The Keepsake. Sheelagh Kelly

enough for stirring without spoons,’ accused Red, but Mal just heaved an emotional sigh and pulled out a handkerchief to mop at his glistening eyes. ‘God love her, she had real style, my Biddy. I’m not saying Aggie doesn’t try her best of course…’

      Grossly insulted and too furious to sit still, with face a-thunder Aggie marched off to the scullery where, against habit, she aided her girls with the washing up.

      Meantime, a child was ousted so that Etta could get to one of the more comfortable seats, the youngest planting himself at her feet.

      ‘Jimmy-Joe seems to have a fascination with your shoes, Etta,’ observed Redmond in his soft brogue, between taking puffs of a pipe.

      Responding to his kind attempts to make conversation, she agreed and smiled down at the toddler, who played with the tassel on one of her kid shoes – but fondness swiftly turned to dismay when, with one crafty sleight of hand, the tassel was ripped from its moorings and was spirited away as Jimmy-Joe made his gleeful escape on all fours.

      ‘Catch that wee divil!’ Redmond signalled to Maggie, who grabbed the toddler before he managed to scramble between her stick-thin legs, upturning him and retrieving the tassel, which was apologetically handed back to its owner.

      Marty saw Etta’s crestfallen face at the disfigurement of her only pair of shoes, and said hastily, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll stick it on when we get home. Have you any glue I can borrow, Da?’

      Redmond gritted his teeth to smile contritely at Etta. ‘Why, to be sure.’

      ‘Will I fetch it?’ offered Uncle Mal, rising. ‘I want to go for a –’

      ‘Thanks, Uncle.’ Marty pre-empted any rude utterance.

      ‘– drink of water, anyway,’ finished the old man before tottering off.

      The washing-up done, Aggie was forced to return and to undergo dialogue with Etta, perching herself uncomfortably on a dining chair. Informed of the vandalism and seeing an unrepentant Jimmy-Joe bound for Etta’s other shoe, she snatched his dress and hauled him back, advising the rest of her youngsters, ‘Take him out to play for a while afore bed.’

      Excited by their brother’s choice of bride, the children were loath to miss any crumb of information and had to be forced outside, twelve-year-old Elizabeth tutting sulkily, ‘Just call your slave in when you want any more washing-up done!’ Then quick as a sprite she ducked outside to escape retribution. However, nothing of much import was to follow, the topics ranging from the hot weather to Etta’s outfit, which Aggie deigned to compliment. Her daughter-in-law was indeed a very pretty girl, she could see how Marty would have fallen for her, and she went so far as to say this, Etta’s response being equally gracious.

      Uncle Mal re-entered then, carrying the glue-pot, which he placed on the table for Marty to collect when he left.

      Whilst the old man lowered himself into his chair, Aggie resumed the chit-chat, but the polite conversation was halted by an agonised yelp.

      ‘Sat on me nuts,’ explained a pain-faced Uncle Mal.

      Redmond cleared his throat noisily, signalling for his wife to say something. Marty wanted to die and dared not lift his eyes from his shoes. Etta fought laughter and pretended she had not heard, saying, ‘It’s remarkably light still, isn’t it? The children must appreciate these summer nights.’

      ‘Indeed, indeed,’ nodded Redmond, puffing embarrassedly at his pipe and brushing at his trouser leg to remove imaginary specks.

      ‘Right, enough of this codology,’ said Aggie from her seat at the table, her tone quiet but determined, her eyes on the newly married couple. ‘I want to know where we stand.’ She dismissed her husband’s look of quiet recrimination. ‘We’ve a right to know if the girl’s father’s going to come around and knock us flat.’

      ‘He won’t come here,’ said Etta, beating Marty to this disclosure. ‘He’s washed his hands of me.’

      Holding her daughter-in-law’s eyes, Aggie saw the flicker of pain in them and allowed slight compassion into her voice. ‘Well, I’m sorry about that, but I can’t say I’m not relieved that my son isn’t to get another beating on your account.’

      Etta felt immediately challenged, a sense of rivalry forcing her to declare, ‘And so am I. It wasn’t my intention that he should receive the first.’ She looked at Marty’s father to include him in her answer, but to her dismay he seemed so uninterested as to be nodding his way towards sleep, and so she addressed herself solely to the matriarch. ‘Your son is very dear to me, Mrs Lanegan.’ It sounded idiotic saying that when she was Mrs Lanegan too, but at that moment she could never contemplate addressing this woman as Mother; nor, she felt, would the other countenance it.

      ‘Dearer than your parents, obviously.’ Aggie remained cool.

      Marty showed slight annoyance at the hurt inflicted on his loved one. ‘Ah well, what’s done is done.’

      ‘Doesn’t mean it can’t be undone,’ retorted Aggie. ‘You’re both under age.’

      He looked aghast. ‘You’re not saying – Ma, surely you wouldn’t have the marriage revoked?’

      Aggie rapped the table, jolting her husband awake, and projected her full ire at them.

      ‘God almighty, is that all you’re bothered about? Don’t you know you could be sent to prison for this, the both of yese?’

      The newlyweds were flabbergasted.

      ‘For making false declaration! You’ve both presumably told the registrar that you had your parents’ consent when that’s a patent lie.’ Aggie watched the horror spread over their young faces, letting them stew for a while.

      Etta was on the verge of tears at the thought of being parted from her beloved. ‘Oh, I beg you not to be so cruel!’

      ‘Cruel?’ Aggie’s temper was rising. ‘You turn a son against his parents, make him lie like a serpent to them, and you tell me I’m the cruel one!’

      Marty fought to save the situation. ‘Etta didn’t mean it like that, Ma! Aw, you wouldn’t really ruin our happiness? Not after all Etta’s been through. I’ve told her how great you and Dad are, how you’d understand why we had to do this, that you’d take her to your hearts!’

      ‘Aggie, stop torturing them, they’ve learned their lesson.’ Redmond’s quiet intervention put a stop to this, leaving Etta surprised that he had been listening after all, and also grateful when he told the pair, ‘We won’t give you away, there’d be little point, the damage is done. Oh, but you’ve hurt us, Marty, by doing it this way.’ He shook his head, his voice bitterly accusing. ‘You surely have.’

      Marty dropped his eyes to the multi-hued clipping rug at his feet. Etta too showed repentance, but both were utterly relieved.

      Studying her daughter-in-law’s face, Aggie tried to read if her motive was genuine or whether this was all just a big adventure. Only time would tell. After an awkward period, she enquired with a sigh, ‘So, are you thinking we’ll put the pair of you up?’

      Again it was Etta who delivered hasty reassurance. ‘Oh no, Mrs Lanegan, we have a place of our own.’

      ‘Thought of everything, haven’t ye?’ Aggie looked piercingly at her son.

      Marty was beginning to tire of the interrogation, saying to Etta, ‘Maybe we’d better go now – thanks for the tea, Ma.’

      ‘Our pleasure.’ The reply was ironic, Aggie rising with the couple, as did Redmond and Mal. ‘Are we permitted to know where you live?’

      ‘Long Close Lane,’ Marty told them. ‘The Square and Compass.’

      Withholding their opinions, his parents merely nodded, but it was obvious what they were thinking.

      Etta and Marty took their leave of Uncle Mal, the old man wishing them, ‘Good