scrap of food in this house,not a lump of coal to start the fire,not a drop
of milk for the babys bottle.
We walk through the streets and Malachy practices his speech at the
top of his voice, Dad, Dad, that five pounds is for the new baby.Thats
not for the drink.The child is above in the bed bawling and roaring for
his milk and youre drinking the pint.
Hes gone from Souths pub. Malachy still wants to stand and make
his speech but I tell him we have to hurry and look in other pubs before
Dad drinks the whole five pounds. We cant find him in other pubs
either. He knows Mam would come for him or send us and there are
so many pubs at this end of Limerick and beyond we could be looking
for a month.We have to tell Mam theres no sign of him and she tells us
were pure useless. Oh, Jesus, I wish I had my strength and Id search
every pub in Limerick. Id tear the mouth out of his head, so I would.
Go on, go back down and try all the pubs around the railway station
and try Naughtons fish and chip shop.
I have to go by myself because Malachy has the runs and cant stray
far from the bucket. I search all the pubs on Parnell Street and around.
I look into the snugs where the women drink and in all the mens lava-
tories. Im hungry but Im afraid to go home till I find my father. Hes
not in Naughtons fish and chip shop but theres a drunken man asleep
at a table in the corner and his fish and chips are on the floor in their
Limerick Leader wrapping and if I dont get them the cat will so I shove
them under my jersey and Im out the door and up the street to sit on
the steps at the railway station eat my fish and chips watch the drunken
soldiers pass by with the girls that giggle thank the drunken man in my
mind for drowning the fish and chips in vinegar and smothering them
in salt and then remember that if I die tonight Im in a state of sin for
stealing and I could go straight to hell stuffed with fish and chips but its
Saturday and if the priests are still in the confession boxes I can clear my
soul after my feed.
The Dominican church is just up Glentworth Street.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, its a fortnight since my last con-
fession. I tell him the usual sins and then, I stole fish and chips from a
drunken man.
Why, my child?
I was hungry, Father.
And why were you hungry?
There was nothing in my belly, Father.
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