The Chisellers by Brendan O'Carroll Read Free Book Online

tea. Agnes looked him straight in the face. Mark turned his head away and looked at his mug of tea.
    ‘What’s up?’ Frankie asked. There was a touch of a slur in his words.
    Agnes seized the opportunity. ‘I’ll tell you what’s up, son! The game is up - for you!’
    ‘What d’yeh mean?‘
    ‘You’ve been expelled from school.’
    ‘Big deal - so what?’
    Mark’s head snapped up from his tea. ‘Don’t speak to Mammy like that!’ His voice was even but firm.
    Frankie held his gaze for a few moments, then backed down. Skinhead or not, Frankie had no intention of mixing it with the biggest seventeen-year-old in The Jarro. He began to shift from leg to leg uneasily.
    ‘I hated that school anyway. The teachers picked on me every chance they got.’
    ‘Well, from the amount of times you’ve been in school they’ve had precious little chance,’ said Agnes.
    Mark went back to staring at his tea. He had often seen Agnes give Frankie a dressing-down before. Sometimes he felt they were just for his benefit, a kind of mock telling-off. Frankie would apologise and tomorrow it would all be forgotten. Frankie would then return to doing his own thing in his own way until the next dressing-down.
    Agnes lit a cigarette. As she blew out the match and placed it in the ashtray, Frankie went to walk past the kitchen table to the bedroom.
    ‘Where are yeh goin’?‘ Agnes asked him.
    He stopped and half-turned. ‘To bed,’ he replied in a tone that suggested she shouldn’t be asking him such stupid questions.
    ‘I’m not finished yet.’ She took a sip of tea.
    Frankie turned back to face his mother. ‘Go on, then,’ he said, ready now to endure the rest of the routine.
    ‘Here’s the deal, Francis.’ Now she looked him straight in the eye. ‘Now that you’re outa school you have two weeks to get yourself a job and start bringin’ in some money to this house.’
    ‘Or else?’ Frankie asked, tryin’ to hurry things up.
    ‘I’ll tell yeh or else, Mister! Or else yeh find yourself somewhere else to live!’
    Slowly Mark raised his head from his mug of tea to look at his mother. He couldn’t believe his ears, but he knew from the look on her face that she was deadly serious.
    Agnes went on. ‘The only people in this house who don’t pay their way are those who are bein’ educated. Now, if you don’t want to be educated that’s fine, get a job and pay your way, or else — out.’ She jerked her thumb in the direction of the door.
    Frankie stared at her speechless, then made to reply, but before he could Agnes simply said, ‘Good night, Francis,’ and took another drag of her cigarette.
    Frankie stumbled into the bedroom, reeling from the shock of Agnes’s pronouncement.
    Mark stared at his mother. She was shaking and her eyes were filling up. She caught Mark’s look and as if by way of explanation she said, ‘If it was just me I wouldn’t mind, Mark. But I’m not havin’ the entire household upset by one bastard. It took me fourteen years to get rid of the last one!’ She stubbed out her cigarette.
    Mark still stared at her. ‘You wouldn’t,‘ he simply said.
    Agnes stood up and said very firmly, ‘You bloody watch me!’

Chapter 4
     
    THE NEXT DAY, SATURDAY, AS PROMISED, Agnes took Mark down to Clery’s. Having never bought a suit for himself before, Mark of course didn’t know which way to look or what to try. Agnes herself couldn’t be described as a slave to fashion, but from her dates with Pierre she had picked up enough from looking at how he dressed to know what looks good on a man. She chose a white cotton tailor-fit shirt, a pair of beige cavalry twill trousers, a grey and wine striped tie and what can only be described as a double-breasted blazer, in the style of the Beatles, with its high, up-turned wing-style collar. It was wine with gold buttons. Agnes insisted on paying for the ensemble, and the lot cost her just over £35. Mark argued with her, insisting that he pay the