“When ye came along he was so proud he used to wheel the pram
himself.... Where did he find the time for all that studying? The head always stuck in a book. He even read them to
ye. I used to say would you not try something they might understand, a
nursery rhyme or a little song? Then he'd start into this lecture on what did
he call it? The glory that was Greece, the... the....”
“Is she looking after you at all? I know she means well, but you'd be far better off in Shaen or Mountmellick. And she'd want to start minding herself too, so she would. She's got as cross as a bag of cats. I couldn't believe it the morning I walked in and saw the mattress. I suppose all the traipsing up and down the stairs was wearing her out, but still.... She'd want to watch herself or, one of these days, she'll go out like-” “Look at me, Daddy, crying again. Just like Mom. She used to cry for the smallest reason. Do you remember that? Did she cry that morning on Second Avenue? Was she crying before she hit the ground? What was the last word she spoke? Was it Liam? Michael? Jesus? Catherine?” continue
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