Chapter Three.
Well, the fun and games came on Sunday. The O’Sullivans were a very religious family; how Lilian got herself pregnant out of wedlock was a mystery to everyone, even to Lilian. Maybe it was a virgin birth, and poor Sean was being wrongfully accused. Timothy was a very self-conscious type of person. Walking down the aisle of the church to their seats, with Lilian in violation of the seventh commandment, “Thou shalt not commit adultery,” was pushing Timothy to his limit. Those of the congregation who grabbed on to any situation to prove they were better than others, took to this like a duck to water. They were in their middle age. They had never shared a bed with a man in their lives, and this wasn’t by design. It was because of people like them that the good lord came and died on the cross; it certainly wasn’t for that other riffraff.
Timothy and Betty were in the thick of all the activities at the church, and the priests were frequent visitors to their home, talking about the various upcoming events. At Christmas, Timothy dressed up as Santa Claus and gave out parcels to the needy. Their integrity was beyond question.
It’s Saturday night at the “Crown and Duck”. A little string quartet and piano are providing the entertainment, and the Guinness is flowing freely. And as usual, Timothy is at the bar with his friends, while Betty and the kids are down at a table. Lilian has a beautiful voice, and so does Timothy. So, as usual, halfway through the night, the crowd starts shouting,
“Lily, come and give us a song.”
Lillian, all too aware of her physical appearance, was very reluctant. But the crowd shouted and hooted until she relented.
When she got to the front, there was a roar you would have heard at a Roman coliseum. She stood and sang six songs, and then shouted for her father to join her,
“Come on, Tim,” roared the crowd.
By the time Timothy reached the stage, he was feeling no pain. The medicine had already taken effect. After all, Timothy maintained he only drank for medicinal purposes. The octet and the duet broke into a medley of Irish ballads, with the Crown and Duck joining in. It was a sight to bring tears to your eyes. Half the crowd was from out of town, it reached such notoriety. On occasion, the priest and a few of the nuns paid a visit to the Crown - here was something not to be missed. To put it mildly, everybody was on their best behaviour, to look around you would swear butter wouldn’t melt in their mouth. But when the holy father and his retinue left, it was a whole different ball of wax. Somebody would shout,
“O.K. Seamus, let the good times roll.”
There were those of that turn of mind who came to get drunk, and by heavens, they weren’t leaving sober. That was a disgrace to their Irish heritage - to leave a bar sober. By God, they would walk into their Valhalla wreaking from the smell of Guinness - the Irish are here!
