Amongst Women by John McGahern Read Free Book Online Page A

place and Moran’s house were almost interwoven. Half-jokingly, but with a certain edge, Moran said that Great Meadow was so deserted that he himself might have to remove himself before long to her house. No one was ever able to see quite how it had all been managed. Rose’s tact was so masterful that she resembled certain people who are so deeply read that they can play with all ideas without ever listing books.
    ‘What do you think of Rose marrying your father?’ the old woman grew confident enough one day to ask Maggie in her good-humoured, forceful way.
    ‘We’re glad.’
    ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
    ‘No, we’re glad.’
    ‘People say he used beat ye.’
    ‘People said that because Daddy never let us mix with them.’
    ‘Did he not beat ye?’
    ‘No … now and again when we were bold, but like any house.’ Shame as much as love prompted the denial.
    ‘How is it that your brother left and never came home?’
    ‘Daddy and Luke could never get on. They were too alike,’ and when Maggie began to cry Rose’s mother saw that she had pressed too hard.
    ‘She’d have been better with someone nearer her own age,’ the old woman murmured to herself. ‘She had many admirers. Many admirers. Many admirers. I don’t understand it at all.’
    Maggie brushed away her tears as she listened. She thought the mutterings were comical. To her both Rose and Moran looked equally old. Rose’s mother was not reassured by Maggie’s answers but she liked her and didn’t want to endanger their young presences about the house.
    Michael had become her favourite. He was the least inhibited. He would chatter away egotistically to her for hours. Sometimes she would give him money on the sly and he would help her with chores. Often they would quarrel and he would stay away from the house for a while; but he was never able to stay away for long. When he would return, the two would feel even closer than before the quarrel and they would soon be moving about the yard together, chatting away.
    For all her encouragement to them to come at any time to her house, Rose herself was wary of calling at Great Meadow. Whenever she did she never stayed for long. When Moran pressed her to come for the Christmas dinner, she refused. ‘It wouldn’t look right to be out of my own house on Christmas Day,’ she answered; that they were not yet married was left unsaid. ‘I’ll come some time early on St Stephen’s Day,’ she said instead.
    The girls wished that Rose could be with them on Christmas Day. As always, it was a very long day to get through. Moran ate alone in front of the big sideboard mirror, waited on apprehensively by the girls. After he had eaten, they had their own dinner at the side table. It was the first Christmas anybody had even been absent and Moran seemed to be painfully aware of Luke’s absence.
    ‘You’d think he’d come for the Christmas or even write but never a word, no thought for anybody except himself,’ and it cast a deep shadow when they tried to imagine what kind of space enclosed Luke in England during the same hour, but they weren’t able to imagine it. It was too much like facing darkness. Afterwards the radio was played. The Rosary was said. The pack of cards was taken out. Everybody made for their beds early. It was a gladness to slip down into the sheets knowing the day had ended.
    The next morning Rose came in with presents. She had bought a silk tie for Moran, blouses and deep plum-coloured sweaters for the girls, a pair of white football boots for Michael. Because of his dislike of gifts, the girls watched carefully how Moran would receive the silk tie.
    ‘Thanks, Rose,’ he said and placed it on top of the radio.
    ‘Don’t you like it?’ She smiled a little, taken aback by the spareness of the response.
    ‘It cost far too much and is far too grand for an old fellow like me.’ The response was positively exuberant.
    Just as Rose was preparing to leave, the wren-boys arrived on