Walk the Blue Fields Read Online Free Page A

Miss Dunne.
    ‘You could drop your drawers, tell him which end of the parish you were reared in, and hope for the best,’ says Sinnott. ‘Sure he’s a Chink: ates dog and shites tay!’
    ‘Aisy!’ says Brennan with a frown. ‘There’s a man of the cloth here.’
    ‘Aye,’ says Sinnott with a grunt. ‘And we all know the white cloth is aisy stained.’
    The laughter tumbles quickly into a fragile silence. Breen coughs. The aunt straightens her knife and fork once more.
    ‘It’s much you’d know about stains,’ says Miss Dunne, ‘and you wud five sisters ironing every crease out of your pyjamas.’
    It’s a fair attempt at a rescue but Sinnott’s remark smoulders . The priest cuts into the lamb. Mike Brennan looks across the room where another man is making his way across the floor on crutches.
    ‘Speaking of bones,’ he says, ‘what happened to Donoghue?’
    ‘Got a kick of a heifer this morning,’ says Sinnott.
    ‘That’ll learn him to warm his hands. Was he wud the doctor?’
    ‘No. He wouldn’t go.’
    ‘You couldn’t get him to go,’ says Breen.
    ‘He must have had the sticks, so. Two things you should never keep in a house: crutches – and a pram.’
    ‘There’s the voice of experience!’ cries Miss Dunne.
    ‘Yez can laugh away but there was never a truer word. When Mary was in having the last, I took the pram up the yard and gave her the paraffin,’ says Brennan. ‘She ate me when she came home but wasn’t it nearly time? Sure the hens took to laying out in the Moses basket.’
    ‘Is it seven you have, or eight?’ says the aunt.
    ‘I’ve nine,’ says Brennan, searching his pockets for cigarettes. ‘And isn’t it a terrible thing, after all that, to have to go outside for a fag?’
    Now that the main course is over, the anxiety of service dies down. The girls who come out to remove their dinner plates are different girls. Nothing’s been broken. No one has gone without. The desserts come out: almond tart with strawberries, sherry trifle, cream. They are just about to lift their spoons and pitch the next round of speech when Donal Jackson, at the head table, strikes his glass and stands. As soon as he stands, he falls back into his chair. The crowd turns towards him, falls silent. Ears prick. A titter falls loose in the room. The best man tries, again, to get to his feet. This time he manages to stand but he has to lean on the table, his hand flat on the cloth.
    ‘Hello everybody!’ he cries out. ‘Hello!’
    The groom mumbles something about keeping the bastarding thing short. It is heard, without meaning to be heard, over the microphone.
    ‘Good day to yous all!’ the best man cries. ‘I hope ye’ve had your fill.’
    He stops at this point, unsure of how to go on. He looksdown at the bride. He looks at his brother.
    ‘When my brother started courting Kate here, we all said he’d never pull as fine a bird.’ He looks at the tablecloth, the glasses, the silver salt and pepper shakers. ‘Now that we seen he’s done it, the only pity is she doesn’t have a sister !’ He pushes the tablecloth and the dishes move. Aglass of red wine tips over staining the white linen.
    Sinnott looks hard at the priest and smiles, looks back at the best man.
    ‘If she had a sister we could have shared the land and –’
    Lawlor quickly takes the microphone from his hand. He does so with all the grace of the gentleman he is and begins to thank everyone, most sincerely, for coming. He says he is glad that his only daughter has found a good husband. He says he did his best to raise her well and, although her mother cannot be here, he knows she is looking down on them and blessing this day. He praises the food, the wine, the service. He thanks the priest for the simple ceremony, the bridesmaids who bore witness, and all the groom’s people. He welcomes the groom to the family, and hopes he will treat his daughter well for the rest of her life. He can hope for nothing more, he says, and