A Very Irish Christmas by James Joyce

Author:James Joyce
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781939931979
Publisher: New Vessel Press
Published: 2021-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

The Tommy Crans

ELIZABETH BOWEN

HERBERT’S FEET, FROM DANGLING SO long in the tram, had died of cold in his boots; he stamped the couple of coffins on blue-and-buff mosaic. In the Tommy Crans’ cloakroom the pegs were too high—Uncle Archer cocked H.M.S. Terrible for him over a checked ulster. Tommy Cran—aslant meanwhile in the doorway—was an enormous presence. “Come on, now, come!” he exclaimed, and roared with impatience. You would have said he was also arriving at the Tommy Crans’ Christmas party, of which one could not bear to miss a moment.

Now into the hall Mrs. Tommy Cran came swimming from elsewhere, dividing with curved little strokes the festive air—hyacinths and gunpowder. Her sleeves, in a thousand ruffles, fled from her elbows. She gained Uncle Archer’s lapels and, bobbing, floated from this attachment. Uncle Archer, verifying the mistletoe, loudly kissed her face of delicate pink sugar. “Ha!” yelled Tommy, drawing an unseen dagger. Herbert laughed with embarrassment.

“Only think, Nancy let off all the crackers before tea! She’s quite wild, but there are more behind the piano. Ah, is this little Herbert? Herbert …”

“Very well, thank you,” said Herbert, and shook hands defensively. This was his first Christmas Day without any father; the news went before him. He had seen his mother off, very brave with the holly wreath, in the cemetery tram. She and father were spending Christmas afternoon together.

Mrs. Tommy Cran stooped to him, bright with a tear-glitter, then with a strong upward sweep, like an angel’s, bore him to gaiety. “Fancy Nancy!” He fancied Nancy. So by now they would all be wearing the paper caps. Flinging back a white door, she raced Herbert elsewhere.

The room where they all sat seemed to be made of glass, it collected the whole daylight; the candles were still waiting. Over the garden, day still hung like a pink flag; over the trees like frozen feathers, the enchanted icy lake, the lawn. The table was in the window. As Herbert was brought in a clock struck four; the laughing heads all turned in a silence brief as a breath’s intake. The great many gentlemen and the rejoicing ladies leaned apart; he and Nancy looked at each other gravely.

He saw Nancy, crowned and serious because she was a queen. Advanced by some urgent pushing, he made his way round the table and sat down beside her, podgily.

She said: “How d’you do? Did you see our lake? It is all frozen. Did you ever see our lake before?”

“I never came here.”

“Did you see our two swans?”

She was so beautiful, rolling her ringlets, round with light, on her lacy shoulders, that he said rather shortly: “I shouldn’t have thought your lake was large enough for two swans.”

“It is, indeed,” said Nancy, “it goes round the island. It’s large enough for a boat.”

They were waiting, around the Christmas cake, for tea to be brought in. Mrs. Tommy Cran shook out the ribbons of her guitar and began to sing again. Very quietly, for a secret, he and

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