AGNES WAS PLEASED TO MEET the famous Mr Wise at last. He was a nice man, a kind man, and Agnes could see why Mark thought the world of him. Mark had been working for over two weeks in Mr Wise’s factory. He loved it. He had made a shelf in that two-week period and Mr Wise had allowed him keep it as a souvenir of his first effort as a ‘tradesman’. It hung beside the cooker and held the tea caddy. The reason Agnes had called to see Mr Wise was to thank him for his kindness to Mark and to ask his advice. She had finally decided what to get Mark for Christmas, a set of carpenter’s tools, good ones. She knew nothing about tools and figured Mr Wise was the best man for advice on the matter. He gladly told her what basic tools Mark should have and over a cup of tea went through the things to look out for when buying them. He told her to go to Lenehans of Capel Street.

She went there next morning and spent at least an hour picking them out. The shop assistant was very helpful, advising and telling her all the pluses and minuses. When the tools were selected, he parcelled them up for her. She had intended taking them with her until she got the bill. It totalled fifteen pounds and twelve shillings. He asked for ‘fifteen and ten’, giving her a little discount.

‘I don’t have enough with me,’ she said.

‘That’s no problem. If you give me a deposit I can put them away for you,’ he smiled.

Agnes fished in her purse. She took out a ten-shilling note.

‘Would ten bob be all right for a deposit?’

‘Absolutely, love.’ He took the note and wrote out a receipt, then he wrote ‘Browne’ on the parcel, and went out back to store it.

Agnes left the shop a bit worried. Fifteen pounds was a lot to find between now and Christmas Eve – eight days. But she’d find it, somehow she’d find it. She checked the Herald clock in Abbey Street. Time to go up to Buddha and collect the tricycle for Trevor. As she turned into O’Connell Street she saw four men out on top of the Capitol theatre porch erecting a giant sign with Cliff’s picture on it. A white band across the sign with red letters on it read ‘Sold out’.

She put her head down and walked past. Her mind turned back to money matters. She had three pounds in her slipper at home. The following week was Christmas week but it was never a busy one for her stall, all that sold were potatoes and sprouts. So she couldn’t count on more than three pound ten off that. Mark was handing up a pound, that was seven pounds ten shillings. She had made the last payment on her hamper the previous week, so that was all the Christmas food paid for. Buddha owed her seven pounds and ten shillings, the tricycle was two pounds, that meant he had to give her five pound ten. That was thirteen pounds. She could really do with another ten pounds to get her over Christmas, buy the tools and see her into the New Year. She looked to heaven and smiling said aloud, ‘Marion, lend us a tenner, will ya?’ Heaven was the right place to look, she thought to herself, for she could do with a minor miracle.

When she arrived back at the flat, she had the tricycle with her. Yellow and red, it would make Trevor’s eyes glow with joy when he woke to find it waiting under the tree on Christmas morning. The trick was to make sure that neither Trevor nor the other children found it until then. Agnes tiptoed up the stairs. When she arrived at her landing she opened the door to the water tank for the toilet in the flat below hers. Gently she slid the bike in beside the tank. Mark stored his turf sacks on the other side. She lifted one of the sacks and used it to cover the bike. She closed the door quietly and went up to her own flat.

There was great excitement when she came in. Charlie Bennett, the coalman, had delivered the Christmas tree, and the kids were waiting to decorate it. Agnes calmed them all down and promised them they would all do it, but after tea. Tea first, tree later, she pronounced. Agnes made the tea and they were all sitting around the kitchen table when Mark tapped his fork off his cup, like he had seen a best man do at a wedding. Everybody stopped talking and looked at him.

‘What’s that for?’ Agnes asked.

‘I’m goin’ to make a speech, Ma!’ he answered.

‘Oh, I see. Quiet, youse, listen to your brother – the man of the house.’

Mark puffed out his chest. ‘Ahem! I have a surprise for everyone!’ he began.

‘The hairs are after fallin’ off your willy!’ Dermot said and all the children laughed. Agnes gave Dermot a clip on the ear, but gave a little laugh herself as well.

‘Don’t mind him, son, you go on, you have a surprise for us all? What is it?’

‘Today I put a five-shilling deposit on a television set,’ Mark announced proudly.

The cheers and whoops could be heard in Cork! Cathy took Trevor’s hands and danced in a circle, singing, ‘We’re gettin’ a tell-ee! We’re gettin’ a tell-ee!’

Agnes shushed everybody. ‘You what?‘she asked Mark.

‘I put a deposit on a telly,’ Mark repeated.

‘How much is this … telly … going to cost?’

‘Fifteen shillings a month. It has a slot at the back and you put two bob in it for five hours. Every month the man comes to empty the meter. He takes fifteen bob out of what’s in it and gives you back the rest.’

Agnes thought about this. The children waited on her thoughts in silence. Agnes rested her head on her hands and looked down at the table as she deliberated. After what seemed like an hour to the children, she slowly raised her head. You could hear the damp slack as it hissed on the fire.

‘All right,’ she said simply and the mayhem broke out again. Agnes poured herself another cup of tea and sat back at the table. She stared at the face of her eldest boy. It glowed with joy as he watched Cathy and Trevor dance and sing. Agnes leaned over to him and squeezed his arm. He turned and looked at her questioningly.

‘You’re a very good boy,’ she said with pride.

He got embarrassed and dropped his eyes. ‘Thanks, Mammy.’

The telly man installed the telly that night at seven o’clock. It took some time to fix up the rabbit’s ears, but when they were sorted the entire family sat in front of the set, enthralled. There was one problem – if anybody got up to go to the toilet the movement affected the reception. So nobody moved and the ad-breaks now became piss-breaks.

Agnes had a fitful weekend, between the pleasure of the new television and the worry about whether or not she could find the money to get Mark his set of tools. So when she arrived in from work on the following Monday night and Rory handed her the letter that had arrived that day, it might just as well have had the words ‘minor miracle’ printed on it. It was addressed to ‘Mrs Browne’. She opened it and read:

‘God Bless the Union, and God bless Mickey Mullen!’ Agnes exclaimed. ‘And thanks, Marion,’ she said, smiling and looking up to heaven.