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Back Before My Actual Heart Breaks Save as PDF
Chapters (48)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 2007
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 1973
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 1982
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 1998
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 2004
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 2007
  44. 34
  45. 35
  46. 36
  47. Acknowledgements
  48. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Daddy kicked off his shoes and pulled his wellies back on and preceded the good Father out, back to his cattle who wouldn’t tax him. I did shake hands with my new favourite priest and he folded my hand in both of his. They were cool and warm and strong and a shiver ran up my spine and across my breasts as his fathomless black eyes bored into me.

–  I really hope to see you again, Mary! Keep at the books; education is very easy carried, after all!

–  Thank you, Father!

I had seen that lovely sarcastic smile on only one other face. And it was on the one other man around here who didn’t abide hypocrites, a flower among cabbages, John Johns himself.

An hour with Pat O’Connell did me more good than a thousand of Joe Loughrey’s kisses. I was happy! I had to work hard to squash a smirk which started in my toes. It was the endearing way he had kicked my mother in the teeth while he kept a steady hand on his cup and saucer. I wanted to share the joy of it with Matthew but he was blushing, growing more like Daddy every day. Something was wrong.

–  Liam went back to London this morning, he whispers looking upset, he says good luck with your exams.

Why couldn’t Liam have said goodbye? I might not have cried. I might not have clung on and begged him not to go. I might not have told him I missed having a brother who was too big and strong to get hit. His loss wouldn’t help Mammy’s mood. She didn’t like the thought of him thriving in England, it was a betrayal of all she held dear. Dominic had run to Dublin, Brendan had fled to America – all three of them were rats and each of their departures had made it harder for us ones left behind on the sinking ship.

I knew I’d better move quickly to see if she needed any help clearing up; she could blow at any minute. The cake had been dispatched and she was wrapping sandwiches in tinfoil. She saw me by the door and gave me a good eyeballing, trying to read if I had understood what had just gone on. I kept my face dead straight and she finally looked away. No slaps for a month and counting. She settled instead for the last word.

–  What did I tell you, Mary Rattigan? Bridie Johns was nothing more than a T.R.A.M.P. in her day!

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