New Town Soul

by Dermot Bolger

  ‘How badly do you want to be rich?’ Thomas’s voice came from behind him, tinged with regret.

  ‘Just tell me what to do and let’s get this nonsense finished.’

  ‘Take the black-handled knife from the water. Remove the dice too.’

  Shane knelt. He had never known water to feel this cold.

  ‘Hand me the knife,’ Thomas ordered.

  ‘What are you going to do with it?’

  ‘Just give it here. I was a good man once; I even planned to be a priest.’ Thomas looked down at the knife Shane handed him. ‘You might be wise to throw those dice into a gutter. They never brought me luck, in this life or any other.’

  Shane felt scared but his pride was still hurt by the comments about his parents.

  ‘My grandad always called your mother a fearsome, bitter snob.’ As he looked down, Shane remembered with a sense of horror that the dice in his palm were made out of bone, discoloured over the centuries.

  ‘You are holding the relics of St Mochanna,’ Thomas said. ‘Those relics were in the Dawson family for generations. On her deathbed, Henry Dawson’s mother placed them in a locket around his neck and begged him to keep them safe. I still remember the feel of that locket around my neck. I remember her dying and how unprepared I was to inherit the family estates. I was a young fool; I was debauched by grief; I was led astray by rakes.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about having nothing else left to gamble with. I’m talking about waking up alone in the Hellfire Club to find my fellow rakes gone. I’m talking about a black cat changing shape and becoming a man, if you can call the devil a man. He blew on those relics softly and handed them back to me – reshaped, he said, to better reflect my damaged soul. The devil wagered my soul – the soul of Henry Dawson – against all the other souls that I might bring into his web, in time. He said it would amuse him to see good and bad souls battle for supremacy in the turmoil inside me.’

  ‘You are truly insane,’ Shane said. ‘And I don’t believe that these are the bones of any saint.’

  ‘You’re right. That monk was a coward, afraid to face his God. He made a pact with the devil and got his wish of continued life. He was found dead in the rushlight of his cell, with a young novice kneeling beside him, shaking and holding a blood-stained knife like he didn’t know how it got there.’

  ‘You’re a fantasist … a lunatic … a liar.’

  ‘Then leave this cellar.’

  ‘I’ll leave when I’m good and ready.’

  Shane was trembling. He wanted to leave: every nerve end within him ached to do so, yet he found that he couldn’t leave. Curiosity had him gripped. The thought of holding human bones repulsed him. He wanted to throw them away, yet he also longed to make a wish. This old man was deluded, yet just maybe, if he did make a wish, his parents’ luck might change – one of them might buy a winning lottery scratch card or get a promotion at work. He didn’t care how it happened, once there was enough money to stop the endless arguments at home. Closing his eyes, he tossed the dice into the water. ‘Make me rich,’ he whispered fervently. ‘Whatever it takes, make me rich.’

  The splash came as if from a great distance. Then Shane’s eyes opened in fear as Thomas’s left hand gripped his wrist. The old man’s clasp was fierce, as if summoning every last ounce of strength. With his right hand, Thomas nicked Shane’s palm with the black-handled knife, then sliced open his own palm to let blood flow between the two wounds.

  ‘We’re blood brothers now, young O’Driscoll,’ he said, ‘for all eternity.’ He plunged their hands into the water. ‘There are always two wishes: the second wish belongs to me and to all the lost souls gathered inside me.’

  THIRTY-ONE

  Joey

  November 2009

  Meet please 4 just 1 date any time or place. I pressed send on my phone and prayed that – like most of the class – Geraldine kept her mobile on silent. It was the morning after I had confronted that old man outside her house. We had a half-day on Wednesdays and business studies was my final class. It was my only subject that Shane didn’t take and Geraldine was always more relaxed in it because he was not in the classroom. I saw her glance at her phone, half-concealed amid the books on her desk. She brushed back her hair, aware that I was watching, but made no effort to text back a reply.

  Our business studies teacher asked me a simple question and got annoyed when I couldn’t answer. But I found it impossible to concentrate on anything with Geraldine this close. I had to endure the agony of waiting for a response until we found ourselves shoulder to shoulder, filing out into the noisy corridor.

  ‘I’ve told you, Joey, I don’t do dates. Lots of girls would be thrilled skinny if you asked them out, girls who need a guy to dangle on their arm like a trophy. Pick any girl you like and I’ll even ask her for you.’

  ‘I can do my own asking,’ I said stubbornly. ‘I’m asking you.’

  To my surprise, she blushed suddenly. ‘And you have a special way of asking. I’m impressed. It’s like you know me inside out.’

  We reached the glass doors leading outside. Shane was there, waiting for me.

  ‘I can’t talk with him about.’ Geraldine lowered her voice. ‘If we bumped into each other by fluke in the shopping centre this afternoon it wouldn’t be a date, just a coincidence. Promise you won’t tell Shane.’

  Geraldine brushed past me and out the glass doors, ignoring Shane. He scrutinised me as I emerged.

  ‘What’s the story?’ he asked. ‘Do you fancy a frame of snooker later? Maybe get the dart to Dún Laoghaire and chill out?’

  ‘Sorry, Shane, I’ve got things to do.’

  ‘Savage; go you.’ Shane grinned but something about his eyes perturbed me. I was halfway home before I realised where I knew that look from: his gaze mirrored the same loneliness I had glimpsed in the old man’s eyes. I hadn’t time to dwell on this because I needed to get home and raid my excuse for a wardrobe. I tried on various T-shirts, trying to look cool and failing miserably. I combed my hair forward and then brushed it back with my fingers. One way made me look dumb, the other way dumber. But I didn’t really care what I looked like, because I was buzzing at the thought of meeting Geraldine.

  When I reached Blackrock Shopping Centre there was no sign of Geraldine. I sat on a bench on the open air concourse on the lower level, so busy watching the door onto Main Street that I never realised she was leaning over the balcony above me until I felt an M&M strike my forehead. When I glanced up, she grinned and disappeared. I bounded up the escalator to the upper level and she was already slipping down the stairs on the far side. I needed to backtrack and was breathless by the time I caught up with her, leaning against the stones of the ornate flowerbed.

  ‘What’s an ig?’ she asked.

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘An Eskimo’s house without a loo.’

  ‘That’s the worst joke I ever heard.’

  ‘Trust me, I have a hundred worse ones.’

  ‘I’m glad I caught up with you, so.’

  ‘You couldn’t catch a cold,’ she teased. ‘That’s what I like about you.’

  ‘That’s not nice.’ I made a hurt face.

  ‘Bring me for a walk and I’ll be nice to you.’ She headed for the entrance. ‘I only mean that you’re not sly.’

  ‘Is that meant as a compliment?’

  ‘It’s meant as a fact. Like the fact that you have surprisingly romantic qualities.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Don’t be so coy, you know well what I mean. It’s just a pity you let Shane walk all over you.’

  ‘Can we stop mentioning Shane?’

  ‘Gladly.’ We stepped out onto Main Street. ‘This afternoon, your wish is my command. And if you really want me to show you the places that are most special to me, then that is what I’m going to do.’

  Something about her remark perturbed me, but I wasn’t going to let it disturb the joy of finally being alone with h
er. I had known the streets of Blackrock all my life, but wandering through them with Geraldine added a new magic to them. We talked about people in our class and what books we loved and what music we enjoyed downloading and what it felt like to be an only child, living with one parent – or, in her case, one grandparent. It wasn’t a date because we were just wandering up George’s Avenue and coming back by Carysfort, but it felt more special than any night out in Tonic or The Wicked Wolf. Finally, I suggested a coffee in Starbucks in the old post office on Main Street. At the counter, I grabbed our two cappuccinos before she could object to me paying for them and walked through the back of the shop, out onto the veranda that overlooked the DART station and the derelict Blackrock Baths. When I looked back, Geraldine was hesitating in the doorway.

  ‘Is out here OK?’ I asked. ‘I thought you’d like to be in the air.’

  ‘I do like being outside,’ she said, ‘It’s just …’ She sat down at a table and stared towards the sea. ‘It’s nothing really; it’s probably time I grew up, I guess.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I’ve always avoided this view, because my mum died swimming in that bay.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Do you want to go back inside?’

  ‘No. I need to stop being so superstitious. As a kid, I kept all my precious possessions locked in a treasure box where I knew they’d be safe. For the past two years I’ve kinda locked myself away in a box too, in case I get hurt again.’

  ‘I’d never hurt you, Geraldine.’

  She took a sip of her coffee. ‘Tell me how you know so much about my feelings.’

  ‘What makes you think I do?’

  She looked past me out towards the sea. Her hair was beautiful in the sunlight. ‘You just do.’

  ‘I know you’re cool … and drop-dead gorgeous, by the way.’

  ‘And I know you’re a bit of a sap.’

  ‘Thanks a lot.’ I pretended to look hurt again.

  ‘Not in a bad sense. You’re a nice, somewhat handsome sap.’

  ‘So, can we go on a proper date?’

  ‘I’ve told you; I’m not ready to date anyone yet.’

  ‘Then let me be around you as a friend. I love being near you.’

  Geraldine glanced around as if fearful of being observed. She lowered her voice. ‘I could use someone around me. It’s crazy, Joey, but for two years I was scared without knowing why. Then, on the morning Shane walked into our classroom, I knew what I had always been scared of – that he would come back to get me.’

  ‘In what way could Shane get you?’

  ‘There’s something unnatural about him. I feel I’m constantly being watched. Even at night, I sense Shane keeping tabs on me.’

  ‘Maybe it’s not Shane.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  I hesitated. ‘I think it’s that old man, Thomas.’

  Caution entered Geraldine’s voice. ‘What do you know about Thomas? He should be dead long ago; they only gave him months to live.’ She was silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then her fingers reached across the table to entwine with mine. ‘It scares me that I like you this much, Joey. You see, I liked a boy like this before and he changed. Promise you won’t change.’

  ‘How did Shane change?’

  ‘I wish I knew.’ Geraldine untwined her fingers and rose to stand at the railings. ‘I wish I could explain it.’

  THIRTY-TWO

  Geraldine

  August 2007

  At two o’clock in the morning, the police car stopped outside the unlit house at the end of Castledawson Avenue. In the back seat, Geraldine sat between her gran and Shane’s father. The man looked shattered as he stared out the window. He had become increasingly agitated since Geraldine mentioned a well in the cellar, questioning her so intensely that her gran made him stop because he was upsetting the girl.

  Geraldine wasn’t sure if the police believed her story about an old man living here. At first they said that it was too early to talk about Shane being a missing person – he was probably just out late somewhere with a friend. But Geraldine knew that Shane had no friends in Blackrock except her. She also knew that they had ceased to be mere friends and had become something more. Only now, when Shane was missing, could she admit to herself that she loved him. This was what had made his earlier tirade of insults outside the library so hard to bear. It was like a force he could not control had gripped him. This made her scared for him.

  ‘We need to climb the wall,’ she told the two policemen getting out of the car. ‘I can squeeze in the window and open the back door.’

  But they ignored her, climbing the steps to bang on the front door, even though she insisted that Thomas would not answer. She had never known any night to be so silent, as if the darkness itself was alert and listening to their pounding. Then the policemen came back down the steps to get equipment to force open the lock. As the wood began to splinter, Shane’s father called his son’s name repeatedly. Finally the lock gave way and the heavy door swung open. The policeman shone their torches into the dark hall.

  ‘There’s no one inside this house or they would have come down,’ Shane’s dad insisted, almost as if trying to convince himself. ‘We’ve made enough noise to waken the dead.’

  Even the policemen seemed reluctant to step inside. There was something oppressive about the darkness, something that chilled them to the bone. Then, from the shadows, there came a movement. Shane’s father called his son’s name, but it was a stray cat that shot past them and out the front door.

  Geraldine couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to find out if Shane was all right. Instinctively, she ran down the back steps towards the kitchen, with her gran shouting at her to come back and Shane’s father again calling his name. The policemen were trying to keep up with her or at least to shine some light on the stairs so that she wouldn’t fall. Geraldine entered the kitchen and stopped because the room felt so cold. The four adults crowded down the stairs behind her, more living souls than had set foot inside that house for years.

  ‘There’s no one down here,’ a policeman told her. ‘You go back up with your grandmother and wait in the car. I promise we’ll go through every room, just in case.’

  He shone his torch around the kitchen to show it was empty. He was about to turn away when Geraldine screamed.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘Shine it over in the corner again. On the door frame.’

  At first the policeman didn’t know what she meant. Then he lowered the beam so that it lit up the base of the open doorway that led to the cellar. Geraldine’s gran tried to hold her but she was already running forward to where the torchlight picked up four fingertips clinging to the doorframe. Someone had collapsed in the passageway, frantically trying to reach the kitchen, and clung to the doorframe while another person tried to drag him back.

  Geraldine knelt beside the arrayed fingers; telling Shane that he was now safe as she went to unclench them. Then she took her hand away from the fingers in shock because they did not belong to the boy. It was Thomas who had been trying to clutch onto the doorframe when he collapsed. His face looked petrified. When the policemen shone their torches down the passageway she saw Shane’s body behind his, also unconscious, as if Shane had fallen and banged his head. But Shane had not been trying to flee from the cellar. His arms were locked around the old man’s legs in a desperate rugby tackle, like he had been trying to haul him back down into that cellar or to retrieve something stolen from him.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Joey

  November 2009

  Iwalked over to stand beside Geraldine on the veranda of Starbucks. She looked at me.

  ‘We found Shane and Thomas unconscious in that old house,’ she said. ‘For three days both were in a coma in Vincent’s Hospital, like boxers who’d knocked each other out. Seeing Shane attached to a drip was horrible.’

  I put my arm around her and Geraldine told me things she had never talked about to a living soul. Ab
out how Shane’s body had been unmarked except for a bruise on his forehead, but the doctors were unsure whether he would regain consciousness or – if he did – whether he would be mentally impaired. Every night Thomas’s pulse dipped so low that he seemed certain to die. Whenever this happened, Shane’s pulse would also dip, though nobody could explain why a healthy boy was hovering at death’s door.

  ‘I blamed myself,’ Geraldine said. ‘Shane was a bit of a wimp but he followed me into that house.’

  ‘You’ve nothing to blame yourself for,’ I said. ‘Shane survived.’

  Geraldine looked up. ‘It sounds crazy, Joey, but I don’t know if he did.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘After three days he woke. He looked OK, apart from his eyes … they seemed older, like they didn’t belong to him any more. His parents brought him home. But something must have affected his brain when he fell because, when I visited him, he was different from the boy I’d loved.’

  ‘What happened to Thomas?’

  ‘He woke from his coma on the same day Shane woke. He started raving. He turned out to have had a history of mental illness, delusions, paranoid schizophrenia. He kept turning up at my door, making bizarre claims. Gran wouldn’t let him near me. Then a truly freaky thing happened.’

  ‘What?’

  Geraldine looked out at the bay. ‘Shane’s folks were becoming famous in Sion Hill for their quarrels. But the neighbours had never heard any row to match the one on the evening when Shane and his dad came home to find Thomas sitting with his mum in their kitchen. The woman had flipped with stress and kept shouting that Thomas was her real son. Apparently Shane grabbed a kitchen knife to try and stab Thomas and Shane’s dad was trying to keep them apart and to throw Thomas out and stop his wife from following him. The neighbours say she kept screaming that she wouldn’t spend another night under the same roof as Shane.’ Geraldine looked at me. ‘That was the night the duplex went up in flames; the night Shane’s dad carried his wife’s body outside, then ran back in, thinking he needed to save his son.’ She shivered. ‘I think Shane started that fire to kill them both.’