Angelus at six and tells us he asked Mrs. OConnell at the post office if
they had anything for McCourt all day and they didnt. Mam turns
toward the dead ashes in the fire and sucks at the last bit of goodness in
the Woodbine butt caught between the brown thumb and the burnt
middle finger. Michael who is only five and wont understand anything
till hes eleven like me wants to know if were having fish and chips
tonight because hes hungry. Mam says, Next week, love, and he goes
back out to play in the lane.
You dont know what to do with yourself when the first telegram
doesnt come.You cant stay out in the lane playing with your brothers
all night because everyone else is gone in and youd be ashamed to stay
out in the lane to be tormented with smells of sausages and rashers and
fried bread.You dont want to look at electric light coming through the
windows after dark and you dont want to hear the news from the BBC
or Radio Eireann from other peoples wirelesses. Mrs. Meagher and her
children are gone in and theres only the dim light of a candle from their
kitchen.Theyre ashamed too.They stay inside on Saturday nights and
they dont even go to Mass on Sunday mornings. Bridey Hannon told
Mam that Mrs. Meagher is in a constant state of shame over the rags
they wear and so desperate she goes down to the Dispensary for the
public assistance. Mam says thats the worst thing that could happen to
any family. Its worse than going on the dole, its worse than going to
the St.Vincent de Paul Society, its worse than begging on the streets
with the tinkers and the knackers. Its the last thing youd do to keep
yourself out of the poor house and the children from the orphanage.
Theres a sore at the top of my nose between my eyebrows, gray and red
and itching. Grandma says, Dont touch that sore and dont put water
near it or itll spread. If you broke your arm shed say dont touch that
with water itll spread.The sore spreads into my eyes anyway and now
theyre red and yellow from the stuff that oozes and makes them stick
in the morning.They stick so hard I have to force my eyelids open with
my fingers and Mam has to scrub off that yellow stuff with a damp rag
and boric powder.The eyelashes fall off and every bit of dust in Limer-
ick blows into my eyes on windy days. Grandma tells me I have naked
eyes and she says its my own fault, all that eye trouble comes from sit-
ting up there at the top of the lane under the light pole in all kinds of
weather with my nose stuck in books and the same thing will happen
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