The Gamal (8 page)

See Sinéad didn’t start school in Ballyronan. She started in another school three miles away and only moved to Ballyronan school when they got the council house in the village. She didn’t get invited to birthday parties or anything a lot of the time. Jane did invite her. Jane was nice to her. Anyhow I was up on the tree thinking all this and next thing I hear her. Thought I was only imagining hearing her cos that used to happen the whole time. But no I was hearing her proper. She was singing her favourite song. She was at the back corner of the school where the big old smelly oil tank was where no one could hear her sing. I closed my eyes so I could concentrate on trying to hear her instead of the fucking lads shouting for the ball. It was the frog song from the telly she was singing. Paul McCartney wrote it. I know that now. I didn’t know it then. You can write out the words of it here but you’ll never hear Sinéad’s young voice singing it in the far off the way I did.

‘We All Stand Together’

So I was listening away anyhow. And next thing I hear a toad. I looked over and around the corner of the school from Sinéad I seen this new boy and he leaning on the windowsill singing the harmony part. The toad’s part and he putting on a big deep voice.

Bong bong bong

Bong bong bong

Bong bong bong bong bong

Bong bong bong

Bong bong bong

Bong bong bong bong bong

If Paul McCartney charges me for that bit he’s only a cunt. Bong is only one word and it’s not even a word really. Anyhow Sinéad kept on singing her bit and started to walk towards the voice she was singing with. The new boy walked towards the voice he was singing with too. Their duet made a triangle with the corner of the school. The triangle got smaller with each step they took. They were just finished and then they met face to face at the corner. The boy said something. Probably hello. Sinéad said something back. Probably hi. They smiled at each other. I could see the smiles.

—James. James.

It was Master Coughlan roaring from the middle of the field.

—Are you playing or not?

—I don’t know the rules sir.

—Get over here.

James looked back and gave a small smile and said something to her with the look in his eyes. He walked back on to the field of play. Sinéad just stood there looking at him. James kept looking back at her too. Sinéad came over to me then and it was never the same again. She was happier. Million times happier isn’t it? That’s the truth and I said I’d tell the truth always.

I Seen Sinéad Cry

I seen Sinéad cry times. Mostly in her life she looked happy. This was a time she cried though. Herself and James were always in the same room in primary school. Our class was small. Seventeen students. Most classes were nearly thirty. I think our little class were all conceived the year Dallas was on the telly. The whole parish was too busy watching it. And wondering who shot JR. Instead of making babies. Anyhow that meant that our class was sometimes split up into two different rooms cos the school didn’t have enough teachers to be devoting one whole teacher to seventeen kids. In fifth class for example the clever ones were put up with sixth class and the rest were put in with fourth class. This was the year they separated Sinéad and James. And it wasn’t cos one of them was thick and one of them was clever. It was cos they thought it was unhealthy for them to be so attached to each other. So that’s what they done. James was in with Master Coughlan. I was in there too cos Master Coughlan wanted to keep an eye on me. Sinéad was in with Ms O’Connell.

—James what did you get for number six? . . . Don’t have the day long James. Number six, what answer did you get? If I’ve to come down to you now there’ll be trouble . . . Number six, what answer did you get? . . . Right!

Master Coughlan with a big red head up on him stormed down to where James was sitting.

—Your copy book isn’t even open. Or your book.

He picked up his copy book.

—You’ve no work done. What’s the meaning of this? On strike are we? Right.

He picked up James hard by the arm and marched him out of the room.

—You’ll stand there now boyeen until you get a bit of sense. Understand?

No answer. Master Coughlan came in and started back to the lessons all smug. About half an hour later we were doing History. Someone was trying to read our history text-book.

—In. The. After. In the after. Mass.

—Math. In the aftermath.

—In the aftermath. Of. The. Kive. Kiv.

—Civil.

—Civil. War. Indie. Indie. Indipat . . . I’m stumped sir.

—Sorry. Independence. In the aftermath of the Civil War Independence seemed less a priority to Jesus Sweet Suffering Christ.

Master Coughlan was after getting stumped himself. He was looking out the window. Out at the tarmac yard which amounted to one basketball court. He was looking out at the very middle of the basketball court. The centre circle. Where James and Sinéad sat facing each other. Master Coughlan marched out. Dinky hushed up the room so we could hear what he was saying to them through the open windows.

—What in God’s name is the meaning of this? What are you doing out of class Sinéad?

—Ms O’Connell sent me out to the corridor for not doing my lessons sir.

—And what has you out here in the yard?

—I wanted to be with James.

—And how did you know James was out here? . . . Well?

—I dunno. I just thought he might be out there if I went out.

—Jesus tonight, never in my life. Sure that doesn’t make any sense. Are ye on strike or what?

James spoke then.

—We just want to be in the same room sir. We don’t mean any harm. We just need to be together.

—My dear boy you’ve a bit of growing up to do yet before you’ll be needing the company of any girl.

—I don’t need any girl. Just Sinéad.

—Get on your feet now, both of you.

They got up. He grabbed James by the arm and led him away, telling Sinéad to go back to the corridor outside her classroom. She did.

Master Coughlan dug his heels in. Their parents were called in. Neither James’ or Sinéad’s parents were too bothered about their close friendship. They’d gotten used to it. It was a normal part of life. James’ parents liked Sinéad and Sinéad’s parents never knew much about where she’d be or who she’d be with anyhow. But Master Coughlan was adamant. The school could never yield to a demand like this. The school’s authority must be upheld. It was decided that they wouldn’t be allowed to hang around together after school or at the weekends. James’ parents didn’t have the will to enforce this on either of them. Fact is they’d grown to love Sinéad like a daughter. Sinéad’s parents didn’t really care. That time the Kents was like a free babysitter for them.

So now Sinéad and James were mute as myself in school. Things came to a head then when Father Scully came on one of his monthly visits to hear the choir practise with no Sinéad and watch the boys practise football at lunchtime with no James. Could see Master Coughlan and Father Scully having it out over on the sideline out of earshot of the kids.

In Ireland the parish priest is in charge of the primary schools in his parish. They’re in charge of hiring teachers as well. He was related in some way or other to Master Coughlan so he got him the job in the school. But there was no way he was going to go to the Ecumenical Choir Celebration in Cork with a shit choir like they had without Sinéad, let alone watch his school get hammered in the football school blitz without James at midfield. Next morning Sinéad and James were both in Master Coughlan’s class along with myself. They had to write out a hundred lines. Easiest lines that were ever wrote by school children.

The colour was back in their faces, Sinéad’s and James’. The colour was gone from Master Coughlan’s but he wasn’t long getting fairly fond of the idea of having Sinéad in the class anyhow. Joy as she was to teach and listen to and watch her body and mind grow before your eyes. We were all a big happy family then with Master Coughlan.

Earache

Jesus I think I’m getting an earache. I’ve the sheet from my bed wrapped around my neck now and it feels better. Less drafty. It’s half four in the morning.

Headaches

I gets savage headaches. Pounding at my brain coming and going like a siren. And I used to get pains in my stomach. That was gastritis. I used to cough blood sometimes. Black stuff. Never thought it was blood until I brought a cup-full into the doctor after she told me to. She stuck a bit of paper in it and told me it was blood. I got tablets that took the pain away. There’s tigers in a zoo too have gastritis so bad they’re dying of it and it’s only the ones in the zoos ever get it. I watch stuff about animals and humans on the telly now sometimes. There was two small kids living in a tribe in some jungle. A girl and a boy and they were feeding their grandparents. Their grandparents were two crows now. The boy said the big one is granddad. They flew off then and the girl and the boy called after them,

—Bye grandma.

—Bye granddad.

Dr Quinn asked me did I have pains in my head or my tummy before the things that happened. I said no and he just stayed looking at me saying nothing. I think he might have fallen asleep for a few seconds with his eyes open.

Dinky and Teesh

Dinky and Teesh are central to my story but I don’t want to talk about them two pricks now.

Religion

At twelve o’clock the Angelus bell would ring out from the church across the road and with the will of Christ we’d drop our pens and put away our sums or Irish books or English readers or whatever horrible shit we’d be at and stand and say the Angelus. Everyone got a turn to lead the prayer.

—The angel of the Lord declared unto Mary.

—And she conceived of the Holy Spirit.

Then we’d sit down and have a doss talking about how to be good for half an hour until lunchtime. I asked Master Coughlan once in religion class if maybe the Protestants could be right and we could be wrong. He said no.

Protestants

So Ballyronan was bigger than Newport or Mullinahone. Once upon a time. That’s why the Protestants came here the time of the Plantations. There was a ford at the river. This was a shallow place where people could cross the river before bridges were invented. People came from far and wide to do business at Ballyronan. Goods of all kinds crossed the river at Ballyronan. And there was this small island in the middle of the river at the ford. The island belonged to Ronan because the townland near the ford is called Innishronan. The Irish for it is Inis Rónáin, Ronan’s Island. The Irish for Ballyronan is Baile Rónáin and that means Ronan’s place. When the English came they changed the names. This small island can be seen to this day and when the tide is low it is a favourite spot for the fishermen. And then there’s Dunronan Castle. Old Master Higgins taught us the poem.

Where the Bannow swiftly flowing meets the Crandon’s rapid tide,

The waters, ere they mingle, wash the Castle’s rugged side,

Whose ivied walls and ruined tower still beautiful and grand,

Sad remnants of the greatness of our once proud native land.

That’s only one verse. There was millions. Old Master Higgins told us the story of the king. Or chief as the kings were known in Ireland. The Irish for chief is Taoiseach and that’s what we call the prime minister of Ireland nowadays. We like to hang on to things like that to remind us that we’re different to them English pricks across the water. Anyway he told us about this chief of Dunronan Castle who made this competition for the men. The prize was the princess’s hand in marriage. But the princess didn’t want a competition as she was already in love with a grand lad from the area. But the father insisted that the competition went ahead. And the competition was this. The first man to climb the castle with a rose and to give the rose to the princess at the top would be allowed to marry the princess. The fella she was in love with anyway was winning hands down and he was about to hand over the rose to his sweetheart at the very top only the dopey bollicks fell to his death. The princess was having none of that so over she went too down down down splat stone dead.

That Dunronan Castle story was the saddest bastard of a thing to happen in Ballyronan until my friends Sinéad and James came along. That Dunronan story is supposed to be true but my story about Sinéad and James is truer cos I was there and I seen it all happen in front of my own two eyes.

There was the posh school for Protestants and rich Catholics who wanted to be like them in Four Crosses, but his parents felt it would be nicer for him to know and make friends with the kids of Ballyronan, cos that’s where he lived. He didn’t have to say the Angelus at twelve o’clock. Or any of the other prayers at morning and afternoon but was part of the religion class all right cos that was only about Jesus and being good and the Protestants were all for Jesus and being good as well.