Happiness and Other Stories by Mary Lavin

Author:Mary Lavin [Lavin, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature, Stories
ISBN: 9781848401044
Google: Y5NPtQAACAAJ
Amazon: 1848401043
Publisher: New Island Books
Published: 1969-01-01T18:30:00+00:00

When he got outside the door of Annie’s room, Father Patton mopped at the sweat that had again broken out on his forehead. Then a faint chill of ether penetrated his nostrils. He kept the handkerchief to his face as he went down the corridor towards the stairs. Through the large windows on the landing he saw that outside the rain had ceased and a high wind was shaking the trees in the park across the street.

Anxious to get out in the fresh air, he almost ran down the stairs, and when, on a lower landing, he met another wardsmaid coming up the stairs against him with a tray, he would have crashed into her if she hadn’t flattened herself against the wall. Lazy sluts—still only bringing around the soup, he thought. Then he stopped short.

‘What is the name of that soup?’ he demanded roughly, not caring that he’d nearly frightened the girl out of her wits.

‘Cockyleaky, Father,’ she whispered.

Taken aback, he caught her arm, spilling the soup. He looked around to see if the other wardsmaid was in sight. There corridor was empty: there could have been no collusion.

‘What sort of a name is that for a soup?’ he asked less crossly.

‘I don’t know, Father,’ she said. ‘We have it once a week.’

Father Patton stared at her. For some reason, he felt better. But why?

Leaving the girl to stare after him, he went down the last flight of stairs, and strode along the bottom corridor until in front of him he saw the glass doors through which he had entered the building. He pushed open the door and went out onto the steps.

The air was fresh against his face. A cold sun was trying to struggle through the clouds, but in the wind its pale light was blown about like candle flame.

He stood on the steps for a moment, looking across the street into the park. Over there everything was stirring, the leaves, the thin branches near the tops of the trees; and now and then a heavy branch swayed. And when a sudden flock of sparrows rose into the air he laughed to see how the high wind blew them about like leaves. But all this movement made him feel lightheaded.

Carefully he went down the steps. Reaching the pavement, he stopped again. All the movement in the sky was reflected in the wet pavement so that it seemed as if the world was upside down, and that it was the heavens, and not the earth, was underfoot.

Slowly he went over to the edge of the curb where he had parked his car. He came to a stop again. At the sight of the car he shuddered. It was so old, so dented, so pockmarked with rust; it was like a car you’d see abandoned in a back street, the tyres off, the upholstery ripped open, the springs and the padding protruding like guts. He could almost get the smell of it from where he stood: a smell of stale cigarette butts and sweaty feet.

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