The Whipping Club by Henry Deborah

Author:Henry, Deborah [Henry, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780984553181
Publisher: T.S. Poetry Press
Published: 2012-02-15T08:00:00+00:00

~ 23 ~

With Benjamin’s arm in a cast, Marian took the driver’s seat on the way home from the hospital. The rest jockeyed for positions by the other doors. Beva had not had a chance to chat with her grandson but accepted the middle seat between her daughter-in-law and Benjamin in the front without a word as Gran made a big to-do about everything with the kids in the back.

Where were Jo’s hair bows? Gran asked Marian. Where was Adrian’s sun hat? And on and on she chattered. “Stop your clowning, now.” Gran tapped Johanna’s wrist. Adrian retaliated a poke from Johanna and received his own tap on the knee.

Obviously Gran and Marian had been unable to teach these young people manners, Beva thought.

“You won’t, either of you, be having the chocs in this box on my lap after tea, I can tell you,” Gran said.

Beva suddenly felt badly about the way she treated Marian. She thought about the young woman that Marian was when she first met her, barely out of school. Perhaps Marian had been hoping that they might even be thrilled to have a little one running around the table. Beva understood a tad more now. Marian had been nervous. The nervous Beva herself had been rude, heartless even. With Marian’s pregnancy in the picture, it all made sense. She wondered where the boy had been born and how different it would have been if Marian had never gone away, if she had told Benjamin the truth.

“Children, cut it out,” Benjamin called.

Raising an eyebrow, Beva turned around. The kinder immediately stopped jumping around in the car. She patted her son on his knee.The muggy day proceeded, the sky’s gray clouds bunched together. A sudden downpour, replete with thunderous noise, ensued, and they were stuck in an awful traffic jam. Squawking horns from miserable motorists exacerbated the discomfort. Marian took the opportunity to point out Da’s office building, or at least the direction of The Irish Times and the green further down, with the Shelbourne Hotel on the right, where the Irish Constitution was signed. “A favorite of your ma and da’s, this area in general,” she said. “Isn’t it,” she said to Benjamin.

“Ah, it is. Open the windows back there,” Benjamin said. “I’m roasting.”

“It’s raining, Da,” Jo answered back, laughing at him.

“That’s where your da and I celebrated our wedding day,” Marian pointed, looking straight ahead.

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