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- Strictly for Adults Novels >
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Tales from Portlaw
>
- No Need to Look for Love
- 'The Love Quartet' >
-
The Priest's Calling Card
>
- Chapter One - The Irish Custom
- Chapter Two - Patrick Duffy's Family Background
- Chapter Three - Patrick Duffy Junior's Vocation to Priesthood
- Chapter Four - The first years of the priesthood
- Chapter Five - Father Patrick Duffy in Seattle
- Chapter Six - Father Patrick Duffy, Portlaw Priest
- Chapter Seven - Patrick Duffy Priest Power
- Chapter Eight - Patrick Duffy Groundless Gossip
- Chapter Nine - Monsignor Duffy of Portlaw
- Chapter Ten - The Portlaw Inheritance of Patrick Duffy
- Bigger and Better >
- The Oldest Woman in the World >
-
Sean and Sarah
>
- Chapter 1 - 'Return of the Prodigal Son'
- Chapter 2 - 'The early years of sweet innocence in Portlaw'
- Chapter 3 - 'The Separation'
- Chapter 4 - 'Separation and Betrayal'
- Chapter 5 - 'Portlaw to Manchester'
- Chapter 6 - 'Salford Choices'
- Chapter 7 - 'Life inside Prison'
- Chapter 8 - 'The Aylesbury Pilgrimage'
- Chapter 9 - Sean's interest in stone masonary'
- Chapter 10 - 'Sean's and Tony's Partnership'
- Chapter 11 - 'Return of the Prodigal Son'
- The Alternative Christmas Party >
-
The Life of Liam Lafferty
>
- Chapter One: ' Liam Lafferty is born'
- Chapter Two : 'The Baptism of Liam Lafferty'
- Chapter Three: 'The early years of Liam Lafferty'
- Chapter Four : Early Manhood
- Chapter Five : Ned's Secret Past
- Chapter Six : Courtship and Marriage
- Chapter Seven : Liam and Trish marry
- Chapter Eight : Farley meets Ned
- Chapter Nine : 'Ned comes clean to Farley'
- Chapter Ten : Tragedy hits the family
- Chapter Eleven : The future is brighter
-
The life and times of Joe Walsh
>
- Chapter One : 'The marriage of Margaret Mawd and Thomas Walsh’
- Chapter Two 'The birth of Joe Walsh'
- Chapter Three 'Marriage breakup and betrayal'
- Chapter Four: ' The Walsh family breakup'
- Chapter Five : ' Liverpool Lodgings'
- Chapter Six: ' Settled times are established and tested'
- Chapter Seven : 'Haworth is heaven is a place on earth'
- Chapter Eight: 'Coming out'
- Chapter Nine: Portlaw revenge
- Chapter Ten: ' The murder trial of Paddy Groggy'
- Chapter Eleven: 'New beginnings'
-
The Woman Who Hated Christmas
>
- Chapter One: 'The Christmas Enigma'
- Chapter Two: ' The Breakup of Beth's Family''
- Chapter Three: From Teenager to Adulthood.'
- Chapter Four: 'The Mills of West Yorkshire.'
- Chapter Five: 'Harrison Garner Showdown.'
- Chapter Six : 'The Christmas Dance'
- Chapter Seven : 'The ballot for Shop Steward.'
- Chapter Eight: ' Leaving the Mill'
- Chapter Ten: ' Beth buries her Ghosts'
- Chapter Eleven: Beth and Dermot start off married life in Galway.
- Chapter Twelve: The Twin Tragedy of Christmas, 1992.'
- Chapter Thirteen: 'The Christmas star returns'
- Chapter Fourteen: ' Beth's future in Portlaw'
-
The Last Dance
>
- Chapter One - ‘Nancy Swales becomes the Widow Swales’
- Chapter Two ‘The secret night life of Widow Swales’
- Chapter Three ‘Meeting Richard again’
- Chapter Four ‘Clancy’s Ballroom: March 1961’
- Chapter Five ‘The All Ireland Dancing Rounds’
- Chapter Six ‘James Mountford’
- Chapter Seven ‘The All Ireland Ballroom Latin American Dance Final.’
- Chapter Eight ‘The Final Arrives’
- Chapter Nine: 'Beth in Manchester.'
- 'Two Sisters' >
- Fourteen Days >
-
‘The Postman Always Knocks Twice’
>
- Author's Foreword
- Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
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Celebrity Contacts
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Thoughts and Musings
- Bereavement >
- Nature >
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Bill's Personal Development
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- What I'd like to be remembered for
- Second Chances
- Roots
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- Memorable Moments of Mine
- Cleckheaton Consecration
- Canadian Loves
- Mum's Wisdom
- 'Early life at my Grandparents'
- Family Holidays
- 'Mother /Child Bond'
- Childhood Pain
- The Death of Lady
- 'Soldiering On'
- 'Romantic Holidays'
- 'On the roof'
- Always wear clean shoes
- 'Family Tree'
- The importance of poise
- 'Growing up with grandparents'
- Love & Romance >
- Christian Thoughts, Acts and Words >
- My Wedding
- My Funeral
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Chapter Eight - ‘The early school years of Mary Fanning: 1983-93’
Between the ages of four and fourteen, Mary Fanning, the firstborn child of John Fanning and Mary Fanning (Nee Lanigan), believed that everything her parents and teachers told her was nothing short of Gospel. Not once did she fail to accept every tenet of Roman Catholic faith the nuns at school daily instilled during ‘Religious Studies’.
Despite coming from an ordinary background, young Mary spent her first two years of formal education attending a Catholic private school in Clonmel, before being moved back into the state sector of primary education three months after her seventh birthday.
Despite the money it cost John Fanning to pay for this, in his mind it was well worth the additional expenditure to provide his firstborn with the best Catholic foundation she could have.
Even before their first child had been born, and not knowing how many children he would go on to parent, John Fanning was determined that their firstborn would have a much better start in life than her mother ever had in the field of education.
So, when young Mary attained the age of 5 years and was due to start ‘First School’, John Fanning persuaded his wife that the first two years of their daughter’s school life, would see her with a better grounding, if she was taught in a private school run by Catholic nuns.
John had always believed in the saying by the philosopher, Aristotle, before it was seized and given ownership in the motto of the Jesuits, ‘Give me a child until he is seven and I’ll give you the man’. The Jesuits had strongly believed that the best time to indoctrinate the mind with dogma is when a child is in its formative years of learning and conditioning.
Hence, John Fanning believed that the years 5-7 in a child’s education was more influential than any other educational years that followed! So, he persuaded his wife that their daughter Mary should spend her first two years of school life in a private school that was run by teaching nuns before being transferred back into the state sector after her 7th birthday.
Given that corporal punishment had been outlawed in state run schools by the early 1980s, but was still allowed in private-school establishments, Mary’s mother had many reservations about allowing her young daughter to attend a private school run by teaching nuns at such an early age of her formal education.
She was firmly of the view that a young child between the impressionable and vulnerable ages of 5-7 years should be playing with Plasticine and crayons and roaming around Wendy Houses, not having the concept of the Virgin birth and the Blessed Trinity pounded into their little heads!
Young Mary’s mother was of the firm view that these early years were precious years of innocence when a child should have their head filled with imaginary stories of wicked witches, elves, goblins, and little people; not crucifixion and an all-embracing God who cannot be seen and whose presence cannot be proved.
These were years of childhood exploration and realistic confirmation, when stories such as Jesus feeding the 5000 with five loaves and two fish, when presented as Gospel, merely confused the conceptual distinction between fact and fiction, when say compared to fantasies of Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf or Ali Barba and his Magic Carpet!
She was unable to protest too much though, lest it was seen by her husband as her being unwilling to allow her oldest child the best possible grounding she could be given in the Catholic faith.
Despite coming from an ordinary background, young Mary spent her first two years of formal education attending a Catholic private school in Clonmel, before being moved back into the state sector of primary education three months after her seventh birthday.
Despite the money it cost John Fanning to pay for this, in his mind it was well worth the additional expenditure to provide his firstborn with the best Catholic foundation she could have.
Even before their first child had been born, and not knowing how many children he would go on to parent, John Fanning was determined that their firstborn would have a much better start in life than her mother ever had in the field of education.
So, when young Mary attained the age of 5 years and was due to start ‘First School’, John Fanning persuaded his wife that the first two years of their daughter’s school life, would see her with a better grounding, if she was taught in a private school run by Catholic nuns.
John had always believed in the saying by the philosopher, Aristotle, before it was seized and given ownership in the motto of the Jesuits, ‘Give me a child until he is seven and I’ll give you the man’. The Jesuits had strongly believed that the best time to indoctrinate the mind with dogma is when a child is in its formative years of learning and conditioning.
Hence, John Fanning believed that the years 5-7 in a child’s education was more influential than any other educational years that followed! So, he persuaded his wife that their daughter Mary should spend her first two years of school life in a private school that was run by teaching nuns before being transferred back into the state sector after her 7th birthday.
Given that corporal punishment had been outlawed in state run schools by the early 1980s, but was still allowed in private-school establishments, Mary’s mother had many reservations about allowing her young daughter to attend a private school run by teaching nuns at such an early age of her formal education.
She was firmly of the view that a young child between the impressionable and vulnerable ages of 5-7 years should be playing with Plasticine and crayons and roaming around Wendy Houses, not having the concept of the Virgin birth and the Blessed Trinity pounded into their little heads!
Young Mary’s mother was of the firm view that these early years were precious years of innocence when a child should have their head filled with imaginary stories of wicked witches, elves, goblins, and little people; not crucifixion and an all-embracing God who cannot be seen and whose presence cannot be proved.
These were years of childhood exploration and realistic confirmation, when stories such as Jesus feeding the 5000 with five loaves and two fish, when presented as Gospel, merely confused the conceptual distinction between fact and fiction, when say compared to fantasies of Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf or Ali Barba and his Magic Carpet!
She was unable to protest too much though, lest it was seen by her husband as her being unwilling to allow her oldest child the best possible grounding she could be given in the Catholic faith.
~~~~~
One of young Mary’s fondest memories at private school was when she was 7-years-old. It was a time when her progress in ‘Religious Studies’ was way ahead of her peer group; a time that was sufficiently good enough to put a smile of smug satisfaction on the face of the nun teaching her class.
It was also one of those rare occasions when her father was filled with pride and admiration for his daughter’s school progress as he tested her Catholic learning after school one evening.
On the evening in question, John Fanning asked his oldest daughter what she had learned at school that day. Mary proudly stood before her father and replied, “I was top of the class in ‘Religious Studies’ today, Da’,” before proceeding to recite her Catechism by heart.
While Mary’s ability to retain the contents of this small book in her little head and recite every Catholic principle in it, word perfect, impressed her father enormously, her mother was more realistic in her unvoiced judgement. She witnessed her daughter’s faultless demonstration as proof of constant conditioning and her ability to ‘memorise’ as oppose to ‘understand’.
Mary’s mother had never forgotten the cruelty of the teaching nuns when she was schooled in the 1960s. She considered her daughter’s displayed ability as representing nothing more than a form of ‘parrot learning’ that was shaped by the Pavlovian principles of a Catholic private school and reinforced by the disapproving swish of the nun’s cane whenever any unfortunate child forgot their part of the dogma they were obliged to commit to memory and recite daily.
Paradoxically, the teaching nuns in the private Catholic school young Mary attended never did feel cruel in their exercising of corporal discipline whenever caning the children in their charge; particularly the ones who hadn’t learn their catechism by heart.
‘Religious Studies’ was supposed to be just one of the subjects on the school curriculum, but it nevertheless got three times as much attention given to it by the nuns than did English, Geography, Irish History, Maths, Science, or any other subject taught.
Whereas, the state-sector Catholic schools had been obliged to follow a set curriculum and teach all subjects within a specific number of hours weekly, the private school sector could please itself!
Also, once the schools in the state sector had been banned by law in administering corporal punishment to its pupils, it became more difficult to enforce the learning discipline of its pupils without the threat of the cane to back it up!
The teaching nuns in the private schools, however, didn’t have their hands tied when it came to what they taught, when they taught it and how they reinforced learning, and applied punishment when required.
The importance of ‘Religious Studies’ in the school curriculum of all Catholic private schools was signified by the disproportionate punishment it attracted for failing pupils. For instance, whereas a pupil failing to reach the teacher’s target in a set standard of literacy, or not attaining the required level of understanding in History, Geography or Science would attract a punishment of three strokes of the cane; whereas being unable to accurately recite any part of the Catechism in class would witness six strokes being administered to outstretched little hands.
To the holy sisters, it may have been their hand holding the cane and their arm swinging it towards the outstretched palm of a fearful child awaiting their punishment, but they believed that it was no less than God in action, and that they were mere instruments of His divine will.
When 7-year-old Mary was transferred back into the state sector of education and commenced attending the ‘First school’ in Clonmel among her own kind, she felt much more settled. She was a popular girl at school with other pupils and always seemed cheerful in disposition and hopeful in expectation.
It was also one of those rare occasions when her father was filled with pride and admiration for his daughter’s school progress as he tested her Catholic learning after school one evening.
On the evening in question, John Fanning asked his oldest daughter what she had learned at school that day. Mary proudly stood before her father and replied, “I was top of the class in ‘Religious Studies’ today, Da’,” before proceeding to recite her Catechism by heart.
While Mary’s ability to retain the contents of this small book in her little head and recite every Catholic principle in it, word perfect, impressed her father enormously, her mother was more realistic in her unvoiced judgement. She witnessed her daughter’s faultless demonstration as proof of constant conditioning and her ability to ‘memorise’ as oppose to ‘understand’.
Mary’s mother had never forgotten the cruelty of the teaching nuns when she was schooled in the 1960s. She considered her daughter’s displayed ability as representing nothing more than a form of ‘parrot learning’ that was shaped by the Pavlovian principles of a Catholic private school and reinforced by the disapproving swish of the nun’s cane whenever any unfortunate child forgot their part of the dogma they were obliged to commit to memory and recite daily.
Paradoxically, the teaching nuns in the private Catholic school young Mary attended never did feel cruel in their exercising of corporal discipline whenever caning the children in their charge; particularly the ones who hadn’t learn their catechism by heart.
‘Religious Studies’ was supposed to be just one of the subjects on the school curriculum, but it nevertheless got three times as much attention given to it by the nuns than did English, Geography, Irish History, Maths, Science, or any other subject taught.
Whereas, the state-sector Catholic schools had been obliged to follow a set curriculum and teach all subjects within a specific number of hours weekly, the private school sector could please itself!
Also, once the schools in the state sector had been banned by law in administering corporal punishment to its pupils, it became more difficult to enforce the learning discipline of its pupils without the threat of the cane to back it up!
The teaching nuns in the private schools, however, didn’t have their hands tied when it came to what they taught, when they taught it and how they reinforced learning, and applied punishment when required.
The importance of ‘Religious Studies’ in the school curriculum of all Catholic private schools was signified by the disproportionate punishment it attracted for failing pupils. For instance, whereas a pupil failing to reach the teacher’s target in a set standard of literacy, or not attaining the required level of understanding in History, Geography or Science would attract a punishment of three strokes of the cane; whereas being unable to accurately recite any part of the Catechism in class would witness six strokes being administered to outstretched little hands.
To the holy sisters, it may have been their hand holding the cane and their arm swinging it towards the outstretched palm of a fearful child awaiting their punishment, but they believed that it was no less than God in action, and that they were mere instruments of His divine will.
When 7-year-old Mary was transferred back into the state sector of education and commenced attending the ‘First school’ in Clonmel among her own kind, she felt much more settled. She was a popular girl at school with other pupils and always seemed cheerful in disposition and hopeful in expectation.
~~~~~
Mary Fanning grew up an intelligent and confident child, and although she was the oldest in a large family of seven children born into poor circumstances, she never allowed any sense of social inferiority to prevent her dreaming that one day she would make her mark in the world.
Mary seemed to possess an inherent sense of justice and instinctively felt for the underdog. Having a care for those who hadn’t either means or ability to care for themselves adequately was a trait that never left Mary throughout her life, and undoubtedly later guided her into the medical profession to become a nurse.
This characteristic of being prepared to fight the corner of the underdog was never destined to make the young Mary a natural friend to the school bully.
Mary seemed to possess an inherent sense of justice and instinctively felt for the underdog. Having a care for those who hadn’t either means or ability to care for themselves adequately was a trait that never left Mary throughout her life, and undoubtedly later guided her into the medical profession to become a nurse.
This characteristic of being prepared to fight the corner of the underdog was never destined to make the young Mary a natural friend to the school bully.
~~~~~
There was one new boy in her class called Brandon Murphy aged 9 years, who Mary befriended and took under her wing when she noticed that he was being daily taunted and bullied by the older boys in school.
Brandon’s face was badly scarred, and a blanket of red skin tissue in the image of a large berry covered half of his lower cheek, stopping at his mouth and chin. Although very aggressive in temperament, Brandon’s unsightly facial blemish made him look more aggressive than he was. Most pupils in his class gave Brandon a wide berth and feared mixing with him, while some older pupils in the next class up teased him mercilessly, saying that he looked like a monster from a horror movie.
Brandon wasn’t averse to dealing with aggression and possessed enough of his own, which he invariably found impossible o contain or channel more positively, however older, or larger his bullying opponent was.
While Mary soon appreciated that Brandon was hard enough to physically fight his own battles with other boys of his size and age, she also knew that when provoked by older boys, he would still react in the only way he knew how; hit out first and be dammed to the consequences that followed. Once he got into physical blows with an opponent, Brandon wouldn’t stop until either he or the other boy was too hurt to carry on, or one of them was carried out on an ambulance stretcher!
Brandon had already been marked down as a ‘trouble maker’ by the teachers when the Headmaster agreed to allow him one final chance and admitted him as a pupil on a month’s trial period. However, three weeks into his trial run, and having witnessed and been obliged to deal with his aggressive behaviour and angry responses on an almost daily basis, simply confirmed to his teachers that the boy was still a ’trouble maker’ and would always remain so!
They saw Brandon as someone who was destined to complete his final years of education in a ‘Reform School’ or some other institution of correction and containment, before becoming a regular prison inmate in adult life.
Brandon was prone to hit out at other pupils every time he was teased or laughed at. His unruly behaviour had seen him expelled from five schools he’d been placed in between the ages of five and nine years.
The ‘First School’ in Clonmel represented the sixth school Brandon had been sent to, and the Headmaster was most reluctant to admit him initially. The Headmaster took a considerable degree of persuading by the social worker before he eventually relented and agreed to take Brandon on ‘a month’s trial’.
“I’ll give the boy one final chance,” the Headmaster told the Care Home social worker who handled Brandon’s supervision, “but at the first sign of physical aggression from him, he’ll be shipped out of here quicker than a parched alcoholic can down a pint of Guinness!”
Mary and her other class mates soon discovered that Brandon didn’t have a family to return to at the end of the school day and that he was accommodated in a Care Home on the outskirts of Clonmel.
However, none of his classmates knew how difficult a start in life Brandon had been dealt with. Had they known, they would have made a greater effort to understand him better. They might even have become more aware as to why he lashed out so easily at the least offence and carried a big chip on his shoulder!
Brandon initially rejected all of Mary’s attempts to befriend him, but Mary persisted. She eventually turned out to be the only person in the school he would listen to, although he kept his conversation to the minimal.
Through numerous discussions with him, Mary later learned that Brandon had been abandoned at birth and had been placed in a Children’s Home as an infant. Initially, it was hoped that he would be adopted by a childless couple, as infants were always the first to go to parents in want of a child.
The older a child got, however, the more difficult it was for them to fit into a new family setting. Hence; the less chance of Brandon being adopted and offered the security of being part of a family decreased month by month the older he got.
By the time Brandon reached the age of five years, it became generally accepted by the Children’s Home that no couple was likely to adopt him, and he would most likely see out the rest of his time in the ‘Care of the Local Authorities’ until his 18th birthday. The only other chance he had of ever being brought up in a family environment, was if he could be suitably placed with understanding foster parents or any distant relative who was both willing and suitable to take him on.
The probable reason Brandon was never adopted as an infant was his unsightly birth mark that covered half of his left cheek. It is a sad fact, but given the choice of having a good-looking child or one with a facial disfigurement, parents wanting to adopt will always opt for the bonny-faced baby.
As Brandon grew older in the Children’s Home, he got into more trouble day by day. His facial disfigurement frequently made him the butt of cruel jokes, to which he would respond with aggressive outbursts, and physically attack the ones taunting him.
Brandon had been at the Clonmel school for less than four weeks before the 9-year-old was once again removed from the register and sent back to the Children’s Home, to be educationally placed elsewhere once a suitable place could be found for him.
The week before Brandon left the Clonmel School, he was looking down in the dumps and Mary approached him one break time and struck up a conversation. He eventually told Mary that another boy from the Children’s Home he returned to after school each day, had told him that he knew where his Uncle Kevin lived; his mother’s older brother.
Brandon didn’t even know he had an uncle, let alone his name or where he lived. Once he’d been given this news however, he’d spent most of last night with thoughts swimming around his head, preventing him sleeping. He then got it in his head that his Uncle Kevin might know the whereabouts of his birth mother, who he hadn’t seen since she’d abandoned him in some toilets in Clonmel when he was one day old.
While consoling Brandon about his poor start in life, Mary suggested he write his mother a letter, care of his Uncle Kevin. Brandon said he would if he could, but he’d missed too much schooling over the past four years and couldn’t write yet.
“You tell me his address, Brandon,” Mary told him, and I’ll write the words you want to say.”
“Would you?” he replied.
“Of course,” Mary replied, adding, “It would be my pleasure, Brandon!”
Brandon’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. He wasn’t used to being addressed by his Christian name, and on the occasions when he was, it had never been spoken with the tenderness of Mary’s voice. It was the first time Mary had seen Brandon smile in the brief time she’d known him.
The following day, Brandon got the small part of his Uncle Kevin’s address and gave it to Mary at school, along with a second-class postal stamp and an envelope he’d stolen from the Manager’s Office in the Children’s Home.
“I’m sorry, Mary, but that is all of his address I’ve been told and I’m not even sure if the street name is the right one!” he said. The only part of Uncle Kevin’s address I know is ‘Thomas Street’ by the train station.
“Don’t worry, Brandon,” Mary replied. “Nothing ventured, nothing lost! What have we to lose, apart from the price of a stamp, and by all accounts you didn’t pay for the postage!”
After school had ended for the day, Brandon dictated the letter to Mary, and after he was satisfied that she’d written the words he wanted to say, without any warning, he gave Mary a hug of appreciation that made him blush with embarrassment. Other female workers in the Children’s Home may have offered to hug Brandon in the past, but he’d always declined and pulled away from their display of affection towards him. This was the very first time in his life that he could remember hugging another human being instead of drawing back from close physical contact with them.
Brandon’s letter to his mother was sent via his Uncle Kevin’s. In it, Brandon sought to establish contact with his mother, but only if she wanted to. Mary wrote it, put a stamp on the envelope, and told Brandon that she would post it on her way home.
Neither she or Brandon knew the chances of it ever reaching his Uncle Kevin with only the street address on the envelope, but it cheered Brandon up no end to try. This had been the only chance that fate had ever offered him to contact the mother he’d never known yet had missed terribly since the day he’d been born.
That evening, Mary couldn’t erase from her mind the words that Brandon had dictated to her. The letter said:
‘Dear Uncle Kevin,
If you ever see my mother or know where she is, would you tell her that I live in the Children’s Home in Clonmel and that I would love to see her, if she wants to see me.’
Brandon Murphy.’
That was the last time Mary saw Brandon. Unknown to her, when Brandon returned late to the Children’s Home that evening, he learned that because of his latest theft of stationary from the Manager’s Office, they’d also had enough of him.
He was immediately pulled out of the school in Clonmel and was never seen there again. None of the teaching nuns were surprised with the Headmaster’s decision to ‘let him go’. Their only surprise was that he’d been prepared to give him a chance in the first instance.
Within the month, Brandon, for whom arrangements had been made by the Social Service’s Department to transfer him to some other Children’s Home, got into a fight with another boy at the home, and after knocking him to the ground, absconded. The other boy required hospitalisation with his broken arm.
The day after, Brandon did a runner from the Children’s Home. In the afternoon, the Garda visited Mary’s school and made inquiries of its teachers and pupils if anyone had seen him.
Mary thought, “I don’t know where Brandon is, but even if I did, you’d be the last ones I’d be telling!”
That night, Mary said a prayer for the continued safety of Brandon and kept him in her prayers for several weeks before all thought of the boy rebel gradually faded from her mind.
Over the years that followed, the Social Services caught up with Brandon again and transferred him around the country to different homes. However, no sooner than he’d been placed in one Care Home, he’d be out the window again in the dark of night. Weeks might pass, along with the commission of a number of shop thefts and offences of criminal damage before Brandon was apprehended once more.
Brandon’s face was badly scarred, and a blanket of red skin tissue in the image of a large berry covered half of his lower cheek, stopping at his mouth and chin. Although very aggressive in temperament, Brandon’s unsightly facial blemish made him look more aggressive than he was. Most pupils in his class gave Brandon a wide berth and feared mixing with him, while some older pupils in the next class up teased him mercilessly, saying that he looked like a monster from a horror movie.
Brandon wasn’t averse to dealing with aggression and possessed enough of his own, which he invariably found impossible o contain or channel more positively, however older, or larger his bullying opponent was.
While Mary soon appreciated that Brandon was hard enough to physically fight his own battles with other boys of his size and age, she also knew that when provoked by older boys, he would still react in the only way he knew how; hit out first and be dammed to the consequences that followed. Once he got into physical blows with an opponent, Brandon wouldn’t stop until either he or the other boy was too hurt to carry on, or one of them was carried out on an ambulance stretcher!
Brandon had already been marked down as a ‘trouble maker’ by the teachers when the Headmaster agreed to allow him one final chance and admitted him as a pupil on a month’s trial period. However, three weeks into his trial run, and having witnessed and been obliged to deal with his aggressive behaviour and angry responses on an almost daily basis, simply confirmed to his teachers that the boy was still a ’trouble maker’ and would always remain so!
They saw Brandon as someone who was destined to complete his final years of education in a ‘Reform School’ or some other institution of correction and containment, before becoming a regular prison inmate in adult life.
Brandon was prone to hit out at other pupils every time he was teased or laughed at. His unruly behaviour had seen him expelled from five schools he’d been placed in between the ages of five and nine years.
The ‘First School’ in Clonmel represented the sixth school Brandon had been sent to, and the Headmaster was most reluctant to admit him initially. The Headmaster took a considerable degree of persuading by the social worker before he eventually relented and agreed to take Brandon on ‘a month’s trial’.
“I’ll give the boy one final chance,” the Headmaster told the Care Home social worker who handled Brandon’s supervision, “but at the first sign of physical aggression from him, he’ll be shipped out of here quicker than a parched alcoholic can down a pint of Guinness!”
Mary and her other class mates soon discovered that Brandon didn’t have a family to return to at the end of the school day and that he was accommodated in a Care Home on the outskirts of Clonmel.
However, none of his classmates knew how difficult a start in life Brandon had been dealt with. Had they known, they would have made a greater effort to understand him better. They might even have become more aware as to why he lashed out so easily at the least offence and carried a big chip on his shoulder!
Brandon initially rejected all of Mary’s attempts to befriend him, but Mary persisted. She eventually turned out to be the only person in the school he would listen to, although he kept his conversation to the minimal.
Through numerous discussions with him, Mary later learned that Brandon had been abandoned at birth and had been placed in a Children’s Home as an infant. Initially, it was hoped that he would be adopted by a childless couple, as infants were always the first to go to parents in want of a child.
The older a child got, however, the more difficult it was for them to fit into a new family setting. Hence; the less chance of Brandon being adopted and offered the security of being part of a family decreased month by month the older he got.
By the time Brandon reached the age of five years, it became generally accepted by the Children’s Home that no couple was likely to adopt him, and he would most likely see out the rest of his time in the ‘Care of the Local Authorities’ until his 18th birthday. The only other chance he had of ever being brought up in a family environment, was if he could be suitably placed with understanding foster parents or any distant relative who was both willing and suitable to take him on.
The probable reason Brandon was never adopted as an infant was his unsightly birth mark that covered half of his left cheek. It is a sad fact, but given the choice of having a good-looking child or one with a facial disfigurement, parents wanting to adopt will always opt for the bonny-faced baby.
As Brandon grew older in the Children’s Home, he got into more trouble day by day. His facial disfigurement frequently made him the butt of cruel jokes, to which he would respond with aggressive outbursts, and physically attack the ones taunting him.
Brandon had been at the Clonmel school for less than four weeks before the 9-year-old was once again removed from the register and sent back to the Children’s Home, to be educationally placed elsewhere once a suitable place could be found for him.
The week before Brandon left the Clonmel School, he was looking down in the dumps and Mary approached him one break time and struck up a conversation. He eventually told Mary that another boy from the Children’s Home he returned to after school each day, had told him that he knew where his Uncle Kevin lived; his mother’s older brother.
Brandon didn’t even know he had an uncle, let alone his name or where he lived. Once he’d been given this news however, he’d spent most of last night with thoughts swimming around his head, preventing him sleeping. He then got it in his head that his Uncle Kevin might know the whereabouts of his birth mother, who he hadn’t seen since she’d abandoned him in some toilets in Clonmel when he was one day old.
While consoling Brandon about his poor start in life, Mary suggested he write his mother a letter, care of his Uncle Kevin. Brandon said he would if he could, but he’d missed too much schooling over the past four years and couldn’t write yet.
“You tell me his address, Brandon,” Mary told him, and I’ll write the words you want to say.”
“Would you?” he replied.
“Of course,” Mary replied, adding, “It would be my pleasure, Brandon!”
Brandon’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. He wasn’t used to being addressed by his Christian name, and on the occasions when he was, it had never been spoken with the tenderness of Mary’s voice. It was the first time Mary had seen Brandon smile in the brief time she’d known him.
The following day, Brandon got the small part of his Uncle Kevin’s address and gave it to Mary at school, along with a second-class postal stamp and an envelope he’d stolen from the Manager’s Office in the Children’s Home.
“I’m sorry, Mary, but that is all of his address I’ve been told and I’m not even sure if the street name is the right one!” he said. The only part of Uncle Kevin’s address I know is ‘Thomas Street’ by the train station.
“Don’t worry, Brandon,” Mary replied. “Nothing ventured, nothing lost! What have we to lose, apart from the price of a stamp, and by all accounts you didn’t pay for the postage!”
After school had ended for the day, Brandon dictated the letter to Mary, and after he was satisfied that she’d written the words he wanted to say, without any warning, he gave Mary a hug of appreciation that made him blush with embarrassment. Other female workers in the Children’s Home may have offered to hug Brandon in the past, but he’d always declined and pulled away from their display of affection towards him. This was the very first time in his life that he could remember hugging another human being instead of drawing back from close physical contact with them.
Brandon’s letter to his mother was sent via his Uncle Kevin’s. In it, Brandon sought to establish contact with his mother, but only if she wanted to. Mary wrote it, put a stamp on the envelope, and told Brandon that she would post it on her way home.
Neither she or Brandon knew the chances of it ever reaching his Uncle Kevin with only the street address on the envelope, but it cheered Brandon up no end to try. This had been the only chance that fate had ever offered him to contact the mother he’d never known yet had missed terribly since the day he’d been born.
That evening, Mary couldn’t erase from her mind the words that Brandon had dictated to her. The letter said:
‘Dear Uncle Kevin,
If you ever see my mother or know where she is, would you tell her that I live in the Children’s Home in Clonmel and that I would love to see her, if she wants to see me.’
Brandon Murphy.’
That was the last time Mary saw Brandon. Unknown to her, when Brandon returned late to the Children’s Home that evening, he learned that because of his latest theft of stationary from the Manager’s Office, they’d also had enough of him.
He was immediately pulled out of the school in Clonmel and was never seen there again. None of the teaching nuns were surprised with the Headmaster’s decision to ‘let him go’. Their only surprise was that he’d been prepared to give him a chance in the first instance.
Within the month, Brandon, for whom arrangements had been made by the Social Service’s Department to transfer him to some other Children’s Home, got into a fight with another boy at the home, and after knocking him to the ground, absconded. The other boy required hospitalisation with his broken arm.
The day after, Brandon did a runner from the Children’s Home. In the afternoon, the Garda visited Mary’s school and made inquiries of its teachers and pupils if anyone had seen him.
Mary thought, “I don’t know where Brandon is, but even if I did, you’d be the last ones I’d be telling!”
That night, Mary said a prayer for the continued safety of Brandon and kept him in her prayers for several weeks before all thought of the boy rebel gradually faded from her mind.
Over the years that followed, the Social Services caught up with Brandon again and transferred him around the country to different homes. However, no sooner than he’d been placed in one Care Home, he’d be out the window again in the dark of night. Weeks might pass, along with the commission of a number of shop thefts and offences of criminal damage before Brandon was apprehended once more.