A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing (2 page)

Always in the house, drifting round the stairs or sitting by our puddles little beast in your head. Sleeping happy homed up your brain stem now and fingers only strumming on your bad left side. Don’t you knock your brother’s head. You stumble. Not that bad. And walking into doors a laugh. Is blind eye at side like in eyelid? No. Lake water? No. Like glass? You said it is like nothing at all. It must be something what? And words, trace stammer of. At school why do you talk like that? Notoriety it likes maybe. It’s in your sums X and red lines through a copy book for no no no. Wrong, the teachers writing, I explained this all to you. Wrong you do not understand. Wrong not listening paying attention in class. Again. No, you were not.

It’s clear it’s clear it’s there it’s there. Cosy kernelled in your head. It must have strings pulling all the time. Sly in affection. Nasty thing. Having a chew. Nails dug for claws. Her blind spot I think when you were small. No you’re better. No you are, turned her good eyes blind.

4

Whose is that car? Do you see it she said, parking at the gate? Oh God let it not be the PP and the state of the place. Who’s that now? Don’t pull the curtain back. No it isn’t. Well he’s coming up the path. Oh Jesus Mary and Joseph. Go wipe your nose you.

Daddy. I didn’t recognise you. You gave me the fright of my life. I didn’t know who it was at all. Is the car different? I thought that. Surely you didn’t do all that drive today? Sacred hour. It’s a terrible long old journey. Come in God and sit down. Anyways you’re looking well.

That’s it. Is Mammy with you? Ah no of course. Ach she’s not able. She said that alright before. And can the doctor not give her something, just to relieve her a bit? You must be worn out. Will you have a cup of tea?

Come in here and say hello to your Grandfather. He’s come all the way to see you, isn’t that right? Just slip on that kettle as you come past. And can you get any sleep? Desperate at your time of life. Come you in and say hello like your brother. Oh god, look at the face on that. Would you not think about getting some help in? No she’s not a bit shy. For a break in the mornings even? Will you have a sandwich with that? I haven’t made a start on dinner. So we’ll not eat til six I’d say. You know, I haven’t a thing in the house. Sure I wasn’t expecting you. I’ll just nip out. It’s only five minutes down the road. No stay where you are. You’ve driven enough. You sit there and talk to your Granda while I go get the messages. Oh now Madam’s away upstairs. Don’t mind her. She’ll be down soon enough exercising her ears. You tell Granda the result of your IQ test. Average. Yes. Now isn’t that good? It is. You know well what I was worried about. Look, I’ll talk to you when I get back. No now it is good love. Daddy I didn’t mean to snap. No of course I’m glad you came. Look let me go get these few things in. You show Granda your Octons love. I really won’t be long.

That man was sterner stuff than us. A right hook of a look in his eye all the time. Thin tight gelled hair. Moustache brown eyes. Clark Gable-alike when he was young, she said. But every man was I think then, when she was growing up. Under the thumb of him. Under his hand. Movie star father with his fifteen young. His poor Carole Lombard fucked into the ground. Though we don’t say those words. To each other. Yet. They were true God fearing in for a penny in for a pound. Milk soaked mackerel for every Friday night. Mass every morning for all children over three and the wrath of God for anyone saying Jesus out loud or even in your head. For what’s unsaid’s as bad as, if not worse. Saturday til afternoon dedicated to praying with his wife – when none of the little could enter without a big knock. Such worshipping worshipping behind the bedroom door. With their babies and babies lining up like stairs. For mother of perpetual suffering prolapsed to hysterectomied. A life spent pushing insides out for it displeased Jesus to give that up. Twenty years in bed and a few after this before she conked. Ah desperate for him in his nice tweeds with his nice cane. Seven sons to carry his coffin. Seven daughters to follow and cry and one extra to make him martyr – surely toddlers die but she would have been the best. Sons for breaking chairs on the backs of. Daughters to shoo from the bath for a wee. Rich-ish husbands or they got a crack in the jaw. Chaste-ish wives or the boys got more. Goodfornothinglumpofshitgodforgiveyou. Ours got for her wedding a glare though he paid. He, at least, knew how to behave. Though a man like our father could be nothing to him. Not to lick his boots. Not to be his dog. Of course he wasn’t even surprised when he ran off. Walked she said. I knew it would happen for what could you expect? Psychiatrist indeed and what rubbish is that? Poking in vegetables heads for a living or calling good people mad. He knew the type. Didn’t even guess his son was sick. Busy thinking he was so great, no doubt. What kind of father is that you tell me? She didn’t, or he wasn’t a brain surgeon either.

And he came, this grandfather, like bolts from the blue. Not a bit of warning just a rap on the door. No one expects the Spanish inquisition late Saturday afternoon. Would they drive four hundred miles without checking you’d be in? But he did because you wouldn’t dare not. Not be in, indeed. Stay for a week us beck and called. Still children loved him and the lollies in his pocket. In the post office they’d say he was a real type of gent. Held doors for women. Kind to dumb animals. Gave generously to the plate on Sundays and could teach you a thing or two about a godly life. Gave up the drink for his mother on her death-bed. Bad he was and all with it. He says himself it was the hardest thing he ever did but if you’re bad to your mother you’ll never have luck. He doesn’t know about that but he knows what’s right. Never touched a drop again after. All those children too and each one a regular communicant. A daily one himself and us when he’s afoot. You’ll scorch eternity in hell then you’ll wish you’d gone to church. Don’t turn your face from the father or he’ll turn his face from you. And he’s a saint with that wife of his also. They say she got very hard. Bitter-like with him and sharp. He never says a word. Offers it up as penance. Oh he has his cross to bear – but sure, hasn’t everyone? Besides it’s as nothing to the death of a child. He doesn’t mind telling you his faith was sorely tried. There’s no grief like a parent’s. No there’s no pain like that. Set him off with the drinking. And this grandson just brings it back. His daughter could have spared him descriptions of the little cut open head, should not perhaps have phoned crying he’d only six months to live. But he reminded her he’d not had as much himself. So show some gratitude for what you’ve got. A lot my girl. A lot.

Sit down youngster and tell me what have you been at since I was here last. Have you grown? So you won’t be stunted? Thanks be to God. How’s school going? Are you top of your class yet? Ah you will be soon enough. And how are the tests? And arithmetic? Well, that’s not up to much. You can’t be trying that hard. Your mother was good at sums. You should ask her to explain. Well then ask her again. And how’s the head? Have you been for any more scans? Well that’s good. And how’s your mother doing? No sign of that feckless father I suppose? I knew the minute I laid eyes on him. No sense of responsibility. I hope you won’t turn out like that. Well, I’m very glad to hear it. And how old are you now? What class are you in? Have you been saying your prayers? Going to communion? How often? And confession? Every week? You know it’s important never to receive the host in a state of sin. Your body is a temple for Christ. Did they teach you that at school? So why do you not go more often or are you just so good? Never tell a lie to your mother? Never fight with your sister? Well there’s no arguing with that. But you know pride’s a deadly sin we should all be humble before God. Your father was a proud man. He wouldn’t come to mass and look what happened to you as a result. So you beware of pride. Well now, say a Hail Mary and we’ll forget about it but the next time you go you tell the priest. Go on then. Hail Mary. Go on Hail Mary full of… Grace. You pick it up. The Lord is… How can you forget? Do you not say the rosary in this house? Then how can you not know the Hail Mary? No, this’ll not do. This is a terrible carry on.

And what about you Miss Piggy? Come in here and talk to me. You are. You do look like her. Don’t you be cheeky. You’re the image of her. That snout you have on you. Now see. I’ve got it. Say please and you can have it back. Don’t you hit your grandfather. There. Have it so. Bold brat. If you were mine you’d be over my knee but then my little girls were well-behaved. They’d certainly never slap their grandfather on his sore leg. Because it would make him cry. Now I’ll have to tell your mother and you’ll get a beat on your bot. Because I’m her Daddy so if I say it she has to give you a smack.

I’ve just been talking to your son. And your daughter. Well… But first what have you done to upset your sister? That’s not what’s been said to me. She said you knew she was sick and you never called. It could’ve been asthma. She could’ve been admitted to hospital. Well so far no card’s arrived and I’ve no reason to think she’d tell me a lie. Well I don’t know. You might. You could be twisting it all round. You’re that turned in on yourself. Isn’t there a phone box in the town? As she said herself she made all those calls when that boy took sick. But since the day and hour he did you’d think you’re the only one has worries. So listen here, I have more children than you and I love them all equally and I won’t be made to pick and choose. You are. You are asking me to. You’re trying to make me take sides. You probably want me to give out to your sister. Well get that out of your head for starters. Oh you don’t fool me. You’re not bothered about anyone even your family. Well you never thanked me at the hospital for that money I sent. I didn’t say anything at the time but I was deeply hurt. Of course there was time. There’s always time for gratitude. Truth be told you’ve just assumed we’d always be there for you and we always have. But not a word of thanks. None whatsoever. Oh I’m sure. I’m sure you didn’t mean it. You never do. And when I went to have that eye test you never called. It could have been. I could have had glaucoma. Both your grandparents had. But sure what’s the point. It’s like talking to that brick wall. You were always a selfish. No. Don’t please Daddy me now.

And that child only made his communion a year ago and he can’t even say his Hail Mary. Have you no morals? I mean what kind of way is that to rear your son? But of course you’re so clever. I forgot. Too good to marry a man who’d want his children to believe in God. Oh we look down our noses at those sorts, don’t we? We wouldn’t want to be like that, would we? You’ve always looked down your nose at me and my beliefs. You’re above that sort of thing. But I couldn’t care less because I’m grateful for how God has worked in my life. You do laugh. Of course you do. But I’m the one put food in your mouth. Your superior husband, where is he now? And you still think that’s the way to rear a child? I was a daily communicant by nine. I was serving too and there was none of this Do we have to? If they’re asking that then you’re doing something wrong. That boy has a lot to be grateful for. It mightn’t have left him that bright but he’s not six foot under and don’t tell me that’s not the power of prayer. Half the parish doing novena’s night and day. It was not remission. No it was not and you be careful because what he gives he can also take back.

And look at that one. What way is that to rear a girl? Look at her. Forward rolls in a skirt. It’s disgusting. It’s perverted. Underwear on display. What kind of carry-on is that? How is she supposed to be a child of Mary? Well, you shouldn’t let her away with it. I never reared you that way.

There must be something wrong with you. You’re not right in the head. Just as well I left your poor mother behind. Well it’s little wonder why your husband left. If I had to live with this kind of Godlessness going on under my roof. You don’t realise we’re talking about their immortal souls and that doesn’t get a second chance. Can you live with their damnation on your conscience? It doesn’t matter what they want or not. It’s for their own good. And as for you. As Christ said Better a millstone be tied around their necks. No. No it was mistake to come here. I feel the evil in this house. I’m not staying here. I cannot stay. No don’t you speak to me. I don’t want to hear the words of the evil one from my own daughter’s mouth. You don’t know what this has done to me. My own daughter. The shock. No, stay you away. Well I’m sorry they’ll be upset but get out of my way. I don’t want to hear any more of this. You’ll only poison me with your bitterness you Godless creature. I pity you. I really do. Don’t come near me. God forgive me I never knew. I never knew I’d reared a… No. Enough. That’s it. Goodbye.

Such a quiet house after. Car blistering road beneath. She covered face up and whooping in her throat. Forcing air in. Shaking with tears. Tight as bows we sat. Faces hanging over the stairs. Our evil house Ringing. There are banshees here.

Right then. Right the pair of ye. Do you see what you’ve done? Are you pleased with yourselves? What did I say about forward rolls? What did I tell you about keeping your knickers covered? She is jumping up the stairs. Take one and two. Crack my eyes are bursting from my head with the wallop. Blood rising up my nose. Drips my head forward. Drip of that. She gets my hair. Listen. To me. Listen. What you’ve done. Shaking me smack and smack my head. Dirty brat. Shivering. Sharp with rage. Get away from me and push me over to the banisters.

You. Panic. Mammy sorry that I sorry I didn’t know. Your hands can’t keep her off. She knows all the duck and weave we’ve done before. And hits you on your ear. On your cheek. That hard. Ah Mammy sorry. Sorry. Sorry please, all you say. She have you by the jumper. Slap you harder. Slap and slap and slap. Push you in the corner. Mammy. Mammy. Getting red face. Getting sore face. Slap again she. Slap again. Screaming. You imbecile. You stupid. I cupping all my blood nose in my jumper. Crouch. You. Bold. Boy. You. Stupid. Stupid. You’ll never manage anything. You’re a moron. He’s right. You’re a moron. Hail Mary. How hard can it be? Hail Mary. I’ve had enough of you. The pair of you. And you. You’ll have to go to handicapped school. No Mammy Mammy. Slap you. School for morons is where you belong and you can live there and you can do what you like and I’ll never have to put up with you again. I’ve had enough of you. Both of you. Selfish spoilt brats. Do you hear me? Enough. Morning noon and night and this is what you do to me? Handicapped school do you hear me? Slap slap. Your nose weeping while she pulled you by the hair and then a hard one. A really hard one. Hard down straight upon your brown head. I hear it. Mammy my head. Mammy my my don’t Mammy hit me anymore on my head. Holding it, your head, all bent down. Feel it throb you. The shock like sacrilege. Mammy not my head anymore, putting out your palm instead. She didn’t then all at once. Pushed you back on the floor. Went into her room. Went into the dark closed curtains of it and shut the door on us.