The Dead School Read Free Page B

to go home. They had hardly turned the corner when they smelt the beautiful aroma of bursting sausages and heard the musical
sizzle of frying rashers. ‘There you have it!’ laughed Packie. ‘You have to admit it – she’s a good one. I’ll bet you a dime to a dollar there’s not
another pair of boys sitting down to a breakfast the like of what you and me are going to have right now! Do you think I’d be right there?’ And Malachy grinned from ear to ear as he
replied, ‘I do, Da! I just can’t wait to get home!’ ‘Nor me either, son!’ said his father and right at that very moment who should they see standing at the door only
the bold Cissie, waving to them as much as to say, ‘It’s all ready!’ As soon as she got them inside it was straight down to business, buzzing around them asking had they enough of
this, had they enough of that and slicing up soda bread and pouring out tea to beat the band. ‘Have youse enough bacon?’ she called from the scullery. ‘Don’t forget now
– there’s plenty more where that came from!’ By the time they were finished, they were as full as ticks and could just about move and no more. Then what does she do? Stands there
with her hands on her hips and starts giving out! ‘You pair of rascals!’ she said. ‘Youse haven’t eaten a stitch!’ But she was only joking and went away off out into
the scullery saying she would make another drop of tea and laughing away to herself.
    After breakfast Malachy sat on the sofa for a while as his father read the papers. He was at it again this Sunday morning, chuckling away to himself at all the daft carry-on that was going on in
The Looneys. Of all the cartoon strips and comics and funnies that you could get in the Sunday papers, they were his favourite. ‘Boys Oh boys, our Malachy!’ he said. ‘I just
don’t know what we’re going to do with these Looneys! As God is my judge I’ll have a blooming stroke if I laugh any more!’ They really were the bee’s knees, the little
Looney kids. Always playing tricks on their father – putting buckets of water over the door, leaving banana skins lying around for him to slip on – doing all sorts of things like that
to try and catch him out. But it was OK because in the end they always had a good laugh. That was because they were a happy family and once you are a happy family that’s all you need to care
about. When he was finished reading, Packie would often say that. ‘Just you remember, Malachy – once you are a happy family that’s all you need,’ he’d say, folding the
paper like he was about to deliver some really important fatherly advice, but it was no use, or at least it wasn’t any more, for unless you were blind right now you could see that if you
jabbed him with a feather far from giving anybody advice about anything, he’d probably have gone and burst into tears.
    Cork were leading Kerry by a point and Michael O’Hehir was really going out of his mind when Cissie came in from the scullery. It was the first time that Malachy had noticed her limping.
Herself and Packie started talking then. It turned out she was having a lot of trouble with her veins lately. She said that the pain could be unbearable at times. As she described it, Packie held
her hand. ‘You’ve no idea, Packie,’ she said, biting her lip. He nodded sympathetically. ‘I don’t like bothering Dr Wilding on account of it being a Sunday but I
can’t go through another night with them, Packie – I just can’t.’ ‘I want to hear no more of it, daughter. You’re to go up that street now to Dr Wilding’s
and don’t come back here until he’s given you something – do you hear me now? And if you have to sit in that surgery from now till doomsday, you make sure he does that – for
no wife of mine’ll be put through the like of that while there’s doctors in this town.’
    She smiled and gave his hand a gentle squeeze as she said, ‘Thanks, Packie, love.’ Then,