Open Writing

When you are a small child, your world is miniscule. People loom large. Faces, distorted by close proximity, bear down upon you, appearing enormous.

Patrick thought Auntie Amy was angry with him. Her green eyes flashed and her face was flushed. "Off you go, don't be a nuisance. Haven't you anything better to do than sit staring at me? Go downstairs and play."

Four-year-old Patrick was delighting in the novelty of watching Amy brush out her long red-gold hair. Now he suddenly felt that she didn't like him at all. Perhaps she only put on a show of liking him when his parents were there, but alone he was a nuisance. But Amy wasn't angry with him, simply dog-tired after being awake half the night helping the midwife.

Patrick walked purposefully across the landing and carefully turned the handle of his parents' room. Curtains drawn, all was shaded, the afternoon sun screened out. Suddenly the open door caused the curtains to billow in the soft breeze from the open window, where his mother in the big bed lay sleeping. Beside it, in the elegantly curtained cradle, was his little sister.

Patrick sighed. Closing the door he went downstairs.

After lunch his father had driven into town, "I've things to do Patrick."

"What things dadda? Can I come?"

"Not today. I'll be registering your baby sister. I won't be long. Be a good boy now."

He wandered into the dining room. Carrying a footstool across to the sideboard, he stood on it and gazed at himself in the mirror. That was him alright, Patrick Rush O'Neil. Not so very long ago the sight of his face had been a revelation. He had stood fascinated, pulling funny faces, until Dadda had caught him and said, "Careful, Patrick, the wind might change, and you'll be stuck looking like that forever more". He thought it might have changed because the new baby had arrived. But no, he still looked the same with mammy's black curly hair and blue eyes, like everyone said.

Then he spotted the Happy Families pack. Clutching the cards to his chest he went into the sitting room. The house was so quiet it made him uneasy. If Mammy were about, she would be busy making noises. Rattling saucepans and singing in the kitchen maybe, or playing games with him, cat's cradle, or pat-a-cake. Even the house smelt different since the new baby came, like Mr. O'Brien's at the Pharmacy. It didn't feel like his home any more. He felt lost in it.

He crept beneath the round yellow-draped table beside the settee, and for the first time in this strange, solitary day he felt safe. Taking the old, creased cards, with the familiar characters pictured on them, Patrick settled into playing his version of Happy Families until his eyelids drooped softly and drowsiness overcame him. Quietly he lay down and fell asleep.

He had the strangest dream. Mrs. Bun, the Baker's wife, rang the front doorbell, and Dadda answered it. She asked Dadda if he would give her some matches to light the oven, but Dadda said no, because he had to go and register the new baby.

Mrs. Bun said: "That's no excuse. There's no room for babies here," and all the other Happy Families shouted, "No room for babies. Happy Families don't have babies; we only have Mister and Missus, Master and Miss." Everyone started to laugh.

He awoke to the sound of Auntie Amy's laughter, then he heard his father speak softly, his voice stumbled strangely. "You know Amy, if anything happened to Laura, it would always be you."

Patrick sat up - something happen to Mammy? Tears sprang to his eyes. What could happen to Mammy. Was Mammy sick?

Then Amy's voice cried out so sharply that it cut through the air and hurt his ears. "In your dreams, Michael, in your dreams! Whatever should happen to my sister? She's a healthy, beautiful woman. If anything happens to Laura, by God, you'll answer to my father and the Rush family. I love my sister and don't you forget it."

At that moment Patrick knew that best in the world, next to his mammy, he loved his beautiful brave Auntie Amy.

He heard his father say something, and then Amy gave a little laugh. "The best thing you can do, Michael, is go and sleep it off in the spare room, and don't disturb Laura. Don't worry, I shan't say a word. Now I'm going to find Patrick, and make the tea."

Later Patrick crept out and followed Aunty Amy into the kitchen. He hadn't understood the conversation, other than the reference to tea, and he was hungry. Amy hugged him. "Hello, young Pat, where've you been hiding then?"

"I've been playing Happy Families. May I have scrambled eggs please?"

Patrick found Siobhan, his baby sister easy to love. From her first smile, he was proudly protective of her, though Dadda thought the smile was more likely wind!

When he is a man he will understand why his decent, kind and loving father, feeling momentarily alienated, behaved so foolishly out of character due to having wet the new baby's head too generously. But that incident is forgotten - for now, filed away in Patrick's mind, next to the funny little rhyme that mammy told him:

"Mothers' meeting, children invited,
Fathers can come if they don't get excited."

One day in the far distant future, when he has children of his own, Amy, his youngest daughter will recite that bit of nonsense and he will experience total recall of the day his sister Siobhan was born.