Emerald Germs of Ireland by Patrick McCabe

Author:Patrick McCabe
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mothers and sons, Parricide, Horror, Fiction, Psychological, General, Ireland, Serial murderers
ISBN: 9780060956783
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2002-03-04T10:00:00+00:00

Pat knew in his heart that it could not possibly be but it seemed to him that with the first two notes of that piercing, haunting melody, all those sad, hurt souls whose lives Captain Slaughter (one of their increasingly more colorful names for his father) had ruined (a euphemism, surely, considering most of them had been heartlessly dispatched to their eternal reward) were right there with him in the library. High walls of shadows surrounded him.

“I said—how do you plead?” he had demanded to know that fateful night so many years before.

The racking cries of pain and strangled gurgling that issued from his father’s throat as he shot up in bed clutching his ears and throat were, despite Pat’s protracted psychological preparation for it, close to—it is pointless to deny it—unbearable.

“That was all so, so long ago now, of course,” murmured Pat to himself as he leaned on the gatepost the following morning, looking down the garden. He ran his finger along the top of the stone pillar which was covered entirely in the most beautifully delicate lacework of snow. “Sad thing is,” he said, his breath condensing in the hard, sdii air, “you always hope there’s a way out, and if Mammy hadn’t gone to Dublin that day, he might still be alive. But another way of looking at it is that that’s the way it’s meant to be.”

His eyes shone as he held up the small companion in his right hand and stared fondly at the litde beads of melted snow on his rose-red cheeks. The paint of his drum had long since flaked and faded.

“There is no other way it could have been,” his old pal seemed to say. “No other way, friend. He made it inevitable.”

It seemed as yesterday now, when the inevitable had begun. Pat had been doing his homework at the kitchen table when his mother arrived back from Dublin. She put her head around the door and said, “Look at that! Well, who’s a busy fellow now!” as she tiptoed up behind him and cried, “Guess what I’ve got for you!”

Pat nearly fainted when he saw her open the package.

The uniform was almost exactly like his pal’s, right down to the last detail—the knee britches sparkling white and a beautiful, swallow-tailed scarlet coat with brass buttons. Pat could not believe his eyes as he stared at himself in the bedroom mirror. He gasped.

“Mammy! It’s exactly like him!”

He kissed his small toy—instinctively—and slipped it into the pocket of his military tunic. His mother hugged him.

“We’ll have a good Christmas yet, you and me—and to hell with—him! Won’t we, love?”

Pat had nodded so Fiercely he feared his head would come rolling off.

What fun they had some days later—his father was in Carrickmacross. Mammy marching up and down the field with her arms swinging and Pat directly behind her beating a tattoo.

“Ta ra ra ra ra boys oh boys!” sang his mother proudly.

“More, Mammy! More!” cried Pat.

“Rup pup pup pum pum me and my drum!” went on his mother.

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