. . .
School starts in September and some days Michael stops at The Abbots
before the walk home to Laman Griffins.On rainy days he says,Can I stay
here tonight? and soon he doesnt want to go back to Laman Griffins at
all. Hes worn out and hungry with two miles out and two miles back.
When Mam comes looking for him I dont know what to say to
her. I dont know how to look at her and I keep my eyes off to one side.
She says, Hows the job? as if nothing ever happened in Laman Griffins
and I say, Grand, as if nothing ever happened in Laman Griffins. If the
rain is too heavy for her to go home she stays in the small room upstairs
with Alphie. She goes back to Lamans the next day but Michael stays
and soon shes moving in herself bit by bit till she stops going to Lamans
altogether.
The Abbot pays the rent every week. Mam gets the relief and the
food dockets till someone informs on her and shes cut off from the
Dispensary. Shes told that if her son is bringing in a pound a week
thats more than some families get on the dole and she should be
grateful he has a job. Now I have to hand over my wages. Mam says,A
pound? Is that all you get for riding around in all kinds of weather? This
would be four dollars in America. Four dollars.And you couldnt feed a
cat for four dollars in New York. If you were delivering telegrams for
Western Union in New York youd be earning twenty-five dollars a
week and living in luxury. She always translates Irish money into Amer-
ican so that she wont forget and tries to convince everyone times were
better over there. Some weeks she lets me keep two shillings but if I go
to a film or buy a secondhand book theres nothing left, I wont be able
to save for my fare, and Ill be stuck in Limerick till Im an old man of
twenty-five.
Malachy writes from Dublin to say hes fed up and doesnt want to
spend the rest of his life blowing a trumpet in the army band. Hes
home in a week and complains when he has to share the big bed with
Michael,Alphie and me. He had his own army cot up there in Dublin
with sheets and blankets and a pillow. Now hes back to overcoats and a
bolster that sends up a cloud of feathers when you touch it. Mam says,
Pity about you. Im sorry for your troubles. The Abbot has his own
bed, and my mother has the small room. Were all together again, no
Laman tormenting us. We make tea and fried bread and sit on the
kitchen floor. The Abbot says youre not supposed to be sitting on
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