I know, she says, Iam taking food out of the mouths of my children.

Youare insolent,woman.Youall get no charity here.

Is that a fact? Well,Mr. Quinlivan, if I donat get it here I know where I will.

What are you talking about?

Iall go to the Quakers.Theyall give me the charity.

Mr. Quinlivan steps toward Nora and points a finger.Do you know what we have here? We have a souper in our midst.We had the soupers in the Famine.The Protestants went round telling good Catholics that if they gave up their faith and turned Protestant theyad get more soup than their bellies could hold and, G.o.d help us, some Catholics took the soup,and were ever after known as soupers and lost their immortal souls doomed to the deepest part of h.e.l.l.And you, woman, if you go to the Quakers youall lose your immortal soul and the souls of your children.

Then, Mr. Quinlivan, youall have to save us,wonat you?

He stares at her and she stares back at him. His eyes wander to the other women. One puts her hand to her mouth to smother a laugh.

What are you t.i.ttering about? he barks.

Oh, nothing, Mr. Quinlivan. Honest to G.o.d.

Iam telling ye once more, no boots. And he slams the door behind him.

One by one the women are called into the room. When Nora comes out sheas smiling and waving a piece of paper. Boots, she says.

Three pairs Iam gettina for my children.Threaten the men in there with the Quakers and theyall give you the drawers off their a.r.s.es.

When Mam is called she brings Malachy and me in with her.We stand before a table where three men are sitting asking questions. Mr.

Quinlivan starts to say something but the man in the middle says, Enough out of you, Quinlivan. If we left it up to you wead have the poor people of Limerick jumping into the arms of the Protestants.

He turns to Mam, he wants to know where she got that fine red coat. She tells him what she told the women outside and when she comes to the death of Margaret she shakes and sobs. She tells the men sheas very sorry for crying like that but it was only a few months ago and sheas not over it yet, not even knowing where her baby was buried if she was buried at all, not knowing even if she was baptized itself 65.because she was so weak from having the four boys she didnat have the energy to be going to the church for the baptism and itas a heart scald to think Margaret might be in Limbo forever with no hope of her ever seeing the rest of us whether weare in heaven, h.e.l.l, or Purgatory itself.

Mr. Quinlivan brings her his chair. Ah, now, missus. Ah, now. Sit down, will you. Ah, now.

The other men look at the table, the ceiling.The man in the middle says heas giving Mam a docket to get a weekas groceries at McGrathas shop on Parnell Street.There will be tea, sugar, flour, milk, b.u.t.ter and a separate docket for a bag of coal from Suttonas coal yard on the Dock Road.

The third man says,Of course you wonat be getting this every week, missus.We will be visiting your house to see if thereas a real need.We have to do that, missus, so we can review your claim.

Mam wipes her face on the back of her sleeve and takes the docket.

She tells the men, G.o.d bless you for your kindness.They nod and look at the table, the ceiling, the walls and tell her send in the next woman.

The women outside tell Mam,When you go to McGrathas, keep an eye on the oula b.i.t.c.h for sheall cheat you on the weight. Sheall put stuff on a paper on the scale with the paper hanging down on her side behind the counter where she thinks you canat see it. Sheall pull on that paper so that youare lucky if you get half of what youare supposed to get.

And she has pictures of the Virgin Mary and the Sacred Heart of Jesus all over the shop, and sheas forever on her knees abroad in St. Josephas chapel clackina her rosary beads ana breathing like a virgin martyr, the oula b.i.t.c.h.

Nora says, Iall go with you, missus. Iam on to the same Mrs.

McGrath and Iall know if sheas cheating you.

She leads the way to the shop in Parnell Street.The woman behind the counter is pleasant to Mam in her American coat till Mam shows the St.Vincent de Paul docket. The woman says, I donat know what youare doing here at this hour of the day. I never serve the charity cases before six in the evening. But this is your first time and Iall make an exception.

She says to Nora, Do you have a docket, too?

No. Iam a friend helping this poor family with their first docket from the St.Vincent de Paul.

The woman lays a sheet of newspaper on the scale and pours on 66.flour from a large bag. When she finishes pouring, she says, Thereas a pound of flour.

I donat think so, says Nora.Thatas a very small pound of flour.

The woman flushes and glares,Are you accusina me?

Ah, no, Mrs. McGrath, says Nora. I think there was a little accident there the way your hip was pressed against that paper and you didnat even know the paper was pulled down a bit. Oh, G.o.d, no. A woman like you thatas forever on her knees before the Virgin Mary is an inspiration to us all and is that your money I see on the floor there?

Mrs. McGrath steps back quickly and the needle on the scale jumps and quivers.What money? she says, till she looks at Nora, and knows.

Nora smiles. Must be a trick of the shadows, she says, and smiles at the scale. There was a mistake right enough for that shows barely half a pound of flour.

That scale gives me more trouble, says Mrs. McGrath.

Iam sure it does, says Nora.

But my conscience is clear before G.o.d, says Mrs. McGrath.

Iam sure it is, says Nora, and youare admired by one and all at the St.

Vincent de Paul Society and the Legion of Mary.

I try to be a good Catholic.

Try? G.o.d knows atis little trying youad have for youare well known for having a kind heart and I was wondering if you could spare a couple of sweets for the little boys here.

Well, now, Iam not a millionaire, but here . . .

G.o.d bless you,Mrs. McGrath, and I know itas asking a lot but could you possibly lend me a couple of cigarettes?

Well, now, theyare not on the docket. Iam not here to supply luxuries.

If you could see your way, missus, Iad be sure to mention your kindness to the St.Vincent de Paul.

All right, all right, says Mrs. McGrath. Here. One time for the cigarettes and one time only.

G.o.d bless you, says Nora, and Iam sorry you had so much trouble with that scale.

On the way home we stopped in the Peopleas Park and sat on a bench while Malachy and I sucked on our sweets and Mam and Nora smoked 67.their cigarettes. The smoking brought on Noraas cough and she told Mam the f.a.gs would kill her in the end, that there was a touch of consumption in her family and no one lived to a ripe old age, though who would want to in Limerick, a place where you could look around and the first thing you noticed was a scarcity of gray hairs, all the gray hairs either in the graveyard or across the Atlantic working on railroads or sauntering around in police uniforms.

Youare lucky, missus, that you saw a bit of the world. Oh, G.o.d, Iad give anything to see New York, people dancing up and down Broadway without a care. No, I had to go and fall for a boozer with the charm, Peter Molloy, a champion pint drinker that had me up the pole and up the aisle when I was barely seventeen. I was ignorant, missus.We grew up ignorant in Limerick, so we did, knowing f.e.c.k all about anything and signs on, weare mothers before weare women. And thereas nothing here but rain and oula biddies saying the rosary. Iad give me teeth to get out, go to America or even England itself.The champion pint drinker is always on the dole and sometimes he even drinks that and drives me so demented I wind up in the lunatic asylum.

She drew on her cigarette and gagged, coughing till her body rocked back and forth, and in between the coughs she whimpered, Jesus, Jesus.When the cough died away she said she had to go home and take her medicine. She said, Iall see you next week, missus, at the St.Vincent de Paul. If youare stuck for anything send a message to me at Vizeas Field.Ask anyone for the wife of Peter Molloy, champion pint drinker.

Eugene is sleeping under a coat on the bed. Dad sits by the fireplace with Oliver on his lap. I wonder why Dad is telling Oliver a Cuchulain story. He knows the Cuchulain stories are mine, but when I look at Oliver I donat mind. His cheeks are bright red, heas staring into the dead fire, and you can see he has no interest in Cuchulain. Mam puts her hand on his forehead. I think he has a fever, she says. I wish I had an onion and Iad boil it in milk and pepper. Thatas good for the fever.

But even if I had what would I boil the milk on? We need coal for that fire.

She gives Dad the docket for the coal down the Dock Road. He takes me with him but itas dark and all the coal yards are closed.

What are we going to do now, Dad?

68.I donat know, son.

Ahead of us women in shawls and small children are picking up coal along the road.

There, Dad, thereas coal.

Och, no, son.We wonat pick coal off the road.Weare not beggars.

He tells Mam the coal yards are closed and weall have to drink milk and eat bread tonight, but when I tell her about the women on the road she pa.s.ses Eugene to him.

If youare too grand to pick coal off the road Iall put on my coat and go down the Dock Road.

She gets a bag and takes Malachy and me with her. Beyond the Dock Road there is something wide and dark with lights glinting in it.

Mam says thatas the River Shannon. She says thatas what she missed most of all in America, the River Shannon.The Hudson was lovely but the Shannon sings. I canat hear the song but my mother does and that makes her happy. The other women are gone from the Dock Road and we search for the bits of coal that drop from lorries. Mam tells us gather anything that burns, coal, wood, cardboard, paper. She says, There are them that burn the horse droppings but weare not gone that low yet.

When her bag is nearly full she says,Now we have to find an onion for Oliver.Malachy says heall find one but she tells him,No, you donat find onions on the road, you get them in shops.

The minute he sees a shop he cries out,Thereas a shop, and runs in.

Oonyen, he says. Oonyen for Oliver.

Mam runs into the shop and tells the women behind the counter, Iam sorry.The woman says, Lord, heas a dote. Is he an American or what?

Mam says he is.The woman smiles and shows two teeth, one on each side of her upper gum.A dote, she says, and look at them gorgeous goldy curls.And what is it he wants now? A sweet?

Ah, no, says Mam.An onion.

The woman laughs, An onion? I never heard a child wanting an onion before. Is that what they like in America?

Mam says, I just mentioned I wanted to get an onion for my other child thatas sick. Boil the onion in milk, you know.

True for you, missus.You canat beat the onion boiled in milk.And look, little boy, hereas a sweet for yourself and one for the other little boy, the brother, I suppose.

Mam says,Ah, sure, you shouldnat. Say thank you, boys.

69.The woman says,Hereas a nice onion for the sick child, missus.

Mam says, Oh, I canat buy the onion now, missus. I donat have a penny on me.

Iam giving you the onion, missus. Let it never be said a child went sick in Limerick for want of an onion.And donat forget to sprinkle in a little pepper. Do you have pepper, missus?

Ah, no, I donat but I should be getting it any day now.

Well, here, missus. Pepper and a little salt. Do the child all the good in the world.

Mam says,G.o.d bless you, maaam, and her eyes are watery.

Dad is walking back and forth with Oliver in his arms and Eugene is playing on the floor with a pot and a spoon. Dad says, Did you get the onion?

I did, says Mam, and more. I got coal and the way of lighting it.

I knew you would. I said a prayer to St. Jude. Heas my favorite saint, patron of desperate cases.

I got the coal. I got the onion, no help from St. Jude.

Dad says,You shouldnat be picking up coal off the road like a common beggar. It isnat right. Bad example for the boys.

Then you should have sent St. Jude down the Dock Road.

Malachy says, Iam hungry, and Iam hungry, too, but Mam says,Yeall wait till Oliver has his onion boiled in milk.

She gets the fire going, cuts the onion in half, drops it in the boiling milk with a little b.u.t.ter and sprinkles the milk with pepper. She takes Oliver on her lap and tries to feed him but he turns away and looks into the fire.

Ah,come on, love, she says.Good for you.Make you big and strong.

He tightens his mouth against the spoon. She puts the pot down, rocks him till heas asleep, lays him on the bed and tells the rest of us be quiet or sheall demolish us. She slices the other half of the onion and fries it in b.u.t.ter with slices of bread. She lets us sit on the floor around the fire where we eat the fried bread and sip at the scalding sweet tea in jam jars. She says,That fire is good and bright so we can turn off that gaslight till we get money for the meter.

The fire makes the room warm and with the flames dancing in the coal you can see faces and mountains and valleys and animals leaping.

Eugene falls asleep on the floor and Dad lifts him to the bed beside Oliver.Mam puts the boiled onion pot up on the mantelpiece for fear a mouse or rat might be at it. She says sheas tired out from the day, the 70.Vincent de Paul Society,Mrs. McGrathas shop, the search for coal down the Dock Road, the worry over Oliver not wanting the boiled onion, and if heas like this tomorrow sheas taking him to the doctor, and now sheas going to bed.

Soon weare all in bed and if thereas the odd flea I donat mind because itas warm in the bed with the six of us and I love the glow of the fire the way it dances on the walls and ceiling and makes the room go red and black, red and black, till it dims to white and black and all you can hear is a little cry from Oliver turning in my motheras arms.

In the morning Dad is lighting the fire, making tea, cutting the bread.

Heas already dressed and heas telling Mam hurry up and get dressed. He says to me, Francis, your little brother Oliver is sick and weare taking him to the hospital.You are to be a good boy and take care of your two brothers.Weall be back soon.

Mam says,When weare out go easy with that sugar.Weare not millionaires.

When Mam picks up Oliver and wraps him in a coat Eugene stands on the bed. I want Ollie, he says.Ollie play.

Ollie will be back soon, she says, and you can play with him. Now you can play with Malachy and Frank.

Ollie,Ollie, I want Ollie.

He follows Oliver with his eyes and when theyare gone he sits on the bed looking out the window. Malachy says, Genie, Genie, we have bread, we have tea. Sugar on your bread, Genie. He shakes his head and pushes away the bread Malachy is offering. He crawls to the place where Oliver slept with Mam, puts his head down and stares out the window.

Grandma is at the door. I heard your father and mother were running down Henry Street with the child in their arms.Now where are they gone to?

Oliver is sick, I said. He wouldnat eat the boiled onion in milk.