Aquestionable adventure

ME Ma was out in the back kitchen singing along with The Righteous Brothers’ ‘Unchained Melody’. ‘Is that you Pierce?’ ‘Yeah.’

‘C’mere I want to tell you something.’

It was a tiny kitchen, all it had was a Jubilee Range, a sink, and a few small cabinets with a Formica surface at their base. But it was the galley of her ship and she was its master, she could turn out enough delicious food to feed eight people there, three times a day.

The aroma of her baking was breathtaking; her main problem was to stop us from eating it before it had cooled down, this required enormous restraint.

Between cooking meals she made tarts and upside down apple cake, brown bread, and white soda bread in the wrought iron pan. I stood at the entrance by the range and wondered what was up. She was stirring a curry sauce in the big pan, starting with stock from the previous day’s chicken, adding onions, curry powder and stirring in flour and milk to thicken, a magnetic aroma of turmeric and cumin. It was twenty five to one, Me Da would be half way up the Quay on his bike from Pierce’s, expecting his dinner on the table.

‘Listen, I am letting you and Paddy go on the train to Knock, you’ll have to take a day off School.’

‘Really! When?’

My heart jumped to a new tempo, it was all such a surprise, a day off school! And going on the train. Not so long ago she had been so excited at the prospect of taking this trip with Mrs. Doyle, a good and pious woman who had a grand accent, and who’s friendship was still in its infancy.

Now she was giving the two train tickets to Paddy and me, yippee.

‘Mrs. Doyle has a terrible cold, and says that you can have her ticket, and my varicose veins are bad again, so I wouldn’t be able for the procession.’

I wasn’t mad about that last word now, but to hell with it, a day off school, yippee!

My father had the duty to awaken Paddy and I on a very rainy Candlemas Tuesday. I was nine at the time, and Paddy 12, it was so early I remember that my heart was still asleep. He gave us a couple of bob each and made sure our gabardine coats were belted as we skipped out the door to the North Station for the 5.00am train.

When first I glanced at the other passengers, a shroud of killjoy clouded the already damp air. But we had biscuits, and pocket money!

The train exhaled a shunt, and we rolled off towards Enniscorthy, where we picked up another hape of scrubbed, shiny people with prominent veins. But all was well; Paddy and I were lashing into the biscuits and lemonade.

Then Mr Lacey the postman took out his rosary beads, and began the five sorrowful mysteries, the whole train hummed in prayer. My heart went into remission; we were only 15 miles from Wexford, with five hours to go. Would they pray the whole way? Even the biscuits wouldn’t counteract that.

We said one rosary after another all the way to Knock, marched in the soaked procession, and beseeched for God’s mercy all the way back too. At eight in the evening we drenched our way back into the kitchen. Me Ma was a bit sheepish when she saw us, spoiling us with hot tea and rhubarb tart. Me Da lowered his paper to glance amusedly. We weren’t sure why we hadn’t enjoyed ourselves, and didn’t sense that my Mother had any regrets for missing out on our adventure.

“It was a tiny kitchen, all it had was a Jubilee Range, a sink, and a few small cabinets. But it was the galley of her ship and she was its master