Ronald, says Bridey, Ronald. Heas gorgeous.

No, says Mam, it has to be Irish. Isnat that what we fought for all these years? Whatas the use of fighting the English for centuries if weare going to call our children Ronald?

Jesus, Angela, youare starting to talk like himself with his Irish this and his English that.

Still ana all, Bridey, heas right.

Suddenly Bridey is gasping, Jesus,Angela, thereas something wrong with that child.

Mam is out of the chair, hugging the child, moaning. Oh, Jesus, Bridey, heas choking.

Bridey says, Iall run for my mother, and sheas back in a minute with Mrs. Hannon. Castor oil, says Mrs. Hannon. Do you have it? Any oil.

Cod liver oil? Thatall do.

She pours the oil into the babyas mouth, turns him over, presses on his back, turns him back over, sticks a spoon down his throat and brings up a white ball.Thatas it now, she says.The milk. It collects and gets hard in their little throats so you have to ease it with any cla.s.s of an oil.

Mam is crying, Jesus, I nearly lost him. Oh, Iad die so I would.

Sheas clutching the baby and crying and trying to thank Mrs.

Hannon.

Yerra, donat mention it, missus.Take the child and get back into that bed for the two oa ye had a great shock.

While Bridey and Mrs. Hannon are helping Mam to the bed I notice spots of blood on her chair. Is my mother bleeding to death? Is it all right to say, Look, thereas blood on Mamas chair? No, you canat say anything because they always have secrets. I know if you say anything the grown-up people will tell you,Never mind, youare always gawking, none of your business, go out and play.

I have to keep it inside or I can talk to the angel. Mrs. Hannon and Bridey leave and I sit on the seventh step. I try to tell the angel Mam is 181.

bleeding to death. I want him to tell me, Fear not, but the step is cold and thereas no light, no voice. Iam sure heas gone forever and I wonder if that happens when you go from nine to ten.

Mam doesnat bleed to death. Sheas out of the bed next day getting the baby ready for baptism, telling Bridey she could never forgive herself if the baby died and went to Limbo, a place for unbaptized babies, where it may be nice and warm but, still, dark forever and no hope of escape even on the Judgment Day.

Grandma is there to help and she says, Thatas right, no hope in heaven for the infant thatas not baptized.

Bridey says it would be a hard G.o.d that would do the likes of that.

He has to be hard, says Grandma, otherwise youad have all kinds of babies clamorina to get into heaven, Protestants ana everything, ana why should they get in after what they did to us for eight hundred years?

The babies didnat do it, says Bridey.Theyare too small.

They would if they got the chance, says Grandma.Theyare trained for it.

They dress the baby in the Limerick lace dress we were all baptized in. Mam says we can all go to St. Josephas and weare excited because there will be lemonade and buns after.

Malachy says, Mam, whatas the babyas name?

Alphonsus Joseph.

The words fly out of my mouth,Thatas a stupid name. Itas not even Irish.

Grandma glares at me with her old red eyes. She says, That fella needs a good c.l.i.tther on the gob. Mam slaps me across the face and sends me flying across the kitchen. My heart is pounding and I want to cry but I canat because my father isnat there and Iam the man of the family.

Mam says,You go upstairs with your big mouth and donat move from that room.

I stop at the seventh step but itas still cold, no light, no voice.

The house is quiet with everyone gone to the chapel. I sit and wait upstairs, knocking the fleas off my arms and legs, wishing I had Dad here, thinking of my little brother and his foreign name, Alphonsus, an affliction of a name.

In awhile there are voices downstairs and there is talk of tea, sherry, lemonade, buns, and isnat that child the loveliest little fella in the world, little Alphie, foreign name but still ana all still ana all not a sound 182.

outa him the whole time heas that good-natured G.o.d bless him sure heall live forever with the sweetness thatas in him the little dote spittina image of his mother his father his grandma his little brothers dead ana gone.

Mam calls from the bottom of the stairs, Frank, come down and have lemonade and a bun.

I donat want it.You can keep it.

I said come down this minute for if I have to climb these stairs Iall warm your behind and youall rue the day.

Rue? Whatas rue?

Never mind whatas rue. Come down here at once.

Her voice is sharp and rue sounds dangerous. Iall go down.

In the kitchen Grandma says, Look at the long puss on him.Youad think head be happy for his little brother except that a boy thatas going from nine to ten is always a right pain in the a.r.s.e ana I know for didnat I have two of aem.

The lemonade and bun are delicious and Alphie the new baby is chirping away enjoying his baptism day too innocent to know his name is an affliction.

Grandpa in the North sends a telegram money order for five pounds for the baby Alphie.Mam wants to cash it but she canat go far from the bed.

Dad says heall cash it at the post office. She tells Malachy and me to go with him. He cashes it and tells us,All right,boys, go home and tell your mother Iall be home in a few minutes.

Malachy says,Dad, youare not to go to the pub. Mam said youare to bring home the money.Youare not to drink the pint.

Now, now, son. Go home to your mother.

Dad, give us the money.That money is for the baby.

Now, Francis, donat be a bad boy. Do what your father tells you.

He walks away from us and into Southas pub.

Mam is sitting by the fireplace with Alphie in her arms. She shakes her head. He went to the pub, didnat he?

He did.

I want ye to go back down to that pub and read him out of it. I want ye to stand in the middle of the pub and tell every man your father is drinking the money for the baby.Ye are to tell the world there isnat a 183.

sc.r.a.p of food in this house, not a lump of coal to start the fire, not a drop of milk for the babyas bottle.

We walk through the streets and Malachy practices his speech at the top of his voice, Dad, Dad, that five pounds is for the new baby.Thatas not for the drink.The child is above in the bed bawling and roaring for his milk and youare drinking the pint.

Heas gone from Southas pub.Malachy still wants to stand and make his speech but I tell him we have to hurry and look in other pubs before Dad drinks the whole five pounds.We canat find him in other pubs either. He knows Mam would come for him or send us and there are so many pubs at this end of Limerick and beyond we could be looking for a month.We have to tell Mam thereas no sign of him and she tells us weare pure useless. Oh, Jesus, I wish I had my strength and Iad search every pub in Limerick. Iad tear the mouth out of his head, so I would.

Go on, go back down and try all the pubs around the railway station and try Naughtonas fish and chip shop.

I have to go by myself because Malachy has the runs and canat stray far from the bucket. I search all the pubs on Parnell Street and around.

I look into the snugs where the women drink and in all the menas lavatories.

Iam hungry but Iam afraid to go home till I find my father. Heas not in Naughtonas fish and chip shop but thereas a drunken man asleep at a table in the corner and his fish and chips are on the floor in their Limerick Leader wrapping and if I donat get them the cat will so I shove them under my jersey and Iam out the door and up the street to sit on the steps at the railway station eat my fish and chips watch the drunken soldiers pa.s.s by with the girls that giggle thank the drunken man in my mind for drowning the fish and chips in vinegar and smothering them in salt and then remember that if I die tonight Iam in a state of sin for stealing and I could go straight to h.e.l.l stuffed with fish and chips but itas Sat.u.r.day and if the priests are still in the confession boxes I can clear my soul after my feed.

The Dominican church is just up Glentworth Street.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, itas a fortnight since my last confession.

I tell him the usual sins and then, I stole fish and chips from a drunken man.

Why,my child?

I was hungry, Father.

And why were you hungry?

There was nothing in my belly, Father.

184.

He says nothing and even though itas dark I know heas shaking his head. My dear child, why canat you go home and ask your mother for something?

Because she sent me out looking for my father in the pubs, Father, and I couldnat find him and she hasnat a sc.r.a.p in the house because heas drinking the five pounds Grandpa sent from the North for the new baby and sheas raging by the fire because I canat find my father.

I wonder if this priest is asleep because heas very quiet till he says, My child, I sit here. I hear the sins of the poor. I a.s.sign the penance. I bestow absolution. I should be on my knees washing their feet. Do you understand me,my child?

I tell him I do but I donat.

Go home, child. Pray for me.

No penance, Father?

No,my child.

I stole the fish and chips. Iam doomed.

Youare forgiven. Go. Pray for me.

He blesses me in Latin, talks to himself in English and I wonder what I did to him.

I wish I could find my father so I could say to Mam, Here he is and he has three pounds left in his pocket. Iam not hungry now so I can go up one side of OaConnell Street and down the other and search pubs on the side streets and there he is in Gleesonas, how could I miss him with his singing, aTis alone my concern if the grandest surprise Would be shining at me out of somebodyas eyes.

aTis my private affair what my feelings would be While the Green Glens of Antrim were welcoming me.

My heart is banging away in my chest and I donat know what to do because I know Iam raging inside like my mother by the fire and all I can think of doing is running in and giving him a good kick in the leg and running out again but I donat because we have the mornings by the fire when he tells me about Cuchulain and De Valera and Roosevelt and if heas there drunk and buying pints with the babyas money he has that look in his eyes Eugene had when he searched for Oliver and I might as well go home and tell my mother a lie that I never saw him couldnat find him.

185.

Sheas in the bed with the baby. Malachy and Michael are up in Italy asleep. I know I donat have to tell Mam anything, that soon when the pubs close heall be home singing and offering us a penny to die for Ireland and it will be different now because itas bad enough to drink the dole or the wages but a man that drinks the money for a new baby is gone beyond the beyonds as my mother would say.

VIII.

Iam ten years old and ready to go to St. Josephas Church for my Con- firmation. In school the master, Mr. OaDea, prepares us.We have to know all about Sanctifying Grace, a pearl of great price, bought for us by Jesus in His dying.Mr.OaDeaas eyes roll in his head when he tells us that with Confirmation we will become part of Divinity.We will have the Gifts of the Holy Ghost:Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Fort.i.tude, Knowledge, Piety, the Fear of the Lord. Priests and masters tell us Confirmation means youare a true soldier of the Church and that ent.i.tles you to die and be a martyr in case weare invaded by Protestants or Mahommedans or any other cla.s.s of a heathen. More dying. I want to tell them I wonat be able to die for the Faith because Iam already booked to die for Ireland.

Mikey Molloy says, Is it jokina you are? That thing about dying for the Faith is all a cod. aTis only a saying they made up to frighten you.

Ireland too. No one dies for anything anymore.All the dying is done. I wouldnat die for Ireland or the Faith. I might die for my mother but thatas all.

Mikey knows everything. Heas going on fourteen. He gets the fits.

He has visions.

The grown-ups tell us itas a glorious thing to die for the Faith, only weare not ready for that yet because Confirmation day is like First 187.

Communion day,you make the rounds of lanes and back streets and you get cakes and sweets and money,The Collection.

Thatas where poor Peter Dooley comes in.We call him Quasimodo because he has a hump on his back like the one on the hunchback of Notre Dame, whose real name we know is Charles Laughton.

Quasimodo has nine sisters and it is said his mother never wanted him but that was what the angel brought her and itas a sin to question whatas sent. Quasimodo is old, heas fifteen. His red hair sticks up in all directions. He has green eyes and one rolls around in his head so much heas constantly tapping his temple to keep it where itas supposed to be.

His right leg is short and twisted and when he walks he does a little twirly dance and you never know when heall fall. Thatas when youare surprised. He curses his leg, he curses the world,but he curses in a lovely English accent which he got from the radio, the BBC. Before he leaves his house he always sticks his head out the door and tells the lane,Hereas me head, me a.r.s.e is coming.When he was twelve Quasimodo decided that with the way he looked and the way the world looked at him the best thing would be to prepare for a job where he could be heard and not seen and what better than sitting behind a microphone at the BBC in London reading the news?

But you canat get to London without money and thatas why he hobbles up to us that Friday, the day before Confirmation. He has an idea for Billy and me.He knows the next day weall be getting Confirmation money and if we promise to pay him a shilling each heall let us climb up the rainspout behind his house this very night to look in the window and see his sistersa naked bodies when they take their weekly wash. I sign right away. Billy says, I have my own sister.Why should I pay to see your naked sisters?

Quasimodo says that looking at your own sisteras naked body is the worst sin of all and heas not sure if thereas a priest in the world can forgive you, that you might have to go to the bishop,who everyone knows is a holy terror.

Billy signs.

Friday night we climb the wall of Quasimodoas backyard. Itas a lovely night with the June moon floating high over Limerick and you can feel a warm breeze off the Shannon River. Quasimodo is about to let Billy up the spout and who comes clambering over the wall but Mikey Molloy the Fit himself hissing at Quasimodo, Hereas a shilling, 188.

Quasimodo. Let me up the spout. Mikey is fourteen now, bigger than any of us and strong from his job delivering coal. Heas black from the coal like Uncle Pa Keating and all you can see are the whites of his eyes and the white froth on his lower lip, which means he could have the fit anytime.

Quasimodo says,Wait,Mikey.Theyare first.Wait,my a.r.s.e, says Mikey, and heas away up the spout. Billy complains but Quasimodo shakes his head, I canat help it. He comes every week with the shilling. I have to let him up the spout or heall beat me up and tell my mother and the next thing she locks me in the coal hole all day with the rats.The Fit is up hanging on to the spout with one hand.The other hand is in his pocket moving,moving and when the spout itself starts to move and creak Quasimodo hisses, Molloy, thereas to be no whankina up the spout. He hops around the yard cackling. His BBC accent is gone and heas pure Limerick.

Jaysus, Molloy, come down off that spout or Iall tell me mother.