Chapters (48)
Her special Mother plate with its gold-painted hearts is lying in pieces. How did it fall off its hook? She is picking up each one and reading the sacred words but only to herself. The Mother plate had come from Donegal, she’d bought it for herself on a day out: To one who bears the sweetest name and adds a lustre to the same. Who shares my joys, who cheers when sad, the greatest friend I ever had. Long life to her, for there’s no other can take the place of my dear Mother.
I want to scream that I didn’t break the plate, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me! It’s not the boys, boys don’t touch plates, and Daddy moves so careful it can’t be him, which only leaves Kathleen. She’d always hated washing it. This plate is a lie, she’d say.
The cuk, cuk, cuk, cuckaw of one of the laying hens makes me blink. I have a lesson to learn though I’m not sure what the lesson is. Don’t cry? Don’t bleed? Don’t doubt I’m made of weak material? Don’t forget I’m nothing. The next lesson will hit harder; my sister’s a million miles away and even Auntie Eileen won’t brave the back door for a while.
Mammy knows I’d rather have a hundred slaps and get it over with so instead she stays on her knees and smiles at me, the broken bits of Mother now all in one hand. She’s talking low but I can hear her plain as day with my bat ears.
– You know I’ll take this out of you in lumps, don’t you, Mary Moo? You have my word on that, Yes Siree Bob!
I need to say it wasn’t my fault. None of it was. I didn’t break the plate. I didn’t get the priest to come out to The Hill. I didn’t mean to end up looking after Bernie, Auntie Eileen talked me into it with toffees. I didn’t mean to make Daddy look like a cissy. I didn’t mean to gather up the little cats. My mouth is open but none of the words I need to save myself come out.
The first bit of plate flies past and tinkles against the hall wall just below the Sacred Heart. He died for my sins. I mustn’t move, not yet. The second is a better shot. It slices my cheek. She smiles when she sees her handiwork. I wipe the blood away with the heel of my hand and run for the kitchen and the back door. But Mammy’s too fast and she’s on me before I can reach the latch. Her nails are just as sharp as I remember.
