by G D Sheehen
“Anywhere from size eight to twelve,” he replied.
She giggled as he’d hoped. “Maybe a ten would be the safest.”
She returned a moment later with a pair of black boots. “Those are fickle feet you’ve got there.”
“They change according to the weather.”
“Try these on for size. They’re in good nick. You can have a seat back there.”
He sat down on a stool in the corner and tried on the boots. They were slightly big but they would do.
“They’re perfect thanks. I need a jacket too.”
“For work or casual wear?”
“Work. On a building site.”
“There’s a nice green one over here. Are you new to Dublin or something? You don’t sound local.”
“Nah. I’ve been here for many years. I’ve worked very hard to not sound like you people.”
“Hey. Watch it, right,” she said, exaggerating her Dublin accent, then laughing.
She took a jacket from the rack and held it for Philip to try on. He slipped into it as she did so and padded it down feeling satisfied by the fit.
“How long have you been working in this shop?”
“A few years. Since the economy collapsed there’s not much need for archaeologists anymore.”
“Why? Was there before the crash?”
“Yes, there was actually. There were digs all over the country. If a new building site unearthed any artefacts there was money galore thrown at it. Now they just keep building.”
“That’s a shame.”
“So, do you want me to ring up all this stuff?”
“That’d be great, thanks. And I’ll find one more jumper.”
She went to her table and started folding up the clothes. Philip soon found two fleece tops that would be perfect for the site. He went over to her table.
“I’ll take these two as well,” he said and put the sweaters down on the table. “What’s your name?”
“Sharon,” she said with a smile.
“Nice to meet you, Sharon. I’m Philip.”
“Do you live around here, Philip?”
“Ya, I just moved into the area.”
“How about you?”
“Ya, I live nearby with me da. He’s not in the best of health, so that’s why I stayed here when everyone else seemed to be emigrating.”
“That’s good of you. Family comes first.”
“How about you? Do you have any family here?”
“My sister and her son live in Waterford, and that’s about it.”
“I see. Well, that’ll be forty euro.”
“Really? So cheap.”
“The boots don’t have a price yet so I’ll throw them in for free.”
“Ah, there’s no need for that. Doesn’t this money go to a good cause?”
“Your new job is a good cause.”
They smiled at each other and were interrupted by two teenage girls coming in the door in full chatter. He handed her two twenties and thanked her, never breaking eye contact.
“There’s lovely stuff in here. I’ll be back for more.”
“I’ll see you then Philip. Good luck with the job.”
He left the shop feeling light on his feet.
That night Philip dreamed of wandering the country roads of his youth on a bitter winter night. He is wearing only his underwear and a vest and is running from something that isn’t visibly clear. He rushes towards the cliff’s edge as if being chased by a wicked force. An old tower springs up beside him on the cliff and blood gushes out its high window. Below, the water is calm and still, like a giant pane of black glass. Ripples appear and a figure begins emerging from the depths. The black hair is soaked and covering her face, her white gown clung to her bony body. Once fully emerged, she floats forward, her hands outstretched, her long fingers and nails darting forward like knives.
Philip’s feet sink into the earth and trap him there, preventing him from escaping. He twists and squirms to no avail. Shocked senseless by what stands before him, he turns his body away from the terrifying sight. A creature with long limbs, a drooping face with a menacing expression and long hair soaked in blood. It reveals his fangs to Philip and widens his eyes to show the souls of hundreds of lost people.
“If you dig it up, I will set you free.”
Philip wants to answer that he doesn’t know what it is he should dig up but can’t sound out the words. The creature moves forward bearing teeth and Philip manages to break free only to fall into the arms of the Dearg Due.
He woke up with a jolt of electrifying fear, covered in sweat, and sat on the bed shaking with the light on for two hours until it was time to go to work.
6
The site where Philip was to start his new job was on the south side quays. A high rise that met great opposition from community groups but got the go-ahead anyway. He didn’t care about any of that and was determined to hold down a stable job. There was no way to sort his life out without becoming financially independent and not relying on social welfare, as he’d done for years. The morning was brisk but bright and he relished the rush hour bus journey through the heart of the city to start his job.
“Hi. I’m looking for Duignan and Sons' cabin,” he enquired to the gateman.
“Are you starting with them today?”
“Ya, I am.”
“Good luck with that,” he scoffed, “shower a’ bastards, the lot a’ them. Can’t keep a good man on their crew.”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
“Ya, whatever. Go to the right side of the main building, you’ll see them sitting around scratchin’ their arses. The ones with long arms like gorillas, like all yous fuckin’ brickies.”
Philip made his way through the site dodging various obstacles on the way. A project manager-looking type with a hard hat and suit shouted after him for not wearing a visivest and hard hat. Philip shrugged him off and kept going. Already he felt an undertow of derision and spite pervade the site. Just like every other building site he’d worked on in the past. He turned the corner and spotted his new crew near the end of the building, sitting around on five-gallon drums drinking tea and eating breakfast rolls. He approached and asked for the foreman.
“You the new one from the Joy they sent us?” asked Matty McConnell getting to his feet and extending his hand.
“That’d be me.”
“What’s your name, bud?”
“Philip Quinlan,” he said shaking McConnell’s hand.
“These are the brickies from hell,” he said gesturing to the others who’d barely paid attention to Philip’s presence. “Watch your gear around them. They’ll rob the eye out of your head and try to sell it back to ya.”
“And then we’ll rob it again,” said one of the men sitting down, raising a boisterous laugh from the others. “When did ya get out?”
“Two days ago.”
“Fair play to ya, in this shithole after two days out,” said another one.
“Do you have any tools?” asked McConnell.
“No. I didn’t get around to buying any yet.”
“We’ll sort you out until your first paycheck, but then you’ll have to get your own. Have you done much bricklaying?”
“A bit here and there. Probably a couple of years in total.”
“You’ll have to pick it up fairly fast to last here. Duignan is a total cunt and fires people left, right and centre. I’ll put you with Banger there for the first couple of weeks and we’ll see where yous are. He’s a nut job but he knows what he’s doin’. Fuck around, come in stoned or pissed, or start missing days, you’re out.”
“Sounds fair.”
“There’s nothing fair about it. You’ll learn that soon enough.”
Philip followed Banger through the main building to the outside where they got on the trade lift. Barely a word was spoken but to tell Philip they were working on the elevator shaft. Banger was a small stocky man with a shaved head and the all too familiar look of
someone who would explode at the slightest offence and take out whoever crossed him. Philip knew the type well from his years on the streets and his time inside.
They got to the eighth floor and Banger immediately sent him back down to stock up on bricks. Philip took it as first day riling and didn’t protest the obvious intent of it. When he returned he was instructed to mix up a batch of cement. By the end of mixing, Philip already felt his muscles ache and was becoming slightly disorientated.
“You alright there? You look a bit pale.”
“Ya, I’m fine. I didn’t get much slee-”
“Then mix up another fucking batch and don’t keep me waiting this time.”
Philip complied and halfway through remembered that he hadn’t taken any medication today and wasn’t sure what time the chemists’ was closing. Work would finish at five and he guessed they might stay open until six which should give him enough time to get back and pick up his weekend dose.
“Are ya lookin’ to get sorted?” asked Banger, breaking Philip’s thought.
“Nah, man. I’m clean.”
“Ya right. You’re a born street junkie if ever I seen one. Let me know when you change your mind. Now pass us that mix.”
Philip sweat profusely as he slogged away for the rest of the day. Banger’s contempt didn’t lighten and if anything became worse as Philip slowed down due to exhaustion. After a short lunch break, McConnell asked them to work an hour or two late. It was a request made with less than a little room for refusal. Banger cursed expressively but accepted, leaving Philip with no choice but to go along. He didn’t want to come across as unmotivated on his first day. Shortly after the request was made he realised he had no chance of making it to the chemists’ and shrugged off the fact that he might not have any medication for the weekend as a minor annoyance.
As five o’clock passed, his energy and will to continue faded with the day’s light. They used a powerful halogen light to see what they were doing and also to get some heat from, the temperature now rapidly dropping.
“Keep digging. You’ll never find what you looking for.”
“What do you mean by that?” replied Philip.
Banger turned to him from atop the low scaffold, scorn stretched across his round face.
“What the fuck are ya talkin’ about? I didn’t say a thing. You definitely need a fix, man. You’re away with the fuckin’ fairies.
“Sorry. I thought you said something to me there.”
They finally got the section of the wall finished at half-past six and despite the bad company, Philip had a sense of satisfaction for completing a day’s work.
“See you on Monday, Banger.”
“Go fuck yourself, junkie.”
7
Although exhausted from a day of mixing cement and hauling bricks, he decided to walk home and grab a bite to eat on the way. The city was awash with lights and traffic, commuters on their way home, revellers on their way out to enjoy the spoils of Dublin’s many bars and clubs. He took it all in as he crossed O’Connell Bridge with a smile on his face, optimistic about life for the first time in many years. He sauntered down O’Connell Street amazed by how much the city had changed since he first arrived here on a bus from Waterford nearly twenty years ago. Still in party mode at that time, he’d managed to hold down factory and construction jobs for long enough to support his growing habit and keep a roof over his head. But all of that was to come crumbling down as it does for so many who can’t stop the chase.
At the end of O’Connell Street, he turned onto Parnell Street and his senses were summoned by the fragrance coming from a small Chinese noodles restaurant. He had always wanted to try the place but never had the stomach for it when he was smacked out. He ordered spicy beef noodles and took them to the standing counter at the window. After struggling with the chopsticks for some time he managed to get the first bite into his mouth. He instantly regretted braving the medium spicy option as his mouth almost exploded. Sputtering and spitting the noodles back into the bowl, he looked around to see if anyone had seen his embarrassing attempt. Two of the Chinese kitchen staff and a couple of customers were doubled over laughing.
Philip joined in, “I think I’ll let them cool down a bit first.”
The Chinese lady from behind the counter brought him over a bottle of water. “This is on house. Maybe you need.”
“Thanks,” he said and she rushed away before he finished saying the word.
After a couple of swigs of water, he made another attempt. This time a much smaller amount. He chewed slowly, taking deep breaths to quell the spiciness. He got adventurous and loaded up the chopsticks and stuffed more noodles into his mouth. Half of them slid out of his mouth and splashed back into the bowl, and when he raised his eyes he caught sight of Sharon outside the window, laughing at him. A pang of nerves, anticipation and excitement hit him all at once. At the door within seconds, he popped out to greet her.
“How long have you been there watching?”
“Long enough to know you should stick to a fork.”
“I don’ think they have forks here.”
“Have a look inside.”
He looked in the door and saw that everyone in the restaurant was using a fork and spoon combination.
“Okay. Lesson learnt. What are you up to with yourself?”
“Heading into Temple Bar to meet some friends for after-work drinks. I’d invite you but it’s girls only.”
The very suggestion made him blush.
“How was your first day on the job?”
“It was fine, you know. A bit of a back breaker but that’s to be expected.”
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your noodles. See you around.”
“Alright. Have a good one.”
“I will,” she said and smiled as she turned and left. A cool soft breeze carried the scent of her perfume back to where he stood watching her head towards O’Connell Street. She glanced back and caught him in a trance, watching her and left out a giggle that nearly melted his knees.
Philip went back and finished his noodles enjoying them more and more as he got used to the chopsticks and the spiciness.
He left the restaurant and strolled down Parnell Street and turned on to Gardiner Street, all the time thinking about going into the charity shop and asking Sharon out for noodles someday.
“Alright, man? Long-time no smell, yous aul stinkin’ smackhead.”
Philip stopped when the man sprang from nowhere and blocked his path.
“Do you remember me, Philly boyo?”
He did. It was the notorious street junkie, dealer, and brother of one of the most feared crime bosses in Dublin, Razor Ray Bresnan, and generally all round mad bastard, Dan the Man Bresnan.
“How could I forget you, Dan?”
“That’s right. You were one of me best customers at one stage. Didn’t give a shite where you got a few quid. I heard you were banged up in The Joy. Any good rapes heppenin’ in there?”
Philip gritted his teeth and strongly resisted the urge to put Dan on his back. I want to knock this fucker out, but there’d be hell to pay. Play it cool.
“I’m a reformed man now, Dan. No more robbing, no more shooting up.”
Dan moved in even closer, their noses now touching. He looked like a rat who’d escaped from a lab after undergoing body deforming experiments.
“Me bollix, reformed. Once an old woman muggin’ smacker, always one.”
“You know I never went near old women, or mugged anyone, for that matter.”
Dan burst out laughing and took a step back. “I’m only fuckin’ with ya man. Did you meet Benny Delaney when you were inside?”
“I bumped into him a couple of times.”
“Did you notice the rat bastard was missing a few digits?”
“Maybe.”
“He shoulda played by the rules, Philly boy. That’s what happens, you see, when you fuck with the Bresnan’s.”
He stepped to the side and squinted at
Philip, a vacant expression indicating he’d barely remembered what he’d just said or to whom he’d spoken. Philip wasted no time getting out of there and never wanted to cross paths with that cretin again.
He moved briskly down Parnell Street and turned onto Hill Street, the good mood he was feeling after his first day at work and then bumping into Sharon, now replaced by a forlorn recollection of his past. Memories tried to break through and rear their ugly heads but defensive mechanisms kicked in and held them down, never revealing their features. His heart pounded. Hill Street was dark and only lit by light coming out through windows of the terraced houses. As he passed an alley his attention was caught by a flickering of shadows on the brick walls flanking the narrow space.
“Help me, please?” came a girls voice through the blackness.
He stopped and tried to focus his vision through the bleak layers but couldn’t make anything out.
“Who’s there?”
“Please. I’ve been attacked. I can’t get up. I’m buried here.”
He stepped into the alley, concerned that the girl might be in distress. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness but still he saw no one. A distant echo that sounded like horse hooves on stone gradually grew louder. He turned back to face the way he entered and his heart fluttered when he thought he saw a hand with long bony fingers grip the corner of the house at the end of the row as if peering in to see what Philip was doing. He kept his eyes on the hand. The clank of the horse hooves drew closer, echoing from an impossible trajectory, neither from either end of the alley nor further around the corners, but seemingly from beneath the black cobblestoned path.
“Please help me out,” came the girl’s voice again. This time from above him.
He looked up and was in disbelief at what descended from high above the buildings and soon penetrated the space between them. A black cloud churning with twisted faces lowered itself stretching the length of the alley. It blocked out the star-speckled night sky above. Flashes of red, like eyes gazing down at him, appeared on the living cloud. He was about to run the way he came in but now saw a second bony hand on the house and two bare feet protruding from around the corner. The cloud drew closer. The hooves deafened. The faces screamed. Agonising groans. He turned to run the other way but his path was blocked by a girl of fierce demonic menace and beauty. She wore a white gown and her black hair became entangled in the cloud that now subsumed them. Her black diamond eyes shone through the fog and entranced him with their longing.
