Angela's Ashes: A Memoir Part 37

Borrows magazines to take home unbeknownst to Mr. McCaffrey and G.o.d knows what he does with himself and the magazines all night. If he fell dead in there the jaws of h.e.l.l would open wide.

Iad like to get into the lavatory myself when Peter comes out but I donat want them saying,There he goes, new boy, first day on the job, already at himself.Wonat light up a f.a.g oh no but w.a.n.ks away like an oula billygoat.

Mr. McCaffrey returns from van delivery and wants to know why all the magazines arenat counted out,bundled and ready to go.Peter tells him,We were busy teaching the new boy, McCourt. G.o.d help us, he was a bit slow with the bad eyes you know but we kept at him and now heas getting faster.

Gerry Halvey, the messenger boy, wonat be in for a week because heas ent.i.tled to his holidays and he wants to spend the time with his girlfriend, Rose, whoas coming back from England. Iam the new boy and I have to be messenger boy while heas gone, cycling around Limerick on the bicycle with the big metal basket in front. He shows me how to balance papers and magazines so that the bicycle wonat tip over with me in the saddle and a lorry pa.s.sing by that will run over me and leave me like a piece of salmon in the road. He saw a soldier once that was run over by an army lorry and thatas what he looked like, salmon.

Gerry is making a last delivery at Easons kiosk at the railway station at noon on Sat.u.r.day and thatas handy because I can meet him there to get the bicycle and he can meet Rose off the train.We stand at the gate waiting and he tells me he hasnat seen Rose in a year. Sheas over there working in a pub in Bristol and he doesnat like that one bit because the English are forever pawing the Irish girls, hands up under the skirts and worse, and the Irish girls are afraid to say anything for fear of losing their jobs. Everyone knows Irish girls keep themselves pure especially Limerick girls known the world over for their purity who have a man to come back to like Gerry Halvey himself.Heall be able to tell if she was true to him by her walk. If a girl comes back after a year with a certain cla.s.s of a walk thatas different from the one she went away with then you 345.

know she was up to no good with the Englishmen dirty h.o.r.n.y b.a.s.t.a.r.ds that they are.

The train hoots into the station and Gerry waves and points to Rose coming toward us from the far end of the train, Rose smiling away with her white teeth and lovely in a green dress.Gerry stops waving and mutters under his breath, Look at the walk on her, b.i.t.c.h, hoor, streetwalker, flaghopper, trollop, and runs from the station. Rose walks up to me,Was that Gerry Halvey you were standing with?

aTwas.

Where is he?

Oh, he went out.

I know he went out.Where did he go?

I donat know. He didnat tell me. He just ran out.

Didnat say anything?

I didnat hear him say anything.

Do you work with him?

I do. Iam taking over the bike.

What bike?

The messenger bike.

Is he on a messenger bike?

He is.

He told me he worked in Easons office, clerk, inside job?

I feel desperate. I donat want to make a liar of Gerry Halvey, to get him into trouble with the lovely Rose. Oh, we all take turns on the messenger bike. An hour in the office, an hour on the bike.The manager says atis good to get out in the fresh air.

Well, Iall just go home and put my suitcase down and go to his house. I thought head carry this for me.

I have the bike here and you can stick the case in the basket and Iall walk you home.

We walk up to her house in Careyas Road and she tells me sheas so excited about Gerry. She saved her money in England and now she wants to go back with him and get married even if heas only nineteen and sheas only seventeen.What matter when youare in love. I lived like a nun in England and dreamt of him every night and thank you very much for carrying my case.

I turn away to jump on the bike and cycle back to Easons when Gerry comes at me from behind. His face is red and heas snorting like a bull. What were you doing with my girl, you little s.h.i.+te? Eh?

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What? If atis a thing I ever find out you did anything with my girl Iall kill you.

I didnat do anything. Carried her case because atwas heavy.

Donat look at her again or youare dead.

I wonat, Gerry. I donat want to look at her.

Oh, is that a fact? Is she ugly or what?

No, no, Gerry, sheas yours and she loves you.

How do you know?

She told me.

She did?

She did, honest to G.o.d.

Jasus.

He bangs on her door, Rose, Rose, are you there? and she comes out, Of course, Iam here, and I ride away on the messenger bicycle with the sign on the basket that says Easons wondering about the way heas kissing her now and the terrible things he said about her in the station and wondering how Peter in the office could tell Mr. McCaffrey a barefaced lie about me and my eyes when all the time he and Eamon were looking at girls in their underwear and then going at themselves in the lavatory.

Mr. McCaffrey is in a terrible state in the office.Where were you?

Great G.o.d above in heaven, does it take you all day to cycle from the railway station? We have an emergency here and we should have Halvey but heas gone off on his friggina holidays, G.o.d forgive the language, and youall have to cycle around as fast as you can, good thing you were a telegram boy that knows every inch of Limerick, and go to every b.l.o.o.d.y shop thatas a customer and walk right in grab whatever copies you see of John OaLondonas Weekly tear out page sixteen and if anyone bothers you tell them atis government orders and theyare not to interfere in government business and if they lay a finger on you theyare liable to arrest, imprisonment and a large fine now go for G.o.das sake and bring back every page sixteen you tear out so that we can burn them here in the fire.

Every shop,Mr. McCaffrey?

Iall do the big ones,you do the small ones all the way to Ballinacurra and out the Ennis Road and beyond, G.o.d help us. Go on, go.

Iam jumping on the bike and Eamon runs down the steps. Hey, McCourt, wait. Listen. Donat give him all the page sixteens when you come back.

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Why?

We can sell aem, me ana Peter.

Why?

aTis all about birth control and thatas banned in Ireland.

Whatas birth control?

Aw, Christ above, donat you know anything? aTis condoms, you know, rubbers, French letters, things like that to stop the girls from getting up the pole.

Up the pole?

Pregnant. Sixteen years of age ana youare pure ignorant. Hurry up ana get the pages before everybody starts runnina to the shop for John OaLondonas Weekly.

Iam about to push away on the bike when Mr. McCaffrey runs down the steps. Hold on, McCourt, weall go in the van. Eamon, you come with us.

What about Peter?

Leave him. Heall wind up with a magazine in the lavatory anyway.

Mr. McCaffrey talks to himself in the van. Nice b.l.o.o.d.y how do you do ringing down here from Dublin on a fine Sat.u.r.day to send us tearing around Limerick ripping pages out of an English magazine when I could be at home with a cup of tea and a nice bun and a read of The Irish Press with my feet up on a box under the picture of the Sacred Heart nice b.l.o.o.d.y how do you do entirely.

Mr. McCaffrey runs into every shop with us behind him. He grabs the magazines, hands each of us a pile and tells us start tearing. Shop owners scream at him, What are ye doing? Jesus, Mary and Holy St.

Joseph, is it pure mad ye are? Put back them magazines or Iall call the guards.

Mr. McCaffrey tells them,Government orders, maaam.There is filth in John OaLondon this week thatas not fit for any Irish eyes and we are here to do G.o.das work.

What filth? What filth? Show me the filth before ye go mutilatina the magazines. I wonat pay Easons for these magazines, so I wonat.

Maaam,we donat care at Easons.Wead rather lose large amounts than have the people of Limerick and Ireland corrupted by this filth.

What filth?

Canat tell you. Come on, boys.

We throw the pages on the floor of the van and when Mr. McCaffrey is in a shop arguing we stuff some into our s.h.i.+rts. There are old 348.

magazines in the van and we tear and scatter them so that Mr. McCaffrey will think theyare all page sixteen from John OaLondon.

The biggest customer for the magazine,Mr. Hutchinson, tells Mr.

McCaffrey get to h.e.l.l out of his shop or heall brain him, get away from them magazines, and when Mr. McCaffrey keeps on tearing out pages Mr. Hutchinson throws him into the street, Mr. McCaffrey yelling that this is a Catholic country and just because Hutchinson is a Protestant that doesnat give him the right to sell filth in the holiest city in Ireland.

Mr. Hutchinson says, Ah, kiss my a.r.s.e, and Mr. McCaffrey says, See, boys? See what happens when youare not a member of the True Church?

Some shops says theyave already sold all their copies of John OaLondon and Mr.McCaffrey says,Oh,Mother oaG.o.d,whatas going to become of us all? Who did ye sell them to?

He demands the names and address of the customers who are in danger of losing their immortal souls from reading articles on birth control.

He will go to their houses and rip out that filthy page but the shopkeepers say, aTis Sat.u.r.day night, McCaffrey, and getting dark and would you ever take a good running jump for yourself.

On the way back to the office Eamon whispers to me in the back of the van, I have twenty-one pages. How many do you have? I tell him fourteen but I have over forty and Iam not telling him because you never have to tell the truth to people who lie about your bad eyes.

Mr. McCaffrey tells us bring in the pages from the van.We scoop up everything on the floor and heas happy sitting at his desk at the other end of the office ringing Dublin to tell them how he stormed through shops like G.o.das avenger and saved Limerick from the horrors of birth control while he watches a dancing fire of pages that have nothing to do with John OaLondonas Weekly.

Monday morning I cycle through the streets delivering magazines and people see the Easons sign on the bike and stop me to see if thereas any chance they could get their hands on a copy of John OaLondonas Weekly.Theyare all rich-looking people, some in motor cars, men with hats, collars and ties, and two fountain pens in their pockets, women with hats and little bits of fur dangling from their shoulders, people who have tea at the Savoy or the Stella and stick out their little fingers to show how well bred they are and now want to read this page about birth control.

Eamon told me early in the day, Donat sell the b.l.o.o.d.y page for less 349.

than five s.h.i.+llings. I asked him if he was joking. No, he wasnat. Everyone in Limerick is talking about this page and theyare dying to get their hands on it.

Five s.h.i.+llings or nothing, Frankie. If theyare rich charge more but thatas what Iam charging so donat be going around on your bicycle and puttina me out of business with low prices.We have to give Peter something or heall be running to McCaffrey and spilling the beans.

Some people are willing to pay seven s.h.i.+llings and sixpence and Iam rich in two days with over ten pounds in my pocket minus one for Peter the snake, who would betray us to McCaffrey. I put eight pounds in the post office for my fare to America and that night we have a big supper of ham, tomatoes, bread, b.u.t.ter, jam. Mam wants to know if I won the sweepstakes and I tell her people give me tips. Sheas not happy Iam a messenger boy because thatas the lowest you can drop in Limerick but if it brings in ham like this we should light a candle in grat.i.tude. She doesnat know the money for my fare is growing in the post office and shead die if she knew what I was earning from writing threatening letters.

Malachy has a new job in the stockroom of a garage handing out parts to mechanics and Mam herself is taking care of an old man, Mr.

Sliney, out in the South Circular Road while his two daughters go off to work every day. She tells me if Iam delivering papers out there to come to the house for tea and a sandwich. The daughters will never know and the old man wonat mind because heas only half conscious most of the time worn out from all his years in the English army in India.

She looks peaceful in the kitchen of this house in her spotless ap.r.o.n, everything clean and polished around her, flowers bobbing in the garden beyond, birds chirping away, music from Radio Eireann on the wireless. She sits at the table with a pot of tea, cups and saucers, plenty of bread, b.u.t.ter, cold meats of all kinds. I can have any cla.s.s of a sandwich but all I know is ham and brawn. She doesnat have any brawn because thatas the kind of thing youad find people eating in lanes not in a house on the South Circular Road. She says the rich wonat eat brawn because itas what they scoop off floors and counters in bacon factories and you never know what youare getting.The rich are very particular about what they stick between two slices of bread. Over in America brawn is called head cheese and she doesnat know why.

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She gives me a ham sandwich with juicy slices of tomato and tea in a cup with little pink angels flying around shooting arrows at other little flying angels who are blue and I wonder why they canat make teacups and chamber pots without all kinds of angels and maidens cavorting in the glen. Mam says thatas the way the rich are, they love the bit of decoration and wouldnat we if we had the money. Shead give her two eyes to have a house like this with flowers and birds abroad in the garden and the wireless playing that lovely Warsaw Concerto or the Dream of Olwyn and no end of cups and saucers with angels shooting arrows.

She says she has to look in on Mr. Sliney heas so old and feeble he forgets to call for the chamber pot.

Chamber pot? You have to empty his chamber pot?

Of course I do.

Thereas a silence here because I think weare remembering the cause of all our troubles, Laman Griffinas chamber pot. But that was a long time ago and now itas Mr. Slineyas chamber pot, which is no harm because sheas paid for this and heas harmless. When she comes back she tells me Mr. Sliney would like to see me, so come in while heas awake.

Heas lying in a bed in the front parlor, the window blocked with a black sheet, no sign of light. He tells my mother, Lift me up a bit, missus, and pull back that b.l.o.o.d.y thing off the window so I can see the boy.

He has long white hair down to his shoulders. Mam whispers he wonat let anyone cut it. He says, I have me own teeth, son.Would you credit that? Do you have your own teeth, son?

I do,Mr. Sliney.

Ah. I was in India you know. Me and Timoney up the road. Bunch of Limerick men in India. Do you know Timoney, son?

I did, Mr. Sliney.

Heas dead, you know. Poor b.u.g.g.e.r went blind. I have me sight. I have me teeth. Keep your teeth, son.

I will, Mr. Sliney.

Iam getting tired, son, but thereas one thing I want to tell you. Are you listening to me?

I am,Mr. Sliney.

Is he listening to me, missus?

Oh, he is, Mr. Sliney.

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