Conna in Crisis & The Marriage of Ulick

by James Kilcullen

  Dandaboy smiled. ‘We go out back door; cross wooden bridge over river and head for Maam Cross. Come, we go.’

  He opened the back door quietly, put his hand on Setanta’s back making him invisible. They passed through the closing cordon and crossed the rickety bridge over the river. Standing on the other side, looking back at the invaders about to enter the house, Dandaboy had a wicked thought; he took his hand off Setanta’s back and whistled to attract their attention.

  They turned and charged towards the bridge. Four of them tried to cross together. By the time they reached the centre it was shaking violently—then it collapsed and, with loud shouts and some bad words, they disappeared into the rushing waters below.

  Setanta was very impressed. ’That was a good one Dan Dan; hop up on my back and we’ll go for a chase in the country.’

  Off they galloped. The troops weren’t giving up that easily. Racing to their cars they drove around to the main road and took off after them. At the same time they alerted some of their colleagues in Maam Cross to drive towards Conna, thus trapping Setanta. Their orders were not to come back without the wild animal.

  Two miles from Conna—with three cars in hot pursuit—Dandaboy told Setanta to turn down a narrow—rocky, pot-holed—road that ran towards the lake. The cars had to slow down. Setanta raced along the grass margin, but he was getting tired. Dandaboy waved his tiny hand and a great fog descended on the area. Their pursuers had to stop and follow on foot. Directed by Dandaboy, Setanta headed across the bogs. He slowed to a walk.

  ‘That was a good one Dan Dan,’ He panted.

  In the distance they could hear their pursuers using very bad words when they stumbled into bog holes.

  Dandaboy grinned. ‘Let’s go home.’

  *

  Under the watchful eye of Madame, Maggot opened his shop. Taking his stick of chalk, he would normally write up his prices on the front window; this morning he wrote “Maggot’s ram is losing it—no longer held on a tight rein—all offerings gratefully accepted.” By the time his first customer, Ella, arrived, he had placed a box on the counter marked “Offerings.”

  ‘What can I get you Ella?’ he asked, watching Madame enter the shop.

  ‘Six nice lamb chops, Maggot, if you please and a bone for Setanta,’ she smiled.

  He took a leg of lamb from the freezer.

  ‘Isn’t it great weather we’re having; we could do with a few tourists. I don’t know where they’re going, but they’re not coming to Connemara.’

  He cut up the chops and weighed them. Then he added a large bone. Madame watched closely while Ella took out her purse.

  ‘How much, Maggot?’ she asked.

  He grinned.

  ‘I’m no longer selling meat but, if you wish, you can put an offering in the box.’

  Ella, aware Madame was standing behind her, was getting the picture. She took out a 10 euro note.’

  ‘Would this be enough?’ she asked holding her hand over the box.

  ‘Whatever you say, Ella,’ he handed over her parcel.

  ‘Jane will be over with the order for the restaurant shortly.’

  ‘That’s fine, I’ll look after her.’

  She smiled and departed. He made a little note in his note book—I owe Ella 2 euro.

  Madame marched forward and screamed at him.

  ‘What do you mean selling meat? I closed down these premises. Close immediately or I will call in the guards.’

  He smiled at her. ’As you can see, if you still have that capacity, I no longer sell meat. So, your Directive doesn’t apply to these premises.’

  She wasn’t for turning.

  ‘I say the Directive applies: I am the law here; close these premises immediately.’

  Two more customers arrived; Battler Barry was one of them.

  ‘Having problems, Maggot?’ he asked.

  ‘No, Battler.’

  He turned to Madame. ’Ulick Joyc has examined your Directive. I’m entitled to give away as much meat as I like. I think you should leave now, unless you’d like some free meat.’

  The mention of Ulick’s name was like a red rag.

  She raised her voice again. ‘We are the law here, not Mr. Joyc. I’ll have a new Directive issued if necessary.’

  She departed.

  Battler grinned. ‘I’ll have a leg of that free lamb, Maggot.’

  ‘You will in your bollocks.’

  *

  Crat listened to Madame’s report in silence. He was furious that his troops had failed to capture Joyc’s animal.

  ‘I’ll draw up a new Directive for approval by the Commissioner. I’m also asking for more troops.’

  He must be dreaming, she thought; he can’t accommodate the twenty he’s got.

  She smiled and remarked aloud.

  ‘You’re quite right, Director.’

  He continued. ‘The Commissioner is working on a draft wording for a new Directive restricting the enforcement of all Directives to the Director of the day; that will take care of the pompous meddling judges. As it cannot be made retrospective we have to proceed with our appeal to the High Court. I’ll then close down the two offending retail premises.’

  ‘That will leave the town without any grocery outlets?’

  ‘That’s not my problem.’

  She nodded in agreement—she always did.

  ‘What about this butcher fellow who is flaunting our laws?’

  ‘He’s got to go. Draft a wording for a Directive making this form of trading illegal.’

  ‘Should I close down this business in the meantime?’

  He paused. ‘Best not—wait until you have the new Directive.’

  She changed the subject.

  ‘What are you going to do about Joyc’s animal?’

  He paused.

  ‘The Directives could take some time; they have to be approved by the council. I’ll issue proceedings against Joyc. He has no defence. That fool of a judge will have no option but to apply the mandatory sentence.’

  She wasn’t so sure. ‘This man is very popular around here; he was once President of this country.’

  He grunted sourly.

  ‘Another grafting politician. He’s nobody. I’m the one with the power, and the sooner he realises that the better.’

  *

  Madame timed it well; she marched down the street to Ella’s restaurant and shop at eleven in the morning, when many of the locals were having coffee. She charged in through the double doors and confronted Ella who was serving coffee to Sergeant Mick Muldoon.

  ‘In accordance with Directive 758934, I’m closing down these premises forthwith,’ she screamed.

  Silence fell; everyone looked up in surprise. The heavily built elderly Sergeant looked askance at Madame.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Ella demanded.

  Madame handed her a document. ‘These premises are registered as a restaurant. You are also carrying on business as a retail home bakery. That is contrary to the said directive. These premises will close immediately and remain closed until such time as they are properly registered.’

  The Sergeant rose and approached her.

  ‘Let me see that document,’ he asked calmly.

  Madame turned on him. ‘This is no concern of yours.’

  Ella handed him the document; he perused it and raised his voice so everyone could hear him.

  ‘These or any other premises can only be closed by order of the Circuit court.’

  ‘I do not recognise the Court in these matters,’ she screamed.

  The Sergeant continued calmly. ‘Well, I do and while we still have courts you will too.’

  ‘That won’t be for long,’ she sneered.

  Ella got her breath back. ‘Get out of my premises,’ she ordered.

  She looked a bit uncertain. ‘I’ll be back,’ she vowed.

  Madame returned to the office and reported to the Director. Having refused to visit him in his hotel suite, he now realised that she had no rom
antic interest in him; that was her loss.

  ‘Did you not check to see if we have the necessary authority?’ he demanded.

  ‘I am going to do that now. Does the new directive taking these matters out of the hands of the courts not apply?’

  ‘Check with the Commissioner.’ He ordered.

  *

  Ulick was attracted to Gina; she was so mysterious, elusive and intelligent; but behind that confident exterior he sensed there was a vulnerable side. There was so much about her that he didn’t know. Invited to dinner on a Wednesday, he arrived as Toby was leaving—a very happy looking Toby.

  It was a beautiful sunny evening in Connemara. A light wind eased in gently from the sea, while fleecy white clouds drifted towards the Bens behind them. They walked around the grounds, sat by the pool and watched the fishing boats return to Roundstone harbor after another day at sea. Swallows and linnets chirped happily in the trees. The blazing sun, reflecting brightly off the waters of the bay, began to sink slowly towards the west.

  ‘It’s so peaceful here,’ Gina remarked.

  ‘It’s the ageless serenity of Connemara,’ he smiled.

  Dinner was served by Ali; a very happy looking Ali. Gina was wearing a very seductive clinging pink dress. It was obvious she had a hair do; her dress was long enough to cover her knees, short enough to show off her long shapely legs. After two bottles of a fine French wine, Ali served Brandy and left them.

  ‘You will stay, U-lick?’ she asked seductively.

  He nodded, half pissed by now. ‘Yes,’ He paused.

  ‘Gina, how could you be interested in a simple country yob like me?’

  She smiled—that smile. ‘U-lick, I’ve known many men in my life; most of them wanted only one thing.’

  He grinned. ‘How do you know I’m not like that?’

  ‘Because you’re interested in me as a woman.’

  ‘You’re a remarkable woman.’

  She smiled. ‘And you haven’t asked about my previous life.’

  She got up. ‘Ali is putting on some music in the ballroom. Let’s dance U-lick and let the future take care of itself.’

  Later, much later, Dandaboy watched them stagger up the stairs together.

  He turned to Woofy who was watching quietly. What Kingpa mean when he say nuns don’t?’

  Woofy bared her teeth in a smile.

  Had Dandaboy waited, he would have got a further surprise; Gina directed Ulick to a guest bedroom, helped him into bed, kissed him lightly on the cheek and departed quietly. For the first time in her life, she began to suspect she might be falling in love.

  *

  Taoiseach, Frankie Carney, travelled out to Conna to meet Ulick. They adjourned to Paulo’s for a few quiet pints. Paulo was at his most affable best as he served up their drinks.

  ‘You are very welcome to Conna, Taoiseach,’ he smiled.

  Frankie replied with mock severity. ‘We’ll have no arse licking here.’

  Paulo grinned; that was the kind of reply he expected.

  ‘Can you do anything to help our tourist season, Taoiseach?’

  ‘I’ll certainly try, but it’s not easy.’

  ‘You’ll be coming to our annual march?’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it—especially as it’s been banned by that prat across the road.’

  Paulo left them to attend to other customers.

  Frankie put down his glass.

  ‘I’m worried about the possibility of bloodshed. I could issue an order authorising your march.’

  ‘No, Frankie, let it go ahead. HBTV has been commissioned to show the march live throughout Europe. If Crat succeeds in stopping us, it will let the people of Europe see what’s happening here.’

  ‘I’m still concerned about the possibility of violence. I’ve been asked to authorise a detachment of our troops to attend to keep the peace. I’ve refused, but I’ve agreed to send our two tanks.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To make sure Crat’s troops are kept under control.’

  *

  Accompanied by two of his troops, Crat drove out into Connemara, down through Screbe and stopped outside the front gates of the Haven. It was a wet and dismal day that did little to improve his temper. The Hopkins Hotel had been occupying his thoughts since he found out that the new owners had failed to register as a hotel and lodge fire and employee certificates. He would close it down; they could reapply of course, but that would take months; he’d see to that.

  He instructed one of his men to ring the bell; he wasn’t going to get wet. The gates stayed closed. After ten minutes, he got out of the car and demanded of his subordinate.

  ‘What’s the delay?’

  ‘They want to know what our business is, sir.’

  Crat pushed the button.

  ‘State your business,’ Ali replied after a few minutes.

  ‘I am Mr. Everard Bur O’Crat, director of the USE office for this area. I demand immediate entrance.’

  There was a short pause.

  ‘We don’t do business with you people; go away.’

  Crat, getting redder in the face, was furious.

  ‘I demand immediate entrance; open the gates. You are operating without a licence. I’m here to close down this hotel.’

  ‘Go away.’

  ‘I will not leave here until I’m admitted; if I’m not admitted within the next fifteen minutes, I’ll send for a bulldozer and force entry.’

  He was quite wet by now. Silence followed.

  Then, Toby walked down the avenue holding an umbrella over the Contessa’s head. Crat couldn’t but be impressed with her beauty. That said, he was furious to be so humiliated before his subordinates who were enjoying his discomfiture. The Contessa stopped inside the gate.

  ‘Open this gate immediately,’ he demanded. ‘This premises is not registered as a hotel. I am closing it down with immediate effect.’

  The Contessa spoke calmly but there was an edge in her voice.

  ‘This premises is not a hotel. Piss off little man and don’t come back.’

  He was livid, but he had no choice. Toby’s wide grin or his troop’s barely concealed mirth didn’t help his temper.

  ‘I’ll be back,’ he grated.

  *

  The director’s fury knew no bounds; to be so insulted in front of his subordinates, and by a woman; was totally unacceptable. He rang the Commissioner and angrily demanded that a commando squad be flown in to take over Hopkins Hotel and have its present owners committed to jail. Moxy, unprepared to make such a decision, rang the DG. Crat was still livid the following morning when Madame asked when the troops were coming.

  ‘The DG is considering my request.’ He retorted angrily. ‘In the meantime, I’ve been instructed to take no further action. There’s no reason why such a simple matter should be referred to the DG. He’s too damn anxious to appease these people.’

  Madame clucked sympathetically; she was enjoying this.

  *

  Ulick accompanied Matt Riley and Shona Murray to the High Court in Galway; half the population of Conna was there. Mr. Justice Percy Daly, an elderly, heavily built, mild mannered man, presided. A native of Cavan he was appointed by Ulick when the state of Hi-Brazil was founded. A familiar figure in Conna he loved to fish the lake and was known to enjoy an occasional brandy with Ulick in Paulo’s. For the purposes of today’s hearing he had never heard of Conna or knew anyone from there.

  Crat presented his case at great length. The judge took notes from time to time and tried to appear interested: he had heard all about the august Director. Eventually, Crat resumed his seat.

  The judge turned to Ulick. ‘Mr. Joyc do you agree the facts of this case?’

  Ulick rose. ‘I do, Your Honour but I don’t accept that my clients have broken any laws.’

  Crat rose angrily.

  ‘Your Honour, both defendants are guilty of breaches of the Competition directives and one, namely Mr. Reilly is also guilty of profiteering.’

>   The judge nodded sagely.

  ‘I see. So it’s contrary to USE directives to sell the same product at the same price?’

  ‘That’s correct, Your Honour.’ Crat affirmed.

  ‘And it’s also illegal for them to sell at different prices?’

  ‘Only for the one charging the higher price, Your Honour.’

  ‘I see Mr. Burr O’Crat, and how do you propose to resolve this dilemma?’

  The Director rose. ‘Your Honour, my duty is to enforce the directives of the council of Europe. Accordingly, I am asking the court to impose very severe fines and order the closure of these two premises.’

  Ulick rose. ‘Your Honour, if Mr. Crat or his masters would like to tell my clients how they may trade without infringing those fanciful directives, I’m sure they would be more than happy to obey.’

  The judge looked at Crat who rose angrily.

  ‘That is not my function, Your Honour.’

  The judge remained calm.

  ‘Don’t you think, Mr. Burr O’Crat, that this matter could be resolved amicably?’

  ‘Your Honour, I’m not paid to think: I’m paid to enforce the regulations laid down by the council.’

  ‘That’s obvious,’ the judge remarked sarcastically. He turned to Ulick.

  ‘Mr. Joyc, how are your clients trading at present?’

  ‘Your Honour, Shona Murray is selling apples at 15 cents each; Matt Reilly no longer sells apples—he makes a gift to every customer dealing in his store.’

  Crat hopped up. ‘Your Honour, that is a distortion of trade.’

  The judge smiled thinly. ‘But it cannot be said to be a breach of your competition or profiteering directives?’

  ‘It is a distortion of trade and as such is contrary to best trading practices. We are presently working on the wording of a new directive to outlaw such practices.’

  ‘And in the meantime you are asking me to close down these two concerns?’

  ‘Yes, Your Honour.’

  ‘Mr. Burr O’Crat, I visited no less that six supermarkets here in Galway yesterday: they were all selling apples at the same price. Would you like me to close them down too?’

  Crat rose again. ‘When Galway city comes within my jurisdiction, I will apply our directives, sir. And may I remind you that this court is not entitled to overrule USE directives.’