Read Online Time Present and Time Past by Deirdre Madden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deirdre Madden
Ads: Link
again.
There is a small calendar above the desk where he is sitting, and in the square for the date three days hence is written âCatherine 4.00 pmâ. Fintan does not know who Catherine is. Colette had been annoyed with Fintan some time back when he remarked to her his surprise at how popular both their sons seemed to be with girls.
âWhy wouldnât they be popular? Arenât they both great fellows?â
Fintan knows almost nothing about this side of Niallâs life. At times he wonders how much even Niall himself knows about it. Ever since he was in his mid-teens girls had been drifting in and out of the house in his company. Niall had often appeared to be surprised by their presence, even as he made them pots of tea and put out biscuits, as if they were the human equivalents of stray cats who had followed him home, and kindness suggested that they be offered refreshment. Lovely young women they were too, confident and bright, always full of chat. It mystified Fintan as to what they saw in his younger son, so lacking in dynamism, so dreamy and vague.
He finds Robâs intimate life similarly baffling. His rather cynical personality, his rationality and ambition might have suggested a somewhat cold approach and a succession of trophy girlfriends, leading eventually to a trophy wife. But in Freshersâ Week at UCD Rob met Mags, a garrulous girl with an infectious laugh, hair the colour of toffee and a gap between her front teeth: they have been together ever since. Although he is extremely fond of her, Fintan veers between wondering what Mags sees in Rob and what Rob sees in Mags. Colette, more shrewdly, understands perfectly the dynamic at work and knows that Mags will most likely be the mother of her grandchildren. She knows, too, not to speak to Fintan about this, that it would only bewilder him.
âWhat I find hard to believeâ, Fintan says, struggling to articulate what it is about the photos that astonishes him, âis that if someone from a hundred years ago were to walk into this room now they would look exactly the same as we do. I think,â and it is suddenly revealed to him, âI think that I was making exactly the same mistake as Lucy, without even realising it: I also thought that the world was black and white in the past. Of course I knew it wasnât, but I couldnât get past what the photographs seemed to present.â
âBlack and white,â Niall says, laughing, âand slightly out of focus and fuzzy at times.â
Now Fintan has it exactly.
âI was confusing the technology with what it was recording.â
âAs if you thought people in the past had crackling, scratched voices when they sang, like the recordings on that old horn gramophone Auntie Beth has in her house. But look at it this way, Dad,â Niall continues. âYouâre old enough to remember the past â not the First World War, obviously. No, but seriously, think about your childhood. You must be able to remember things from, say, the sixties, in a way thatâs different to how they look in photographs from that time and that are unlike anything youâd see nowadays.â
In a most uncharacteristically obliging manner, Granny Buckley immediately presents herself to Fintan in his mindâs eye, dressed for Sunday Mass, in a black wool coat that comes almost to her ankles. The coat has a collar of curious ridged black fur to which is pinned a brooch in the shape of a wishbone, embellished with a pearl and a small garnet. Her shoes are black leather, laced up and close- fitting , with blocky concave heels; and her hat is a dome of black felt, adorned with a bunch of hard fake cherries which are absurdly shiny and bright. From beneath this hat Granny Buckleyâs little face, all parchment skin and age spots, peers out, unsentimental and hard. This is exactly how she looked and dressed when Fintan was about six â younger even than Lucy is now; and yet
There is a small calendar above the desk where he is sitting, and in the square for the date three days hence is written âCatherine 4.00 pmâ. Fintan does not know who Catherine is. Colette had been annoyed with Fintan some time back when he remarked to her his surprise at how popular both their sons seemed to be with girls.
âWhy wouldnât they be popular? Arenât they both great fellows?â
Fintan knows almost nothing about this side of Niallâs life. At times he wonders how much even Niall himself knows about it. Ever since he was in his mid-teens girls had been drifting in and out of the house in his company. Niall had often appeared to be surprised by their presence, even as he made them pots of tea and put out biscuits, as if they were the human equivalents of stray cats who had followed him home, and kindness suggested that they be offered refreshment. Lovely young women they were too, confident and bright, always full of chat. It mystified Fintan as to what they saw in his younger son, so lacking in dynamism, so dreamy and vague.
He finds Robâs intimate life similarly baffling. His rather cynical personality, his rationality and ambition might have suggested a somewhat cold approach and a succession of trophy girlfriends, leading eventually to a trophy wife. But in Freshersâ Week at UCD Rob met Mags, a garrulous girl with an infectious laugh, hair the colour of toffee and a gap between her front teeth: they have been together ever since. Although he is extremely fond of her, Fintan veers between wondering what Mags sees in Rob and what Rob sees in Mags. Colette, more shrewdly, understands perfectly the dynamic at work and knows that Mags will most likely be the mother of her grandchildren. She knows, too, not to speak to Fintan about this, that it would only bewilder him.
âWhat I find hard to believeâ, Fintan says, struggling to articulate what it is about the photos that astonishes him, âis that if someone from a hundred years ago were to walk into this room now they would look exactly the same as we do. I think,â and it is suddenly revealed to him, âI think that I was making exactly the same mistake as Lucy, without even realising it: I also thought that the world was black and white in the past. Of course I knew it wasnât, but I couldnât get past what the photographs seemed to present.â
âBlack and white,â Niall says, laughing, âand slightly out of focus and fuzzy at times.â
Now Fintan has it exactly.
âI was confusing the technology with what it was recording.â
âAs if you thought people in the past had crackling, scratched voices when they sang, like the recordings on that old horn gramophone Auntie Beth has in her house. But look at it this way, Dad,â Niall continues. âYouâre old enough to remember the past â not the First World War, obviously. No, but seriously, think about your childhood. You must be able to remember things from, say, the sixties, in a way thatâs different to how they look in photographs from that time and that are unlike anything youâd see nowadays.â
In a most uncharacteristically obliging manner, Granny Buckley immediately presents herself to Fintan in his mindâs eye, dressed for Sunday Mass, in a black wool coat that comes almost to her ankles. The coat has a collar of curious ridged black fur to which is pinned a brooch in the shape of a wishbone, embellished with a pearl and a small garnet. Her shoes are black leather, laced up and close- fitting , with blocky concave heels; and her hat is a dome of black felt, adorned with a bunch of hard fake cherries which are absurdly shiny and bright. From beneath this hat Granny Buckleyâs little face, all parchment skin and age spots, peers out, unsentimental and hard. This is exactly how she looked and dressed when Fintan was about six â younger even than Lucy is now; and yet
Similar Books
