SteeringWheelWinter2022 FINAL - Flipbook - Page 14
Judge by ability, not disability
Mam and Dad weren’t the kind of people
who’d let you sleep under their roof unless
you had been married by Holy Church.
Barry couldn’t stay with me at home
obviously so I would go to his bedsitter.
It was very grim and bleak at first, the poor
lamb had no idea. But I brightened it up,
made nice new curtains, cushion covers
and a lovely red velvet table cover with
tassels.
My mother would raise her eyes to the
skies if I said I was staying the night with
Barry. But I was 27 years of age. I was an
adult, they knew better than force me to
make a choice. They all knew who I would
choose.
Helen was married to Pat and living in DIY
heaven a few streets away. Eddie and Moya
were holding hands and wishing for some
fairy godmother to come up with a house
for them when one night I got an idea.
Suppose I were to go and live properly
with Barry and suppose the Master Builder
Pat were to come up with an idea to
convert my room into a kind of sitting room
for Eddie and Moya, a little flat, and they
could get married and pay Mam and Dad a
small rent. And everyone thought this was
a great idea and Pat came round with his
steel measuring tape. And before anyone
knew where they were it was all arranged,
the church was booked, a small reception
set up. All I had to do now was to tell Barry.
That was our first row. He said it was very
one sided of me and typical. I never told
him what I was going to do until it was done.
Like the time I had taken on overtime two
nights a week in the supermarket without
consulting him. I tried to explain that I
needed the money, the new television and
the microwave had cost a packet. “I never
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asked for them, you bought those on your
own too”, he grumbled. “I thought you’d
be delighted”, I said. And he softened.
“Aren’t you a mad little thing?” he said.
There wasn’t really room in the bedsit for
my clothes and things and of course Eddie
and Moya were dying to get their things in
and put their mark on the place. And of
course I didn’t want any of them to know
that there wasn’t room for all my stuff at
Barry’s so I found three extra lockers at the
supermarket that nobody was using and I
put everything there.
I could have done with some help from Pat
the Builder in the bedsit, like he could have
made a couple of nice cupboards with
shiny surfaces like he did for Eddie. Pat was
never able to come, never free. Eventually
I got the message. “Does Helen not want
you to do work for Barry and myself?”
I asked coldly. “Ah now Deirdre, you’re
a great girl altogether, don’t go making
trouble where none exists”. His face was
red and anxious and I felt an overwhelming
surge of pity for Helen that she had married
this sad man, this loser because she was
so afraid that she would be on the shelf.
Maybe Barry had been right, that she
had gone with too many men, none of
them marriage material. Perhaps she felt
tired of that racketing kind of life and just
settled into a dull mediocre life. With that
I changed my voice entirely. “You’re right
Pat, life is short, no point in making a fuss
for no reason. Let’s leave it”. He looked
so relieved I thought he was going to cry.
“Just one thing though Pat, WHY do you
think she dislikes Barry so much?” “I’m not
exactly sure”, he mumbled, and looked
at the floor. He knew something, I could
see it. So I pushed him, nicely mind you
but firm all the same. And he spoke. The
big goofy DIY merchant. “I’m not exactly
sure Deirdre, I think he was trying to hit on