their cigarettes. The smoking brought on Noras cough and she told
Mam the fags would kill her in the end, that there was a touch of con-
sumption in her family and no one lived to a ripe old age, though who
would want to in Limerick, a place where you could look around and
the first thing you noticed was a scarcity of gray hairs, all the gray hairs
either in the graveyard or across the Atlantic working on railroads or
sauntering around in police uniforms.
Youre lucky, missus, that you saw a bit of the world. Oh, God, Id
give anything to see New York, people dancing up and down Broadway
without a care. No, I had to go and fall for a boozer with the charm,
Peter Molloy, a champion pint drinker that had me up the pole and up
the aisle when I was barely seventeen. I was ignorant, missus.We grew
up ignorant in Limerick, so we did, knowing feck all about anything
and signs on, were mothers before were women. And theres nothing
here but rain and oul biddies saying the rosary. Id give me teeth to get
out, go to America or even England itself.The champion pint drinker
is always on the dole and sometimes he even drinks that and drives me
so demented I wind up in the lunatic asylum.
She drew on her cigarette and gagged, coughing till her body
rocked back and forth, and in between the coughs she whimpered,
Jesus, Jesus.When the cough died away she said she had to go home and
take her medicine. She said, Ill see you next week, missus, at the St.Vin-
cent de Paul. If youre stuck for anything send a message to me at Vizes
Field.Ask anyone for the wife of Peter Molloy, champion pint drinker.
Eugene is sleeping under a coat on the bed. Dad sits by the fireplace
with Oliver on his lap. I wonder why Dad is telling Oliver a Cuchulain
story. He knows the Cuchulain stories are mine, but when I look at
Oliver I dont mind. His cheeks are bright red, hes staring into the dead
fire, and you can see he has no interest in Cuchulain. Mam puts her
hand on his forehead. I think he has a fever, she says. I wish I had an
onion and Id boil it in milk and pepper. Thats good for the fever.
But even if I had what would I boil the milk on? We need coal for that
fire.
She gives Dad the docket for the coal down the Dock Road. He
takes me with him but its dark and all the coal yards are closed.
What are we going to do now, Dad?
68