An Irish Christmas Feast (27 page)

After a full hour of Big Bob's blather Bertie Bawnie was on his knees imploring the king of the travellers to make a case for him. When Big Bob declared that the case had been successfully made Bawnie danced on the kitchen table and jumped like a stag over every chair in the kitchen, which was no small feat when one took his size into consideration. He willingly paid over the promised hundred for the successful pairing of Long Jason Lattally and his daughter Elsie plus another hundred for his negotiating the not-too-distant Christmas nuptials of Bertie himself and the overjoyed Alicia Mullally.

As Big Bob wended his unsteady way homewards the first flakes of snow alighted on his broad shoulders. It had been a great night's work entirely and to think that he might never have contemplated embarking on a matchmaking venture at all but for the fact that his old friend, the saintly Canon Coodle, had complained to him in the late autumn that the population of the parish was declining and that unless there was an increase in the number of marriages there was a danger that it would decline further.

‘I haven't presided over a christening in three solid weeks,' Canon Coodle said sadly, ‘and from latest intelligence reports I have deduced that it will be at least another three before there's any change.'

Canon Coodle always looked upon his housekeeper and sacristan as the intelligence officers of the parish and he knew from experience that their sources were impeccable.

Big Bob would never let the canon know about his efforts on the elderly clergyman's behalf. Was not virtue its own reward and was he not several hundred pounds better off than when he had set out that evening! He raised his great head to sniff the snow-laden wind and thanked his maker for his successes on the matchmaking front. Surely in a short while the cries of infants would be heard once more in the parish but first would come the bells of marriage and then, after consummation, the merry bells of Christmas.

There are more rows at Christmas than any other time of year but they are rows of shorter duration even if they are rows of greater intensity. Then, of course, I am a man who supports the theory that there can be no true happiness in any household without a flaming eruption now and again.

I am not talking about the joy that comes with the making-up, which is fine in itself. Rather am I talking about the dispelling of those noxious gases which gather over long periods of calm and lassitude. I refer too, of course, to subjugated feelings and dispositions which have turned evil over the course of time as well as all the other ups and downs which assail the human make-up. If these are not unleashed and if they are retained unnecessarily the human spirit will corrode and instead of relationships which are vibrant and vital there will be inevitable stagnation and you will never have the air-clearing, heart-warming confrontations necessary to the successful maintenance of the human system.

People tend to behave too properly at Christmas and where this happens an outbreak of one kind or another is inevitable. Too-proper behaviour is not natural in that it suppresses the mischief and blackguardism inherent in all of us, barring a sainted few.

If this natural mischief is not vented at regular intervals there can only be two consequences, i.e., stagnation or violence, and bad as the latter is the former is even worse because a stagnant home is no home and a stagnant marriage is God's greatest curse. The occasional verbal outbreak, therefore, is a vital ingredient in the successful marriage.

The most dangerous of the Christmas denizens is the common-or-garden senior male of the household. Nearly always he is likely to be a chap who is set in his ways and who may like to lie down quietly after the excesses of Christmas Day. The best treatment for this type of Yuletide invalid is to guide him to a secluded room and to place a Do Not Disturb sign on the door.

If he is suddenly awakened by some accidental intrusion it should be considered a wise manoeuvre to vacate the vicinity of the room where he rests.

Other dangerous denizens are senior married females who have been pushed too far all day and taken for granted over too long a time. The bother here is that outbreaks are totally unpredictable because females tend to suffer silently and give little indication of the explosive scenes which can and do occur as a matter of course in every respectable household.

When these suppressed housewives erupt it is always wise for outsiders to make for the nearest exit until the cataclysm subsides.

Thankfully Yuletide outbreaks, whether male or female, tend to be of short duration. They should be encouraged up to a certain point, however, for the good of the persons in question and for the good of the family as a whole. One of the most devastating Christmas rows ever to occur in the street where I was born happened a short while before the Christmas dinner. We shall call them Tom and Mary.

Tom was sitting by the fire sipping from a glass of whiskey. Mary was sipping from a glass of sherry as was the wont with females at that time.

‘Will you have peas or beans with your turkey?' Mary asked politely.

‘It's immaterial to me,' Tom responded with equal civility.

‘Make up your mind now like a good man for I haven't all day,' said Mary who had been on the go since daybreak attending to the myriad chores which needed her attention.

‘I really don't care one way or the other,' Tom persisted.

‘Dammit!' said Mary peevishly, ‘will you make up your bloody mind,' whereat Tom told her what she could do with the peas and beans whereat Mary informed him that he was a thankless wretch whereat Tom smashed his glass against the floor whereat they harangued each other without mercy and without let-up for a quarter of an hour whereat they both grew exhausted and fell into each other's arms whereat all was peaceful again and instead of having peas or beans they had both peas and beans together and a happy Christmas to boot.

The twins Wally and Carl Hern bore not the slightest resemblance to each other. Wally was several inches taller and several stones heavier.

From the day they could walk Wally was as easygoing as Carl was mettlesome. Wally's features were uniform and softly drawn against Carl's angled, almost severe lineaments.

Carl's nose was unusually long and pointed, his jaw jutting and hooked, contrasting sharply with Wally's chubbiness.

Wally's was a slow, lumbering gait whereas Carl's was precise and undeviating. Wally was a careless dresser. Carl was natty and orderly.

In temperament the difference between the pair was more marked. Wally was an amiable hunk of boyhood slow to rouse, easy to mollify.

Carl, on the other hand, angered easily, was ever alert for slights and took offence from seemingly innocuous banter. When this happened redress was immediate and painful. He was clever with his fists. Add to this the looming form of his twin brother continually dominating the background and it was easy to understand why he never lost a fight.

From an early age Carl was to grow more and more perplexed by his brother's cheerful disposition, his way with people, old and young alike, the ease with which he shrugged off affronts and other forms of disparagement which seemed intolerable to Carl. Inevitably the perplexity turned to resentment and eventually to jealousy but this was not to fully fester for some time. It would remain dormant for a period thanks to the intervention and shrewd good sense of the twins' mother Maisie.

There were five other children but the twins were the eldest. In their tenth year their father lost himself in the East End of London where it was said he had settled in with another woman. Maisie Hern made no attempt to locate her husband. She sent no word reminding him where his real responsibilities lay. She was too proud for that. Anyway where was the satisfaction in holding a man against his will! She simply readjusted herself and made the most of the situation.

She was quick to interpret the dark scowls and barely subdued mutterings of the smaller twin whenever Wally came in for any sort of favourable mention from neighbours or others. It was the concealed menace underneath Carl's surface discontent that worried her. He became more snarly and vituperative at each recital of his brother's accomplishments.

One night his spleen erupted into a vicious physical assault. A furious fight followed. Maisie Hern, shocked, sat powerless until it ended. At first it seemed that the bigger, stronger Wally must yield to the passionate yet accurate onslaughts of the smaller twin. He took a severe pummelling in the early stages and was content to merely defend himself. He was, in fact, unable to do anything more. Then as Carl's fury slowly abated after the first murderous offensives the superior strength of the bigger twin asserted itself.

Carl clung to his brother for dear life knowing that if he let go he would be knocked senseless. Inexorably Wally forced him to arm's length and drew back his clenched fist preparatory to delivering a stunning chastisement. Slowly, however, he managed to gain control of himself. His whole body slackened, as did his grip on Carl. He opened his fist and looked at his hand in puzzlement, wondering how it had ever come to be closed in the first place.

Seizing his opportunity Carl made a last do-or-die attack but there was no strength left in him. He spent himself fully and futilely until he was forced to hold on to the table for support. Wally wiped his own face clean of blood and handed the cloth to Carl. Unperturbed, Wally went upstairs to bed.

Word of the fight spread. Maisie Hern had to confide in somebody and who better than a neighbour especially since her husband had deserted her. Maisie had fully recognised the value of the fight. It had shown her that Wally could contain Carl without physical domination. The neighbour suggested boxing gloves and undertook to instruct the boys in their use.

The twins were to fight many times after that first occasion but never privately. Encouraged by Maisie they were much sought after by pubs and clubs. Whenever there was a boxing tournament anywhere near they occupied a special place on the bill. Wally never won or never seemed to win but he did not mind that. There was always a bag of sweets or fruit after the fight. Deep down he knew that he must let Carl have his way. It was the only means of keeping his brother's insane jealousy on a leash.

Without the mollification of these public victories there was no telling what form the smaller twin's jealousy might take. The fights always followed a fixed pattern. Unlike the first conflict in the kitchen it was Wally who had the better of matters in the early stages of all the fights thereafter. He would, of course, be roundly booed by the crowd. After all he was nearly twice the size of his seemingly gamier, pluckier opponent. Acting to the prescribed pattern, Carl would feign hurt and injury as he allowed himself to be thumped and slapped around the ring. He was not above taking a count at times while the onlookers shouted themselves hoarse for his recovery.

At the end of the first one-and-a-half-minute round those who were unacquainted with the procedure would call upon the referee to discontinue the bout. The second round was but a repetition of the first with Carl at the time at the receiving end of what seemed to be countless callously delivered punches. Midway through the third and final round he would bring the crowd to its toes with an all-out, unexpected assault on Wally.

He would throw punches from every conceivable angle. There were flurries and combinations bewildering to behold. As the bigger twin wilted under the sustained barrage there was hysteria all around. When he finally fell to the canvas, unable to rise, the crowd went berserk. Carl beamed when, after the count, his hand was raised aloft. The blows had been real enough even if they had little or no effect on Wally. He lay there patiently until a second lifted him to his corner. He fully realised that as long as Carl was chalking up such victories there was an assurance of peace in the home. He was well content to play the role of underdog. He was worried by the fact that sooner or later they would outgrow this form of confrontation. He hoped with all his heart that such a day might never come. He hoped in vain.

Time passed and with puberty came the realisation that the fighting must end. Anyway they had ceased to be a draw. This sort of bout was strictly for children and children they no longer were. Despite her circumstances Maisie contrived to send them to secondary school. For the first few months all went well until both boys sat for a house examination. Unfortunately, Wally secured better marks. Neither did particularly well but the fact that Wally had shown himself to be the better of the two brought a return of the old anxiety to himself and his mother. They had not long to wait. Carl absented himself from school the very day after the results were made known. Every so often after that he would spend a day touring the countryside while Wally invented different excuses to cover his absence.

Came the next house examination and the positions were reversed. Wally had seen to that. Both boys fared poorly, so poorly that the president of the school, Father Ambrose, suggested to Maisie that it might be a more sensible course if the boys were apprenticed to trades. Being a deserted wife Maisie occupied the same status as a widow and as such had little difficulty in persuading two local tradesmen to take the boys on.

Carl was apprenticed to a plumber and Wally to a carpenter. In a short while Wally was making himself useful around the house. He showed an aptitude for woodwork from the beginning and although Carl was adapting himself without difficulty he was presented with no opportunity to display his developing skills. Inevitably the jealousy crept in. Wally wisely desisted from any further enhancement of the home. From that time onward he never even mentioned his work.

Eventually both boys completed their apprenticeships and were retained in employment by their masters. Then came the incident of the greyhound. Wally's master, in his spare time, was a respected breeder of coursing dogs and like all such devotees was forever seeking likely converts to the sport. Wally seemed to him to be an ideal candidate. He, therefore, presented him free of charge with a black greyhound pup on the final day of his apprenticeship.

Carl, not to be outdone, with the accumulated wages of several weeks went further afield and purchased a white pup of impeccable background from another breeder.

Carl's was clearly the better prospect for a distinguished coursing career. He was perfectly bred and shaped exceptionally well as a sapling. Wally's charge clearly lacked the style and class that were so evident from the outset in his brother's hound.

Then came the annual coursing meet when both dogs were entered for a stake confined to no-course duffers. Carl's dog started as a clear favourite and at the end of the day had effortlessly won his way to the final. Wally's also managed to scrape his way to the final course but was given no chance against his better-bred, lightly raced opponent.

It was at this juncture that Wally's master stepped in. An old hand at the doing-up of tired finalists, he took charge of the unfancied black. He set to work on the dog's back and shoulders with his powerful hands until the exhausted hound responded and started to show signs of gameness. From his hip pocket he extracted a flask of
poitín
and applied the stimulating liquid to the dog's pads. He poured a dram into his palm and forced it into the dog's mouth. After some initial spluttering the creature shook its head and pricked its ears, declaring its gameness for the coming course.

On his master's advice Wally refused the first three calls to slips and it was only when threatened with disqualification that he deigned to lead his dog to the start. Carl's white was meanwhile left to fret and whimper in anticipation of the hare's breaking. The longer he was kept at the slips the more would be taken out of him for the rigorous buckle that lay ahead. It was an old trick, frequently resorted to by handlers whose hounds needed time to recover their strength.

The slip was a fair one. The black carried the white collar, the white the red. From the moment they were slipped the pair were inseparable. The hare was a strong and stagy one and had been especially held over for the ultimate buckle. With half the course covered they had come within a length of the fleeing puss. The white hound seemed to forge ahead but then with a tremendous surge the black excelled himself and put his nose to the fore. He lifted the unfortunate hare effortlessly in powerful, murderous jaws. In a second the creature was being cruelly torn apart between the two dogs. The black had won. He had killed in his stride in text-book manner. If the dark look that over-shadowed Carl's taut face spelt extreme disappointment, the look of alarm that crossed Wally's spelt disaster. He was, therefore, mightily relieved when Carl congratulated him on the win. It was only a temporary respite. He knew no good would come of his success and cursed himself for allowing his master to take charge of the handling.

In the morning when Wally went to the makeshift kennel to take the black for his morning exercise the hound lay stretched in a pool of blood, its throat cut. Without a word to anybody he located an old coal sack in which he deposited the bloodied carcass. He heaved it on to his back and made his way circuitously to one of the deeper holes in the nearby river, making certain that he was seen by nobody. On the river bank he added several weighty stones to the bag's gruesome contents and flung it far out into the dark depths. Returning, he scoured the kennel free of all traces of blood. Then he went into the kitchen where his mother and Carl sat at the breakfast table with the remainder of the family.

‘How's the dog?' his mother asked.

‘He seems to have run away,' Wally answered.

‘Run away?' his mother echoed. ‘Why would he run away?'

‘Don't know,' Wally returned, ‘all I know is he's gone.'

‘Would he have been stolen?' his mother asked.

‘It's a possibility,' Wally told her.

At that moment Carl arose and without a word left the kitchen. His sudden action made everything clear to Maisie Hern.

Shortly afterwards Carl sold the white dog to a local trainer. As if by agreement there was no mention of either dog in the Hern home after that. The people of the locality accepted the black dog's disappearance at face value. It certainly wasn't the first time a promising greyhound had been stolen and it wouldn't be the last. It was around this time that Wally decided he would have to leave home. It wasn't just the incident of the butchered greyhound. This was only one of many deciding factors, the chief of which was Carl's sudden obsession with any girl Wally might take it into his head to court. Carl simply had to have her as well but not all of Wally's dates were willing to co-operate. When this happened Carl would fly into a rage and frighten the girl in question. In so doing he also queered the pitch for Wally.

The girls might be forgiven for concluding that, because he was a twin, Wally was just as likely to explode into a tantrum as his brother. He knew that he would always be in danger of being tarred with the same brush unless he made the break. He discussed every aspect of the matter with his mother. She was forced to concede that there was no other course open to him. He promised to return for good some day but this was not his intention. He wanted to get as far away from Carl as possible and to stay away so that he might build an independent and natural life for himself. London he believed would afford him the anonymity he desired. Nobody would ever find him there. He would miss his mother and his younger brothers and sisters and, of course, Carl.

Despite the envy and the resentment he loved his twin more than any other member of the family, his mother excepted. He would keep in touch with all of them but he would not reveal his address. He would send his mother money on a regular basis and he would bring her for a holiday occasionally but the life he would begin in the city would be strictly his own.