A Mother Page #2

								

his accent was flat. He held a programme in his hand and, while he was
talking to her, he chewed one end of it into a moist pulp. He seemed to
bear disappointments lightly. Mr Holohan came into the dressing-room
every few minutes with reports from the box-office. The artistes
talked among themselves nervously, glanced from time to time at the
mirror and rolled and unrolled their music. When it was nearly
half-past eight, the few people in the hall began to express their
desire to be entertained. Mr Fitzpatrick came in, smiled vacantly at
the room, and said:

“Well now, ladies and gentlemen. I suppose we’d better open the ball.”

Mrs Kearney rewarded his very flat final syllable with a quick stare of
contempt, and then said to her daughter encouragingly:

“Are you ready, dear?”

When she had an opportunity, she called Mr Holohan aside and asked him
to tell her what it meant. Mr Holohan did not know what it meant. He
said that the Committee had made a mistake in arranging for four
concerts: four was too many.

“And the artistes!” said Mrs Kearney. “Of course they are doing their
best, but really they are not good.”

Mr Holohan admitted that the artistes were no good but the Committee,
he said, had decided to let the first three concerts go as they pleased
and reserve all the talent for Saturday night. Mrs Kearney said
nothing, but, as the mediocre items followed one another on the
platform and the few people in the hall grew fewer and fewer, she began
to regret that she had put herself to any expense for such a concert.
There was something she didn’t like in the look of things and Mr
Fitzpatrick’s vacant smile irritated her very much. However, she said
nothing and waited to see how it would end. The concert expired shortly
before ten, and everyone went home quickly.

The concert on Thursday night was better attended, but Mrs Kearney saw
at once that the house was filled with paper. The audience behaved
indecorously, as if the concert were an informal dress rehearsal. Mr
Fitzpatrick seemed to enjoy himself; he was quite unconscious that Mrs
Kearney was taking angry note of his conduct. He stood at the edge of
the screen, from time to time jutting out his head and exchanging a
laugh with two friends in the corner of the balcony. In the course of
the evening, Mrs Kearney learned that the Friday concert was to be
abandoned and that the Committee was going to move heaven and earth to
secure a bumper house on Saturday night. When she heard this, she
sought out Mr Holohan. She buttonholed him as he was limping out
quickly with a glass of lemonade for a young lady and asked him was it
true. Yes, it was true.

“But, of course, that doesn’t alter the contract,” she said. “The
contract was for four concerts.”

Mr Holohan seemed to be in a hurry; he advised her to speak to Mr
Fitzpatrick. Mrs Kearney was now beginning to be alarmed. She called Mr
Fitzpatrick away from his screen and told him that her daughter had
signed for four concerts and that, of course, according to the terms of
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