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Its cold and wet down in Ireland but were up in Italy. Mam says we
should bring the poor Pope up to hang on the wall opposite the win-
dow.After all hes a friend of the workingman, hes Italian, and theyre
a warm weather people. Mam sits by the fire, shivering, and we know
something is wrong when she makes no move for a cigarette. She says
she feels a cold coming and shed love to have a tarty drink, a lemon-
ade.But theres no money in the house,not even for bread in the morn-
ing. She drinks tea and goes to bed.
The bed creaks all night with her twistings and turnings and she
keeps us awake with her moaning for water. In the morning, she stays
in bed, still shivering, and we keep quiet. If she sleeps long enough
Malachy and I will be too late for school. Hours pass and still she makes
no move and when I know its well past school time I start the fire for
the kettle. She stirs and calls for lemonade but I give her a jam jar of
water. I ask her if shed like some tea and she acts like a woman gone
deaf. She looks flushed and its odd she doesnt even mention cigarettes.
We sit quietly by the fire, Malachy, Michael, Alphie, myself. We
drink our tea while Alphie chews the last bit of bread covered with
sugar. He makes us laugh the way he smears the sugar all over his face
and grins at us with his fat sticky cheeks. But we cant laugh too much
or Mam will jump out of the bed and order Malachy and me off to
school where well be killed for being late.We dont laugh long, there is
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