Everything in This Country Must (3 page)

Do you think the pieces are too thick? she said.

I wasn’t sure, so I said no, they were perfect.

She gave a small smile and some hair fell down her face and she tied it back behind her head. She stood with her hands on her hips.

Right so, she said.

We took the first piece to the rounding machine and Mammy spent a long time making sure that everything was adjusted right: the blades, the buttons, the oil. She looked at me across the machine for a long time and said, It’s our secret, right?

Aye.

You won’t tell your brothers neither?

No.

God help me, she said in a whisper.

Mammy turned the machine on. It clattered and she looked like she wanted to tell it to be quiet. The wood spun around and around and bits came flying off until it began to look like a pole. I started sweeping the floor. I put the bristles of the brush right down into the gaps of the floorboards just so I could get every little piece.

There was a great smell of timber in the air. Mammy switched off the machine and ran her fingers along the wood and then she turned to me.

Will you get the thingymajig ready there, love? she asked. She was pointing at the sanding machine. I ran across and got it. It wasn’t heavy.

Plug it in there, good lad, she said.

A little spark jumped out from the wall, blue like lightning.

*   *   *

WE MADE ONE GOOD POLE
but Mammy said it was too late, that we’d try again the next night. We reversed the tractor out and left it in the courtyard where it was before and then we put the lock on the door of the mill. Mammy took a rake to the snow on the ground to get rid of all the footprints and tire marks.

When we got back to the house I showed Mammy the secret to keeping quiet on the stairs, staying to the left-hand side, watching for the creak on the seventh step, then stepping real light on the eleventh and missing the fourteenth altogether.

Mammy washed her hands in the sink so Daddy wouldn’t smell the wood and then she went in to wake him up and turn him so he wouldn’t get sores on his body.

She does that six times a day. First she tucks her hands in under his legs and she props them up with a pillow. Then she puts her hand under his back and she rolls him over. The first few times she did it he used to moan but now he just grits his teeth and looks straight ahead at the wall. Once, when she was rolling him, my brothers and I saw his willy fall out from the gap in his pajamas. Paulie laughed first and then me and then Roger. Daddy looked at us and said, Get out boys. Mammy tucked his willy back in and pulled the drawstring tight.

*   *   *

THE DAY DADDY FELL
he went down between two sawhorses. My brothers and me were playing hide-and-go-seek in the courtyard. Roger found him and shouted to come quick to the mill and I ran as fast as I could. Daddy was there with his eyes wide open. He had a piece of sandpaper in his hands and his hair was covered in dust. He was trying to move but he couldn’t.

He was making chairs when it happened. Daddy made the most beautiful chairs in the whole of Britain. Any man or woman, said Mammy, would be proud to sit in one of his chairs. They were fit for the Royal Family and they were even fit for the Queen herself. He used to make cabinets too, and sometimes he even fired the little brass handles in the forge at the rear of the mill. They were mahogany cabinets, which was the most expensive wood and only made on special order from a man in Belfast. Every time he sold a cabinet Daddy would bring us to town for red lemonade and ice cream. Sometimes for fun he swayed in and out of the lines.

Daddy even made the seats in our church. He said everyone should do his bit for God. Our neighbour Mr. McCracken said the seats would put the Catholic church to shame, but Daddy said there was no shame in any church, cheap wood or good wood, everyone sat in the same direction.

Reverend Banks said in a sermon that they were great works of the Lord, and that day all the men slapped Daddy on the back and he walked out tall and proud.

He was so tall he could grab onto the rim of the door in the mill and pull himself up ten times. He worked there all day long, last star to first, and Mammy used to bring out sandwiches to him, sometimes in the evening a can of beer.

When he finished a chair Mammy always tested it out for him. Once in summer I saw her standing outside the mill on a wooden stool and she was reaching up in the air and laughing. Daddy was beside her, smiling. He used to smile a lot like that and his teeth were nice and white.

The doctor said it was a stroke and when Daddy tried to say things he couldn’t. For a long time his words were all jumbled like he had too many in his mouth. He sometimes stared at his hands like they belonged to someone else.

Mammy moved into my bedroom because Daddy couldn’t sleep right, and I moved in with my brothers.

The worst thing was that he wasn’t able to turn the pages of his Bible anymore, but Mammy had an idea. She took out her makeup bag and put hairpins on his favorite pages so they stuck out the top. Then Daddy was able to flip the hairpins using the back of his hand, and he was happy then even though it was hard for him to smile.

Daddy has a face that, if you don’t know it, you might think he’s angry when he smiles, but it’s like a special password, the way his mouth turns.

*   *   *

EACH NIGHT
it was like we were digging a secret tunnel. I never stayed up so late before. We cut the logs until they were thin, smoothed them out, and made little round rims at the top, so they looked like the front of our banisters. That was the hardest part. Then we used paintbrushes to put on the preservative and even some polish so the logs would be nice and fancy and dark brown.

We used up all the kerosene and we had to work fast just to keep our fingers warm. Mammy gave me a pair of gloves, Daddy’s old ones. They were yellow and I thought about the white gloves of the marching men. I could picture their nice gloves around the poles and the big shiny buttons they wear on their coats.

We made four poles the second night and seven the third. We got so fast that we made twelve on the fourth night. They kept getting better and better. The little round pieces at the top were perfect.

On the last night we finished the job early. We stacked the forty poles in the corner of the mill near the door. They were leaning together like a whole big forest all smoothed out.

Mammy ran her fingers over a couple of the poles and when she got a splinter in her hand she said, Oh, sugar.

She sanded the pole down again and then we walked back across the courtyard. She sucked the little bit of blood from her finger. It was late. There were millions of stars in the sky and the moon was smaller than before. All the snow had melted away and the ground was muddy now.

We kicked off our boots at the front door and in the kitchen we ate some bread and butter and apricot jam.

Mammy went to have a bath and I went to my room. My brothers were sleeping away. They were breathing at different paces and they were a bit like a caterpillar the way they moved. I thought about squashing them.

I didn’t sleep very well. I kept tossing and turning and then I had to help Roger back to sleep because he started crying. I went downstairs to get him some hot milk but there was none left in the silver canister. Mammy was sitting there with her head in her hands. She didn’t notice me until I dropped the lid of the canister and it made a big clang. She took me over to her and gave me a big kiss on the head, which made me feel silly.

I went back upstairs and missed all the creaky points.

Roger cried when he heard there was no milk but at last he went to sleep and they all started breathing again in their caterpillar way.

I pulled up the covers and made a tunnel underneath. I was thinking of what it would be like to go there just once, to see the men in bowler hats carrying the poles along the street. Lots of people cheering and blowing on whistles and drums playing. Ice-cream vans giving out free choc ices. All the crowd would stand up on the tips of their toes and say My oh my, look at that, aren’t they wonderful poles, aren’t they lovely?

*   *   *

WHEN I WOKE UP
it was still dark like it always is in winter. The wind was blowing hard.

Mammy was on the landing already dressed.

We went into Daddy’s room and closed the door behind us. He had the Bible open on his chest. The hairpins were sticking out. She brushed his teeth and got him to spit into the pan and then she told him I was mad keen on shaving him in the morning, was that all right?

Daddy said that would be all right as long as I didn’t hack his face to pieces. He was just about able to get his words out proper.

I said, Great.

I ran downstairs and heated some water in the kitchen and then I got the white basin that was made from old china. His blade and the soap were under the sink. The towels and washcloth were already folded on the table.

I took a quick look out the window and Mammy had the poles stacked up in the center of the courtyard. She was looking down the laneway and waiting for the van to come and pick them up.

I balanced the blade across the bowl and carried the things out of the kitchen. I didn’t care about the stairs anymore. I even pressed heavier so he would know I was coming. He was already waiting for me. He smelled a bit like he needed a bath. I flipped on the radio by the bed and turned it up a bit just like Mammy told me to. The news was on, there was something about queues in the petrol stations.

Daddy was propped up in the pillows and I put a towel behind his head and he gave that funny smile he has.

He said, Heated the water, did you?

I nodded and dipped a washcloth into the bowl and wet the side of his face. I was listening hard under the radio for the sound of the van coming along the laneway. There was nothing but the wind blowing outside. When his face was wet I put the soap in a lather and tried to smooth it out on his face and my fingers were a little shaky.

The radio had gone from news to ads.

I got the soap on his face and took the blade—Daddy calls it a straight blade—and started like Mammy does, at the bottom of his neck where he has all these tiny little bumps. He closed his eyes like always. The blade went slow. I didn’t want to cut him, but he told me to go faster, not to worry, it was a better shave if you went quicker.

You’ll do it one day soon yourself, son, he said.

I heard my brothers getting up in the room. They were shouting and laughing and hitting each other with pillows.

Daddy moved a little and some soap got on his pillow. I wiped it off, then went up along the side of his cheek to his sideburns. His eyes stayed closed. I went quickly over the left side of his face.

Good lad, he said.

I was praying the van would come soon. Music started on the radio and Daddy told me to turn it off, but I pretended I didn’t hear him and kept shaving away. The black and gray hairs made funny little patterns on the blade, along with the soap. I wiped it carefully on the end of the towel.

He said, Turn the radio off, son.

I said, Ah please, Daddy.

Are you listening to your father? he said. Turn that mess off right now.

I reached across and flipped the radio off. Just then I heard the van in the laneway and he heard it too. It turned in at the gate and made a squishy sound as it went through the puddles.

I could see by the way Daddy’s forehead creased that he was wondering. I told him it must be the postman coming early and I pretended to look out the window and I said, Aye it’s a red van, it must be the post. Really it was a blue van. I turned the radio on again so he wouldn’t hear any sounds or van doors or the poles being loaded or any other noise that might happen. But he told me straight to turn the radio off again, no ifs ands or buts.

I started shaving his chin and then I moved up to his mustache and thought I should have washed my hands better because maybe there was still the smell of wood and preservative on my fingers.

My hands got very trembly.

The blade touched against his top lip but it didn’t bring any blood. With his eyes closed, he looked like he was thinking about something very carefully.

They’re very early, he said.

Aye.

This is the earliest I ever heard them.

The doors of the van slammed with a loud bang and I coughed a loud cough. Daddy stirred his back against the pillows and said how it must be a package of some sort, but for the life of him he couldn’t imagine who would be sending a package.

I don’t know, Daddy, I said.

He asked me to help run his fingers over his face, so I lifted his hand up. We started first on the neck, then the cheeks, the sideburns, down to his chin, and then I helped him touch the little hollow between his chin and his mouth.

You missed a part, he said to me.

Will I shave it?

No, run downstairs, he said, see about that package.

I bolted down. Mammy was still in the courtyard when I got outside. She had tucked the money away in her apron. The van was gone. My brothers opened the window upstairs and they were roaring down, but I didn’t hear what they were saying.

Mammy, I said.

Aye?

He thinks there’s a package.

Mammy went across the yard, taking small steps through the puddles.

I looked at the oak trees behind the mill. They were going mad in the wind. The trunks were big and solid and fat, but the branches were slapping each other around like people.

HUNGER STRIKE

T
HE BOY WATCHED
from the headland above the town. He saw the old couple as they took the yellow kayak out from the house. They shunted it with difficulty to their shoulders and carried it toward the pier.

The old woman walked at the rear. The man was slightly bent, but he was still a good foot taller than she. She held the boat as high above her head as she could, but still it sloped down toward her. Their faces were lost beneath shadow as they shuffled down the tarmac road. Between them, resting on either shoulder, were the paddles. As they walked, the man and woman seemed like some strange and lovely insect. When they got to the edge of the pier they shucked the yellow kayak from their shoulders and busied themselves with getting it to water.