He looked up, smiling.
‘In theory, like.’
Aesop frowned at him.
‘Fuck sake! Who told you all that stuff about him?’
‘No one did. I can just do it. Used to box, remember?’
‘Since when is stamping on some poor fucker’s knee allowed in boxing?’
‘Yeah, well … I did other stuff too.’
‘You’re a scary bastard sometimes, Norman.’
‘The point is, Aesop, just because I can deal with Davey Molloy if I have to, if you start any shit with him I’ll probably just apologise on your behalf and buy him a drink and if anyone will be getting a slap, it’ll be you later on for being a tool.’
‘Do me.’
‘What?’
‘Do me. Height and weight and all that. Fuck, and there’s me for years saying you should be in the circus. Eh … I mean … a lion tamer, like.’
‘You’re five foot ten and about seventy-three kilos.’
‘And how would you sort me out in a scrap?’
‘You?’ Norman chuckled and shook his head. ‘Sure all I’d have to do is tell you what I might do to you and you’d faint down into a puddle of your own piss.’
Aesop roared laughing.
‘Jaysis, what’s Davey’s number there? We’ll get him around and I’ll wind him up for you. Kevin Costner me bollix. Fuckin’ Robocop I have here with me!’
‘Just you keep away from Davey. You’re in enough trouble.’
‘Do Jimmy.’
‘Ah stop messing. It’s only knowing what to look out for. It’s not that hard.’
‘Yeah. Actually, you know what? I can do it too.’
‘Can you?’
‘Yeah. Well, with chicks I mean.’
‘You can tell how to bate a girl? Christ, that must come in handy.’
‘No no. Not fighting. When you walk into a place and it’s wall-to-wall beaver, like. You’re only going to leave the place with one bird, right? Most of the time. So you don’t want any surprises later on when the kit comes off and you’re committed.’
‘What are you on about Aesop? If you’re that concerned about a girl’s body, can’t you get a good enough idea of it just by looking at her in her clothes?’
‘Exactly. That’s what I’m saying. But if you pay attention to the details of all the different girls in the place, you can fine-tune the upcoming session, can’t you?’
‘Can’t I what?’
‘Take tits for instance.’
‘Ah Jesus, Aesop …’
‘Just for a minute. Jessie, right? Looks like a 34C. Sounds lovely, right? But she had a padded holster on her this evening. Now, I’m not saying that that’s a bad thing. Shows that the girl is trying to make herself look nice before she goes out, fair play to her. You want a girl that’s going to put in a bit of effort, and the balcony’s always a good place to start. This morning, though, she was a B. Sure, B is a lovely size too. Better on a 32-sized bird, but still. We can’t all be perfect, right? Thing is, if you only saw her tonight and reckoned you knew what the day’s specials were on the puppy menu, then you might well find yourself feeling hard done by, y’see? You’d have them out and you’d be wondering if your hands are after suddenly growing a bit bigger somewhere en route between the pub and the back of bus shelter. Y’know what I mean?’
‘Aesop …’
‘I, on the other hand, didn’t even need to see her this morning to know she was giving the girls a little boost tonight. A top doesn’t fall the same way across a bird wearing a padded bra. They keep coming up with better ones, but you can’t fool Aesop. I’ve been at this game too long. Now, in Jessie’s case it doesn’t matter a bit. She’s well-stacked either way and I’d be the first man to stick the head on them given the right circumstances. But it’s still nice to know what you’re letting yourself in for, is all I’m saying. Sure, once you get to know a girl you can tell what bra she likes to wear with what top, if she’s not wearing a bra at all … for fuck sake, after a while you can even tell when she’s got the painters in. Y’see, every month …’
‘Okay Aesop! I don’t want to hear any more.’
‘Now … arses are a different story altogether …’
‘Shut up, you fucking delinquent. Christ, this is your hobby, is it?’
‘Jesus, no. It’s much more important than that.’
‘And you do it with every girl you see?’
‘Just happens at this stage. Like noticing what colour her hair is.’
‘So you were doing it with Helen?’
‘Ah … well, I mean … it’s not like I was …’
‘And Trish? You want to tell me all about Trish’s breasts?’
‘I’d … rather not.’
‘Good.’
‘Right.’
They both sat looking into the fire for a couple of minutes.
‘Norman, please. That music is doing me head in. Have you anything else?’
‘It’s grand. Stop moaning. And … anyway … I’ve seen them.’
‘Seen what?’
‘Trish’s … breasts.’
‘Yeah?’
‘They’re lovely.’
‘Good stuff.’
‘I like her, Aesop.’
‘I’d say you do. She’s a real honey.’
‘Yeah. I think she likes you.’
Aesop leaned back in the chair and took a big gulp of whiskey.
‘I doubt that.’
‘She said she hasn’t heard from you. I thought you were going to say sorry.’
‘I am, Norman. I just feel like such a bleedin’ eejit. I don’t know what to say to her. Y’know, “Listen Trish, about the whole fucking-a-cup-of-tea-in-your-face-and-calling-you-a-psycho-cunt thing … ”’
‘You called her a …’
‘Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mention that bit before.’
‘Fuck sake. Just call her, will you? Tomorrow.’
‘I will.’
‘Things are hard enough without …’
‘What? What’s hard?’
‘Ah … nothing.’
‘Tell me.’
‘It’s nothing Aesop. You wouldn’t … know what it’s like.’
‘What what’s like?’
‘What it’s like when a bird that you’re mad about fancies your mate.’
‘Who? Jimmy?’
‘Jimmy? Jesus … Aesop, she fuckin’ fancies you, you dope.’
‘What? She does in her bollocks.’
‘She does! It’s obvious. You can see it in her. That night at the gig and all …’
‘What are you talking about Norman?’
‘You and her, and her breaking her shite laughing with you all night on the couch at the party afterwards. That’s what I’m talking about.’
‘Jesus, Norman, we were only chatting.’
‘Yeah, but she never laughs like that with me.’
‘So I’m a fucking comedian. So what? Doesn’t mean she’s into me.’
‘Aesop, you were there being the fucking rockstar after your gig, with no shirt and a towel around your neck and your tight pants and those two stupid fucking studs in your eyebrow, people coming up to you and shaking your hand every five minutes, and I’m over the other side of the room talking to Sparky about his Mam’s daffodils.’
‘Fuck sake Norman, we were talking about you!’
‘And that had her breaking her bollocks laughing? Brilliant …’
‘No ye spa. I was making myself out to be a fuckin’ eejit and telling her about all the times I’d have been in the shit if it wasn’t for you. Remember the time that bloke thought I rode his wife? He would’ve killed me if you hadn’t been there to calm him down.’
‘You did ride his wife Aesop.’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t know she was his wife at the time, did I? It’s not like I got her to fill out a questionnaire.’
‘Anyway, women don’t want the big hard case. They want someone who can make them laugh. Isn’t that what
they say in all the magazines?’
‘That’s bollocks! We’re talking about real women, man. A giggle’s all right now and again, but they want a lot fucking more than that. I’m telling you, the likes of me is the last thing they need. And they know it, thank Christ. Norman, they might want to fuck me, but they want to marry you; that’s what they say in the magazines.’
‘But I don’t want her fucking you before she marries me!’
‘Wh … hang on … are we still talking about Trish?’
‘Yes!’
‘Aw Jesus, listen man, I would never try and move in on your bird no matter what. Any bird! Ever. And anyway, I’d say we’re safe enough as far as Trish is concerned. She thinks I’m a fuckin’ weirdo.’
‘But what was she doing in your gaff that night? Women don’t forget their jewellery. You said that yourself, sure.’
‘Wasn’t she giving me that picture? She was just being nice. Getting in with your mates so that it’d be easier for you and her. She’s fucking mad about you Norman. Really. It’s all we talked about that night.’
‘I don’t know Aesop. There’s something about her. I can’t stop thinking about her but, it’s like she’s keeping something from me …’
‘Norman, listen. I’m telling you that Trish is a great bird and all she wants is you. The only thing that’ll change that is you fucking it up. Really. Chill out and stop looking for things to worry about. She’s great and she wouldn’t touch me with rubber gloves on. If she’s keeping something back, it’s probably because she sees that you’re not sure and she doesn’t want to get hurt.’
‘I don’t know …’
‘You know how to bate the shite out of people, Norman. I know women. Trish is a fucking angel and she’s all yours, so make the most of it.’
*
Trish was in her bedroom on her own, very sober. It was two in the morning. The wardrobe door was open and she stood in front of the mirror stuck to the inside of it, just looking at herself. She was in her uniform still, even though she’d gotten in from work an hour ago. Only the bedside lamp was turned on and that was on a dimmer switch. Still, even in the rusty orange glow that seemed to seethe all around her, her uniform shone sharp and crisp. The way she liked it. She breathed deeply and closed the wardrobe door, stepping back to sit on her bed.
She was thinking about Aesop, remembering the fear and panic in his eyes that night. The way he’d bolted from her, flinging stinging obscenities in his wake, before she had a chance to stop him. She reached under the bed and patted around until her fingers touched the box and then she pulled it out and set it on her lap, just looking at it for a minute. The lid came away in her hands and she felt the catch in her chest when her eyes fell on what was inside. Something from another life.
*
‘You reckon?’ said Norman, looking up.
‘I’m telling you, man. I know women.’
Chapter Thirteen
It was a beautiful Saturday morning in Cork. The sky was a brilliant pale blue and a fresh breeze was whooshing through the stripped trees behind the cottage, carrying with it in earthy wafts the musk of burning turf. The sun was low, but blinding bright, splashing long shadows across the fields from every ditch and bush and the rocks that pierced the earth like ancient broken teeth. A tractor and trailer crunched past on the road and then disappeared over the hill. A crow set down on the bench just outside the front door and looked around in jerks and twitches before taking off again and vanishing into a hedge. Inside the cottage, two figures sat at the kitchen table.
‘Me fuckin’ head,’ said Aesop.
‘What’s left in the bottle?’ said Norman. His chin was down on his chest, his hands folded demurely in his lap and his face scrunched up in pain.
Aesop opened his fingers and looked between them over to the small table in front of the fire. He closed them again.
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘That’s your fault. I wanted to go to bed when we came in from the pub.’
‘I don’t seem to recall having to break your arm to get you to have a small one.’
Norman turned to look at the bottle.
‘Jesus. That was full when we started. No wonder I’m in this state. You’re a bad influence on me. I was going down to the bog this morning and everything.’
‘We’re already there.’
‘No. I mean the actual bog. I was going to cut some turf.’
‘There’s loads in the bin outside.’
‘It was for the exercise. A bit of fresh air. I was going to show you how to cut peat.’
‘That’d come in handy. All the times I’ve said to meself, if only you knew how to cut peat Aesop …’
‘We’ll go after lunch. A couple of hours. To sort out this hangover.’
‘Or we could just take a load of tablets and not bother our bollocks. That gets my vote.’
‘You don’t have a vote. We can’t stay in the house all day, Aesop.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s a gorgeous day. We should go out for a walk or something.’
‘Norman, that’s the kind of thing a girl says right between waking up in the morning and me pushing her into a taxi.’
‘Well I’m not a girl Aesop.’
‘Ah, you’re a bit of a girl sometimes Norman, aren’t you?’
‘Is there eggs in the fridge?’
‘Yeah. Helen brought loads over yesterday.’
‘Right. Well I’ll get started on the French toast, you sort out the fire.’
‘Ah Jaysis. I don’t want to. Can I make the French toast and you do the fire?’
‘Do you know how to make French toast?’
‘Eh … eggs, toast … em … garlic …’
Norman stood up.
‘Don’t use too many firelighters.’
‘What the fuck is that on the radio? Listen man, is there any music at all in this house that isn’t shite?’
‘Granny’s CDs are over there in the press.’
‘I don’t s’pose there’s any chance Granny was a big Megadeth fan, is there?’
‘Have a look.’
Aesop got down on his knees and started flicking through the selection.
‘Dolly Parton?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I didn’t know she sang.’
‘What?’
‘She has an album here. Oh, two albums. Did you know she sang?’
‘What did you think she did?’
‘Well … I thought she just had these massive knockers and … y’know …’
‘She’s a singer you fucking eejit.’
‘Really?’
‘Stop stalling and do the fire. I’m not doing it, Aesop.’
‘I’m serious. What kind of music is she?’
‘Country and Western.’
‘Jaysis. Sorry Dolly, you can stay in there. Oh, look, “War of the Worlds”!’
‘Yeah. Granny was mad into Richard Burton.’
‘Excellent. That’s my kind of granny. This is proper hangover music.’
‘Aesop, get a move on, will you?’
‘Who’s Richard Burton?’
‘Listen to me, you big …’
There was a knock on the door.
‘Anyone awake in here?’
It was Helen.
‘Oh thank fuck,’ said Aesop. ‘Saved.’
He ran over and opened the door.
‘Helen!’
The arms went out and he gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
‘Thank God you’re here. Norman’s being a terrible bully this morning. Will you tell him to leave me alone?’
Helen laughed and walked in.
‘Morning, guys.’ She stopped. ‘Oh God … the smell in here.’
‘That’s him,’ said Aesop, pointing at Norman. ‘I keep telling him to see a doctor.’
‘No. It’s the cigarettes and booze. God, it reminds me of when Granny had one of her parties.’
‘I’m begin
ning to like what I hear about your Granny.’
‘She was great. So, what’s up? Have you eaten yet?’
‘Just putting on some French toast here,’ said Norman. ‘Do you want some?’
‘I’m after bringing some sausages and bacon and pudding down. And Mam made a few loaves of bread for you. And butter. Here, Robert, let me do it.’
‘Ah no, Jesus. I’ll look after it.’
‘You will not. Put on the kettle there and sit down before you fall down. Look at the state of the pair of you. Reeking of whiskey and bags under your eyes like pillows. What time did you go to bed?’
‘I had to leave him asleep on the couch,’ said Aesop. ‘He can’t hold his gargle.’
‘Right. Well, the two of you sit down. Here’s the paper, look. I’ll make the tea. Robert, set the fire there.’
‘But … that’s Aesop’s job.’
‘Ah stop. He’s our guest, sure. Go on. It’ll only take you a minute.’
Aesop grinned at Norman and took the paper off Helen.
‘Thanks Helen. You’re very good. Norman had me doing everything.’
‘Aesop …’ said Norman. He looked fit to give him a box.
‘Will you do what your cousin says and stop whinging?’ said Aesop. ‘Honestly, Helen, he’s been like a bear with a sore arse all morning. I wanted to go out for a walk and everything but there was no shifting him.’
‘Come on Robert. Get the fire going and we’ll have our breakfast. You’ll be grand then.’
‘I’m grand now!’
‘Can I do anything at all for you Helen?’ said Aesop.
‘Not at all,’ she said, her head in the fridge. ‘Sit down there and Robert will make the tea. Robert? The fire?’
Norman looked around and glared at Aesop. He opened his mouth to say something, but Aesop just made a show of flapping open the paper and sat on the couch.
‘Will I put on some music Helen?’ he said.
‘Yeah, go on sure.’
‘Do you like Dolly Parton?’
‘I love her.’
‘Really? Me too. Norman, can you stick on some sounds there while you’re up. And Helen, are you sure I can’t help?’
‘Just sit down there Aesop and relax. Robert, I think that kettle is boiled.’
Norman gave one final dagger-glare in Aesop’s direction and then knelt down to put a CD on. With ‘Jolene’ coming out of the speakers, he walked past Aesop and gave him a boot in the shin on his way out the back door to get some sticks.
Ride On Page 14
