Rose of Tralee Read Free

mortified her mother, had she heard.
    Even Colm, who knew well how to swear when adults were out of the way, was taken aback and reproved his sister as soon as they entered the quieter area where they lived. ‘Cait, you mustn’t say that,’ he said earnestly. ‘You’ll be in big trouble, so you will, an’ you’ll mek our mammy cry first an’ beat your little bum next.’
    ‘You say it,’ Caitlin stated. She was kicking a nice piece of red tile ahead of her, head down, eyes on the ground, concentrating. ‘You said it to the chiseller who telled you to t’row in your line somewheres else. You said he was a greedy bugger.’
    ‘Ye-es, but I’m . . . I’m older’n you and I’m a feller. Fellers can say t’ings which gorls can’t,’ Colm said after the slightest of hesitations. ‘Swearin’s bad . . . have you ever heard Mammy say bad words?’
    ‘No-oo. But I’m a kid, she’s a mammy,’ Caitlin saidcomplacently. ‘It’s different for kids. You telled me so.’
    They reached their door and Colm pulled his sister to a halt with a tug on the rope, then bent to untie it from her small waist. ‘You’ll be a mammy one day,’ he said cunningly. ‘Just like our mammy. But only if you don’t say bad t’ings. You hear me?’
    Caitlin manoeuvred her piece of red tile up to the bottom of the two scrubbed steps which led to their rooms and, after a moment’s frowning thought, nodded. ‘Awright. I won’t say bad t’ings no more. Well, not when our mammy’s listenin’,’ she added hastily. ‘But them boys was rude , Colm!’
    ‘You can be turble rude back wit’out swearin’,’ Colm said, lifting her over the steps and settling her on his hip as they approached the door. ‘Mammy’s out ... d’you want to pull the key up?’
    The key was kept on a piece of string attached to the letter-box. You put your hand very carefully through the slit, found the piece of string and hauled the key through. It was odd, Colm thought as he stood his small sister down and watched her fumbling through the slit, that everyone he knew employed this device yet thieves did not take advantage of it. Mammy was always on about thieves, yet so far as he knew no one in the vast, sprawling area that was the Liberties had ever been robbed by someone hauling up their key.
    ‘Got it, Colly,’ Caitlin said breathlessly. ‘Me open?’
    ‘’Course,’ Colm said at once and lifted her to keyhole height. ‘Remember, turn gently and it’ll open sweetly. Turn jerky an’ it won’t open at all.’
    The child clung grimly to the key for a moment with both hands, breath held, eyes almost shut, then she squeaked triumphantly, ‘It’s worked, Colm! You do the handle!’
    Colm turned the handle, the door opened and the two of them entered.
    The room was both their main living-room and kitchen, for the parlour next door was kept for special occasions only, so that this room was crowded with all the impedimenta of family living. There was an open fire, unlit on this warm day, the mantelpiece over it a refuge, at the moment, for all the ornaments and breakables which had once been scattered about the room, for well Mammy knew that if any of the china figurines or pretty crockery was within reach of Caitlin’s small, busy fingers it was unlikely to last an hour out, so she had put her treasures out of reach as soon as the child began to toddle. ‘As I did when yourself was at that age,’ she had reminded Colm. ‘Caitlin’s no better an’ no worse than any other child – she likes to touch. And look how careful of me nice t’ings you are, now you’re a big feller! There’s no one I’d trust sooner than you, Colm, an’ that’s gospel trut’, so it is, and one day Caitlin will grow more careful, just like me boy has.’
    Apart from the mantelpiece, all the other surfaces held more utilitarian objects, save for the stoup of holy water by the door and the pictures, mostly representations of the Virgin, which crowded the walls.