Sumo stopped dead at a shop that had buckets and spades outside and a picture of ice-cream cones in the window. He turned to us. ‘These are the best ice-cream cones ever,’ he said before putting out his hand. ‘Money me.’
I took out a fiver and handed it to him.
‘You won’t be sorry,’ he said.
He came out minutes later with five large cones with chocolate flakes sticking out of them. He handed them out. Sumo was wrong about many things, but he was not wrong about those cones. They were and still are the best ice-cream cones I’d ever tasted.
We walked around, soaking the place up. Strangers said hello and we said, ‘Hiya,’ back to them. It was nice. It was new and exotic and weird and even a bit cool. It was scary too. We didn’t know if the people of Wexford were aware that five kids from Dublin were fugitives on the run. Maybe our photo was in every police station in Ireland by now. We might even be in the national newspapers or on the telly!!!
At one point we saw a police car. Walker yelped and ran into a shop. Johnny J grabbed Charlie and they ducked behind a car. I turned my back to the car and pretended I was looking in a clothes-shop window. Sumo just stood in the middle of the street, frozen to the spot, his face covered in a pink silk scarf. The police car passed and disappeared. We all turned to Sumo.
‘You’ve got to stop freezing, Sumo!’ Walker said.
‘Sorry,’ Sumo said.
Charlie went into a comic shop, and when she came out, she handed Sumo a Star Wars Wookie mask. ‘Put that on,’ she said.
‘Cool,’ Sumo said. ‘This is even better than Vader.’ He put it on and gave her back her scarf. ‘Better?’ he asked.
‘Much better,’ I said.
‘It suits you,’ Charlie said, and she was right, it did.
We walked around for a while. We couldn’t see a taxi rank and we weren’t sure where the bus station was, so Walker appointed Sumo our Wexford Liaison Officer and/or Guide (which meant he was to do all the talking).
Sumo approached a youngish fellow sitting on a tractor, drinking out of a flask and smoking a cigarette. He had a trailer half filled with straw attached. A three-legged dog was asleep on one of the wrapped bales.
‘Hiya, can you tell us how long it would take to walk to Strawberry Beach?’ Sumo said.
‘Well, Wookie, that depends. How quick are you on your feet?’ the fellow asked.
‘Quick enough.’
‘Yeah, but on a scale of one to ten? One being “walking on broken legs slow” and ten being “Stephen Roche on a bike fast”?’fn1
Sumo thought about it. ‘I’d say we’re about a solid five,’ he said.
The guy took a long drag from his cigarette. ‘Well then, I’d say you’d be walking for about forty-five minutes.’
‘Which way?’ Sumo said.
The guy pointed. ‘That way.’
‘Is it a straight run?’
‘If crooked is straight.’
‘No, it’s not.’ Sumo was muddled.
‘Correct, there’s more twists and turns than a Stephen King novel.’
‘Right,’ Sumo said. ‘Thanks.’
He turned to us. ‘He’s very hard to talk to.’
The guy laughed. ‘I’m just playing with you. Forgive me, kiddo, it’s the Wexford way. Get on the trailer.’
I pointed to myself and said, ‘All of us?’
‘Go on. I’m passing that way.’
We jumped aboard and soon we were travelling down the twisting, turning roads of Wexford, blinking at the blue sky, the sun beating down, a three-legged dog panting at us and our stomachs full of ice cream. I missed my mam and dad, Rachel and even Rich. I was worried about going to prison and knew life would never be quite the same again, but right then and there, I was having fun.
He pulled up at an old wooden sign with red strawberries on it, but it was missing its S and Y, so it read ‘trawberr Beach Park’.
‘Betty Bloomers will take care of you,’ he said as we got off the trailer and thanked him.
‘Who’s Betty Bloomers?’ I asked, just as a woman came out, with a head full of black curls and a short patterned dress and what looked like long knickers with frills peeping from just under the dress.
‘She’s Betty Bloomers,’ Sumo said.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’d like to stay in my aunt’s caravan.’
‘Does she know you’re coming?’
‘It’s a surprise,’ he stammered.
‘Who’s your aunt?’
Sumo gave the name, and also mentioned his uncle who’d died and their dog who was still alive, as far as he knew.
‘I’m really sorry, but your aunt sold the caravan.’
‘When?’
‘Last spring.’
‘Oh.’
‘Can you rent us another caravan?’ Johnny J asked.
‘I’m sorry, we’re full.’
‘Any other parks around here that we can try?’ Johnny J said.
She thought about it for a moment. ‘Is it just you five?’ she said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Where are your parents?’
‘At home.’
‘And they let you come to Wexford alone?’
‘We’re older than we look,’ Charlie said.
The woman said, ‘Hmmmmmmmmmm.’ She was staring at Sumo in his Wookie mask. She didn’t look convinced. ‘Business is booming down here. With the matches and all, half the country has taken holidays, but I know a man who has a caravan on his land. It’s doing nothing, so maybe he’ll let you stay.’
‘We have money,’ I said.
‘Well, I hope so – he’s as miserable as sin, this fella. Give me a minute.’ She went inside to make a telephone call.
We sat down on the ground and waited.
‘Do you think she’s calling the police?’ Charlie said.
‘I don’t know, but get ready to run.’ We waited nervously, all ready to run for the hills if we noticed anything out of place.
Betty Bloomers came out after a few minutes. ‘He’ll give it to you for one pound a day if you milk his cows, feed the hens and help him fix one of the fences.’
No one had been expecting that. We just stared at her blankly, waiting for her to say that she was joking.
‘It sleeps six,’ she said.
‘OK,’ Johnny J said.
‘Good. I’ll tell him,’ she said. ‘Oh, and he said he’d feed you, but only if you do the cooking.’
‘None of us can cook,’ I said.
‘I can make scrambled eggs and ham-and-mushroom omelettes,’ Charlie said.
‘I can make vegetable soup and spaghetti bolognese,’ Johnny J said. I did not know that about him.
‘Great,’ she said. ‘It’s a deal.’ She took a pen and paper out of her pocket. ‘Now, the farm is called Jimbo’s and there’s a scarecrow at the gate,’ she said as she scribbled on the page. ‘Here are the directions.’ She handed me the page. ‘If you get lost, look for smoke – he lights a turf fire even on a hot day.’
We thanked her and moved to leave.
‘And whatever you do, don’t make him angry.’
‘Why?’ Sumo said. ‘What happens?’
‘Well, you wouldn’t like him when he’s angry,’ she said in a tone of voice that suggested she was foreshadowing evil.
‘How do you know?’ Sumo said, and he sounded scared.
‘He’s my daddy,’ she said brightly, and she winked and went inside.
So we had a choice: become slaves to a mean and angry man, or sleep outside.
‘He can’t be that bad,’ Walker said, and he started walking toward the old man, the smoke and the scarecrow.
35
The Farm
We followed the smoke, and as we had to climb stone walls and jump over fences, avoid a large angry bull and run through some very skittish sheep, I’m guessing we managed to find the long and awkward way to Jimbo’s farm. We walked past the scarecrow, up the winding narrow path and,
standing in his doorway, there was Jimbo, the oldest, gnarliest and scariest man I’d ever seen. He looked like a killer from a horror comic and I genuinely wanted to run. Oh no, this is where we get caged, fattened, cooked and eaten. Goodbye, Mam and Dad. Goodbye, Rachel. See ya, Rich. I suppose we had it coming!
The old man standing in his darkened doorway was so thin he looked like a skeleton with a face. He had a white beard that reached his chest and he wore a red bandana on his bald head. His fingers were so long it reminded me of the alien from the movie E.T. When he talked, his voice sounded like sandpaper, and his eyes were so watery that it looked like he was crying even though he wasn’t. It took a few minutes of him talking at us before I realised he was blind. He totally and completely freaked me out, and I’m not proud of this, but I did step behind Charlie, who didn’t seem to mind the man at all.
‘My daughter says you’ll do some work for me.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Johnny J said.
‘Jimbo is my name-o,’ Jimbo said.
‘OK, Jimbo,’ Johnny J said. It was the first time an adult had ever told one of us to call them by their first name.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Am, ah, aaahhh …’ We hadn’t thought about fake identities, but we definitely needed them.
‘He’s Alvin,’ I said, stepping out from behind Charlie, and out of habit I pointed to Johnny J. Then I pointed to Walker. ‘He’s Simon,’ I said, looking at Walker, who was cleaning his spectacles and then I pointed to Sumo in his Wookie mask. ‘And that’s Theo. I’m Dave.’
‘I’m Brittany,’ Charlie said, and I sighed with relief. She got it.fn1
‘You kids have some weird names,’ Jimbo said.
‘Thanks,’ I said.
‘Right, bring me to the caravan,’ he said, and he picked up the white stick that was leaning on the wall. ‘Head for the smell of cow dung.’ He reached out and I was the closest to him, so he grabbed on to my arm with his alien fingers. My stomach felt sick. Oh no. Be cool, Jeremy. Just be cool.
The smell of dung was unholy (my mam’s friend Laura used to call anything really bad ‘unholy’, and that dung was UNHOLY) and the caravan looked like a really large metal bin. It was rusted and resting on bricks. Some of the bricks were broken or missing, so it slanted toward the back end. Jimbo felt for the door and pulled it open and a small bird flew out, along with a smell like petrol, burnt toast, a little bit of poo and a lot of wee and lavender.
‘There you go, boys – home sweet home,’ he said. ‘Now, when you’re ready, come up to the house and I’ll show you what’s what with the chickens.’ He banged the door with his hand and then he turned around, pointed his stick and nose toward the house and headed off that way alone. We waited and watched for him to get far enough away so that he couldn’t hear us.
‘I’m not stepping foot in there!’ Walker said.
‘We have no choice,’ I said, putting my head around the door. The oven looked broken and the place was filthy. The seating area was stained and frayed and the smell was hard to stomach. I pulled my head back and breathed in fresh air. ‘Who’s going in first?’
‘I’ll go,’ Johnny J said, and he took a deep breath and stepped up into the caravan. Charlie quickly followed. He opened the door to one of the tiny bedrooms – it had a double bed with a dirty duvet and no pillows. He opened the second room to reveal two single bunk beds; one had a blanket, the other didn’t. He walked over to the sofa area and lifted off the seat and there was a pull-out bed, but it looked broken.
‘This is going to be uncomfortable,’ he said.
When we finally all squeezed inside, we stood back to back and side to side like sardines in a tin.
‘Will we check out the chickens?’ I said. They all agreed. Everyone was itching to get out of the caravan.
The house was cold and dark even though it was a hot day. The old man was sitting by his fire. He heard us approach.
‘Ready?’
‘Yeah,’ I said.
‘Good boys,’ he said. He didn’t mention Charlie. He got up slowly and groaned as he moved, then he rubbed his knees with his long bony fingers. I stayed in the background so he wouldn’t grab on to me. He grabbed on to Sumo instead. ‘Well, you’re a big fella, aren’t you? Which one are you?’
I mouthed the word ‘Theo’.
‘Isn’t Theo the small one?’ Sumo mumbled.
‘What’s that?’
‘Theo,’ Sumo said.
‘Good man, Theo,’ Jimbo said. ‘What age are ya?’ he asked.
Sumo looked to me for the answer.
‘He’s sixteen,’ I lied.
‘Is that you, Dave?’
‘Yeah,’ I said.
‘Is Theo dumb?’ Jimbo said.
‘No.’
‘Why are you speaking for him?’
‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.
‘Are you blind?’ Sumo said.
‘Yes,’ Jimbo said.
‘Cool,’ Sumo said, and Jimbo laughed. He told us to pick up some clean bed linen from his hot press and then he pointed his stick in the direction of the chickens and we were off.
36
The Animals
Jimbo headed straight toward the smell. We followed in a line behind him.
When the noise of chicken squawking was really loud and the chickens had us surrounded, he raised his arms in the air.
‘Girls, meet the boys,’ he said. He was still ignoring Charlie. Nobody said anything. Maybe he’d forgotten she was there and it would be rude to mention it. ‘Say hello, boys.’
‘Hello,’ we said.fn1
He showed us their feed and how to clean out their henhouse. He also showed us how to collect the eggs. Feeding was fine, cleaning was disgusting, but collecting the eggs was cool. Next he brought us to the cowshed. I’d never seen a real cow before. They were massive and loud and breathed really heavily, and if I hadn’t been so mesmerised by their massive eyes and huge wet noses, I would have run for my life.
‘Cows meet boys. Boys meet cows,’ he said.
Charlie was standing right beside him! She said nothing, so neither did I.
‘Ever milked a cow before?’
‘Ah we’re from Dublin,’ Walker said sarcastically.
‘Yeah, well, so is Premier Dairies. There are cows in Dublin, believe it or not, Smarty-pants.’ Jimbo couldn’t see but he was sharp as a tack. Walker was a smarty-pants. ‘Which one are you?’
‘I’m Simon,’ Walker said.
‘Well, from now on you’re Smarty-pants.’
We all laughed. That name suited him better than Simon.
‘Who else have I?’ Jimbo said.
‘Eh, Alvin and Brittany.’
‘Oh yes. You ever milked a cow, Alvin?’
‘No, sir,’ Johnny J said.
‘No, Jimbo,’ Jimbo said.
‘No, Jimbo.’
‘Right, let me show you how.’
Jimbo felt around for the stool. Charlie moved it closer to him with her foot. He found it and sat. He dropped his stick and grabbed on to the cow’s pink soft bits and I felt sick.
‘Good morning, Gloria,’ he said to the cow.
She mooed a bit, but I think that’s because he was kneading her pink bits like my mam kneaded dough.
‘I’m giving a little nudge, a push, a prod, just to relax the muscles here, boys. Old Gloria needs to relax and leave the milk down.’
The others moved forward, fascinated. I hung back, disgusted. Charlie looked around.
‘There’s room here,’ she said, and she pulled me closer. Thanks a lot, Charlie.
‘You ever seen a cow being milked on TV?’ Jimbo asked.
Sumo put up his arm. I nudged him. ‘What?’ Sumo said.
‘He can’t see, remember?’ Walker said.
‘Oh yeah, sorry. I did, Mr … Jimbo.’
Jimbo started making a pulling motion. ‘And they did this? Right?’
‘Right,’ Sumo said.
‘Wrong,’ he said. ‘To milk a c
ow you take your thumb and forefinger, you clip them around the top of the udder, then with the other hand you squeeze the milk out. It starts slow but speeds up as old Gloria here relaxes.’
He was doing it with his gnarly alien fingers. By now I felt faint. I didn’t say anything. Nobody else seemed bothered by the fact that we were in a barn with a weird old man, a large cow and milk being squeezed into a bucket.
When he finished his demonstration, he asked us, ‘Who wants to try?’ They all did.
I just hung back.
Johnny J looked back at me. ‘You’re after me? Yeah?’
‘Jeremy, I’ll do the cow for you if you do the chickens for me,’ Walker said.
I nodded enthusiastically.
‘But the cow is way cooler,’ Sumo said to me.
‘Yeah, but the chickens will set off my allergies and I’ll die,’ Walker said.
He was right. We were on a farm surrounded by straw, grass and all the other things that set Walker off. He was already looking a little puffy around the eyes.
‘Do you have your medicine?’ I asked.
‘A box of tabs and one inhaler,’ he said.
‘Is that enough?’
‘Hope so,’ he said.
After the chickens were fed and the cows were milked, Jimbo showed us the fence with the hole in it.
‘Ever fixed a fence?’
You would think by now he’d know the answer. Of course not!
‘No, Jimbo,’ Sumo, Charlie and Johnny J said. Walker and I stayed quiet.
Jimbo got out a hammer and nails and chicken wire, and when he put the first nail in the wood and hammered, it was like watching a daredevil do a trick. I was sure he was going to hammer his long bony alien finger into the wood, but he didn’t, and when he was done, he turned to us.fn2
‘Demonstration over. Any questions?’
Nobody spoke.
The Fearless Five Page 13
