Chapter Ten: ‘Margaret’s Upbringing’
That very same night, Margaret wanted to talk to me about her life in Portlaw and being brought up in a one-horse town whose major employer in years gone by had been ‘The Tannery’. Apart from a few farm holdings, half a dozen public houses, one bakery, the Post Office and a grocer’s shop (which essentially sold everything a family needed from bread, milk, and cigarettes to even a brush and shovel or gardening fork if required), there was no other outlet for the villagers to patronise. Anything wanted which the Portlaw grocers didn’t stock would involve a twelve-mile journey into Waterford. Even the monthly cinema was a projector on the back of an old wagon that frequently broke down during the outside show.
Margaret told me that she was the oldest of seven children; all of them girls. After the birth of the seventh girl, she said that her mother became dogged by depression and was never herself again. She would often find her mum crying and would finish up crying with her, even though she wasn't always sure what her mum was crying about.
She suffered what was later to become known as ‘the baby blues’ or ‘post-natal depression’ and did not want to have anything to do with her new infant. Naturally, being in Ireland, where any woman who was considered as being ‘a bad mother’ ran a close second to that of being a child killer or a witch, Margaret’s dad found his wife’s behaviour inexplicable and therefore inexcusable. By the time she was eleven years old, Margaret effectively became the 'little mother' to her younger sisters.
She suffered what was later to become known as ‘the baby blues’ or ‘post-natal depression’ and did not want to have anything to do with her new infant. Naturally, being in Ireland, where any woman who was considered as being ‘a bad mother’ ran a close second to that of being a child killer or a witch, Margaret’s dad found his wife’s behaviour inexplicable and therefore inexcusable. By the time she was eleven years old, Margaret effectively became the 'little mother' to her younger sisters.
Shortly after, her father lost his job at the ‘Kilmeaden Creamery’ on the Waterford Road during a quiet period of dwindling orders when a quarter of the workforce was let go. Naturally, the Creamery laid off the oldest workers first and retained the stronger and younger ones! After five months unemployed, Margaret’s dad got himself a job as a farm labourer with one of the tenant farmers who rented one of Squire Swale’s farms.
“After mammy’s depression following the birth of her last child, my da’ started drinking and his visits to the pub became more frequent. Gradually, he would stay out at the pub until closing hours and arrive back home drunk after mammy had gone to bed.”
“It was years later before I came to understand that it wasn’t that mammy didn’t want to relate to my youngest sister, it was because her illness prevented her from doing so!” Margaret said in a sad voice.
As Margaret spoke to me, her sadness in tone reflected the likelihood that she too had initially found her mother’s inability to relate to her newly-born infant as being ‘inexcusable’.
“It was years later before I came to understand that it wasn’t that mammy didn’t want to relate to my youngest sister, it was because her illness prevented her from doing so!” Margaret said in a sad voice.
As Margaret spoke to me, her sadness in tone reflected the likelihood that she too had initially found her mother’s inability to relate to her newly-born infant as being ‘inexcusable’.
“After this experience and da’s worsening drinking habit, my parents lost any love they ever shared between each other. All consideration they once held became a distant memory. It was as though his increased drinking enabled him to blot her out. Even the physical and emotional distancing of himself from mammy was da’s way of punishing her for not being the kind of mother to her children he expected her to be!”
Margaret then went on to explain about a Holy Trinity which exists between every married man and his wife in Ireland; something that remains largely accepted and unspoken of.
“Every Irish woman eventually comes to know, Bill, that it isn’t the Holy Roman Catholic Church that rules the roost in the home; it’s the Irish wives and mothers who are the bedrock of the home and Church. It’s the wife and mother to a man’s children who’s the backbone of every Irish family and the prime cause of every happy marriage through her willingness to perform her traditional roles. If a woman doesn’t know it when she is first married, she soon comes to learn how the Irish husband truly rates his wife.”
“Every Irish woman eventually comes to know, Bill, that it isn’t the Holy Roman Catholic Church that rules the roost in the home; it’s the Irish wives and mothers who are the bedrock of the home and Church. It’s the wife and mother to a man’s children who’s the backbone of every Irish family and the prime cause of every happy marriage through her willingness to perform her traditional roles. If a woman doesn’t know it when she is first married, she soon comes to learn how the Irish husband truly rates his wife.”
“If she learns how to be a respectful wife and loving mother in the home, and secret whore in the bedroom, she will command the full satisfaction of her husband and fulfil her Holy Trinity of womanly expectations."
Margaret continued to explain. "An Irish woman can only maintain her matriarchal position if she learns to blend these three roles of a good woman. However Catholic her husband may seem to be in the eyes of the community, he will remain content to allow her to bear the sin of impropriety in the eyes of the Church, by never discussing the question of ‘birth control’ with her. If a child comes along because of him being a husband to his wife, then so be it! Similarly, if his wife choses to use contraception ‘unknown to him’, then she alone is the bearer of any attaching mortal sin! Likewise, all rules of engagement in the bedroom develops by his unvoiced encouragement and expectation, along with her willingness to initiate all sexual acts of perceived deviance that bring her husband sexual pleasure!”
“Also, Bill, when an Irish man’s wife and mother have a disagreement, the wife eventually learns there is effectively no choice to be made by the husband as to which side of the argument his sympathy will eventually fall. He will always come down initially on his mother’s side; that is until his wife decides to play her ‘ace in the hole’. All Irish wives possess but one advantage over the will of their mothers-in-law, Bill, and that is the only weapon that their husband’s mother never had in her armoury of persuasion to give her son. I refer to the only weapon to be found inside a pair of women’s knickers and spread beneath the marital bed sheets; good old-fashioned sex!”
I found it somewhat strange yet tantalising to hear an attractive stranger aged forty talking to me in such bold terms about the Church and the sexual issues and practices in a typical Irish household, and yet I must confess, I also found it refreshingly titillating.
During my conversation with Margaret that night, it became apparent that she had also found her secret relationship with Alan difficult to bear over the past decade.
“I must sound a bit of a wild one, Bill, talking to a relative stranger like this in the early hours of the morning in a hushed hospital ward,” Margaret said, “especially when my lover lies dying in the bed across from us? It’s difficult at moments such as these when death is close, not to give way to the temptation to rush over to his bedside and wake him up, just to know he is still breathing. I’ve loved Alan for almost fifteen years, but I know that I will only know peace now when Alan is released from all the pain he is presently suffering."
“Also, Bill, when an Irish man’s wife and mother have a disagreement, the wife eventually learns there is effectively no choice to be made by the husband as to which side of the argument his sympathy will eventually fall. He will always come down initially on his mother’s side; that is until his wife decides to play her ‘ace in the hole’. All Irish wives possess but one advantage over the will of their mothers-in-law, Bill, and that is the only weapon that their husband’s mother never had in her armoury of persuasion to give her son. I refer to the only weapon to be found inside a pair of women’s knickers and spread beneath the marital bed sheets; good old-fashioned sex!”
I found it somewhat strange yet tantalising to hear an attractive stranger aged forty talking to me in such bold terms about the Church and the sexual issues and practices in a typical Irish household, and yet I must confess, I also found it refreshingly titillating.
During my conversation with Margaret that night, it became apparent that she had also found her secret relationship with Alan difficult to bear over the past decade.
“I must sound a bit of a wild one, Bill, talking to a relative stranger like this in the early hours of the morning in a hushed hospital ward,” Margaret said, “especially when my lover lies dying in the bed across from us? It’s difficult at moments such as these when death is close, not to give way to the temptation to rush over to his bedside and wake him up, just to know he is still breathing. I’ve loved Alan for almost fifteen years, but I know that I will only know peace now when Alan is released from all the pain he is presently suffering."
“Ever since he discovered his kidney and stomach were malignant beyond treatment or cure, I’ve been fearing the approach of this moment and his eventual loss. Even the times we’ve managed to make love; while his heart was still in it, mine wasn’t! I did it for him, Bill, hopefully to make him feel as much of a man as I could for as long as possible.”
“It must sound strange, Bill?” Margaret said, presumably to prompt my opinion.
“It doesn’t sound strange at all, Margaret,” I replied.
Margaret than bade me ‘Goodnight’ and after going across to Alan and kissing him lightly on the forehead, she left the ward saying she’d be back tomorrow night.
“It must sound strange, Bill?” Margaret said, presumably to prompt my opinion.
“It doesn’t sound strange at all, Margaret,” I replied.
Margaret than bade me ‘Goodnight’ and after going across to Alan and kissing him lightly on the forehead, she left the ward saying she’d be back tomorrow night.
