down her nose at the earl who spurned her because shes happy tend-
ing her roses on her twelve-thousand-acre estate in Shropshire and
being kind to her poor old mother, who refuses to leave her humble lit-
tle cottage for all the money in the world.
Paddy says, I dont want to read nothing, its all a cod, all them sto-
ries. Fintan removes the cloth covering his sandwich and glass of milk.
The milk looks creamy and cool and delicious and the sandwich bread
is almost as white. Paddy says, Is that a ham sangwidge? and Fintan says,
Tis. Paddy says,Thats a lovely looking sangwidge and is there mustard
on it? Fintan nods and slices the sandwich in two. Mustard seeps out.
He licks it off his fingers and takes a nice mouthful of milk. He cuts the
sandwich again into quarters, eighths, sixteenths, takes The Little Mes-
senger of the Sacred Heart from the pile of magazines and reads while he
eats his sandwich bits and drinks his milk and Paddy and I look at him
and I know Paddy is wondering what were doing here at all, at all,
because thats what Im wondering myself hoping Fintan will pass over
the plate to us but he doesnt, he finishes the milk, leaves bits of sand-
wich on the plate,covers it with the cloth and wipes his lips in his dainty
way, lowers his head, blesses himself and says grace after meals and, God,
well be late for school, and blesses himself again on the way out with
holy water from the little china font hanging by the door with the lit-
tle image of the Virgin Mary showing her heart and pointing at it with
two fingers as if we couldnt make it out for ourselves.
Its too late for Paddy and me to run and get the bun and milk from
Nellie Ahearn and I dont know how Im going to last from now till I
can run home after school and get a piece of bread. Paddy stops at the
school gate. He says, I cant go in there starving with the hunger. Id fall
asleep and Dottyd kill me.
Fintan is anxious. Come on, come on, well be late. Come on, Fran-
cis, hurry up.
Im not going in, Fintan.You had your lunch.We had nothing.
Paddy explodes.Youre a feckin chancer, Fintan.Thats what you are
an a feckin begrudger too with your feckin sangwidge an your feckin
Sacred Heart of Jesus on the wall an your feckin holy water.You can
kiss my arse, Fintan.
Oh, Patrick.
Oh, Patrick my feckin arse, Fintan. Come on, Frankie.
Fintan runs into school and Paddy and I make our way to an
orchard in Ballinacurra.We climb a wall and a fierce dog comes at us till
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