‘Heh-heh,’ snorted Simon.
‘Everything I have — we have– ’ Monaghan glanced at Agathe ‘…is earned. No-one gave it to us.’ And he began what was intended as a tribute to Self-Made Men, but which rapidly degenerated into vulgar boasting about the success of his chain of restaurants, recently franchised and now eagerly sought by investors. It became a maudlin tale of hard work and self-sacrifice, a saga of fighting Irish upstarts struggling against entrenched landed Anglo snobbery and prejudice. It was the saccharine stuff of long-forgotten Hollywood scriptwriters, but Angus was unmoved. How much do you pay your kitchen staff, he wondered. But it would have been unforgivably rude to ask…
‘Hold on a sec, Don.’ Simon had been fidgeting with a pencil, and had appeared not to have been attentive. ‘I work just as hard as you. For every hour of classroom time, I have to work two hours to prepare, to mark, to phone parents, to keep records, to do secretarial work. So it’s not $78 per hour, but more like $26, and that’s for someone with three degrees…’
‘And your summers off? How much are you paid per hour for ten weeks of doing nothing?’ The old man glowered over his brandy, triumphant.
‘I think, Uncle Don,’ said Celine suddenly, ‘we should just agree to disagree, and change the subject.’ But her plea fell on deaf ears, and the discomfort of the onlookers continued. Angus realized that while one of them enjoyed the malice of personal attack, secure against contradiction in his own home, the other relished the attention his status conferred upon him to make him worthy of such an attack. He turned to Aunt Agathe. ’D’you think I could have a blanket for the hideabed?’ She nodded and went to fetch one for him.
The party broke up on her return, when Celine observed that mass was the next day at nine in the morning in Wakefield, a half-hour’s drive away. As they crossed over to the cabin, Angus reminded her he would not be going with them. ‘After all, I am a Protestant,’ he reminded her with a smile. Celine accepted his decision with a nod.
‘Why don’t you stay behind with me? We could have some time by ourselves.’
‘I can’t. I said I’d help with the collection… You’re not enjoying this, are you?’
‘Are you? Both of those men are profoundly miserable, and misery is contagious.’
She sighed. ‘Those two are not a good combination. I should have foreseen that.’
‘Does your uncle invite people here deliberately to insult them?’
‘Well, it looks like that.’
‘That’s not to let Simon the Smell off the hook…’
‘Sshh! He’ll hear you.’ Celine pointed to an open window in the cabin.
‘I say a plague on both their houses.’
‘What will you do if you stay here tomorrow morning?’
‘I’ll work on my paper. It’s due on Thursday.’
