wasn’t sure that he hadn’t inherited some of his father’s prowess, and was very careful not to encourage him.
Agnes would drop into Foley’s bar maybe three or four times a week, and always on a Friday night, when she and Marion would down a couple after the Bingo. PJ would pull and serve the first round each Friday night and this one was always on the house. This particular Friday was no exception.
‘Now, girls, a bottle of cider and a glass of Guinness with blackcurrant,’ he announced as he placed the glasses on the table in the snug.
‘God bless yeh, Mr Foley,’ Marion answered.
‘Well, any luck tonight?’ he asked.
‘Not a bit of it,’ Agnes cried. ‘If it was rainin’ soup, Mr Foley, I’d be the one out there with a fork!’
All three laughed.
‘Still, I suppose youse only go for the crack, eh?’
‘Me shite we do,’ Agnes answered, and again they all burst into laughter. PJ wiped the table, from habit rather than to clean it, and left the two woman to their chat.
The Friday night chats were important to the women. The subjects were many and varied, ranging from how Agnes’s children were progressing in school to who was bonking whom in the area. Tonight they began with a discussion as to whether or not the priests down in St Anthony’s Hall were fiddling the Bingo. After some probing statements, the women decided that they were just having a run of bad luck.
‘So much for your morning ritual,’ Agnes said.
‘Whatcha mean?’
‘You ... every morning shoutin’ in the church doors ... “Good mornin’, God, it’s me, Marion”,‘ Agnes moaned.
‘Ah now, Agnes, that’s nothing to do with Bingo.’
‘Still, you’d think with you shoutin’ to Him every mornin’, He’d give you the odd full house!‘
‘Ah now, Agnes, God has much more important things to be doin’ than worryin’ about my Bingo numbers.’
‘Ah I know, Marion, I’m only jokin’ yeh!’
There was a lull in the conversation. Both women took a sup of drink and glanced around the bar. Marion produced two cigarettes and they lit up. Agnes spotted a couple of lads from the fish market and gave them a wave.
‘Who are they?’ Marion asked.
‘Nipper and Herrin’ from the fisher,’ Agnes replied.
‘Seem nice enough,’ Marion commented.
‘Ah they are. Nice lads - a bit wild, but all right.’
‘Do none of them ever ask you out?’
‘Will yeh go away with yourself, Marion, do you want me to be charged with baby snatchin’?‘
‘I don’t mean them ... any of the fellas down there.’
‘Some of them do ... but Jaysus, Marion, I wouldn’t be bothered, I wouldn’t.’
‘Well, you’re mad. For God’s sake, Agnes, you’re only young. You could marry again - you should.’
‘Marion, would you feck off. What hero would take on seven childer? And anyway, I’m not sure I’d want to. Lord rest him, but I swear I’ve had a better life since Redser died, I have!’
‘Ah, yeh need a man.’
‘I don’t!‘
‘We all do.’
‘Well I don’t - organisms or no organisms, I don’t!‘
That statement brought another lull to the conversation. It was Agnes who broke the silence.
‘Did you have any more?’
‘I knew you were goin’ to ask me that. I shouldn’t have told yeh.’
‘I’m only askin’. I don’t want the sordid details of your love life. I was ... interested, that’s all.‘
There followed another lull, a puff on a fag, a glance around, a sup of drink, and then Agnes looked into Marion’s face.
‘Well, did yen?’
‘No. I’m giving them up.’
‘After two? Why?’
‘I’m not feeling well since I had them ... and I’m after gettin’ a lump.’
‘A lump? What kind of a lump? Where?’
Marion blushed slightly. She glanced around the room furtively, to check that nobody was paying any undue attention to their table. When she was sure, she opened her coat and placed her left finger on a spot between her right breast and her armpit.
‘Just there.’
She
Agnes would drop into Foley’s bar maybe three or four times a week, and always on a Friday night, when she and Marion would down a couple after the Bingo. PJ would pull and serve the first round each Friday night and this one was always on the house. This particular Friday was no exception.
‘Now, girls, a bottle of cider and a glass of Guinness with blackcurrant,’ he announced as he placed the glasses on the table in the snug.
‘God bless yeh, Mr Foley,’ Marion answered.
‘Well, any luck tonight?’ he asked.
‘Not a bit of it,’ Agnes cried. ‘If it was rainin’ soup, Mr Foley, I’d be the one out there with a fork!’
All three laughed.
‘Still, I suppose youse only go for the crack, eh?’
‘Me shite we do,’ Agnes answered, and again they all burst into laughter. PJ wiped the table, from habit rather than to clean it, and left the two woman to their chat.
The Friday night chats were important to the women. The subjects were many and varied, ranging from how Agnes’s children were progressing in school to who was bonking whom in the area. Tonight they began with a discussion as to whether or not the priests down in St Anthony’s Hall were fiddling the Bingo. After some probing statements, the women decided that they were just having a run of bad luck.
‘So much for your morning ritual,’ Agnes said.
‘Whatcha mean?’
‘You ... every morning shoutin’ in the church doors ... “Good mornin’, God, it’s me, Marion”,‘ Agnes moaned.
‘Ah now, Agnes, that’s nothing to do with Bingo.’
‘Still, you’d think with you shoutin’ to Him every mornin’, He’d give you the odd full house!‘
‘Ah now, Agnes, God has much more important things to be doin’ than worryin’ about my Bingo numbers.’
‘Ah I know, Marion, I’m only jokin’ yeh!’
There was a lull in the conversation. Both women took a sup of drink and glanced around the bar. Marion produced two cigarettes and they lit up. Agnes spotted a couple of lads from the fish market and gave them a wave.
‘Who are they?’ Marion asked.
‘Nipper and Herrin’ from the fisher,’ Agnes replied.
‘Seem nice enough,’ Marion commented.
‘Ah they are. Nice lads - a bit wild, but all right.’
‘Do none of them ever ask you out?’
‘Will yeh go away with yourself, Marion, do you want me to be charged with baby snatchin’?‘
‘I don’t mean them ... any of the fellas down there.’
‘Some of them do ... but Jaysus, Marion, I wouldn’t be bothered, I wouldn’t.’
‘Well, you’re mad. For God’s sake, Agnes, you’re only young. You could marry again - you should.’
‘Marion, would you feck off. What hero would take on seven childer? And anyway, I’m not sure I’d want to. Lord rest him, but I swear I’ve had a better life since Redser died, I have!’
‘Ah, yeh need a man.’
‘I don’t!‘
‘We all do.’
‘Well I don’t - organisms or no organisms, I don’t!‘
That statement brought another lull to the conversation. It was Agnes who broke the silence.
‘Did you have any more?’
‘I knew you were goin’ to ask me that. I shouldn’t have told yeh.’
‘I’m only askin’. I don’t want the sordid details of your love life. I was ... interested, that’s all.‘
There followed another lull, a puff on a fag, a glance around, a sup of drink, and then Agnes looked into Marion’s face.
‘Well, did yen?’
‘No. I’m giving them up.’
‘After two? Why?’
‘I’m not feeling well since I had them ... and I’m after gettin’ a lump.’
‘A lump? What kind of a lump? Where?’
Marion blushed slightly. She glanced around the room furtively, to check that nobody was paying any undue attention to their table. When she was sure, she opened her coat and placed her left finger on a spot between her right breast and her armpit.
‘Just there.’
She
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