Free The Granny by Brendan O'Carroll

day. And he told me to give you this for your child.” The girl stretched out her hand, in which she held a single pound note. Constance stared at the money for a moment. She did not take it.
     
    “Thank you,” is all she said as she walked away from her family for the final time. Her babe in arms, she returned home to the Jarro. Connie never told Bosco the sorry tale.
     
     
     
    Little Agnes Reddin had been a beautiful baby from the moment she was born. Her mop of soft, dark hair and beautiful tan-brown skin drew the attention of every Dubliner that passed the child’s pram. She grew up those first couple of years believing that adults only said “Oooh!” and “Aah!” As Agnes was a small-born baby, her mother, Connie, had been maybe a little overly protective in the child’s early years. Maybe.
     
    In any case, the baby Agnes grew rapidly into a bonny child, and blossomed with even more beauty as she approached her school-going years. She was a quiet child. Too quiet sometimes. Connie worried that if she should remain this quiet she would lack confidence when she got older. She mentioned this to the nun on Agnes’ first school day.
     
    “A quiet girl, is she? Quiet is good, Mrs. Reddin. What would you prefer? A screaming brat like most of the little tramps in here?” the sister yelped at her. Connie was even more nervous now, leaving her pride and joy with this awful woman.
     
     
     
    Agnes’ first few years in school passed without note. She remained a quiet girl over the first four years and was barely noticed, keeping to herself. However, when she entered Holy Communion class, this was about to change. Connie need never have to worry again about her daughter’s “confidence.” Agnes was about to meet Marion Delany.
     
    Thanks to that first day’s encounter with Marion, Agnes now looked forward to each day in school. And even Marion was now attending school most days, and sometimes stayed even for the whole day. It was a wonderful time for both of them. But when they would look back on this time years later, the one thing they would remember most of all was the day they both went to the church for their very first confession. Agnes’ befriending Marion Delany was to be a huge milestone in her life, and in that same year, yet another milestone was to arrive. Or should that be millstone?
     

CHAPTER TEN
     
    Agnes was nearly five years old that day when her mother disappeared for the first time. Agnes had arrived home from school at three-fifteen. She had had a wonderful day at school. She had learned nothing at all, but Marion had stayed in school for the whole day, and they whispered to each other and giggled every time the nun’s back was turned. When Agnes walked the short couple of blocks and arrived home to her building, she was so happy that she bounded up the steps to her flat. The front door was closed, as usual, but today when she knocked there was no answer.
     
    She tried calling through the gap at the bottom of the door. With her face pressed against the floor she called: “Mammy? Mammy, it’s me, open the door.” This is fun, she thought. She changed her voice to a monster’s voice, speaking each word slowly: “Ooo . . . pen . . . daa . . . doooor.” And then she giggled. She did this for about fifteen minutes. Now she was bored, so she lay on her back with her feet up against the door and began banging on the door with her feet. She pretended she was walking up the door— bang, bang, bang.
     
    A voice shouted from another landing somewhere in the building: “Stop that fuckin’ banging!” The voice screached.
     
    “My mammy won’t open the door,” Agnes called back.
     
    “Then get yourself adopted, but stop the fuckin’ banging.” She heard a door slam.
     
    Agnes sat on the floor, resting her back against the door. She began to cry, very quietly lest the voice from the other place in the building call out again. As she sat there and wept, all kinds of horrible