Mam turns to us. Do any of ye remember a wall?
Michael pulls at her hand. Is that the wall we burned in the fire?
The rent man says,Dear God in heaven,this beats Banagher,this takes
the bloody biscuit, this is goin beyond the beyonds. No rent and what
am I to tell Sir Vincent below in the office? Out, missus, Im puttin ye
out.One week from today Ill knock on this door and I want to find nobody
at home, everybody out never to return. Do you have me, missus?
Mams face is tight. Tis a pity you werent alive in the times when
the English were evicting us and leaving us on the side of the road.
No lip, missus, or Ill send the men to put ye out tomorrow.
He goes out the door and leaves it open to show what he thinks of
us. Mam says, I dont know in Gods name what Im going to do.
Grandma says,Well, I dont have room for ye but your cousin, Gerard
Griffin, is living out the Rosbrien Road in that little house of his
mothers and hed surely be able to take ye in till better times come. Tis
all hours of the night but Ill go up and see what he says and Frank can
come with me.
She tells me put on a coat but I dont have one and she says, I sup-
pose theres no use in asking if ye have an umbrella either. Come on.
She pulls the shawl over her head and I follow her out the door, up
the lane, through the rain to Rosbrien Road nearly two miles away. She
knocks on the door of a little cottage in a long row of little cottages.Are
you there, Laman? I know youre in there. Open the door.
Grandma, why are you calling him Laman? Isnt his name Gerard?
How would I know? Do I know why the world calls your uncle Pat
Ab? Everyone calls this fella Laman. Open the door. Well go in. He
might be working overtime.
She pushes the door. Its dark and theres a damp sweet smell in the
room.This room looks like the kitchen and theres a smaller room next
to it.Theres a little loft above the bedroom with a skylight where the
rain is beating.There are boxes everywhere, newspapers, magazines, bits
of food, mugs, empty tins.We can see two beds taking up all the space
in the bedroom, a great acre of a bed and a smaller one near the win-
dow. Grandma pokes at a lump in the big bed. Laman, is that you? Get
up, will you, get up.
What? What? What? What?
Theres trouble. Angela is gettin evicted with the children an tis
delvinout of the heavens.They need a bit of shelter till they get on their
feet an I have no room for them.You can put them up in the loft if you
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