The Brothers' Lot - Kevin Holohan [79]
“Have you learnt nothing at all ever? Leithreas is the word. Get out to the line!”
“But Brother, I’m bursting!”
“Out to the line before I—”
Kennedy was interrupted by a long rasping fart from the other side of the lab. He turned to pinpoint the source and McDonagh took his opportunity to get out to the line while the getting was good. Egan, despite his already precarious position, could not help himself and started to rock with suppressed laughter.
“Who did that? Who was that animal?” yelled Brother Kennedy. There was a short silence ended by a higher-pitched aftershock of a fart. Egan could not help it; the tears were streaming down his face.
“Do you think that is funny, you insolent little pup?” shouted Brother Kennedy as he turned and grabbed Egan’s hand.
He was just about to deliver the second blow to Egan when he was interrupted by Rutledge: “An bhfuil cead agam dul go dtí an leathlá?” (May I go to the half day?)
Brother Kennedy stared at him in disbelief: “Leathlá? Leathlá? What are you talking about?
“The jakes, Brother. I have to go to the jakes.”
“Jakes? Jakes? I’ll jakes you! Out to the line, you ignorant pup!” He moved across the room and delivered four stinging blows on each hand to everyone on the line. The sweat poured down his glowing face. He had just finished when Brother Boland’s handbell rang out from the yard. It was noon and time for the Angelus.
Brother Kennedy pocketed his leather, turned to face the ever-suffering Christ on his cross perched above the blackboard, and blessed himself. Reluctantly the boys stood up. A lot of indifferent and inaccurate blessing ensued, and they were off.
“The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary,” wheezed Brother Kennedy.
“And she conceived of the Holy Ghost,” murmured the boys, dragging each syllable out for all its leaden weight.
“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee / Blessed art thou amongst women / And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus,” struggled Brother Kennedy, bowing his head deeply.
“Holy Mary, mother of God / Pray for us sinners, now / And at the hour of our death, Amen,” chanted the boys.
“Behold the handmaid of the Lord,” intoned Brother Kennedy.
“Be it done unto me according to thy will / Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee / Blessed art thou amongst women …”
“And blessed—” Brother Kennedy stopped abruptly and seemed to go rigid. “Is the fruit,” he croaked, and clutched his chest. A weird choking, collapsing sound came from the back of his throat and he buckled against the door. The boys could see his face going from red to purple as he gasped for breath. Kennedy flailed and gurgled, then stumbled and grabbed onto the top of Lynch’s desk.
“Is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus,” came Egan’s voice from the back of the class.
Slowly, reluctantly, Egan’s intention made itself clear. At first it was only Scully, Lynch, and a couple of others, but gradually more voices joined in: “Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our DEATH, Amen.”
“And the word was made flesh,” blurted Egan, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible, suddenly coming to the full realization of what he had just set in motion. Brother Kennedy slumped to the floor.
“And dwelt amongst us,” answered the rest, Lynch’s voice now towering above the others.
Finbar’s guts sang. The back of his neck ran with sweat. His mind flooded with fire and the sound of heavy metal doors. This was so wrong. His breathing tightened. He closed his eyes and willed it all to stop. He knew it would not. This was real; the most real and terrifying thing he had ever been caught up in.
“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,” continued Egan, speeding up a little. Brother Kennedy had gone very pale and his lips were turning blue. His hand slipped from Lynch’s desk and fell limply to the floor. Egan hesitated.
“BLESSED ART THOU AMONGST WOMEN!” prompted Lynch.
“And blessed is the fruit of thy womb,