Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha (32 page)

—Did you do the eccer? he said.

It was a stupid question; we all did the eccer.

—Yeah, I said.

—All of it?

—Yeah.

—I didn’t, he said.

He always said that.

—I didn’t do some of the learning, I said.

—That’s nothing, he said.

The eccer was always corrected, all of it. We could never get away with anything. We had to swap copies; Henno walked around giving the answers and looking over our shoulders. He spot-checked.

—I’m analysing your writing, Patrick Clarke. Tell me why.

—So I won’t write in any of the answers for him, Sir.

—Correct, he said.—And he won’t write in any for you.

He thumped me hard on the shoulder, probably because he’d been nice to me a few days before. It hurt but I didn’t rub it.

—I went to school once myself, he said.—I know all the tricks. Next one: eleven times ten divided by five. First step, Mister O’Keefe.

—Twenty-two, Sir.

—First step.

He got James O’Keefe in the shoulder.

—Multiply eleven and ten, Sir.

—Correct. And?

—That’s all, Sir.

He got another whack.

—The answer, you
amadán.
²¹

—One hundred and ten, Sir.

—One hundred and ten. Is he correct, Mister Cassidy?

—Yes, Sir.

—For once, yes. Second step?

Miss Watkins had been much easier. We always did some of the homework but it was easy to fill in the answers when we were supposed to be correcting the ones we’d already done. Henno made us do the corrections with a red colouring pencil. You got three biffs if the point wasn’t sharp. Twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, we were allowed, two by two, to go up to the bin beside his desk and sharpen them. He had a parer screwed to the side of the desk - you put the pencil in the hole and turned the handle - but he wouldn’t let us use it. We had to have our own. Two biffs if you forgot to bring it in, and it couldn’t be a Hector Grey’s one, Mickey Mouse or one of the Seven Dwarfs or any of them; it had to be an ordinary one. Miss Watkins always used to write the

—Hands up who got it right?
Go maith.
²²
Next one, read it for me, em -

Without looking up from her knitting.

—Patrick Clarke.

I read it off the board and wrote it down in the space I’d left for it. Once, she stood up and came around the desks and stopped and looked at my page; the ink was still wet and she didn’t notice.

—Nine out of ten, she said.—
Go maith.

I always made one of them wrong, sometimes two. We all did, except Kevin. He always got ten out of ten, in everything. A great little Irishman, she called him. Kevin did Ian McEvoy in the yard when Ian McEvoy called him that; he gave him a loaf in the nose.

She’d thought she was nice but we’d hated her.

—Still awake, Mister Clarke?

They all laughed. They were supposed to.

—Yes, Sir.

I smiled. They laughed again, not as much as the first time.

—Good, said Henno.—What time is it, Mister McEvoy?

—Don’t know, Sir.

—Can’t afford a watch.

We laughed.

—Mister Whelan.

Seán Whelan lifted the sleeve of his jumper and looked under.

-Half-ten, Sir.

—Exactly?

—Nearly.

—Exactly, please.

—Twenty-nine past ten, Sir.

—What day is it, Mister O’Connell?

—Thursday, Sir.

—Are you sure?

—Yes, Sir.

We laughed.

—It is Wednesday, I’m told, said Henno. And it is half past ten. What book will we now take out of our
málas,
²³
Mister

——Mister——Mister O’Keefe?

We laughed. We had to.

 

I went to bed. He hadn’t come home. I kissed my ma.

—Night night, she said.

—Good night, I said.

There was a hair growing out of a small thing on her face. Just between her eye and her ear. I’d never seen it before, the hair. It was straight and strong.

I woke up. It was just before she’d come up to get us out of bed. I could tell from the downstairs noises. Sinbad was still asleep. I didn’t wait. I got up. I was wide awake. I dashed into my clothes. It was good; the curtain square was bright.

—I was just coming up, she said when I got into the kitchen.

She was feeding the girls, feeding one and making sure that the other one fed herself properly. Catherine often missed her mouth with the spoon. Her bowl was always empty but she never ate that much.

—I’m up, I said.

—So I see, she said.

I was looking at her feeding Deirdre. She never got bored with it.

—Francis is still asleep, I said.

—No harm, she said.

—He’s snoring, I said.

—He isn’t, she said.

She was right; he wasn’t snoring. I’d just said it; not to get him into trouble. I’d just wanted to say something funny.

I wasn’t hungry but I wanted to eat.

—Your dad’s gone to work already, she said.

I looked at her. She was bent down, behind Catherine, helping her get the last bit onto her spoon, touching her arm, not holding it, aiming the spoon at the porridge.

—Good girl -

I went back upstairs. I waited, listened; she was safe downstairs. I went into their room. The bed was made, the eiderdown up over the pillows and tucked behind them. I pulled it back. I listened. I looked at the pillows first. I pulled it back more, and the blankets. She hadn’t done the bottom sheet. Only her side had the mark of a body, the right creases; they matched the pillows. The other side was flat, the pillows full. I put my hand on the sheet; it felt warm on her side, I thought it did. I didn’t touch his.

I didn’t tuck the eiderdown back in; to let her know.

I listened. I looked in the wardrobe. His shoes and ties were there, three pairs of shoes, too many ties, tangles of them.

I changed my mind; I tucked in the eiderdown and flattened it.

I looked at her. She was cleaning the baby chair. She looked the same. Except for the hair, and I couldn’t see that now. I tried hard, I looked at her, I tried to see what her face meant.

She looked just the same.

—Will I get Francis?

She threw the cloth and it landed hanging over the sink.

She never threw things.

—We both will, she said.

She got the baby up and fitted her into her hip. Then she put her hand out, for me. Her hand was wet. We crept up the stairs. We laughed when they creaked. She squeezed my hand.

 

The funeral would be colossal. And a flag on his coffin. The saved person’s family would give me and Sinbad money. My ma would have one of those veils on, right over her face. She’d look lovely behind it. She’d cry quietly. I wouldn’t cry at all. I’d put my arm around her when we were walking out of the church with everyone looking at us. Sinbad wouldn’t be able to reach up to her shoulders. Kevin and them would want to stand near me outside the church and beside the grave but they wouldn’t be able to because there’d be so many people, not just the relations. I’d have a suit with long trousers and a good pocket on the inside of the jacket. The saved boy’s family would get a plaque put up on our wall beside the front door. My da had died saving a little boy’s life. It wasn’t going to happen like that though; that was only stupid. Dreaming was only nice while it lasted. Nothing was going to happen to my da. Anyway, I didn’t really want him to die or anything else; he was my da. I preferred to imagine my own funeral; it was a much better dream.

I saw Charles Leavy going out the school gate. I looked around - I didn’t want anyone else - and followed him. I waited for a shout; we weren’t allowed out of the yard for little break. I kept going at the same speed. I put my hands in my pockets.

He’d gone into the field. I kicked a stone when I was crossing the road. I looked back. The shed blocked most of the yard. There was no one looking. I ran. He’d dropped into the high grass. I kept my eyes on the place. I slowed down and walked into the grass. It was still wet. I whistled. I thought I was going right for him.

—It’s me.

I saw a gap in the grass, a hole.

—It’s me.

He was there. I had to sit down but I didn’t want to. My trousers were already dark from the wet. He was sitting on a soggy cardboard box. There was no room for me. I kneeled on the edge of it.

—I saw you, I said.

—So wha’.

—Nothing.

He took a drag from his Major. He must have got it lit in the time it had taken me to catch up with him. He didn’t pass it on to me. I was glad but I’d been hoping he would.

—Are you mitching?

—Would I leave me bag in the room if I was mitching? he said.

—No, I said.

-Then.

—That’d be thick.

He took another drag. We were the only people in the field. The only noise was from the yard, the shouting and a teacher’s whistle, and a cement mixer or something far away. I watched the smoke coming out. He didn’t. He was looking at the sky. I was wet. I was listening for the bell. How would we get back in? The quiet was like a pain in my stomach. He wasn’t going to say anything.

—How many do you smoke a day?

—Twenty about.

—Where do you get the money?

I didn’t mean it to sound like I didn’t believe him. He looked at me.

—I rob it, he said.

I believed him.

—Yeah, I said, like I did too.

Now I looked at the sky too. There wasn’t much time left.

—Did you ever run away? I said.

—Fuck off, would yeh.

I was surprised. Then it made sense: why would he have?

—Did you ever want to?

—I’d have done it if I’d wanted to, he said.

Then he asked a question.

—Thinkin’ o’ doin’ it yourself, are yeh?

—No.

—Why were you askin’ then?

—I was only asking.

—Yeah, maybe.

I was going to ask him if I could go with him the next time. That was why I’d followed him. It was stupid. I was stranded, away from the yard. I was with him but he didn’t care. If Charles Leavy ever ran away from home he’d never have come back. He’d have stayed away. I didn’t want to do that.

I didn’t want to get caught. I stood up.

—See yeh later.

He didn’t answer.

I crept to the edge of the field but it was no fun.

I wanted to run away to frighten them and make them feel guilty, to push them into each other. She’d cry and he’d put his arm around her. And his arm would stay there when I came home in the back of the police car. I’d be sent to Artane for wasting the police’s time and money but they’d come to see me every Sunday while I was in there, not for long. They’d think it was their fault, Sinbad as well, but I’d tell them that it wasn’t. Then I’d get out.

That had been my plan.

I stood up out of the grass. I looked around as if I was searching for something, looking worried.

—I lost a pound note, Sir. I was minding it for my ma for messages.

I shrugged, gave up. The money had blown away. I crossed the road. The worst bit, around the shed, back into the yard. No one waiting. Mister Finnucane coming out the door with the bell. I got beside Aidan and Liam.

—Where were you?

—Having a smoke.

They looked at me.

—With Charlo, I said.

I couldn’t help saying more.

—D’you want to smell my breath?

Mister Finnucane lifted the bell with his other hand holding the donger inside it. He always did it that way. He held it over his shoulders, then freed the donger and dropped the bell, and lifted it, and dropped it, ten times. His lips moved, counting. We had to be in our lines by the tenth one. Charles Leavy was in front of me, five places. Kevin was behind me. He kneed my knee.

—Lay off messing!

—Make me.

—I will.

—Go on.

I did nothing. I wanted to do something to him.

—Go on.

I kicked him backwards in the shin. It hurt him; I could feel it. He jumped and fell out of the line.

—What’s going on there?

—Nothing, Sir.

—What happened you?

It was Mister Arnold, not Henno. He’d been counting the boys in his row. He didn’t care too much what had happened. He was only looking over boys’ heads. He hadn’t bothered breaking a way through them.

—I fell, Sir, said Kevin.

—Well, don’t fall again.

—Yes, Sir.

Kevin was behind me again.

—I’m going to get you, Clarke.

I didn’t even look around.

—I’m going to get you. D’you hear me?

—No talking back there.

Henno had come out to get us. He marched down one side of us, counting, and up the other side. He passed me the second time. I waited for Kevin to hit. He thumped me in the back. That was all he had time for.

—That was only the start.

I didn’t care. He hadn’t hurt me bad. Anyway, I could get him back. He wasn’t my friend any more. He was a sap, a spoofer and a liar. He hadn’t a clue.

—
Anois,
²⁴
Henno shouted at the front.—
Clé deas,
²⁵
clé deas—

We marched into the main school, around to our room. Henno was at the door.

—Wipe your feet.

He only had to say it once. The fellas at the front did it and everybody copied them. Last in had to close the door quietly. Not a peep going through the school. Henno always kept us till last so our noises wouldn’t mix in with the other classes. He made us stand for half an hour if he heard as much as a whisper. We had to wait till the two ahead of us were in the room before we were allowed to go in.