The Mammy
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 - 29 MARCH 1967 - DUBLIN
Praise for Brendan O‘Carroll and his bestselling novel The Mammy
“Irreverently comical ... Reads like Frank McCourt’s
Angela’s
Ashes on Prozac ... Jaunty, charming ...
It’s refreshing to enter O‘Carroll’s fun-loving
working-class Dublin world.”
—
Entertainment Weekly
“Hilarious and irreverent. A must-read.”
— Gabriel Byrne
“An almost surefire winner ... one of those books
that demand to be read in one sitting.”
—
The Irish Voice
The youngest of eleven children, BRENDAN O‘CARROLL was born in North Dublin in 1955. An acclaimed playright and stand-up comedian, he is the creator of the popular Irish radio show,
Mrs Browne’s Boys. The Mammy,
the first novel in his bestselling Mrs. Browne trilogy, was the basis for the feature film
Agnes Browne,
directed by and starring Anjelica Huston.
The Chisellers
and
The Granny
are the second and final books in the trilogy. All three novels are available in Plume editions.
PLUME
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, NewYork, New York 10014, U.SA
Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane, London W8 5TZ, England
Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood, Victoria, Australia
Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario,
Canada M4V 3B2
Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10,
New Zealand
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England
Published by Plume, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Originally published in Ireland by The O‘Brien Press.
First American Printing, May
Copyright © Brendan O‘Carroll, 1994
All rights reserved
REGLSTERED TRADEMARK — MAMA REGISTRADA
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBUCATION DATA
O‘Carroll, Brendan.
The mammy / Brendan O’Carroll.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-15338-3
I. Title.
PR6065.C36M36 1999
823’.914 — dc21 98-50381
CIP
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permis sion of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales. is entirely
coincidental.
BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT QUANTITY DISCOUNTS WHEN USED TO PROMOTE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES. FOR INFORMATION PLEASE WRITE TO PREMIUM MARKETING DIVISION, PENGUIN PUTNAM INC., 375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YOM NEW YORK 10014.
Introduction
The biggest influences on my life have been female. It just happened that way.
My mother Maureen retired from politics when I was just five years old She was a socialist - the only TD at that time, to my knowledge, living in a Corporation house. From her retirement onwards, I had the undivided attention and love of a genius. She told me I could be anything I wanted to be, and I believed her and grew up with an unshattering confidence in myself. My father died when I was nine. She filled the gap admirably.
I have five sisters, Maureen, Pat, Martha, Fiona and Eilis. None of these went to school beyond fourteen years of age. Today, all of them are successful, and my pride in them is infinite, for they did this against the odds.
I was lucky to have been born in Finglas, Dublin, a place where strong women are in abundance.. What I learned from neighbours and friends has taught me well what my mother meant when she said: The worth of a person is more important than what a person is worth.‘
In 1977 I took one of these strong Finglas women for my wife - Doreen Dowdall became Doreen O‘Carroll. To this day I am inspired by her strength of will, humbled by her kindness and often over-awed by her love for me and our three children. My partner and friend Gerry Browne also has a Finglas woman, Colette, as his wife. We never forget how lucky we are.
In the pages of this book, my first offering, is the tale of such a woman, Agnes Browne. I hope the reading of it gives you as much pleasure as the writing of it gave me.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank the following for their help, not just with this book but with my career in general: Geny Browne, my partner in crime and passion; Pat Egan, a grumpy but lovable fucker, and a true friend; John McColgan, who only knows genius; Gay Byrne, for the leg-up and the push start!; Geny Simpson, for getting on with it, and for the encouragement; Mary Cullen, for the proof-reading and the clobber; Tommy “Eurovision’ Swar brigg, a real star; Buggsy O‘Neill, there, even when there was nothing; Shay Fitzsimons; who’s not happy until it’s absolutely right; Gareth O’Callaghan, for taking the chance; John Sweeney, who gave me the first gig; Eamonn Gregg, a great footballer, and a great guy; Michael O‘Carroll, my brother, for belief on top of belief - I love you; Tim O’Connor, a friend I never knew I had; John Courtney, a friend I always knew I had; Gabriel Byme, who can encourage with a smile; Michael O‘Brien who gave me a contract and an advance before he even knew if I owned a biro - your belief in me was inspiring, I hope I have come some way toward justifying it! My thanks to Ide, my editor (a tough job), and all in The O’Brien Press for your hard work. Well done! And to Evelyn Conway, my long-suffering secretary - thanks!
Finally, my thanks to Maureen O‘Carroll, BA and ID, 1913 -1984. She was me Mammy.
Brendan o‘Carroll
Dublin 1994
‘Brendan, just be yourself and the rest will come’
Doreen O’Carroll
This book is dedicated to
Gerry Browne
a man I care about, and one who cares about me
Chapter 1
29 MARCH 1967 - DUBLIN
LIKE ALL GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS, the interior of the public waiting room in the Department of Social Welfare was drab and uninviting. The walls were painted in three colours: ‘Government green,’ as it was known to all in Dublin, on the bottom half, and either cream or very old white on the top half, with a one-inch strip of red dividing the two. The only seating consisted of two pew-like wooden benches - these were covered in gouged-out initials and dates. Lighting was provided by one large opaque bowl-like fixture hanging from a six-foot cable in the centre of the high ceiling. The outside of the bowl was dusty, the inside yellowed and speckled with fly shit. In the bottom of the bowl lay a collection of dead flies.
‘Serves them right,’ said the woman staring at the globe.
‘What? Serves who right, Agnes?’ her companion asked tenderly.
‘Them, Marion.’ She pointed to the globe. ‘Them flies ... serves them right.’
Marion looked up at the globe. For a couple of minutes they both stared at the light.
‘Jaysus, Agnes, I’m not with yeh ... serves them right for what?’ Marion was puzzled and not a little concerned about Agnes’s state of mind. Grief is a peculiar thing. Agnes pointed at the globe again.
‘They flew into that bowl, right? Then they couldn’t get out, so they shit themselves and died. Serves them right, doesn’t it?’
Marion stared at the globe again, her mouth slightly open, her mind trying to work out what Agnes was on about. Agnes was now back scanning her surroundings; the wall-clock tick-tocked. Again, she looked at the only other person in the room. He was a one-legged man, half-standing, half-propped up at the hatch. She heard him making his claim for unemployment benefit. He was a ‘gotchee’, a night watchman on a building site. He had just been sacked because some kids had got on to the site and broken the windows. The girl was ‘phoning his former employer to ensure he had been sacked and had not left of his own accord. Agnes was trying to imagine what it must be like to be sacked. Being self-employed, she had never been sacked.