Have another drop me son, its not the first time a sup of John Jameson passed your lips.
Then she throws open the window and shouts out: Go on Khrushchev you baldy fucker! JFK is the man for you!
She told me she had six daughters and a son called Packy in England. He did well says I, he has a big job, hasn’t he? He has, she says, oh our Packy did well for himself but how did you know that? Ten men under him says I and off she went looking for more whiskey all delighted and banging into things. I’m off to see Joe Purcell says I, Joe Purcell she says and who would he be. You can’t beat a good friend she says, that was the first day I met him the day at the ice says I. You’re the lucky man she says, there’s not many of us in this world has friends the like of that. I know says I. Well there you are so you’re off to see him now well more luck to you I wish I had a friend the like of that instead of that humpy get there standing at the door. What? says I and when I looked round who was standing there only this farmer in turned-down wellingtons pulling at his cap well he says that’s that they’ve said no by this time next week there won’t be a bullock left standing in that field we’ve had it every man woman child and beast in this townland!
It was just as well he turned up for when I looked out it was starting to get dark be the fuck says I its time I was off. The farmer looks at me and her with his mouth open. Good luck now ma’am says I all you could hear was indeed I did have a glasheen of whiskey and neither you nor Baldy Khrushchev nor anyone else’ll stop me!
I nearly ran into the ditch three or four times look out says I but there wasn’t a sinner to be seen Khrushchev hasn’t much work to do about this place its done already I said next thing down the hill whee and off out into the open country again cows looking over ditches, where are you off to Francie mind your own business you nosey heifer bastards, watch out dandelions here I come! I couldn’t stop laughing with all the whiskey inside me and the wind in my face and the pebbles skitting on all sides end of the world I says what are they talking about this is the beginning of the world, not the end.
Am I right Joe?
Yup! Francie boy says Joe.
Khrushchev hadn’t much work to do in Bundoran either all you could see was two bits of newspaper wrestling in the middle of the main street, one boat in the harbour and nothing in the carnival park only a caravan with no wheels and a skinny mongrel tied to a fence. The houses were grey and blue and wet and in a sulk for the winter. Boo hoo nobody comes to stay in us any more. I wondered where it was they said the rosary. I dropped a spit into a rock pool, spidery tentacles and all these coral colours shifting in there. Are you prepared to live on potatoes and salt for the rest of your days, Annie? Is that the best you can offer a girl Benny Brady?
They were lying there on the candlewick bedspread and they could hear people drifting home from the dancehall until it got bright. Outside the window the sea ssh ssh was all you could hear. I knew what the boarding house was called. Over the Waves. I didn’t know where it was but did that matter? Ting-a-ling! It wouldn’t take old Mr Snort long to find a boarding house, no sir. Excuse me sir I need your assistance with a small matter. Yes my dear fellow how can I help you?
Algernon Carruthers. Tick tick tick whee along the beach shingle clattering against the spokes. Frawnthith my boy I do believe its time we ate.
I went into the hotel and sat down all plink plonk xylophone sounds and cutlery rattling far away. Well says the girl what would you like everything I says. What do you mean everything I says rashers eggs sausages beans and tea all that. She scribbles in the notebook. You’re a hungry customer she says. I am, I said, sticking the napkin into my collar, I could eat a live hen.
There was a businessman with a bald head and glasses sitting down the other end. He looked like Humpty Dumpty’s brother. I thought maybe he was in town leading the investigation. I know who did it! I seen them pushing your brother! I’d tell him. But he was leading no investigation. He was just reading the Irish Times. I could see what was on the front of it from where I was sitting. Crisis in Cuba – New Fears. New Fears? That was a laugh. I never felt better. If they said to me: Go on out and shoot all the communists for us Francie! I would have said: Sure bud.
I says to Humpty: I’m the man to do it! I’ll knock a bit of sense into them. Oho yes! Make no mistake about that! He lifted his glasses and looked down at me. I think I must have looked a bit of a sketch with the stew and all on my good jacket and the smell of brock I don’t know if he could get that or not. But I could get it myself so I’d say he could. But what did I care? Brock? What has that got to do with it now? Fuck Brock!
I wanted to leap into the air like Green Lantern or the Human Torch and land at Humpty’s table. OK Humpty let’s talk about your brother! I want the lowdown on these communists and I want it now!
But that was time enough. I didn’t want to give old Humpty a heart attack. I stuffed the napkin into my collar and says: Oho but they’re the curs, they’re the bad wicked animals but Humpty never let on he heard me. But they’ve met their match this time. Oh yes, yes indeed. They’ve gone too far this time! John F. Kennedy. I said it like John Wayne, John Ayuff Kennedy. Yup! I said, they shore hay-yuv!
He gave the newspaper a stiff shake and up goes the glasses will you please keep quiet can’t you see I’m trying to read.
The girl brought his breakfast and he folded up the newspaper what does he do then only lick his lips. Ah! he says, all delighted now. Then I pointed to it and laughed I says a good feed you can’t beat it but he didn’t say anything all I could hear was the clink of his fork munch munch.
Then I said: This is the place! This is it!
He looks at me with a rasher wobbling in front of his nose.
This is the place what? he says.
Where they spent their honeymoon of course!
What do you mean, honeymoon? Where who spent their honeymoon?
He hadn’t a clue what I was talking about so I had to tell him the whole story right from the start.
I see he says and kept on looking at me but I knew he wasn’t listening to the story half the time. So there you are, I says. Now I have to find the boarding house where they stayed. Over the Waves it was called. Do you know where it is?
No, he says I know nothing about this town I’m only here on business.
I was going to say all right all right there’s no need to lose the head Humpty but I didn’t get a chance for next thing up he gets and wipes his mouth and away off muttering with half the breakfast still lying there on the plate after him. That was a lot of use. Then the girl came back so I asked her. She said she didn’t know but she could find out. I suppose you’ll be here for a while she says looking at the big pile of stuff on the plate. Now you said it I said and started into it with the fork. I was scraping up the last bit of egg when she comes back with the manager. I understand you’re looking for someplace I know Bundoran like the back of my hand. Where’s Over the Waves I says bedad now and you have me there he says and scrunches up his face and starts all this scratching. I’ll tell you what though, I could find out for you. I got more tea and then back he comes with this old lad he must have been about a hundred years of age. This man knows every mountain in Donegal, he says and your man looks at me with a face on him: I’m famous!
Yes! he says, Its true I do know every mountain in Donegal! whatever good that was, knowing mountains. But I didn’t care he could know about any mountains he wanted all I wanted was the boarding house. When I said Over the Waves his face lit up aha! he says don’t I know it well, I pass it every day on me way down from the post office. There you are! beams the manager, what did I tell you and the girl in behind him saying don’t forget me now like a magician’s assistant.
The old lad hobbled along beside me on the esplanade he was a bit like the gardener in the school for pigs for he was all talk about Michael Collins too except that he said he was the worst bastard ever was put on this earth because he sold out the country. Now you said it I said, and what
about De Valera? When I said that he was away off again but I wasn’t listening to a word he said. I was all jiggy and sparky again all I could think of was Over the Waves Over the Waves that was where it all began. Your man was still going Free Staters, he says, I’d give them two in the head apiece. There’s the place you want he says, stabbing at it with his stick, down at the far end there. Its a bit of a walk but sure you have your health it’ll not knock a flitter out of you. I nearly knocked him over the railings into the sea I was so excited. I walked up and down past the houses I don’t know how many times. I’d look in the window and then look away again. I went in behind a parked car and tried to scrape off some of the dried stew on my jacket. It wouldn’t come off so I had to go at it with a piece of broken lollystick. I thought to myself: That’s a good one because I think it was a lollystick me and Joe were hacking at the ice with that day. I think it was. I’m nearly sure it was. All you could see was brass pots and big plants big rubber plants and pictures of horses or yachts hanging in the shadows but it didn’t matter the houses were still in a sulk and they weren’t going to come out of it no matter what you did. Look at us, they said. You won’t get better houses than us and look not a sinner comes to stay. I’ll tell you what I’ll do houses I said. I’ll click my Time Lord fingers and then what? Streams of children running round the place shouting look at me look at me sliding down the banisters and everything! Click and away off with the chairoplanes in the carnival and the whirligigs of the carousel wrapping up the town like a present in bright musical ribbons. Sea! I’d cry, big foamy breakers roaring in to crash against the sea wall. Delighted shrieks all along the strand. Boats by the dozen way out on the horizon. Trips around the lighthouse roll up! Oh yes you did Punch. Oh no I didn’t. Oh yes you did Punch! Oh no I didn’t youse bunch of cheeky little bastards!
Bacon and eggs frying and the smells floating out through the open windows. Women with veins hobbling along this is the best holiday we ever had. Yes indeed thanks to Francie Brady – the Time Lord. That would be good magic.
I rang the doorbell, I sprang at it for I knew if I didn’t I’d still be walking up and down when the summer really came round. No I’m sorry, its number twenty-seven not number seventeen. Oops sorry I said I don’t know what made me say it like that oops sorry it was like Toots or Little Mo out of the Beano. I don’t know how many houses I called to after that ten or eleven or twelve or thirteen maybe but I shouldn’t have called to any for if I had looked right the first time I’d have seen it it was there all along. There was a nameplate with an anchor and a painted sailor man, and just over the door Over the Waves Rooms Available. I nearly ran away but I didn’t I tidied myself up and coughed and scraped off the flysplats and the stew as best I could and then the door opens and there she was. I knew she’d look like that, a chain on her glasses and all.
There was no holding her once she got started oh she says its nothing now to what it used to be. In the old days I had twenty or thirty people at a time staying in this house and I says ah you probably wouldn’t remember them all then but no she says that’s where you’re wrong old and all as I am, I never forget a face. I have a great memory for faces there’s not one person stood in this house but I remember. Then she goes way back right to the very beginning of the old days. But the best year we ever had she says was the Eucharistic Congress, glory be I didn’t think there was that amount of people to be found in the country, the crowds that used to land on that railway platform. Then of course after the war we had a lot over from England. And do you know what it is, not one of them would ever give you a bit of bother, paid their bills on time, never any fuss. Its not everyone’s like that, I can tell you!
Are you all right for tea there, she says. I said: I am indeed.
Ah you’ll have another drop she says. All right so I said.
I’ve had my share of important visitors too in my day, oh yes. Did you ever hear of Josef Locke? She pursed her lips and looked at me. I had never heard of him in my life but I stared over the rim of the cup and went: Josef Locke?
Yes!, she said. Three times he stayed here.
He sang for me and all she says, inside in the parlour. Oh what a wonderful evening that was. We had a schoolmaster used to come every year from Derry, Master McEniff, he played the piano. The melodies of Tom Moore. Do you know Tom Moore she says?
I knew Tom Moore that worked in the chickenhouse but I knew that wasn’t who she was talking about. But I could still say I knew him. I do, I says.
It was an evening I’ll treasure as long as I live she says.
Then she was away off again, some actor that used to stay and say poems and recitations. The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God, she says. Yes, I said, and The Cremation of Sam McGee!
I remembered that from the night of Alo’s party.
Correct! she says, all delighted and passing me the biscuits.
Yes, she says. I always had lots of guests from the entertainment world, always did.
I was sitting on the edge of the chair waiting for a chance to get the bit in about da singing for her. I forgot all about my tea waiting for it. Then she says to me what you want to see young man is my collection of photographs. I have photographs of nearly everyone that ever passed a night under this roof. I don’t know how many photographs she had, maybe a thousand. All these lads with faded brown faces and wide trousers. Sitting beside haystacks with girls. Shading their eyes staring off out to sea. Picnics too. I kept going through them and through them but I still couldn’t find any of ma and da.
Oh that’s such and such she’d say he stayed here for a whole month. He was a judge from Dublin, she was a relative of such and such, all this. But still no da. When we had gone through them all she shuffles them and looks up: Now what did you say your father’s name was again?
Brady I said.
Brady then she says again, there was a Lucius Brady he was a musician he played the piano and a very good singer he was too as I recall what was the name of the song you said your dad sang again?
I dreamt that I dwelt in Marble Halls, I says.
Hmm, she says, of course I know the song but I can’t say it rings a bell. He sang it, I said, he told me. You left the key under the mat for them! Mm? she says all surprised then. Oh no I’d never do that! I’d never do that! I don’t know how many times she said that.
No matter she says then, wait till we see. She went through a few more Bradys, I had to keep saying all the time: No, that’s not him.
What did you say his full name was again?, she says. Bernard Brady I said and she said it after me a few times shaking her head and it was only after I said Benny that her jaw dropped and she looked at me all different. From where did you say, she says, and when I told her she starts gathering up the photographs and humming and hawing. I says: He never stopped talking about the days here and the beautiful things and all that but all of a sudden she didn’t want to talk about it any more she says I’d be as well gather up all these bits and pieces God knows I don’t know where to start with this work. I said but what about da and that, you said.
But then she says oh I don’t know, my memory’s not what it used to be. She tried to make a laugh out of it. Old age is catching up on me she says ha ha. She was putting all the photographs back into the boxes and the album now and I said why will you not tell me, you said you’d tell me. She just shook her head. Please tell me I said I have to hear it I have to hear it no she said let me go. All I wanted to hear was something about them lying there listening to the sea outside the window but it didn’t matter I didn’t hear it anyway. When I said to her go on tell me you said you would she said: Get your hands off me do you hear me! What can I tell you about a man who behaved the way he did in front of his wife. No better than a pig, the way he disgraced himself here. Any man who’d insult a priest the way he did. Poor Father McGivney who wouldn’t hurt a fly coming here for over twenty years! God knows he works hard enough in the orphanage in Belfast without having to endure abuse the like of wha
t that man gave him! God help the poor woman, she mustn’t have seen him sober a day in their whole honeymoon!
Then what did she do she said I’m sorry but I was in the hall when she said it it didn’t matter now anyway I just closed the front door softly with a click. I went on ahead up the street who did I meet then only the manager. Oh he says did you find the place you were looking for. I did indeed I says and I gave him the thumbs up have a good stay in Bundoran he says I will indeed I called after him the wind was blowing I went into a shop and bought some fags I went down to the beach and smoked a few the sea was dirty and grey like a dishcloth there was a few boats I think there was three I smoked another fag some of the fags I just smoked half of them the others I smoked them all. I counted how many I had left in the packet. One two three I had three left. I went up the town there was a few people about they were going about their business there was a woman shopping and a council man in waders over a manhole and convent girls outside a cafe I bought a comb my hair was getting all tangled up. But the thing was that beside the shop where I bought the comb there was another shop I must have missed it on the way down it was a music shop. There was a dog hanging over the door, staring into a trumpet, trying to find his master’s voice. I’m in here get me out Fido says the master. How says Fido. How do I know says the master just do it will you my best little pet dog? In the window anything you wanted. To do with music that is. A silver saxophone you could have that. Trumpets. Stacks of records and a redcheeked woman with her hair flowing and a half-knitted scarf of notes curving out of her mouth. She wanted everyone to sing along. I would. I’d sing along. I went in and who’s behind the counter only the music man humming to himself and writing out notes on a music manuscript like da used to before he stayed out in the Tower all the time. The music man looked like a telegraph operator click click message for the marshal in Abilene and all this, with a big gold watch strung across his waistcoat. I said to him: I know something about you.
The Butcher Boy Page 17
