last time either,’ he began.
‘Thanks. You’re very kind,’ I answered.
‘Have you any idea where you’ll go from here?’
‘No. I’ve applied for the grant. It depends on whether I get the grant or not.’
‘What’ll you do if you get it?’
‘Go on, I suppose. Go a bit farther …’
‘What’ll you do then?’
‘I don’t know. Sooner or later, I suppose, I’ll have to look for a job.’
‘That’s the point I’ve been coming to. You are qualified to teach, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. But I’ve only taught for a few months. Before I got that chance to go to the university.’
‘You didn’t like teaching?’ he asked sharply.
‘No.’ I was careful. ‘I didn’t dislike it. It was a job.’
‘I like that straightness. And what I’m looking to know is – if you were offered a very good job would you be likely to take it?’
‘What job?’
‘I won’t beat around the bush either. I’m talking of the Principal-ship of the school here. It’s a very fine position for a young man. You’d be among your own people. You’d be doing good where you belong. I hear you’re interested in a very attractive young lady not a hundred miles from here. If you decided to marry and settle down I’m in a position to put other advantages your way.’
Master Leddy was the Principal of the school. He had been the Principal as long as I could remember. He had taught me, many before me. I had called to see him just three days before. The very idea of replacing him was shocking. And anyhow, I knew the politicians had nothing to do with the appointment of teachers. It was the priest who ran the school. What he was saying didn’t even begin to make sense, but I had been warned about his cunning and was wary. ‘You must be codding. Isn’t Master Leddy the Principal?’
‘He is now but he won’t be for long more – not if I have anything to do with it.’
‘How?’ I asked very quietly in the face of the outburst.
‘That need be no concern of yours. If you can give me your word that you’ll take the job, I can promise you that the job is as good as yours.’
‘I can’t do that. I can’t follow anything right. Isn’t it Canon Gallagher who appoints the teachers?’
‘Listen. There are many people who feel the same way as I do. If I go to the Canon in the name of all those people and say that you’re willing to take the job, the job is yours. Even if he didn’t want to, he’d have no choice but to appoint you …’
‘Why should you want to do that for me? Say, even if it is possible.’ I was more curious now than alarmed.
‘It’s more than possible. It’s bloody necessary. I’ll be plain. I have three sons. They go to that school. They have nothing to fall back on but whatever education they get. And with the education they’re getting at that school up there, all they’ll ever be fit for is to dig ditches. Now, I’ve never dug ditches, but even at my age I’d take off my coat and go down into a ditch rather than ever have to watch any of my sons dig. The whole school is a shambles. Someone described it lately as one big bear garden.’
‘What makes you think I’d be any better?’
‘You’re young. You’re qualified. You’re ambitious. It’s a very good job for someone of your age. I’d give you all the backing you’d want. You’d have every reason to make a go of it. With you there, I’d feel my children would still be in with a chance. In another year or two even that’ll be gone.’
‘I don’t see why you want my word at this stage,’ I said evasively, hoping to slip away from it all. I saw his face return to its natural look of shrewdness in what was
left of the late summer light.
‘If I go to the Canon now it’ll be just another complaint in a long line of complaints. If I can go to him and say that things can’t be allowed to go on as they have been going and we have a young man here, from a good family, a local, more than qualified, who’s willing to take the job, who has everyone’s backing, it’s a different proposition entirely. And I can guarantee you here this very evening that you’ll be the Principal of that school when it opens in September.’
For the first time it was all coming clear to me.
‘What’ll happen to the Master? What’ll he do?’
‘What I’m more concerned about is what’ll my children do if he stays,’ he burst out again. ‘But you don’t have to concern yourself about it. It’ll be all taken care of.’
I had called on the Master three evenings before, walking beyond the village to the big ramshackle farmhouse. He was just rising, having taken all his meals of the day in bed, and was shaving and dressing upstairs, one time calling down for a towel, and again for a laundered shirt.
‘Is that young Moran?’ He must have recognized my voice or name. ‘Make him a good cup of tea. And he’ll be able to be back up the road with myself.’
A very old mongrel greyhound was routed from the leather armchair one side of the fire, and I was given tea and slices of buttered bread. The Master’s wife, who was small and frail with pale skin and lovely brown eyes, kept up a cheerful chatter that required no response as she busied herself about the enormous cluttered kitchen which seemed not to possess a square foot of room. There were buckets everywhere, all sorts of chairs, basins, bags of meal and flour, cats, the greyhound, pots and pans. The pattern had faded from the bulging wallpaper, a dark ochre, and some of the several calendars that hung around the walls had faded into the paper. It would have been difficult to find space for an extra cup or saucer on the long wooden table. Plainly there were no set meal times. Two of the Master’s sons, now grown men, came singly in from the fields while I waited. Plates of food were served at once, bacon and liver, a mug of tea. They took from the plate of bread already on the table, the butter, the sugar, the salt, the bottle of sauce. They spent no more than a few minutes over the meal, blessing themselves at its end, leaving as suddenly as they’d entered, smiling and nodding in a friendly way in my direction but making little attempt at conversation, though Gerald did ask, before he reached for his hat – a hat I recognized as having belonged to the Master back in my school days, a brown hat with a blue teal’s feather and a small hole burned in its side – ‘Well, how are things getting along in the big smoke?’ The whole effect was of a garden and orchard gone completely wild, but happily.