Dancing at Lughnasa Flashcards
And it must have helped my aunts bear the shame Mother brought on the household by having me - as it was called then - out of wedlock.
D’you know what he’s at out there? Did you see, Christina? Making two kites!
Some kites he’ll make.
All by himself. No help from anybody.
You always said he was talented, Kate.
No question about that. And very mature for his years.
Is that a spinning-top he has?
It’s nothing.
Oh, Kate, you have him spoiled. Where did you get it?
Morgan’s Arcade.
I know why you went into Morgan’s!
He did indeed. He’s very mannerly.
You wanted to see Austin Morgan!
Every field along the road - they’re all out at the hay and the corn.
Because you have a notion of that aul Austin Morgan!
Going to be a good harvest by the look of it.
But what you don’t know is that he’s going with a wee young thing from Carrickfad.
Rose, what Austin Morgan does or doesn’t do with-
Why are you blushing then? She’s blushing isn’t she? Why-why-why, Kate?
For God’s sake, Rose, shut up, would you!
Are you tired?
The road from town gets longer every day. You can laugh if you want but I am going to get that old bike fixed up and I am going to learn to ride this winter.
Many about Ballybeg?
Ballybeg’s off its head. I’m telling you. Everywhere you go - everyone you meet - it’s one topic: Are you going to the harvest dance? Who are you going with? What are you wearing? This year’s going to be the biggest ever and the best ever.
Don’t we all.
Another of those riveting Annie M.P. Smiths on novels for you, Agnes.
Ah. Thanks.
The Marriage of Nurse Harding - oh, dear! For you, Christina. One teaspoonful every morning before breakfast.
What’s this?
Cod-liver oil. You’re far too pale.
Thank you, Kate.
Because you take no exercise.
I’d go, too, Aggie! I’d go with you!
For heaven’s sake you’re not serious, Agnes - are you?
I think I am.
Hah! There’s more than Ballybeg off its head.
I think we should all go.
Have you any idea what it’ll be like? - Crawling with cheeky young brats that I taught years ago.
We couldn’t, Aggie - could we?
And all the riff-raff of the countryside.
What do you say?
You have a seven-year-old child - have you forgotten that?
Can I have it? God, Aggie? I could dance non-stop all night - all week - all month!
And who’d look after Father Jack?
And you look great in that cotton dress you got for confirmation last year. You’re beautiful in it, Kate.
What sort of silly talk is -
And you can wear my brown shoes with the crossover straps.
This is silly talk. We can’t, Agnes. How can we?
Will Maggie what! Try to stop her!
Oh God, Agnes, what do you think?
We’re going.
Are we?
We’re off! We’re away!
Maybe we’re mad - are we mad?
I’ve five pounds saved. I’ll take you. I’ll take us all.
Hold on now -
How many years has it been since we were at the harvest dance? -at any dance? I don’t care how young they are, how drunk and dirty and sweaty they are. I want to dance, Kate. It’s the Festival of Lughnasa. I’m only thirty-five. I want to dance.
I know, I know, Agnes, I know. All the same - oh my God - I don’t know if it’s -
I love you, Aggie! I love you more than chocolate biscuits!
No, no, no! We’re going nowhere!
If we all want to go -
Look at yourselves l, will you! Just look at yourselves! Dancing at our time of day? That’s for young people with no duties and no responsibilities and nothing in their heads but pleasure.
Kate, I think we -
Do you want the whole countryside to be laughing at us? - women of our years? - mature women, dancing? What’s come over you all? And this is Father Jack’s home - we must never forget that - ever. No, no, we’re going to no harvest dance.
But you just said -
And there’ll be no more discussion about it. The matter’s over. I don’t want it mentioned again.
Watch out. She’s in one or her cranky moods.
Your ten Wild Woodbine, Maggie.
We were all going to go to the harvest dance - like the old days. And then Kate -
Your shoes, Rose. The shoemaker says, whatever kind of feet you have, only the insides of the soles wear down.
Is that a bad thing?
That is neither a bad thing nor a good thing, Rose. It’s just -distinctive, as might be expected. Cornflour… salt… tapioca - it’s gone up a penny for some reason… sugar for the bilberry jam - if we ever get the bilberries…
That’s the very thing we could do with here - a house boy.
And the battery. The man in the shop says we go through these things quicker than anyone in Ballybeg.
Good for us.
I met the parish priest. I don’t know what has happened to that man. But ever since Father Jack came home he can hardly look me in the eye.
He was always moody, that man.
Maybe that’s it… the paper… candles… matches… The word’s not good on that young Sweeney boy from the back hills. He was anointed last night.
I didn’t know he was dying?
Not an inch of his body that isn’t burned.
Does anybody know what happened?
Some silly prank up in the hills. He knows he’s dying, the poor boy. Just lies there, moaning.
What sort of prank?
How would I know?
What are they saying in the town?
I know no more than I’ve told you, Christina.
It was last Sunday week, the first night of the Festival of Lughnasa; and they were doing what they do every year up there in the back hills.
Festival of Lughnasa! What sort of-
First they light a bonfire beside a spring well. Then they dance round it. Then the drive their cattle through the flames to banish the devil out of them.
Banish the- ! You don’t know the first thing about what-
And this year there was an extra big crowd of boys and girls. And they were off their heads with drink. And young Sweeney’s trousers caught fire and he went up like a torch. That’s what happened.
Who filled your head with that nonsense?
They do it every Lughnasa. I’m telling you. That’s what happened.
And they’re savages! I know those people from the back hills! I’ve taught them! Savages - that’s what they are! And what pagan practices they have are no concern of ours - none whatever! It’s a sorry day to hear talk like that in a Christian home, a Catholic home! All I can say is that I’m shocked and disappointed to hear you repeating rubbish like that, Rose!
I beg your pardon… the wrong apartment… forgive me…
Come in and join us, Jack.
I thank you. I am grateful. It is so strange: I don’t remember the - the architecture? -the planning? -what’s the word? -the lay-out! -I don’t recollect the lay-out of this home… scarcely. That is strange, isn’t it? I thought the front door was there. You walked to the village to buy stores, Agnes?
It’s Kate. And dozens of people were asking for you.
They remember me?
Of course they remember you! And when you’re feeling stronger they’re going to have a great public welcome for you -flags, bands, speeches, everything!
Why would they do this?
Because they’re delighted you’re back.
Yes?
Because they’re delighted you’re home.
I may do that… thank you… you are most kind…
It will be a slow process but he’ll be fine. Apples… butter… margarine… flour… and wait till you hear! Who did I meet in the post office! Maggie, are you listening to me?
Yes?
You’ll never believe it - your old pal, Bernie O’Donnell! Home from London! First time back in twenty years!
Bernie…
Absolutely gorgeous. The figure of a girl of eighteen. Dressed to kill from head to foot. And the hair! -as black and as curly as the day she left. I can’t tell you - a film star!