Read The Barracks for Free Online Page B

room, the things of the house gathering in against her; she thanked God that the dayroom door wasn’t open on her way.
    She heard Reegan shout in the kitchen.
    â€œNow do you see what you have done? Now do you see what you have done? Jesus Christ, can you not keep your mouth shut for wan minute of the day?”
    Then the boy’s terrified protest, “I didn’t mean anything! I didn’t mean any harm, Daddy.”
    Reegan’s shouts again, “Will you never understand? Will you never grow up? Will you never understand that women look on things different to men?”
    She heard his feet follow her on the hollow stairs. She was sitting on the bed’s edge when he came into the room. She could not lift her head. He’d look as unreal as all people pleading.
    â€œThe lad meant nothing. He was only thinkin’ that we’d be able to give you a holiday at last. Shure you know yourself that we’d never be able to get on without you?”
    He put his hands on her shoulders, she’d no wish to create a scene, she dried her face with her sleeve.
    â€œI couldn’t help it,” she said, looking at him with a nervous smile. “But it doesn’t matter. It was only that it came so sudden.”
    â€œWould you like to go to the wedding? The lad was only wantin’ to please you.…”
    â€œMaybe, I should go,” she had tried to look bright. She had not wanted to go. It had been simply easier to go than to stay then.
    She felt the pain at last was easing. The rosary was droning to its end in the kitchen. The decades were over. Reegan was sing-songing,
    Mystical Rose Tower of David Tower of Ivory House of Gold .
    His face a mask without expression, staring as if tranced at its image in the big sideboard mirror, his fingers even now instinctively moving on the beads, the voice completely toneless   that repeated Her praises, their continual “Pray for us”, like punctuating murmurs of sleep.
    â€œThe Dedication of the Christian Family,” began the last prayers, the trimmings.
    Prayer for the Canonization of Blessed Oliver Plunkett—whose scorched head, they remembered reading on the leaflet, was on show in a church in Drogheda.
    Prayers for all they were bound to pray for in duty, promise or charity.
    Prayer for a happy death.
    And the last prayer, the last terrible acknowledgement, the long iambic stresses relentlessly sledged:
    O Jesus, I must die, I know not where nor when nor how, but if I die in mortal sin I go to hell for all eternity .
    The newspapers were lifted, the beads and chairs returned to their places. They heard Casey come back from his supper. “Rush! Rush!” Reegan said to the boy and girl. “Off to bed! Ye’ll be asleep all day in school tomorrow if you don’t rush.”
    Some red bricks had been set to warm at the fire. Willie slipped them into a pair of heavy woollen socks with the tongs. He lit the candles in their tin holders and they were ready to be kissed good night.
    Sheila ran to Elizabeth. Reegan was sitting in front of the fire and the boy went close up to him, between his open knees. Hands came on his shoulders.
    â€œGood night, Willie. God guard you.”
    â€œGood night, Daddy.”
    He lifted the hot bricks and said at the door, “Good night, Elizabeth.”
    â€œGood night, Willie.”
    At last they were in the hall, their fluttering candles lighting up the darkness. Casey was coming down the stairs, a pile of the dark grey police blankets in his arms, the top and bottom edges braided with official green thread. He had to feel out his steps very carefully because of his load. They waited on him at the foot of the stairs with the candles.
    â€œYe’re off to bed,” he said. “Hot bricks and all to keep ye warm.”
    â€œGood night, Guard Casey,” they answered simply.
    He turned to them laughing, the whiteness of his bald head thrust over the pile of blankets