Angela's Ashes: A Memoir Part 38

Good. Now hereas what I want to tell you. Lean over here so I can whisper in your ear.What I want to tell you is, Never smoke another manas pipe.

Halvey goes off to England with Rose and I have to stay on the messenger bike all through the winter. Itas a bitter winter, ice everywhere, and I never know when the bike will go out from under me and send me flying into the street or onto the pavement, magazines and papers scattered. Shops complain to Mr. McCaffrey that The Irish Times is coming in decorated with bits of ice and dog s.h.i.t and he mutters to us thatas the way that paper should be delivered, Protestant rag that it is.

Every day after my deliveries I take The Irish Times home and read it to see where the danger is. Mam says itas a good thing Dad isnat here.

Head say, Is this what the men of Ireland fought and died for that my own son is sitting there at the kitchen table reading the freemason paper?

There are letters to the editor from people all over Ireland claiming they heard the first cuckoo of the year and you can read between the lines that people are calling each other liars. There are reports about Protestant weddings and pictures and the women always look lovelier than the ones we know in the lanes.You can see Protestant women have perfect teeth although Halveyas Rose had lovely teeth.

I keep reading The Irish Times and wondering if itas an occasion of sin though I donat care. As long as Theresa Carmody is in heaven not coughing I donat go to confession anymore. I read The Irish Times and The Times of London because that tells me what the King is up to every day and what Elizabeth and Margaret are doing.

I read English womenas magazines for all the food articles and the answers to womenas questions. Peter and Eamon put on English accents and pretend theyare reading from English womenas magazines.

Peter says, Dear Miss Hope, Iam going out with a fellow from Ireland named McCaffrey and he has his hands all over me and his thing pushing against my belly b.u.t.ton and Iam demented not knowing what to do. I remain, yours anxiously, Miss Lulu Smith,Yorkshire.

Eamon says, Dear Lulu, If this McCaffrey is that tall that heas pushing his yoke against your belly b.u.t.ton I suggest you find a smaller man who will slip it between your thighs. Surely you can find a decent short man in Yorkshire.

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Dear Miss Hope, I am thirteen years old with black hair and something terrible is happening and I canat tell anyone not even my mother.

Iam bleeding every few weeks you know where and Iam afraid Iall be found out. Miss Agnes Tripple, Little Biddle-on-the-Twiddle,Devon.

Dear Agnes,You are to be congratulated.You are now a woman and you can get your hair permed because you are having your monthlies.

Do not fear your monthlies for all Englishwomen have them.They are a gift of G.o.d to purify us so that we can have stronger children for the empire, soldiers to keep the Irish in their place. In some parts of the world a woman with a monthly is unclean but we British cherish our women with the monthlies, oh we do indeed.

In the springtime thereas a new messenger boy and Iam back in the office. Peter and Eamon drift off to England. Peter is fed up with Limerick, no girls, and youare driven to yourself,w.a.n.k w.a.n.k w.a.n.k, thatas all we ever do in Limerick.There are new boys. Iam senior boy and the job is easier because Iam fast and when Mr. McCaffrey is out in the van and my work is done I read the English, Irish, American magazines and papers. Day and night I dream of America.

Malachy goes to England to work in a rich Catholic boysa boarding school and he walks around cheerful and smiling as if heas the equal of any boy in the school and everyone knows when you work in an English boarding school youare supposed to hang your head and shuffle like a proper Irish servant.They fire him for his ways and Malachy tells them they can kiss his royal Irish a.r.s.e and they say thatas the kind of foul language and behavior youad expect. He gets a job in the gas works in Coventry shoveling coal into the furnaces like Uncle Pa Keating, shoveling coal and waiting for the day he can go to America after me.

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Iam seventeen, eighteen, going on nineteen,working away at Easons, writing threatening letters for Mrs. Finucane, who says sheas not long for this world and the more Ma.s.ses said for her soul the better sheall feel. She puts money in envelopes and sends me to churches around the city to knock on priestsa doors, hand in the envelopes with the request for Ma.s.ses. She wants prayers from all the priests but the Jesuits. She says,Theyare useless, all head and no heart.Thatas what they should have over their door in Latin and I wonat give them a penny because every penny you give a Jesuit goes to a fancy book or a bottle of wine.

She sends the money, she hopes the Ma.s.ses are said, but sheas never sure and if sheas not sure why should I be handing out all that money to priests when I need the money to go to America and if I keep back a few pounds for myself and put it in the post office who will ever know the difference and if I say a prayer for Mrs. Finucane and light candles for her soul when she dies wonat G.o.d listen even if Iam a sinner long past my last confession.

Iall be nineteen in a month.All I need is a few pounds to make up the fare and a few pounds in my pocket when I land in America.

The Friday night before my nineteenth birthday Mrs. Finucane sends me for the sherry.When I return she is dead in the chair, her eyes wide open, and her purse on the floor wide open. I canat look at her but I help myself to a roll of money. Seventeen pounds. I take the key 354.

to the trunk upstairs. I take forty of the hundred pounds in the trunk and the ledger. Iall add this to what I have in the post office and I have enough to go to America. On my way out I take the sherry bottle to save it from being wasted.

I sit by the River Shannon near the dry docks sipping Mrs. Finucaneas sherry.Aunt Aggieas name is in the ledger. She owes nine pounds.

It might have been the money she spent on my clothes a long time ago but now sheall never have to pay it because I heave the ledger into the river. Iam sorry Iall never be able to tell Aunt Aggie I saved her nine pounds. Iam sorry I wrote threatening letters to the poor people in the lanes of Limerick, my own people, but the ledger is gone, no one will ever know what they owe and they wonat have to pay their balances. I wish I could tell them, Iam your Robin Hood.

Another sip of the sherry. Iall spare a pound or two for a Ma.s.s for Mrs. Finucaneas soul. Her ledger is well on its way down the Shannon and out to the Atlantic and I know Iall follow it someday soon.

The man at OaRiordanas Travel Agency says he canat get me to America by air unless I travel to London first, which would cost a fortune.

He can put me on a ship called the Irish Oak, which will be leaving Cork in a few weeks. He says, Nine days at sea, September October, best time of the year, your own cabin, thirteen pa.s.sengers, best of food, bit of a holiday for yourself and that will cost fifty-five pounds, do you have it?

I do.

I tell Mam Iam going in a few weeks and she cries. Michael says,Will we all go some day?

We will.

Alphie says,Will you send me a cowboy hat and a thing you throw that comes back to you?

Michael tells him thatas a boomerang and youad have to go all the way to Australia to get the likes of that, you canat get it in America.

Alphie says you can get it in America yes you can and they argue about America and Australia and boomerangs till Mam says,For the love oa Jesus, yeer brother is leaving us and the two of ye are there squabbling over boomerangs.Will ye give over?

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Mam says weall have to have a bit of party the night before I go.

They used to have parties in the old days when anyone would go to America, which was so far away the parties were called American wakes because the family never expected to see the departing one again in this life. She says atis a great pity Malachy canat come back from England but weall be together in America someday with the help of G.o.d and His Blessed Mother.

On my days off from work I walk around Limerick and look at all the places we lived, the Windmill Street, Hartstonge Street, Roden Lane, Rosbrien Road, Little Barrington Street, which is really a lane. I stand looking at Theresa Carmodyas house till her mother comes out and says,What do you want? I sit at the graves of Oliver and Eugene in the old St. Patrickas Burying Ground and cross the road to St. Lawrenceas Cemetery where Theresa is buried.Wherever I go I hear voices of the dead and I wonder if they can follow you across the Atlantic Ocean.

I want to get pictures of Limerick stuck in my head in case I never come back. I sit in St. Josephas Church and the Redemptorist church and tell myself take a good look because I might never see this again. I walk down Henry Street to say good-bye to St. Francis though Iam sure Iall be able to talk to him in America.

Now there are days I donat want to go to America. Iad like to go to OaRiordanas Travel Agency and get back my fifty-five pounds. I could wait till Iam twenty-one and Malachy can go with me so that Iall know at least one person in New York. I have strange feelings and sometimes when Iam sitting by the fire with Mam and my brothers I feel tears coming and Iam ashamed of myself for being weak.At first Mam laughs and tells me,Your bladder must be near your eye, but then Michael says, Weall all go to America, Dad will be there, Malachy will be there and weall all be together, and she gets the tears herself and we sit there, the four of us, like weeping eejits.

Mam says this is the first time we ever had a party and isnat it a sad thing altogether that you have it when your children are slipping away one by one, Malachy to England, Frank to America. She saves a few shillings from her wages taking care of Mr. Sliney to buy bread, ham, brawn, cheese, lemonade and a few bottles of stout. Uncle Pa Keating brings stout, whiskey and a little sherry for Aunt Aggieas delicate stom- 356.

ach and she brings a cake loaded with currants and raisins she baked herself.The Abbot brings six bottles of stout and says, Thatas all right, Frankie, ye can all drink it as long as I have a bottle or two for meself to help me sing me song.

He sings aThe Road to Rasheen.a He holds his stout, closes his eyes, and song comes out in a high whine.The words make no sense and everyone wonders why tears are seeping from his shut eyes.Alphie whispers to me,Why is he crying over a song that makes no sense?

I donat know.

The Abbot ends his song, opens his eyes, wipes his cheeks and tells us that was a sad song about an Irish boy that went to America and got shot by gangsters and died before a priest could reach his side and he tells me donat be gettina shot if youare not near a priest.

Uncle Pa says thatas the saddest song he ever heard and is there any chance we could have something lively. He calls on Mam and she says, Ah, no, Pa, sure I donat have the wind.

Come on, Angela, come on. One voice now, one voice and one voice only.

All right. Iall try.

We all join in the chorus of her sad song, A motheras love is a blessing No matter where you roam.

Keep her while you have her, Youall miss her when sheas gone.

Uncle Pa says one song is worse than the one before and are we turning this night into a wake altogether, is there any chance someone would sing a song to liven up the proceedings or will he be driven to drink with the sadness.

Oh, G.o.d, says Aunt Aggie, I forgot.The moon is having an eclipse abroad this minute.

We stand out in the lane watching the moon disappear behind a round black shadow.Uncle Pa says,Thatas a very good sign for you going to America, Frankie.

No, says Aunt Aggie, atis a bad sign. I read in the paper that the moon is practicing for the end of the world.

Oh, end of the world my a.r.s.e, says Uncle Pa. aTis the beginning for 357.

Frankie McCourt. Heall come back in a few years with a new suit and fat on his bones like any Yank and a lovely girl with white teeth hangina from his arm.

Mam says,Ah, no, Pa, ah, no, and they take her inside and comfort her with a drop of sherry from Spain.

Itas late in the day when the Irish Oak sails from Cork, past Kinsale and Cape Clear, and dark when lights twinkle on Mizen Head, the last of Ireland Iall see for G.o.d knows how long.

Surely I should have stayed, taken the post office examination, climbed in the world. I could have brought in enough money for Michael and Alphie to go to school with proper shoes and bellies well filled.We could have moved from the lane to a street or even an avenue where houses have gardens. I should have taken that examination and Mam would never again have to empty the chamber pots of Mr. Sliney or anyone else.

Itas too late now. Iam on the ship and there goes Ireland into the night and itas foolish to be standing on this deck looking back and thinking of my family and Limerick and Malachy and my father in England and even more foolish that songs are going through my head Roddy McCorley goes to die and Mam gasping Oh the days of the Kerry dancing with poor Mr. Clohessy hacking away in the bed and now I want Ireland back at least I had Mam and my brothers and Aunt Aggie bad as she was and Uncle Pa, standing me my first pint, and my bladder is near my eye and hereas a priest standing by me on the deck and you can see heas curious.

Heas a Limerickman but he has an American accent from his years in Los Angeles. He knows how it is to leave Ireland, did it himself and never got over it.You live in Los Angeles with sun and palm trees day in day out and you ask G.o.d if thereas any chance He could give you one soft rainy Limerick day.

The priest sits beside me at the table of the First Officer, who tells us shipas orders have been changed and instead of sailing to New York weare bound for Montreal.

Three days out and orders are changed again.We are going to New York after all.

Three American pa.s.sengers complain,G.o.ddam Irish. Canat they get it straight?

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The day before we sail into New York orders are changed again.We are going to a place up the Hudson River called Albany.

The Americans say,Albany? G.o.ddam Albany? Why the h.e.l.l did we have to sail on a G.o.ddam Irish tub? G.o.ddam.

The priest tells me pay no attention.All Americans are not like that.

Iam on deck the dawn we sail into New York. Iam sure Iam in a film, that it will end and lights will come up in the Lyric Cinema.The priest wants to point out things but he doesnat have to. I can pick out the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, the Brooklyn Bridge. There are thousands of cars speeding along the roads and the sun turns everything to gold. Rich Americans in top hats white ties and tails must be going home to bed with the gorgeous women with white teeth. The rest are going to work in warm comfortable offices and no one has a care in the world.

The Americans are arguing with the captain and a man who climbed aboard from a tugboat.Why canat we get off here? Why do we have to sail all the G.o.ddam way to G.o.ddam Albany?

The man says, Because youare pa.s.sengers on the vessel and the captain is the captain and we have no procedures for taking you ash.o.r.e.

Oh, yeah.Well, this is a free country and weare American citizens.

Is that a fact? Well, youare on an Irish ship with an Irish captain and youall do what he G.o.ddam tells you or swim ash.o.r.e.

He climbs down the ladder, tugboat chugs away, and we sail up the Hudson past Manhattan, under the George Washington Bridge, past hundreds of Liberty ships that did their bit in the war, moored now and ready to rot.

The captain announces the tide will force us to drop anchor overnight opposite a place called, the priest spells it for me, Poughkeepsie.

The priest says thatas an Indian name and the Americans say G.o.ddam Poughkeepsie.

After dark a small boat put-puts to the ship and an Irish voice calls up, h.e.l.lo, there. Bejasus, I saw the Irish flag, so I did. Couldnat believe me two eyes. h.e.l.lo, there.

He invites the First Officer to go ash.o.r.e for a drink and bring a friend and,You, too, Father. Bring a friend.

The priest invites me and we climb down a ladder to the small boat with the First Officer and the Wireless Officer.The man in the boat says his name is Tim Boyle from Mayo G.o.d help us and we docked there at the right time because thereas a bit of a party and weare all invited. He 359.

takes us to a house with a lawn, a fountain and three pink birds standing on one leg.There are five women in a room called a living room.

The women have stiff hair, spotless frocks. They have gla.s.ses in their hands and theyare friendly and smile with perfect teeth. One says,Come right in. Just in time for the pawty.

Pawty.Thatas the way they talk and I suppose Iall be talking like that in a few years.

Tim Boyle tells us the girls are having a bit of a time while their husbands are away overnight hunting deer, and one woman, Betty, says, Yeah. Buddies from the war.That war is over nearly five years and they canat get over it so they shoot animals every weekend and drink Rheingold till they canat see. G.o.ddam war, excuse the language, Fawder.

The priest whispers to me, These are bad women.We wonat stay here long.

The bad women say, Whatcha like to drink? We got everything.

Whatas your name, honey?

Frank McCourt.

Nice name. So you take a little drink.All the Irish take a little drink.

You like a beer?

Yes, please.

Gee, so polite. I like the Irish.My grandmother was half Irish so that makes me half, quarter? I dunno. My name is Frieda. So hereas your beer, honey.

The priest sits at the end of a sofa which they call a couch and two women talk to him. Betty asks the First Officer if head like to see the house and he says, Oh, I would, because we donat have houses like this in Ireland.Another woman tells the Wireless Officer he should see what they have growing in the garden, you wouldnat believe the flowers.

Frieda asks me if Iam okay and I tell her yes but would she mind telling me where the lavatory is.

The what?

Lavatory.

Oh, you mean the bathroom. Right this way, honey, down the hall.

Thanks.

She pushes in the door, turns on the light, kisses my cheek and whispers sheall be right outside if I need anything.

I stand at the toilet bowl firing away and wonder what Iad need at a time like this and if this is a common thing in America,women waiting outside while you take a splash.