The Mammy by Brendan O'Carroll Page B

had a reason for it - he wanted to talk to Agnes out of Marion’s earshot. As they strolled down George’s Hill in the bright moonlight, Agnes was nattering away about how well Marion was looking and how she knew it would be nothing to worry about. Suddenly Tommo stopped in his tracks. Agnes had walked on a bit before she realised Tommo was not by her side. When it dawned on her, she too stopped, and turned to look back at him. Tommo stood, his head bowed and his huge form shuddering as he sobbed audibly. Agnes was taken aback.
    ‘What’s wrong with you, Tommo?’ she asked.
    ‘She ... she’s not well, Agnes ... she’s not well at all.’
    ‘Well, of course she’s not well, Tommo! Any surgery, even minor surgery, take’s a lot out of yeh ... And you may as well get used to it, ’cause if they have to take the breast ... she’ll be feeling down for a good long while!‘ Agnes spoke with authority in the hope that she could lift Tommo’s spirits. She didn’t. He sobbed louder now and was gasping for breath. So much so that he tried, but was unable to speak.
    ‘Ah Tommo, you’ll have to get a grip on yourself.’ Agnes was now standing hands-on-hips. Tommo just sobbed on.
    Agnes opened her handbag and rooted out her cigarettes. She lit one hurriedly. The smoke from the first draw wafted upwards towards the smiling moon. She dropped the pack back into her bag and clipped it shut. Tommo’s sobs were less frantic now and he was breathing deeply. A young couple linking arms passed them, the young girl recognising Agnes.
    ‘Good night, Mrs Browne,’ the girl said.
    Agnes smiled at her. ‘Eh ... yeh, good night, love. Straight home with yeh now!’
    The couple chuckled and strolled on. Agnes smiled after them, then turned with a more serious face to Tommo and spoke in a hushed but firm tone. ‘Will you cop on, Tommo. Standin’ there sobbin’ like a big fuckin’ sissy! Anyone would think it was the end of the world!’
    ‘It is ... for me, Agnes,’ he replied, his voice now deeper after his massive flow of tears.
    ‘Why? What’s the story?’ Even as she asked the question Agnes knew and dreaded the answer. Her body prepared for it, her knuckles going white around the handbag strap, her chest tightening, and her toes curling up as if to try and keep her feet firmly on the ground. Tommo looked her into the eyes, and spoke just two words.
    ‘Six months.’
    As Agnes now stared into the space that was Marion’s empty stall spot on this sunny morning, those two words echoed in her head.
    ‘Ma! Mammy!’ A little voice pierced her stupor and she jumped, startled. It was Cathy.
    ‘What the feck do you want?’ Agnes snapped.
    ‘Me lunch.’ Cathy’s reply was quiet and puzzled.
    Agnes bent and hugged her. ‘I’m sorry, pet ... I got a fright. I was miles away ... I’m sorry ...’
    Agnes let the child out of the tighter-than-usual hug but held on to her shoulders. She smiled into Cathy’s face.
    ‘You look lovely, chicken, except for that bloody woolly hat!’ and with that she pulled the hat off the child’s head. Cathy tried to pull it back on but it was too late. Her mother saw the damage. Agnes said nothing for a few seconds, she just stared at the child open-mouthed. Cathy hung her head.
    ‘Where’s your fringe?’ Agnes asked. The question came out as if the child had mislaid it.
    ‘Gone,’ Cathy answered without looking up.
    ‘I can see it’s gone, I’m not Ray fuckin’ Charles. Where’s it gone? How’d it go?’
    Agnes’s voice was getting angry.
    ‘Me sister cut it off.’
    ‘You haven’t got a sister ... unless you count Rory ...’
    ‘No ... me teacher sister ... Sister Magdalen, she cut it off!’ Tears now welled up in Cathy’s eyes.
    ‘Why?’ Agnes said with agony in her voice. She too now had a watery gaze.
    ‘Cause I was bold!’ It was all too much for Cathy, she broke into tears. Agnes hugged her only daughter tightly. She used the traditional cure, tapping Cathy’s