Heaps of Trouble Read Online Free PDF

strain of living with what she described as ‘an interfering bitch of a mother-in-law, watching her every step’ tended to stretch the mother’s nerves to breaking point. Not to mention the fact that my father was spending most of his time in the Workman’s Club, boozing and playing snooker. On one occasion, when having a row with the mother, he even announced that he had tuberculosis, to add to her woes.
    Being an active child, I decided one fine morning to dismantle the gas stove with an adjustable spanner I had found. This, for my mother, was the final straw in a world that must have appeared to be falling down around her ears.The next day I was marched around the corner, up past Keogh Square, and deposited into Golden Bridge School to enjoy Sister Charlotte’s ‘low babies’ class. Every day we could hear Sister Ann (through the partition that separated the classrooms) screaming at the kids, with the interruption of slapping noises followed by crying. This struck terror into us all and we thanked God that we were not in her class.
    Golden Bridge Convent (as it was officially known) also had an orphanage, situated at the rear of the convent and hidden behind railings and gates that the day pupils were never allowed to venture beyond. This only contributed to the horror stories that we told each other about the goings-on inside the place. I believe my father knew that things were not right at the convent. First of all he hated the nuns with a passion. Secondly, since he held the position of Home Assistance Officer for the area, he was also in charge of the dispensary centre at Keogh Square, which had two doctors and several nurses working from it. It stood to reason that the doctors closest to the orphanage had to come from the Keogh Square centre, which was only about five hundred yards away from the school.
    One particular evening the father came straight home from work in a foul temper, without first having visited the Workman’s Club (definitely a deviation from his usual habit). I was sitting, unnoticed, on the floor in a corner of the kitchen and so I overheard their conversation, which frightened me so much I did not dare mention it again to anybody.
    â€˜Those bloody nuns, the lot of them should be placed against a wall and shot.’
    â€˜Shush Ron, somebody will hear you.’
    â€˜I don’t care if the whole street hears me,’ said the father, his voice rising, causing the mother to rush over and close the connecting door between the kitchen and the shop, so that the assistant couldn’t overhear.
    â€˜Two of the sanctimonious bitches came into my dispensary today, practically hauling a little girl between them, and without so much as a “by your leave” they barged into my office and demanded to see Doctor Dillon.’
    â€˜Ron, calm down, what was wrong with that?’
    â€˜I felt sorry for the poor little girl, who was as skinny as a lath, so I called Dillon into my office and he carried out a preliminary examination on her.’
    The father was shaking with temper and, noticing this, the mother went over to one of the kitchen cupboards, extracted a bottle of whiskey, poured out a liberal amount and handed the glass to him. He continued, after taking a healthy swig from the glass.
    â€˜The bloody nuns refused to leave my office as Dillon carried out the examination. One of the bitches even had the gall to turn around and, in a sweet, singsong voice as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, announce that poor little Mary must have had a bad fall. Bad fall? The lying twisters, I could see that the little girl had been beaten black and blue by one of them. Her little face was swollen, she had two black eyes and her legs and arms were black and blue with bruises. Dillon was furious, he told them that the girl would have to be hospitalised for X-rays, which gave them such a shock I thought they were going to faint. “Oh no, no,