Scars that Run Deep (14 page)

‘So I'm doomed to working in sheds in laneways or factory bakeries where machines do all the craft work and the bakers do all the physical labour manning them.'

‘I'm real sorry, Pat, that we didn't educate you better than we did. I guess you had far too much work to do in the school bakery. Look, Pat, if you really feel you want to better yourself, for a better quality of life, you need to attend night school.'

What he suggested scared me deeply. I knew I could never go to night school. I had been locked inside Artane for eight years, eight long, hard years. I worked my back off from the age of nine years old in the kitchens and then in the bakery. I lived in fear of the Brothers in and outside of the classroom, of their leathers and their horrendous beatings. I had been scarred by my education; going back to school would never be an option for me.

At first sight Simon Davaro looked the real ladies' man and as far as I could see he was. But I knew there was more to Simon Davaro than met the eye. I could certainly
understand the problems he was having. I knew because we shared the same problems born out of our time in Artane.

I still walked in my sleep. I still suffered from nightmares; I was forever on the run in my awful dreams. Artane still cast its shadow over me.

Simon was the same. Every night I would be awakened by him shouting in his sleep, ‘Left, left, left right left, lift them up, you brats, or you'll face the wall.' Gradually his shouting and his talking in his sleep would die down without his opening an eye or waking up. Then suddenly the shouting would start again, much more pronounced. ‘The wall, the wall, face the wall, hands above your head.'

Once, Molly knocked on our door to shout, ‘You lads in there, are you okay or can I help?'

I got up to speak to her. ‘I'm sorry, Molly, but he's having another nightmare.'

‘Oh, the poor soul. Oh, what have they done to him! He's such a nice young man. Did he ever flog you, Pat?' She stared at me as though she already knew the answer.

‘Yes, most of the Brothers used the leather – some more than others – but he never was like that. He was different, really, if you know what I mean.'

‘Not really, Pat, they were all severe on the boys up there, I know, I've had quite a few ex-Artaners here you know. The
poor orphans suffered a dreadful hammering, Pat, he could not have been all that different surely.'

I knew she had a point. ‘Well, he did have to thrash lads and quite severely too, whenever he had to, I mean.' I wanted to talk about the sexual abuse, but I couldn't express my true feelings as in all truth I didn't even understand the real meaning of what had happened.

‘Go on, tell me more,' she said.

After a long moment I continued. ‘Simon was on duty each night in dormitory five. Once there he would have to deal with any boy put facing the wall, and someone always was.'

‘You mean he'd have to flog boys day and night, you mean!' She looked shocked.

‘Yes, morning, noon and night, really, and he would have had to deal with unruly boys in his classroom as well. Then he had additional duties to do. Being in charge on parade and out on walks, you see.'

Molly shook her head. Her expression was more sad than angry, I thought. ‘Don't get me wrong, Molly, he was one of the best and he was always more humane, more real and down to earth. He was only hard when he had to be.'

Molly smiled, ‘Of course, I understand. It must have been a hell for him as well as it was tough on the boys.' She paused, thinking for a moment. ‘Poor lad, I feel he needs a good
looking after, a good mothering is what he needs. God love him, Pat. He's living out his hell in his dreams.'

She put a hand beneath her right elbow, resting her right hand on her face. Her expression changed. ‘You know, Pat, my son went to a Christian Brothers' school and received a kick in the ear from a very rough Brother. My son suffered deafness for several days after it. My husband, Lord have mercy on him, he would not hurt a fly. But he did go out there to see that brutal man and it was the only time in forty years of marriage I'd seen him so vexed. He took hold of that Brother by the collar. He had no fear of the collar that was around that Christian Brother's thick neck.'

I watched as Molly wiped her eyes. She looked at me, ‘You are just as bad as he is, Pat, you walk and shout in your sleep. Poor Simon. He needs to see a doctor, he is that stressed out, the poor chap. Just as you do, Pat. You think I'm a fool, well, it's not only Simon's voice I hear at night, I've heard you too, Pat.'

It was a Saturday afternoon. The bright rays of the spring sunshine were beaming through the long Spanish lace curtains. I yawned. I felt tired. I had a late night and I was in no hurry to get up, but I'd have to make an effort, as at two o'clock I was to play a football match. I opened my eyes to find myself looking at the picture on the dresser of a beautiful
woman. I hadn't seen it before; Simon must have placed it there while I slept. Her eyes were staring at me with a tempting melancholy smile. She looked radiant – such beauty, such elegance, I thought, and wondered how could I get a girl even half as pretty. I mused, feeling jealous of my roommate Simon.

I raised myself up off my single divan bed and stretched out my arms. Blasted stupid bakeries, I thought, as my shorts fell down. As I bent down to pull them up, I received a fierce smack across my bare arse. When I stood up I could see Simon in the mirror and his picture of his beautiful sister or his girlfriend staring out at me. I felt ashamed as I pulled up my underpants. I turned to face him. ‘What was that one for?'

‘The poor souls in Purgatory,' he said, smiling.

‘I haven't seen you for some time. Is she your sister or what?' His eyes lit up as he lifted the framed picture. I was filled with curiosity. ‘Is she really that beautiful?' I stared at him, then at the girl in the picture. He was taking his time to respond to my question.

‘Laura Seymour, that's her name, Pat. She is tall, slim, very attractive, drives her own car. Her father is a businessman in the city. She has class, money, elegance, with a warm heart and a smile . . .'

I didn't want to interrupt him. I wanted him to go on and on describing the girl in the picture. The girl of his dreams.
Then I thought of the time he desperately tried to force himself into me: I was only ten. It was hard to imagine he was the same man.

His voice was soft as he continued speaking. ‘I shall never forget that hot summer's day by the sea in Clontarf when I first heard her voice. It was her voice that I first liked and her voice that won me over. Later, she drove up to Artane to see Marty, yes, she wanted to treat an orphan boy to a Sunday out. The more she came up to see young Marty, the more I saw of her and the more we saw of each other. There was no going back. I took off the collar and the cassock for her.'

Yet all the time he was speaking of his girl, visions of being held naked between his legs as a young boy raced across my mind. I was torn. I had always liked this Christian Brother, always preferred him to many others in Artane, but I could never forget that he too had used me for his pleasure, and that what he had done to me left scars just as deep in my mind as those by more brutal men, such as the Sheriff, the Macker and Hellfire.

Simon was keeping a very low profile while he was in the house, generally keeping to himself and rarely getting into long conversations with anyone. One evening, as I was in the kitchen with Molly, he knocked at the door. ‘Who is it?' Molly called out. ‘My hands are tied up in the pie.'

‘It is me, Simon Davaro, to pay you.'

‘Oh, come on through, Simon. Come in.'

He opened the door and smiled as he stood just inside the door, not knowing whether to take a seat or to say something. I was about to stand up and offer him mine when Molly pulled out a folding stool. ‘Here now, put your weight on that now and rest yourself. I'll wet the tea shortly, son.'

It was still hard for me to believe that here I was, staying at the same lodgings as Angel Face.

Molly was bustling about. ‘Just a wee moment now, Simon, till I put this apple pie in the oven. 'Tis for tomorrow's dinner, yeh see, and when the fresh cream goes on top of that, you'll soon know where yeh are, son, and where to put your feet.'

He smiled softly as he leaned against the old dresser, watching as she wiped her hands on her cotton pinafore apron, before pouring out two cups of tea. ‘Now, Simon, young man, you help yourself to some homemade scones and buttermilk soda bread.'

Simon held out some money. ‘Here you are. I owe you for a few weeks. I'll be leaving you in a few days or perhaps a bit earlier.' He made an effort to get up to leave. I could see she was surprised by the sudden news.

She looked at him. ‘Sit down, you're not away already, sure ye've only just got here and what's more I've been meaning to have a long talk with you.'

Simon settled back down. Molly wiped her lips. ‘Now Simon, I've been wanting to have a chat with you. I hope you don't take offence my saying this to you. I have been wakened up by you on several occasions, now, during the early hours since you came to stay with us, and by Patrick also, by the way.'

Simon looked embarrassed.

Molly stood with her back to the Aga, clutching a tea cloth in her hands. ‘You know, you shout a great deal in your sleep, you give orders, weird sort of orders.'

‘What do you mean, ma'am?' he asked with an extremely puzzled look on his handsome face. Simon became fidgety, raising his hand every so often to scratch his head or to wipe his sweaty brow. I could easily tell by his expression he was very, very embarrassed by it all. I felt so sorry for him, and remained silent throughout, knowing exactly how he felt.

Molly raised her tone. ‘Look at me, Simon.' He faced her with a curious expression. ‘Since you got here you have nightmares, very turbulent ones too, I might say. You keep shouting, “Left, left, left right left,” and “Bend over, touch your toes, toe the line or you'll get six for the poor souls in Purgatory or Limbo” – all that sort of thing, as though you were in the army.' Molly turned her back and reached for a cigarette. As she turned again she drew on the Woodbine,
keeping her eyes fixed on him. She pulled up a chair, exhaled and eased her heavy frame into it.

‘Demons dressed as priests with sacred vows – child bashers, most of them. Sexually depraved child abusers, a lot of them Brothers were,' she muttered, then turned to face me. ‘Do you agree, Pat?'

I was shocked. ‘Oh, you mean me,' I spluttered.

‘Yes, Pat, you, after all they put you through, son, go on, tell me.'

‘Yes, I agree with all you said, Molly. The fact is Simon and I share in the same bleak past, we both have nightmares and walk and talk in our sleep, except I don't have a beautiful girlfriend like Simon does.'

Molly laughed. ‘Very well put, you're nobody's fool, Pat. But you are a real survivor.'

Molly turned to Simon. ‘I fear the road from here will rise up before you, it will indeed be a hard road that awaits you. I see by the picture on your dressing table that you have a girl.' He smiled, and nodded. ‘So I'm right then. You must be planning to marry her some day.'

He nodded his head again. His tone was soft. ‘Yes, very soon, ma'am.'

‘Well it's a good thing we are havin' this little chat.' She reached for another Woodbine. ‘God help the poor girl. You are not prepared for marriage, you need counselling, boy.'

Simon stood up. It was clear that he was embarrassed and didn't know what to say when confronted with his past. He made his way to the door, but stopped when Molly said, ‘How soon do you intend to marry her?' I was shocked.

He held the door open. A look of surprise passed across his handsome features. ‘A few weeks, perhaps. Well, actually the date has been set for some time now. I wanted to keep it quiet, you see. I think I'd like to go and relax in the lounge, before I go out. I'm meeting Laura at eight.'

She smiled for a brief moment. ‘That's the kettle, Pat, you can wet the tea, son.'

I made the pot of tea as Simon went into the front living room. I really envied Simon; he had a beautiful girlfriend and I'd none. And this was the man who has caressed my naked body, who had masturbated himself against me.

As I left the room I heard his voice calling me, so I paused out in the long, narrow hallway just before I opened the front door. I turned slowly to face him. I was apprehensive, somewhat scared of this man from the shadows of Artane. It sure was a long, dark shadow, I mused. ‘You called me. Did you forget something?' I said.

‘No, no, not at all. I was wondering, would you like to walk into town with me?' He paused, checking my reaction. ‘If you are free, and you have nothing to do, that is.'

‘But I thought you were meeting Laura.'

He came closer; his tall, slim figure, his good looks and charm would make any girl weak at the knees to hold him and embrace him, I thought. His tone was soft. He smiled a natural soft, easy smile.

‘We've got a lot in common, Pat. I'm sure we can help each other. We could chat about many things that affect our lives.'

I was stunned by this.

He spoke again, more relaxed than before, I assumed. ‘Are you free?'

I had pulled open the door. ‘Yes. I was going out for a walk. I got no girlfriend. I can't seem to hold on to one.'

His smile lit up his handsome features. ‘Walk with me into town, I'll introduce you to Laura.'

We walked in silence for a while.

‘Molly is a very clever woman, don't you think?' Simon said eventually.

‘Oh Molly, gosh, well, she knows all about your nightmares, Simon, and she knows quite a lot about the Christian Brothers as her son was badly affected and injured by one of 'em, you see?'

He glanced at me as we stepped out like two young soldiers. ‘She really could hear me then, marching up and down in my sleep?'