The Dead School Read Online Free PDF Page B

happy she was singing a little song which went, ‘Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy!’ and the
words of it seemed so silly she was going to say to Thomas, ‘Did you ever hear such silly billy words in your whole life – did you?’
    That was what she wanted to say to her little man and if she had, she would have expected Thomas to give one of his big wide baby grins that said back to her, ‘No, Mammy – I didn’t .’ But that’s not what happened unfortunately and there was only one reason for that and one reason alone, the fact that he was dead.
    And when she saw that, all that Mrs McAdoo could do was let out a howl, a howl that saw all the babies of centuries past flowing in front of her like a white stream.
    In the days that followed, no matter where you went you would hear one set of people saying this and another saying that and others who did not seem to know what to say. Our old friend Nobby the
Funeral Expert was quite firm. ‘Look – everybody makes a mistake,’ he said. ‘Are you going to sit there and tell me there’s nobody in this town makes a mistake? I
guarantee you this. For every ten tables knocked together above in the factory there’s one doesn’t come up to scratch. Am I right? And don’t tell me the doctors don’t drop
the odd stitch either. There’s men buried up there on that hill would still be walking the streets of this town if the doctors and surgeons had been minding their p’s and q’s.
Mistakes? We all make them. And the boys above in the parochial house are no different. Of course it’s very sad that the child was drowned. It’d be a hard-hearted class of a man
that’d say different. For there’s no sweeter sight on this earth than the smile of a wee bonny baby in a pram. Of course it’s sad – there’s no heavier cross to be
asked to bear. Poor Mrs McAdoo, Lord bless us and save us, God knows what it’ll do to her for what with her poor father passing away not two years back she wouldn’t now be the strongest
class of a creature if you know what I mean. But let’s be honest now, when all’s said and done what can you do about it? We’re hardly going to go up to the parochial house and
march the Canon down to McAdoo’s to make the child come alive again. Jesus Mary and Joseph sure we’re not going to do that. And if we’re not going to do it then what are we going
to do? I’ll tell you what we’re going to do – we’re going to do damn all. Damn all, that’s what we’re going to do. Because there’s nothing we can do. And
why? Because the Canon is a very nice man – the best of a fellow. A gentleman that’s what he is and no two ways about it. It’s just unfortunate that whatever happened this time
things didn’t work out and I’m afraid when all’s said and done that’s all there is to it, no more, no less.’
    When he had finished his monologue, the men who were sitting beside him on the seat couldn’t really think of much to offer by way of reply. They just sat there staring into the greasy
bowls of their caps and dragging long and hard on pipes as they said aye and that’s the way and true for you Nobby true surely.
    The funeral took place a couple of days later and Nobby was proved right again. He had estimated that there would be an attendance of one thousand and his forecast turned out to be absolutely
right. ‘The baby you see! You can always be sure of a big draw when it’s a baby. Do you mind the McMahon child? Close on the same you’ll find,’ he said.
    They put the small white coffin on trestles in the chapel for all to see and anybody who saw it could not stop the tears coming into their eyes. The chapel was filled with beautiful flowers.
Taped to the lid of the coffin was a small card edged in black reading ‘Thomas aged six months we loved you so much’, with a photograph of the child on it. All the shops in town closed
for the entire day as a mark of respect.
    As the funeral cortège