The House of Slamming Doors
Mark Macauley
Language: English
Pages: 184
ISBN: 1843511673
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
It's 1963 in a country house in west Wicklow during the heady summer of JFK's visit to Ireland. Turbulence is in the air as Justin is locked in combat with his angry and inebriate father. A dark and poignant comedy unfolds and progresses to winter as Kennedy is assassinated and Justin ends his oedipal struggle and comes of age. Replete with the perennial tensions between native and settler, servant and master, Camelot and Leinster House, this poignant tale concerns identity and first love, and the pain of a knowing child living amongst aliens. It is a masterful debut novel.
much as she admires Justin’s bravery, she doesn’t really believe he has a hope in hell of winning any battle against his father. ‘He can’t do it, it’s not fair, he can’t!’ ‘He can, and he has,’ says Liam, firmly. ‘He’s just a big fecking bully! This is the Sixties, not the Twenties. And I’m not staff.’ ‘She has a point now, Liam,’ says her mother, kindly. ‘Maureen … Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you’re not helping. Annie, please – you’ll just have to make another friend. That’s all there is to
on the face. Yuck. ‘He could be carrying all kinds,’ says I, thoroughly disgusted. Ignoring my health warning, he walks off with his mongrel but can’t resist another attempt at being friendly. ‘Oh by the by, I sorted the new priest. We should have no problems on Sunday. Hah!’ ‘Hah,’ says I, and make a V-sign at his hairy departing back. We’re going to miss Father Flash, our old priest. He was ‘a gas man’ as they say, and apparently quite serious when he first arrived. But he mellowed over the
quick, the cup, and just in bloody time, thank heavens. ‘Oh, my God! Hello Mister.’ Annie’s staring up like she’s seen a ghost and I look up and there’s this big man standing over me and Annie and I’ve never seen him before but something makes me feel I have. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me, young lady?’ ‘This is Justin. Justin Montague,’ says Annie, all nervous and emphasizing my surname for some strange reason. ‘Hello, Justin. I’m Roger.’ So I jump up and take his hand. ‘Hello sir. How
panting and out of breath. Not only has he flayed me alive, he’s now teaching me what to say. He is a little deaf so I’ll make the most of it. ‘I apologize for my behaviour, sir, calling Mr Brown a pervert, which he is. It will not happen again,’ says I, softly. ‘What? What did you say?’ ‘Nothing sir,’ says I, all innocent. ‘Just what you said.’ ‘Get out! Out!’ * It is mid-afternoon. The field behind the haggard is finished, beautifully ploughed. Liam Cassidy leans over a gate, admiring
about?’ That fecker Donal, popping his head out the back door, interrupts our lovely conversation. ‘Bridget? Hurry! It’s on.’ Bridget rushes inside. Ah well. That’s life. I just carry on cleaning my gun and start singing to myself, all soft like. ‘It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to, cry if I want, cry if I want to. You would cry too, if it happened to you. Do, do, do, do, do.’ * In the kitchen at The Hall, twenty-five staff, all estate workers, crowd close, listening, on the edge of