Chapter Ninety Nine
Riley's Potato Patch
Ma's sought for cup of tea was duly brewed, then poured, and served, along with a plate piled high with slices of gingerbread which proved especially popular with both Mairead and Rosaleen. Meanwhile, to shouts of "Up the Rovers" and "Up the Bohs", accompanied by both Ciaran and Tom, Ruari and Ronan had gone out into the yard in the fading light of the winter's afternoon, to kick about Ronan's new football; with Sybil's admonishment to Tom not to over exert himself. This drew a questioning look from Ma. Obviously, she doesn't know about his heart thought Sybil, wishing that she had, for once, kept silent. For her part, Sybil continued to sit by the fire, telling at the request of her two nieces, something of her own childhood spent growing up at Downton.
Sometime later, while Ronan and his father continued to kick the football about between them, across the farmyard, over in the long barn, by the flickering light of several hurricane lanterns, Tom now took one last look round. He smiled; well, pleased with their handiwork.
"There", he said, "I think that should just about do it, don't you".
Ruari nodded, smiled too. They were sitting companionably together on a bale of straw, chatting amiably, each sucking contentedly on a liquorice stick, which Tom had just happened to find in one of his pockets.
"How old are you now?" asked Tom.
"Nearly fourteen", said Ruari proudly between sucks.
"You're almost a man then!" Tom grinned.
"I suppose so" said Ruari ruefully. He looked down at the floor, drew circles in the dust with the toe of his boot.
"No suppose so about it, lad. You are!"
"Uncle Tom?"
"Hm?"
"You love Aunt Sybil very much, don't you?"
"Yes, I do", said Tom deciding that honesty was the best policy wherever it was that this particular conversation was heading.
"Uncle Tom, can I ask you something?"
"Of course" said Tom. "Ask what you will. But then, on hearing his nephew's next question, instantly regretted his candour.
"Uncle Tom, what's… what's… fucking?"
At the word, Tom's head shot up. He surmised, and correctly so, that, given his age, Ruari was still very much an innocent in matters sexual. So, had he just heard his thirteen and a half year old nephew aright?
"Ruari! If you said what I think you just did, that's not a word you should be using. Don't ever say that word in front of your Da, or for that matter me. Never, never say it in front of your Ma, nor your Aunt Sybil. If you do, mark my words lad, whether you're nearly fourteen or not, you'll find yourself put over your Da's knee and given a good leathering. Now, is that clear?"
"Yes" mumbled Ruari. He looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry Uncle Tom, I didn't mean to..." Ruari burst into tears, his slim body wracked with heart rending sobs, so much so that Tom put his arm about his nephew, drew him close in a warm embrace.
"Hey! Don't take on so. Now, whatever made you ask me what you just did?"
"Billy McGowan!" sobbed Ruari.
"And just who the hell is Billy McGowan?" asked Tom genuinely mystified.
"Sammy McGowan's older brother. He's fourteen, no fifteen. He... he and his mate Tadhg Murphy... they came with all us younger boys, after school, one time when we went fishing in the stream in the summer. He asked me who… who I'd… fucked, said he done that to Mary Riley... and to Brigid Nevin. When I said I hadn't done that to nobody, that I didn't ... didn't know what he was on about, he just laughed at me. He said I must be ..." Impatiently, Ruari wiped away at the continuing fall of hot, salty, stinging tears with the back of his hand.
"Must be what? Look at me Ruari. Just what did he say to you?" asked Tom gently.
"He said I must be backward" sobbed Ruari "Because I hadn't done it. But I'm not. Honest, Uncle Tom. I'm not backward. I'm not!"
"No, of course you're not!" Tom put his arm comfortingly about his nephew's hunched shoulders; hugged him tightly to him. "And Billy McGowan should learn to keep his feckin gob shut! And like with that word I told you not to say, don't tell your Ma I said those words either. Nor your Aunt Sybil. And don't repeat 'em! Promise?"
Dutifully young Ruari nodded his head".
"Now, dry your eyes. Here, take it". Tom handed Ruari his handkerchief, then waited while the boy blew his nose noisily, wiped his eyes, and composed himself. "Now Ruari, tell me truthfully, what do you know then? About it I mean", asked Tom gently.
"Well..." Ruari sounded doubtful. He looked at his uncle as if seeking reassurance. Tom nodded, willingly Ruari to speak; still waited, patiently, for his nephew to answer.
"Not much". Ruari's cheeks burned crimson.
"Not much", echoed Tom.
"All I know is, when I asked Da about it at the end of the summer he took me down the lower field and showed me the billy goat... what he was doing to the she-goats. Is that... is that what it's like?" Ruari fell silent. Another vivid splash of red colour washed across his features. Tom saw too, at the same time, an expression somewhere between both disgust and puzzlement flit across his nephew's face. Thanks Ciaran; thanks a lot, thought Tom and for the second time that same day. He hugged his nephew to him once again.
"Well, in a sense, yes. You see, part of you... This part, here see, between your legs". Tom tapped the front of his trousers. "You know what I'm talking about?"
Mutely, Ruari nodded his head, swallowed hard.
"Well see... it fits inside the girl... the woman. Between her legs..." Then, mentally picturing a rutting pair of goats, Tom decided the matter needed a little further clarification. "At the front" he added.
"At the front? Inside?" Ruari sounded incredulous. "Doesn't... doesn't it hurt?"
"No. Of course not! It can be a little painful, to begin with. Not for you. At least, not often, but it is sometimes, more usually though for the girl, for the woman. Not always, but if it is, then very soon that passes. Or so I've been reliably informed".
As he spoke, there formed in Tom's mind an image of a lamp lit bedroom. His bedroom. At the top of Ma's little house in Clontarf. Of that very first time. At least, it had been for her. Of Sybil lying naked beneath him. A beautiful dark haired Madonna that was what he had called her. Of how... how he had tried to make things easier for her. First one finger, then two... until he was certain she was ready to go further. The very last thing he had wanted to do was to cause her any kind of pain. But, he didn't think Ruari was ready for that kind of detail. At least not yet; not in the here and now.
"Uncle Tom?" Caring not a fig for his embarrassment, at this most inopportune of moments, Ruari's voice chose of its own volition to flit between the treble of his boyhood, the deeper, lower tone of his approaching manhood, and then back again, the sudden variation in pitch serving to bring Tom back to the present.
"Does any of what I've just said make some kind of sense? Any sense?" Tom hoped that it did and breathed a silent sigh of relief when Ruari nodded his head once again.
"Any more questions?" he asked, sincerely hoping that the matter presently under discussion could now be laid to rest. But in that Tom was to be sorely disappointed.
"So... so, is that where you do it then, in a field?" Ruari persisted. "Is... is that... is that where you do it, Uncle Tom?"
"Is that where I do what? Jaysus, no! Of course not, lad!" Tom flushed to the very roots of his hair.
"Well, where then?"
"In bed! That's where. That's where it's done". In the circumstances, Tom thought it for the best if he left out any mention of railway carriages, of lofts over stables and so forth. That would only serve to complicate matters.
"Oh! Only Billy McGowan said he and Mary Riley did it at harvest time, underneath the hay cart, in the field, behind her Da's potato patch. And... and when Da showed me the goats... Well, I thought that's where..."
"Yes, I do begin to see why you might think that!" said Tom and chuckled.
"And do you only... do you only do it with Aunt Sybil?" asked Ruari cautiously.
"Only with Aunt Sybil" said Tom laconically. "Just like your Da only..."
"... does it with Ma" concluded Ruari softly.
Tom nodded his assent.
"That's right. That's what happens, Ruari, when you love someone, when you're married to someone. You only do it with that one person".
"And before you're married?"
"Well" said Tom, "that's a bit different. The Catholic Church says you shouldn't do it before you're married. And so do the Protestants too, at least so I've heard tell. But lots of people do it before they're married". Before the words were out of his mouth, Tom was regretting them; knew what the boy's very next question would be.
"Did you?"
The boy had been so candid, so open with him, so implicitly trusting, that Tom felt honesty was the only course.
"Yes lad" he said. "Yes, I did".
Metaphorically, Tom scratched his head. How best for him to continue explaining all of this? It was, he thought, what picking one's way through a minefield on the Western Front must have felt like, knowing that one false step and ...
Jaysus, it shouldn't be this difficult. After all, God willing, if he and Sybil should have a son, then one day, and in the not too distant future, probably some time in the early 1930s, Tom might find himself having the very same conversation with him, as he was now with Ruari. Suddenly, the boy knelt down on the floor of the barn and began tying an errant bootlace. That simple act gave Tom an idea.
"Ruari" Guilelessly, from under his thatch of dark hair, the boy looked up at his uncle. "What would happen if, say, you borrowed your Da's boots and then tried to run across the yard in them?"
"Why should I want to borrow Da's boots? I've got my own," Ruari said doubtfully. He finished retying his bootlace; stood up.
"Oh, I don't know, but say you did..."
"Well, I wouldn't" said Ruari. "For one thing, they'd be far too big for me," he said coolly.
"Precisely" said Tom. "What I'm trying to say lad is that there's no right or wrong time for you to start doing what it is we've been talking about. Forget Billy McGowan and all his feckin boasting nonsense. You'll know when it's right - for you. As sure as eggs are eggs, you will. But, try to copy someone else in this, to follow their lead, then like as not, you'll come a hefty cropper, much as if you borrowed your Da's boots and tried to run in them! And remember never force yourself upon a girl. Making love with her, with a woman, should happen because you both want to do it; not just, because you want it for yourself. You treat them with respect, eh?" He ruffled his nephew's dark hair.
Ruari nodded.
"When we began this little chat, you asked me if I loved your Aunt Sybil and I told you that I did. Well, lad, that's true enough. But, to be absolutely truthful, it's rather more than that. I absolutely adore her. I love everything about her. I love her heart, body and soul and with every fibre of my being. And, one day, when you're somewhat older than you are now, you'll meet someone who you'll love just as much as I love your aunt".
"Jaysus! I do hope so!" breathed Ruari earnestly. Tom smiled.
"Of course you will lad, you will. And one thing more..."
"Yes, Uncle Tom?"
"Forget all about goats and potato patches!"
They both laughed.
"Uncle Tom..."
"Yes?"
"I love you".
"I love you too Ruari". Tom kissed his nephew lightly on his forehead.
"Now, stay here and keep an eye on the lanterns will you, there's a good lad, while I go and fetch your aunt across from the house, eh?"
Smiling broadly, Ruari nodded his assent.
And, without further ado, through the steadily lengthening shadows, Tom set off back across the farmyard, in search of Sybil.
Author's note:
"Up the Rovers" doubtless refers to the Shamrock Rovers Football Club said to have been founded in Ringsend, Dublin in 1901. "Up the Bohs" refers to The Bohemians, another football club, founded somewhat earlier, in the Phoenix Park Gate Lodge, in 1890.