The Whipping Club (24 page)

             
“Why didn’t you just ring us?” Marian shouted, not intent on an answer.

             
“I thought I was helping,” Adrian heard Mrs. O’Rourke plead as Ma turned her back. Marian pulled him away from the still-growing crowd.

             
“Don’t be worrying yourself about Mrs. O’Rourke,” Ben told her. “Stay still on this towel, Jo. Get
me another wet cloth, Marian,”
he said.

             
“I’m fine, Da, you can see that. It’s just dried blood. All I have are some scratches.”

             
Marian ran for some clean towels and wiped Jo’s arms clean.

             
“I’m all right, Ma,” Jo said and looked up at Adrian. “How are you?”

             
“I’m all right, too, Jo. Thanks,” he said. Marian took him straight through to the kitchen and wet a washrag to clean his face. His knickers were dirty but intact. He was frightened but he didn’t have a scratch on him.

             
“Your Granda’s watching over you,” Ma whispered into his ear as Da came into the kitchen with that strained look of compassion one sees at funeral gatherings.

             
“The guards want to talk to you, Adrian,” Ben said.

             
Marian rubbed Adrian’s back hard, as he began to shake. Adrian could feel the tension in the kitchen and started to cry, knowing what they’d done would have dire consequences for him.

             
Da put a hand on his shoulder. “Jo’s fine,” he said quietly to him. “That’s the biggest concern right now, the biggest relief. That Jo has not been seriously hurt, or worse,” he added.

             
“We’ll be right out. You can tell them,” Ma countered, shooing Ben away. She dabbed a wet rag on Adrian’s eyelids and the back of his neck, took him by the hand into the drawing room.

             
Adrian didn’t dare speak. He could feel the solemnity in the room as Johanna explained to the police about her acrobatics and the damage to the stained glass windows. According to the police, they had smashed an antique mosaic commemorating the Dunn family from Rathgar, and a Eugene Dunn would be notified. Adrian said that he was guilty of doing handstands but that he hadn’t been running away. He was trying to find his way home; he was trying to get help, and got lost.

             
Ma and Da sat next to each other on the sofa. Although a warm breeze could be felt wafting through the open window, they may well have been carved in ice. About this new situation, there was nothing more his parents could say to each other or to the guards.

             
Sister Agnes was notified immediately.

The afternoon Sister Agnes arrived to escort Adrian back to Silverbridge, Mrs. O’Rourke was sitting on her stoop pruning begonias in the pots by the door. After the ordeal with Johanna, it would come as no surprise to Marian that Sister Agnes might not relinquish rights to Adrian. For a while.

             
No time for tea, Sister Agnes informed Marian. She took Adrian by the hand.

             
Obedient and careful, especially since Sister had agreed to collect him after Johanna’s school was back in session, Marian kissed Adrian on the forehead and opened the front door. “You be a good boy for the nuns, now,” she whispered loud enough for Sister to hear, and Adrian grinned on cue. They’d practiced this bit, to make a good impression.

             
Sister Agnes smiled at Marian, and she felt a rush of hope as she watched the two walk through the gate.

             
Then Marian noticed Mrs. O’Rourke, the dried string bean, stand up, bow and lower her head as Sister Agnes and Adrian walked by. Although Adrian waved good-bye to Mrs. O’Rourke, she didn’t so much as glance at the boy. Marian shut the door and forced herself to take a seat on the couch, repressing a powerful urge to open the door and shout obscenities at the woman. Marian suspected that Mrs. O’Rourke was so displeased and even disturbed by Adrian’s presence around her girls that now, with this appalling late summer scene, she had just the excuse she needed to speak ill of the Ellis family. Gossip about the circus incident was sure to spread, and Mrs. O’Rourke would certainly take the opportunity to let everyone know that Adrian was the Ellises’ wild, bastard son. She got up and squeaked the back kitchen door open, tiptoed through the garden and crouched by the fence.

             
Mrs. O’Rourke pulled the Sister aside and talked to her of Adrian and Johanna’s friendships with her daughters, how she’d seen them playing chalked hopscotch and other childlike games. They were all just decent, normal children, she went on. They all managed quite well together. Yes, there was the mitching of apples and some unruly incidents, but she wanted Sister to know that there’d been no real harm done.

             
Jesus, shut it!
Marian wanted to scream. She knew this would pique Sister’s interest. Boys will be boys, she said to the fat-ass nun.
Bloody keep out of our business.

             
The Sister took her leave, and as Marian watched Adrian being dragged off to the orphanage, she thought about Anna and Rona. Didn’t Mrs. O’Rourke realize that what was happening to Adrian could easily have been her own nieces’ fates, had she not chosen to come live here with her brother-in-law,
as his wife?
Why was she such a blabbermouth?

             
Later that night Adrian no doubt would be flogged for his deeds. Once, he’d told Marian that after a beating in Sister Agnes’ private quarters (he’d never been invited into her room previously), his awe competed with the pain from her hand. He had told Peter, too, about all the whiteness, the prettiness of Sister’s bureau: a mirror and fine brushes atop a lace doily, just like his own ma’s at home. The night of one of his beatings, he lay in bed, sore, but happy in his own, dreamy world, the chaos of harsh words tucked away. He imagined Rosemary, his other orphan friend, as his wife, he’d told Marian. Rosemary, his cherry-cheeked girl, an apron around her waist, the smell of bread and apples baking, just like in their kitchen. Happiness was there inside him when he daydreamed of her. Along with the love he felt for his newfound family.

             
Feel protected, Adrian.

Even with Adrian gone and the house sterile again, Johanna still suffered from feelings of neglect. She rose early to chat in her parent’s bedroom, though couldn’t help but notice that the intimacy her ma shared with Adrian was not there for her. The more Jo wanted to talk with her, the more Ma’s expression became vague.

             
“What I really want is to visit my brother.
My
brother,” Jo said louder. Ma was washing dishes at the sink, smiling oddly—that same smile reserved for Adrian—as if she were remembering something.
             
“You’re not the only one misses him. I don’t want to have to wait for Christmas.
I
miss him. And we all know you do, too, Ma. And we’re all sorry for you,” she said. She left the kitchen and fell into a dining room chair, her fingers smoothing the scratches etched into the table. Probably etched by Adrian, by the boy wonder himself. God knows Ma wouldn’t care that he used to cut into it with his fork.

             
Ma came into the dining room to put wine glasses in the cupboard.

             
“I know you love him more than you love me.”

             
“Johanna!”

             
“It’s true. I can tell.”

             
Marian wrapped her arms around her, but Jo did not return the hug, and so Ma squeezed Jo’s shoulders. Jo wondered if her mother felt guilty about what she’d done, about giving Adrian away in the first place. Come to think of it, she wondered if Da did, too. Here Da was, starting talks with her about reserving herself for marriage! What a joke. She wondered if they would try to make up for their guilt forever. They were not the brightest of people.

             
“Ma. Listen to me. I feel so jealous of him sometimes. I want to hate him. The way you talk about him, it’s almost as if you’re gloating.”

             
“Gloating?”

             
“I never hear anything about my birth, my anything. Let’s face it. Adrian’s the only one on your mind.”

             
“That’s not true, Johanna. Do you not remember seeing all the photographs taken of you in hospital, the pink bow the doctor put in your hair, the prettiest girl in
the nursery? What about that?”
Ma said.

             
“You mean the one framed photograph on the mantel you

removed before Adrian arrived?”

             
“I didn’t want him jealous. There are no baby pictures for him to see, Jo.”

             
“You go on and on. Poor Adrian lives in an orphanage. I know he doesn’t have enough to eat; I know how this and that was terrible for him. I feel shamefaced just eating, for the love of Christ!”

             
“All children want to be only children,” is all Ma quietly said.

             
“Not me.”

             
“I don’t think there’s an adult alive, is what I mean, that had a

perfect childhood,” Ma said, wiping the wooden cupboard.

             
Pointless.
Jo could see that her mother wasn’t really listening.

             
“I didn’t realize you felt this ignored,” Ma said. “All your life.”

             
God. Bravo. You’re awake.
She’d begun to hike up her skirt when she got to school, and had many times borrowed her Ma’s lipstick.
I’ll get my own love one day. One way or another,
Jo thought. “Forget it. I just feel you’re somewhere else, like you aren’t home really,” she said, giving her an exaggerated smile.

             
“I want both of you,” Ma said, dim and unaccustomed to speaking with her, or maybe anybody, about emotions.

             
“You do? Listen, I know you love him more, Ma,” Jo ventured again. “I see the way you look at him. I didn’t come up the Liffey on a bicycle.”

             
“I feel sorry for him,” Ma said in a slightly sing-song way, in a voice raised as if she were getting annoyed with her. Marian made Jo’s own problems and feelings pale in comparison again, making her feel belittled and ashamed of herself at the same time.

             
“So do I.” Jo started to cry. “I don’t know what’s got into me. I know I’m the selfish one, the bad one.”

             
“No, dear,” Ma said, attempting to hold her. This time the girl allowed her mother’s embrace.

             
“I want my guilt to go away,” Johanna whispered.

             
“You’ll be grand,” Ma said. Did she really think this tired expression would help?

             
“Oh, and Ma. Just in case you remembered, I don’t want a birthday party this year.” She had had enough discussions with her friends about who could come and who couldn’t, and she was sick of it.

             
“Sure?”

             
“This will be my present. Please. If we could see Adrian, it would help me, I think, without it being a big deal. Just a regular family, like, with you paying attention to both of us,” she said with an awkward smile.

             
“What a grand idea,” Ma said. She placed a telephone call to

Sister Agnes.

             
Bravo. Grand. Jesus.

Adrian had not been lying on his cot for long before Sister Agnes was standing over him. Her hand was held out to escort him downstairs to his ma and sister. As usual, Peter trailed behind them, watched from the top of the wide front stairs as Adrian was given a common coat from the front hall closet.

             
“Can we bring Peter,” Adrian begged, putting his palms in the prayer position, looking up at Peter’s briny eyes and then at Sister Agnes.

             
“I don’t see the harm,” Sister Agnes said, sounding a bit put off for his asking.

             
Peter ran down the stairs, and Jo immediately thought he looked like Archie from the American comic books and said so, squeezing the hard candies she always carried in her coat pocket.

             
“I don’t know about your comics, Miss Ellis, but he’s a good lad, and these two are thick as thieves,” Sister Agnes commented.

             
“Wait quietly in the corner for a minute, children,” Ma said. She took Sister Agnes by her elbow and began whispering, as grownups do. She took out a five-pound note from her purse. Ma said she worried that the additional ten pounds she had recently given to Sister Agnes for Adrian’s care would not be enough to curry favor, nor in any other way help his release. Adrian worried that it might be cause to keep him, as he was proving to be a financial benefit for Silverbridge. More money would be forthcoming is what Sister Agnes might be thinking, more funds for all the children. And better food and accommodations for the nuns over at the convent as well.

             
“A Christmas offering—a few weeks early,” Ma said, touching Sister’s hand. Sister smiled at her, grateful, no doubt, for all her generosity, as she indicated and babbled on about the orphanage.

             
Jo tiptoed around the bend and through the parlor, Adrian and Peter alongside her, and they climbed the narrow back stairwell to the low baby’s dormo.

             
“This is Rosemary, Jo.” Jo looked at the teenager, and Adrian could tell that Jo agreed that Rosemary was indeed worthy of his attention. “I’ve been telling her we’re going to marry someday,” Adrian said and began laughing.

             
Jo laughed wildly at this, too, hopped up on the stool and picked up an infant. Sister Adela helped her. Another beautiful teenager, Adrian thought, Sister’s shy expression and warm skin almost close enough to touch Jo’s, her smile revealing buck teeth. Shiny brown hair, Adrian imagined, hid underneath her wimple.

             
“I’m going to marry Peter, then,” Jo dared to announce, fancying herself a bit like Veronica, a good match for an Archie. The older girls laughed.

             
Adrian and Peter shrugged off the crazy comment. “Let’s go, Jo,” Adrian said, noticing Sister Adela’s smile disappear as Ma and Sister Thunder Thighs entered the room.

             
“Would you like a job here yourself, Miss Ellis?” Sister Agnes said. Jo put the baby down.

             
“Isn’t he the cute one,” Ma said, studying the baby, taking Jo’s hand in hers. “We’ll just see your room, boys, and then we’ll go,” Ma said.

             
Adrian could tell that Sister Agnes did not like her assertiveness, but he took in a quiet breath and let this pass.

             
“The others are in the school rooms, so I guess it’s all right,” Sister Agnes said. “Sister Adela.” Agnes gestured with her hand for her to lead the group.

             
Down the hall, Jo slid out a
Beano
comic from inside her coat, which Adrian quickly put under the rungs of his cot. Two long rows of empty cots left little walking room. With no fireplace, the chill in the air was terrible. A lay teacher stood with a pointer by the lavatory. Ma approached her.

             
“Use that pointer on my son Adrian–”

             
“Number Four Seventy-Six?” the teacher interrupted.

             
“Adrian Ellis, teacher. Use that pointer on him, and I promise you,” Ma said in her ear. “I will run that thing so far up your ass it will come out your throat. Did you hear what I said?”

             
Teacher nodded.

             
“You must know Father Brennan.”

             
She nodded again.

             
He’s Adrian’s grand uncle, did you know that?”

             
“No, madam.”

             
“He’s watching you,” she hissed in her ear and then put a finger to her lips.

             
Adrian raised one eyebrow at the teacher as Sister Adela hurried them back down to the front hall. Sister Agnes, her hands behind her back, seemed to be anxious for the disruption to end.

             
“I was just telling the teacher about Adrian’s grand uncle, Father Brennan,” Marian said, coming down the stairs.

             
It was true, Father Brennan said Mass Sunday mornings, bimonthly now, and demanded that all children have a hot cocoa in the refectory before Mass, before any chores.
Breaking rules, it must run in the family,
Adrian thought proudly. Jo traipsed loudly down the front stairs. Rosemary, idling just out of sight, waved to him.

             
After saying their goodbyes, Adrian and Jo and Peter walked with Ma to the Inchicore Sandwich Shop.
             

             
“Why hasn’t Da come?” Adrian asked Ma as they waited for a table.

             
“He had to work,” she said.

             
Ben had told her that he had to work downtown. “You mean your old haunts again?” She’d said, nonchalantly.

             
“I have to drop something off at the Zion School, some papers about the Maria Dulce Society. They’re spreading rumors that Jews are Communists. And I have a lunch date with Max Berger and Principal Rosenberg.” Marian put on her coat and briskly took Johanna’s hand.

             
“I’ll take the car, then,” she sai
d. “And Ben?
Our
lunch is more
important, Mr. Reporter.” She slammed the front door. Once in Inchicore, Marian called her ma and asked if she could watch Jo later this afternoon. If Ben was really working he should be at the Zion School, and one way or another she was going to find out.

             
An rud anmanh is iontach
. What is strange is wonderful.
Ha!

It was strange indeed, all this mistrust. Now their differences no longer made her feel exotic.

             
“Say my name aloud again,” Adrian suddenly asked Ma, as they slid into the corner booth.

             
“Don’t go running your mouth off, or they won’t let your ma come back to see you,” Peter advised. “Never forget you are number Four Seventy-Six.”

             
“When can you take me home with you?” Adrian ignored his friend.

             
“After Christmas, that’ll be the end of it. Come on now. There’s hot tea getting cold,” Marian said.

             
Adrian’s gutted eyes welled up. He took a slow sip, and decided he shouldn’t discuss any of this now, for Peter’s sake. “Get up the yard, I don’t believe you,” Adrian said suddenly, testing her, acting the man in front of his friend, but Ma ignored him. “Great talk, little action,” he muttered.

             
Just past twelve years old, he’d changed in the four months since he spent the summer with them. He’d toughened up.

             
“Look at the two of you, getting bigger than your boots.” Marian took
Jungle Animals
from her bag. Adrian moved to her side of the table and touched the cardboard book. “Try to read it to me,” she urged, shifting her weight.

             
He shook his head, embarrassed in front of the others.

             
“Give it a go.”

             
“I’m too tired.”

             
“See the colorful birds flying in the forest,” she read, pointing at the words with her finger. “See the funny monkey in the forest?”

             
He put his head on the table. “I’m terrified of monkeys,” he said. “Sister Agnes says she’s gonna put us in the cage with her pet monkey if we’re mean to him.”