by Dermot Healy
I’m all right. I just want to stay here.
Do as you please.
She went off about house again. My soul started getting bigger. Downstairs I heard an argument on the TV. I had the long hands again. In another dream I threw my mobile in the ocean after I received a text from Mickey. Then they put the paper in front of me and I knew none of the questions. Please, said a voice, please take the isosceles off the triangle. I thought I should know something, some small thing, but I recognised nothing. I moved the stones. I looked down the straight line. The teacher smiled at me. I smiled back.
Then myself and Mickey took the corner at Templeboy.
Are you coming or what?
In a minute, Ma.
I went out onto the landing in my pyjamas. She was at the front door with Da.
Well?
I’ll stay.
Why?
I don’t know.
She looked at me in the way I didn’t want.
But I’d like if you came.
I’ll go again, next week.
They left. I sat on the top step of the stairs doodling then eventually went back into bed and looked down at the exam paper I had to do. Then I was in the church looking at the altar. Then I got up and opened the drawer and looked at the child’s shoe in wonder. I heard the car pulling back in. They had not gone to town.
I stayed in bed the entire day and the day after. I do not want to mention people or where they came from. I might mention that tomorrow. Dad was in and out. He might talk politics, or maybe how the digger was fucked. I think Mammy opened the blinds once, for there was a big surge of light, then it became darker. I saw a toy face in a frame among tens of others. Then the toy spoke.
– It’s me, Anna, she said –
– Hallo, I said, but I felt I was imagining her –
– Lala take you an orange –
– Sound –
– It is good for you –
– Yes –
– Do you mind me being here? –
– No –
– Talking –
– Do –
– And afterwards you’ll be all right again –
She must have sat there most of the evening reading about the planets. How our food chain was breaking down. Over-fertilisation is the enemy – that’s why we are growing obese. We are feeding doses of chemicals into the earth. The fields are like trays of pharmaceuticals, she said. The poor cow is ridden with toxins to make her grow fast, and then what do we do, we eat her.
Silence.
We eat her, Philip.
Yes.
Then she headed off again round the world and the food chain then onto and into beds and beds of flowers.
I tried to fit her in but found it hard.
– You were born one year and a week after me –
– That’s right –
– I saw your Miss Clarke the teacher today –
– And how is she? –
– Well –
– Yes –
– She was asking for you – Tell him to go to university, she said. Philip? –
Yes.
Do you know what’s between your brain and whatever?
What?
A parrot.
Thank you for telling me.
All space is crooked, nodded Anna. Did you know that?
I do now.
Good.
I saw a curve among the shadows.
Get better soon, she said, we need you. Woof! Woof! And look, she said, what I found down on the deck of The Oyster in a paper bag. And she lifted out the bottle of Russian vodka that the sailors had left behind as a present in the boat, and she gave me a tipple, and she took a tipple; then Lala said Oh my God!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Tent
Next morning I went and gave the sick cow a drink of water then I was at the wall from dawn.
I nearly had three sides done and began the fourth. I was wheeling and judging distances as the stones were finding their place. I weeded the onion bed and squeezed the caterpillars off the cabbage till my hands were green. From inland there was the continuous drone of a strimmer. Then I saw the gulls landing out to sea. I fed the pots with scraps of bacon fat, and got three lobsters. I took the rod and cast off the alt. In the distance I heard the cheers as I came down the road with a few mackerel. There were about fourteen men playing soccer in the Night Field. Around the fences women and children sat watching with haversacks and cloth bags at their feet. There was a line of cars up to our gate. Then I saw the tent that was perched in Joejoe’s back garden and the coloured campervan was in the driveway. I thought – what’s that, then when I stepped into the house the hippies were round the fire all lit up by the flames, and on the kitchen table were two huge bags of oranges and apples.
Come in sunshine, said Joejoe, this is Mister Thomas that you met down the beach the other night, and this is Miss Angela and Mister Aaron.
Delighted to meet you again, said Thomas. Those fish look really excellent.
Hi, said Angela, we don’t know your name.
He’s Mister Psyche.
OK, said Aaron.
That’s weird, the girl said, that’s really weird, like. Why do they call you that?
Ask him, I said.
Joejoe rose and took the fish. I don’t know, he said, someone called him that and it stuck.
OK, enough of that, hallo all, I said.
Oh hallo, great. Sit down, said Aaron.
Now for you. These gang here asked to perch a tent out back and I said go ahead, come in, you’re welcome.
Your uncle is a lovely man, said Thomas.
He is absolutely, said Angela.
Absolutely, said Aaron handing me a paper cup that he filled with apple juice. And I heard Stefan mimicking the Irish accent.
Do you ever notice that people in Ireland say the word absolutely an awful lot? I asked. They looked at me waiting for me to go on.
Like?
Never mind.
I just don’t get you, said Angela.
We are repeating a word we never said a few years back.
We are repeating ourselves?
Absolutely, I said, giving it a great flourish. Then I said Gorgeous. Then I added Grand. And ended with At the end of the day.
Blimey, said Aaron.
Where are you from?
I’m Drogheda, said Thomas.
The Boyne?
The path of the cow is right.
And we’re Dublin, said Angela.
Would you like a tincture? asked Joejoe leaning up to the shelf where Moby Dick sat, and he hoisted a small turf-coloured bottle of poteen into the air.
Yes sir, said Aaron.
You’re very kind, said Angela.
If you’re kind to yourself, you can be kind to others, said Joejoe. Then he lifted up Moby Dick. Have you read it? It’s a great book. My father used to read it every night over the winter months. So each night round nine we’d head out to sea. Then we sold the sea to the EU.
I gutted the mackerel and threw them on the pan. Then I boiled the lobsters. Tommy alongside me washed up the few dishes and put the radio on. That’s Jethro Tull, he said. He had small rimmed glasses, and he sang along as he inspected each plate by holding it up to the light. Outside the soccer ball rose in the sky.
You want onions?
Onions’d be nice. Do you mind, I mean would he mind if we smoked some marijuana?
No.
I went out to the garden to pick from the last of the carrots and potatoes. A few wild cheers came over from the Night Field. Tommy smelt the carrots as he washed them under the tap, then he squeezed an orange into the boiling water. I made myself a cup of tea. Joejoe appeared in the scullery with his bottle of poteen and said, Look at the curlew! Where, asked Tommy. Over there, out beyond, and as Tommy looked out the window the old man shot a drop into my cup.
I see him, said Tommy.
Indeed you do. Good luck.
Good luc
k.
The five of us sat round the table and out came the cider.
This is the nicest fish I ever had, said Angela.
Psyche is some boy.
To Psyche, she said.
They lifted their glasses and tipped them off each other.
Can you remember your dreams? asked Tommy.
No, I said.
Are you sure?
Just very rarely.
Who are those lads kicking soccer in the field?
Latvians or Lithuanians and maybe Poles.
Do you know them?
No, except for the odd nod.
Or when he has to fix their automobiles, said Joejoe.
And those Germans we met down the beach on horseback – are they local?
Oh yes, they live up the road.
The wife, Miss Ingabore, said Grandda, made that St Brigid’s cross there on the wall. Yes, that one. She made that last May.
It’s beautiful, said Angela.
Is it not strange to be in the centre of a tourist area, said Tommy. Do you not feel kinda threatened?
The young, said Joejoe looking at his plate, are very old-fashioned.
You mean bad-mannered.
No, I mean old-fashioned.
I don’t understand.
Backward.
Conservative, I said, I think is what he means.
There was a silence for a few seconds.
Is that a joint?
It is.
Mrs Puff, said Joejoe, is some boy.
Would you like a blast?
I will thank you, and he took the joint. Ah Mrs Puff can leave you a long time on the road coming home, he said, cracking a match. I mind being above at the bridge one night for a long time, and this girl from Sweden led me home. September of seventy-two. He drew a pull. She slept in there – and he pointed at the spare room – and next thing’s it’s five in the morning and in she comes into my room –
– Oh dear, mumbled Angela –
– And said someone was trying to come in her bedroom window.
What?
I would have taken a look but she wouldn’t let me. I’m too gallowsed, she said. Gallowsed, by God! So what did she do, she climbed in behind me.
– Oh.
– Oh yes, and he took another long pull. It was like sleeping with a feather. The dog was put out. He was fierce jealous. And next morning after she was gone I took a look out the window of the room she had slept in, and who was looking in at me – the blooming ass.
An ass, said Angela, somehow horrified.
Oh Mrs Puff, she has a lot to answer for, as he tapped the ash into the fire and handed on the joint to Angela, who accepted it very graciously.
You want to see that German lady Miss Ingabore nip the reeds into place, and he pointed again at the cross. Psyche?
Sir?
I want to give an order – pour us another drop of the crature.
I poured a drop into his empty glass, and then he handed the glass back to me. Check it, he said.
I smelt it and nodded.
Try harder.
I did with a little sip.
All right?
Yes.
Good.
Nice one, said Aaron, I like it.
Do you come down here every night Psyche? asked Angela, smiling.
– Mister Psyche, said Joejoe, correcting her –
Yes, I said. Nearly every day.
You seem like old buddies.
We are.
Far out, she said.
He’s my minder, said Joejoe.
And he’s my boss.
Here, check it again.
Thanks…Grandda.
But he is not your granddad, right? said Aaron.
No he is not, but sometimes he is, and I downed the shot.
Weird, said Angela.
Good man Mister Psyche, God bless you, he said, as he took back the empty glass. Now young girl –Miss Angela – I want to give another order – will you do something for me – will you take the brush and sweep the floor.
I don’t understand – you want me to sweep the floor?
Seashells, geese eggs, he hummed back.
That means immediately, I explained.
What are you laughing at, she asked me as she walked round to get the broom. I was just like Oh my God wondering where will I sweep?
Anywhere, I said.
Is there two of you giving orders?
Well, you see, that would be my job usually.
She let go with a broad stroke across the flags and as she did so the dog rose up instantly onto his rear end, faced the ceiling, shook and shivered, and let go with an O. She stopped. Timmy settled. She made a quick scratch with the tips of the twigs. He shot a leg up to beg her to stop. She swept past him across the room and Timmy found the note for a long moan that travelled up inside his nose to the upper chambers.
– I’m stopping, said Angela –
– Good day, said Joejoe –
– Holy fuck, said Tommy –
– Down, I said to the dog –
– I never in my life, said Angela –
– Now do you see, said Joejoe, we’re motoring. If only the Bird could come through that door.
The bird? Ah yes, your friend in hospital.
If the Bird came through that door there’d be fireworks.
I didn’t think this was going to happen, like, said Aaron, all this. Straight up like. Yeh. Mister Psyche?
Yes, I said as I took a long draw of the joint.
Have you ever slept in a tent?
No.
Just then there was a tremendous knock on the door. The joint was quenched and went into the fire. The bottle went back up by Moby Dick. The knock came again.
Come in, said Joejoe and he patted dust off his knees, then – Come in will ya! he shouted getting to his feet.
Councillor Mister Townsend, in a bright green jacket and winnowing light trousers, opened the door and looked in.
Mister Feeney, he said.
Is it that time again, said Joejoe, come in, you’re welcome.
Am I interrupting?
Not at all. You have my vote. Now lads and lassies I’d like to introduce you to Mister John Townsend, the elected representative in this area.
Hallo all here, I’m sorry to butt in. I’ll just sit a minute; I can see you have a full house. John, he said, offering his hand to Aaron who took it with a backward smile as if he was putting his hand surreptitiously into a drawer.
How are you, said Aaron.
So what part of America?
Castleknock outside Dublin.
Oh pardon me, you are looking well Joejoe, and he took Angela’s and Tommy’s hands.
There are three stages of man I was once told, said Joejoe, youth, middle age and –
– And?
– And You’re looking well, he said aping Townsend’s voice.
There was a slight pause.
You never lost it Joejoe.
Pour Mister Townsend a drop.
I lifted the Malibu off the dresser and poured him a drop, then a drop for Grandda.
Is this a party? asked Mister Townsend.
Yes.
I know you son, don’t I, go handy, I’m not looking for a vote, young Feeney, there’s no election in the offing, I was just passing by and I saw a soccer match in full swing in the next field and I thought what’s happening and then I thought I’d look in to ask you how your neighbour Tom Feeney is –
Just then his mobile rang. Hallo, hallo yes – where am I – down by the Atlantic Ocean in a certain house, where are you? Where? He looked at the mobile and rose the face to the dim light. It died, he said, then it rang again and he stepped outside to get the signal, and pulled the door after him.
A poor class of an actor, the same man.
Malibu, said Angela.
The same, said Joejoe, sipping it with his eyes widening.
I rang Anna on my mobile.
I’m in Joejoe’s
at a party – why don’t you come on down?
I will.
Then the front door opened again and Townsend looked in and said: There’s a man here wants to talk to you.
Send him on in.
A hand came through the door with a pair of pliers.
Hallo, came a strange voice from outside.
Now what? said Joejoe.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Death of the Ass
This gentleman stood on the doorstep and said nothing. Timmy went to the man’s feet as if he knew him. He was wearing a long orange jumper. I stared at him but his face remained strange till he saw me and lifted a thumb in the air. Suddenly I realised it was Dido the chauffeur. I stood up. He handed me the pliers, looked round the room, then stepped back with a smile onto the doorstep.
Hi, said Angela.
I want speak to the old man, please, he said.
I’m here, said Joejoe.
Oh excuse me. I do not see you Mister Feeney.
Where did you get me pliers?
Forgive my English, and he petted his ear, then he petted the dog. I am Dido.
Well come in and welcome. Sit down.
I will not stay. Please I also bring you this. He stepped forward very daintily and put a package on the table. He pointed at me, and then he pointed at Joejoe.
Have you anyone with you? asked Joejoe.
My wife.
Bring her in, sir, bring her in and let her sit her exams.
Dido lifted the package and handed it to Joejoe who handed it to me, then he stepped out through the door, waving.
I opened the package. It contained a new pair of shoes.
The very thing, said Joejoe. The day is starting all over again. Here Psyche, these shoes are for you. And get chairs from out the bedroom. Tommy please put on the kettle. I feel a good time coming on. Now boys and girls relax, we will take it as it happens. All the politicians are on the move today.
In the bedroom I put on the shoes. I arrived back in my new footwear carrying the auld-fashioned chairs that looked like a pair of young people that had aged prematurely.
Are they coming? I asked.
They are standing at the gate, said Aaron who was at the open door.
Give them a wave.
Come on in, called Aaron.
The minute Dido reached the house he and his wife kicked off their shoes on the doorstep, and carried them in. Both were wearing white socks. He had a purse on his chest that hung from his neck. He looked like he had his hair freshly cut that morning. They crossed the room very quietly and sat by the table.
