–  You came to me scared! Christ alive, you were a wreck – not that I blame you when you had that bloody auld bitch to deal with! You were determined to hate me, you never gave me a chance, not one! But remember, Mary, it wasn’t me who stunted your life, it was you. When are you going to realise that? When are you going to grow up?

He was clenching his jaw, willing me to give voice to the words that might save me. Nothing happened, I didn’t even manage a whimper.

–  It’s time we put this marriage out of its misery. That way we’ll both find some peace. Let’s go …

The urban daylight was blinding, the few flowers all growing to their death in sad little plastic pots and baskets. He raised his arm to stop a taxi and I knew it was for me. I was being set free. I grabbed at a street light to slow the horror of it down but he yanked me away from it by the arm.

–  Get in the taxi, Mary! Now!

–  I’m not going back to Johns Farm on my own, I’m not!

–  You can go where you like! I’m past caring.

–  Don’t say that! Say you’ll stay!

–  I can’t stay! I need to get away from you before you drown me! You’re a miracle of self-pity! Do you know that? No one could feel sorrier for you than you do for yourself!

That shut me up at last. As he pushed me into the back of the car, he only had one thing to add before his voice broke.

–  I’ve had the living of a dog from you, Mary Rattigan!

He didn’t wait to see me go. His big back was turned to me forever. I’m Mary Johns now, I said but there was no one left to hear me.

2007

THE PALM OF GOD’S HAND

34

I’ve lived through another autumn, a harsh winter, a spring that seemed to appear one day and be replaced overnight by summer. Mammy has soured every one of those seasons. I have evidence. The arthritic hip has been replaced and she makes the most of soaking up every spare moment I have by playing the patient. This morning she needs Deep Heat. Could I ‘just’ nip up and rub it in this very minute and she won’t bother me again for the rest of the day? Her neck is killing her!

–  Where’s Daddy?

–  What do you want with him?

–  If he was there he could do it, surely?

–  MARY RATTIGAN! Are you ever going to stop being MUCKY?

How did she ever get pregnant? Was she in fact the Virgin Mother? Daddy and her were two people who should not have met, never mind married, never mind having nine children, seven of whom lived. Would the little dead boys have made her happy?