by Dermot Healy
So, there was no dog poo?
No. It was all out in the back shed in a pot of sand.
Good dog, she said. It was unkind having him locked up. I’m glad he’s free. Da came back with a long tall glass of wine in one hand, and a bottle in the other, then there was a polite knock on the door and Anna looked in.
Gentlemen and ladies, am I intruding?
Not at all, said Da.
Is this a party?
Kind of.
May I join you?
Indeed you may, and Da poured her a glass of white and she went round each of us touching glasses, then she stood in the middle of the room and lifted her glass in salute to me.
I have news for ye all, she said.
Pray tell.
This lad here, said Anna – I would like you to know – was sitting this afternoon on the street with his granduncle Joejoe outside one of the most posh restaurants in town.
Is that so? said Da.
Indeed we were.
With their own waiter standing by.
Aye, true.
And then – if I may interrupt – after their meal, continued Da, they had another plan.
Is that so?
They were going to catch the train to Dublin.
Is that right? asked Ma.
Yes, I said.
The plot thickens, she smiled.
But reluctantly, added Da smiling, they came home.
And the story does not end there, said Ma.
No, I said, give me a glass.
Jimminy! he exclaimed and he poured me a thimble of sparkling wine, and we drank together.
Oh yes, said Ma, and now I would like ye to consider the means of transport they took coming home.
Did you not bring them?
No, I did not.
So who did?
Silence.
They took a taxi, don’t tell me, said Anna.
No, wrong.
Then how did they get back may I ask? Da asked looking at me.
They hitched, said Ma, grimacing.
That’s mental, said Anna.
It’s fucking daft, said Da.
It’s what he wanted to do, I said.
You head into the hospital with a dose of hippies and next thing you hitch home?
That’s the story, I said.
You’re away with the birds, said Anna.
Exactly!
Settle.
And, by the way, it’s not funny.
No, it’s not, Da said smiling.
I said it’s not funny!
Steady. Cool down, son. There’s something he is not telling us but I have no appetite left for arguing with my uncle or my son. One day will you tell us what is going on?
I will. I promise.
He has the walls nearly done, said Da. The day after tomorrow we are going to start to make you a flower and a vegetable garden Geraldine for next year. I have a man who is going to be coming up with earth from Miss Jilly’s and that boy there is going to help me. And we will buy all our produce from that girl there Miss Conan.
Thank you.
We will let the hare sit for now, said Da.
Cheers, said Anna, I think it’s time I took off.
Right, I said, and I’ll head out to finish that wall.
At this hour, said Ma.
Yes, I said and the dog got up and followed me, and outside Anna kissed her finger tips of her right hand and touched my cheek.
See you later, she whispered.
Bye.
It was growing dark. I lifted, stood and held. Then Da came out and wheeled over a few barrowloads of rocks from the small pile left. We did not speak. When we worked together we never spoke. He emptied the loads at my feet. Cnoic lay watching us. Da tapped me on the shoulder, and nodded towards the house.
OK, he said, I’m leaving it at that. I think there’s enough there to see you through.
Right.
I’m going in to ring the Bird’s relations, he said. He headed off.
I worked on. Ma came out to me with a cup of tea.
Take it easy now, she said.
We have to have this done for the morning.
You’ll do your back in.
I’m grand.
I’m not getting at you, you know.
I know. Thanks Ma.
The golden rods were tossing. The dying buachalawns were bunched up in dry stacks of brown. The sun as it set out to sea was shining like mad in Grandda’s window. The rays burnt like flames. Then the windows went dark and on came the candles. Two cormorants flew south. A wren was chiselling the question mark. A starling like a gent on a street corner was whistling at the ladies. The brown hare went down his track, bracing himself every few steps. Then going north came a lone cormorant, and dead straight overhead, he stopped his wings for an instant. The last stonechat talked in flurries on the wall. The sudden sharp bellow of a cow. In the far distance the sky above the town lit up. Lights appeared on further shores. I had reached the point where the gate would be. It was nearly done. I had gone round into the round. I was working the pillar to match the pillar on the other side. The curve had started again.
I let it be and put one of the last stones in place.
Tomorrow I would finish it.
The starlings rose into a mushroom in the sky. There was something else I needed to do before I went to bed. I looked into the living room and said I was off down to Joejoe’s to say goodnight.
On you go, said Ma.
I rang all those numbers, Philip, said Da, and not one of them ever heard of Tom Feeney. And Geraldine has just told me what happened ye in the hospital. I’m sorry son.
And all because of this, I said and I lifted out the key, all because he handed over the key, I said, and I put it back in my pocket and headed for the door. With Cnoic at my side I went down the road looking at the stars. Joejoe let me in.
We sat by the fire with Cnoic and Timmy at our feet. I lifted up the Gazette and read him the news of local arrests, drunken assaults, lists of planning permissions, drug finds and details of an ongoing murder trial. When I reached the obituaries I turned to him.
Can I ask you something…Grandda?
Fire ahead.
Where’s your rifle?
Why do you ask?
Just.
He studied my face.
I think you know where it is, he said.
Do I?
I think you do.
Silence.
You saw it in the henhouse above. Didn’t ya?
Did I?
You did.
It’s your gun?
It is. You see, the Bird took it away from me.
Silence. I bowed my head.
When?
He took it away the night before the Stations.
Why did he do that?
For my security, he said.
Silence.
You see he thought I might do myself or someone else an injury. Do you think I put that bullet through the window?
I think so Joejoe.
Well if you think I did, then I must have. I musta shot at my own reflection. To kill my ghost.
You don’t remember?
No.
I sank the palms of my hands into my thighs. Then Joejoe looked at me and nodded.
You look lost.
I am.
Read on, Mister Psyche, he said, and so we hit the deaths.
BOOK SIX
The Protestant Earth
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Dig
First thing next morning Da had the mobile to his ear. He was looking to hire a local lorry to draw the clay from Dromod.
How much an hour did you say? asked Da.
Then he looked at me.
Forty euro? I’ll ring you back.
He put down the phone.
He must be joking, he said.
He rang the next in line.
How much? he asked. Look, I’ll be in touch, yeh, soon. They are all living in a different fucking time, he said to me
. He rang around the drivers he knew then he hit upon a crew in town. They put forward a deal at twenty euro an hour, and that afternoon Da drove to town to lead the lorry out to our place. About two hours later he rang me to meet him at the gate. He pulled in with a convoy – a lorry and a van – following him behind. The lorry was parked at the pier, and then the driver dropped down to look out to sea. He was joined by the driver of the van.
This is my son Philip, said Da. And this is Gary, and this is Desmond. We shook hands.
I have never stood in this neck of the woods before, said Desmond.
It’s awesome, said Gary who was wearing a wide leather Australian hat. He looked inland. Now that we are here I wonder how do we get home?
You go back the way you came, said Da.
I take that for granted, but –
– No problem, it’s the same for everyone, now said Da, go straight for a half a mile? –
– OK –
– Then you go left at the first T-junction –
– Right –
– No left, Da said –
– OK, said Gary laughing –
– Then on to the school, then right –
– Got ya –
– On past the fort –
– Past the fort? –
– Aye, and Da traced the journey back to town with his finger in the air while the two men moved their lips quietly repeating what he was saying to themselves. Just then the Japanese fisherman rode out through the gate on his motorbike, with the fishing rod tied to his shoulder; waved to us, and headed off. Have you got all that?
I think so, said Gary in wonder.
I’ll bring my digger over now to the site, and Philip will see ye at eight in the morning, here at the gate, OK?
– Dead on. Sound as a pound –
– And you’ll lead them to Dromod, right Philip? –
– Right, I said –
– Then I can start at dawn, Da said. Now, anything else?
No problem, said Desmond, that’s it.
Here Philip, said Gary, I’ll give you the keys of the lorry for the morning.
Thanks.
See ya.
Gary took one last look at the ocean, and just then a sudden gust of wind came and blew his hat into the sea.
Ah Jesus, he cried and it looked like he was going to jump in.
Hold it, I said, and I went down the steps, into our boat, and got the fishing rod. The hat was going out with the tide. I spun the hook and weight twice, then on the third time it caught the rim of the hat and I drew it in.
Gary took the soaking hat and pressed it to his chest.
Thank you, thank you, he said.
They sat into the van and took off.
They are a right pair of lads, said Da, and they’re coming at the right price. The rest are just gone plain greedy.
He drove his Hitachi digger up into the low-loader and gave me the key of the Volkswagen.
You come and collect me in a few hours, all right? he said.
All right.
Just take it handy.
OK.
He set off for Dromod House. It was like looking at a circus leaving town. I dropped the keys of the lorry into a drawer in the hallway, and headed into the garden and started excavating with the small JCB.
Soon the small stretch of poor soil and weed and whin had been ripped asunder ready to receive the new clay.
For Ma.
About five hours later I went over to pick him up. It was my second time behind the wheel of a car in over a year. All of a sudden the road ahead of me blurred for an instant then reappeared like an hallucination. Fear shot through me. I took the long way round. Back behind me was a lorry. I pulled in to let him pass. Then another two cars came up behind my ass. I pulled in at the church and with a bad-tempered flourish they shot by. At last I reached the gates of the estate and drove in. Miss Jilly was seated in a deckchair, with a pile of picked parsley and rocket lettuce in her lap, watching Da at work. He had ripped the earth, and tossed it into huge piles. The clay was a dense black. I waited as he tore over and back over and back.
I looked at the red berries on the rowan trees tumbling over the old granite stone that looked like church walls. When I sat down I went back years watching workers and boats and choirs on the go. A place where wheat fields, books of wisdom, wars and beheadings mingled. I walked the orchards where the large apples of the season were hanging, and I ate one looking out to sea, then at last Da gave in, and left the digger off the road in the haggard. It stood there like an old tall toy, with arms and head bent, beside the dark house.
I will be here at first light, he told Miss Jilly. I hope the noise will not offend you.
Not at all, she said, I have had my fill of silence.
At seven next morning, I had the kettle boiling. Da had already gone at dawn.
I drove the dumper wagon into the garden ready to scatter the loads.
I fed the ass and the horse, and brought water across to the hurt cow. She was lying there dead. I rang Da and he rang the Dead Animal Removal Service. Ma took off at eight and I took the keys out of the drawer and went down to the gate to meet the men.
No sign.
To the south the blue turned dark, a black cloud gathered and miles away beyond the mountains there were threads of rain slanted west. There was thunder out there somewhere. I went back up and took the washing off the line, then walked down to the pier to the lorry, stepped up to look in the cabin window, then took the key, opened the door, sat in, and read some sort of Holy Words written in a language I did not understand beneath Christ’s face on a picture that was pinned above the driver’s windscreen. The rain came in a dense fast downpour. I waited there looking for half an hour, and still no sign. Not a soul. Then came the first text onto my mobile.
Where are they, said the first, Where the fuck are they? said the second, and Where are you? said the third.
I rang him back.
What’s happening, he asked.
They have not showed.
Ah Jazus, he said. And I’ve been ringing their mobile and got no answer.
Look, give it a little more time, and I’ll ring you.
I stood at the gate. No sign. I waited. Nobody, till Joejoe and Cnoic and Timmy came walking up the lane. What are you doing? he asked. Waiting on a pair of men, I said. You’ll get that, he said. There was a faraway roll of thunder. The two dogs shivered, then flattened themselves on the ground, and Cnoic went up into a crazy whine as he dug his snout and paws into the earth; and then they both ran back to the house. I better let them back in, said Joejoe and he went home. I sat again into the lorry and put the keys in the ignition, waited, turned the key and the engine roared.
Should I? I thought. I turned it off, looked down the road and then rang Da.
Well?
No sign.
What am I going to do?
Well the lorry is here, Da. They have to come sometime.
OK, but when?
I sat into the lorry and waited. Then in the distance the postman George appeared in his green van followed by the two men in the grey van.
I stepped down.
The postman winked, handed me an advertisement for Tesco, and said in a whisper – I found them miles away at the far end of Downing’s, they were in a panic, that’s the third crowd I found missing out these parts in the last two weeks – then he turned and went off. The pair sat face forward in the van for a few seconds, like they were stopped at the lights, then they got out at the same moment.
You’ll have to forgive us, said Gary.
And you see the mobile had run out of shekels, said Desmond.
OK, I said, Da is waiting.
This is a terror, he said. You have the keys?
They’re in the ignition.
He looked at me.
I see. You weren’t thinking of going to drive it, were you?
I thought about it, I said.
Hmm. Gary sat into the lorry behind the whee
l, and I climbed in beside Desmond and slowly we made our way up the road.
Where’s your hat?
In the van, for safe-keeping.
– Straight ahead, I said –
– Right, said Gary –
– We tried everywhere, said Desmond –
– But every road looked the same –
– Now go handy, she’s a bad corner –
– Will do, said Gary as he slowed down –
– We ended up at nearly six roads going down to the sea, explained Desmond –
– And none were right –
– No, they were not –
– Get ready to go left –
– Right, said Gary –
– And we knocked on a couple of doors but there was no one at home, said Desmond –
– No one –
– Then we asked that postman –
– And he laughed, kind of –
– Now at the T-junction go left, I said, blessing myself –
– Got ya, said Gary –
– We were rightly lost –
– We were –
– Now, right at the school –
– Jesus, the school, the blasted school, said Gary, beating the steering wheel. Is this country haunted? –
– Yes, I said –
– Jesus –
– Now straight on and then right –
– Right –
– We are nearly there –
– I’m glad to hear that –
And eventually, we came near the gate of the estate.
– Slow down –
– Slowing down –
– Now turn in here –
– In here? –
– Yes –
– Is this it? –
– It is –
– We must have driven by this gate a dozen times, said Desmond.
We made our way up the drive at Dromod and there in front of the house among a pile of felled trees Da was hurling earth in the air while Miss Jilly sat in her deckchair in a loose blue raincoat. He spun the digger round, saw us and slowly rose the bucket high up in the air, then swung round and dug up a pile of clay and held it aloft waiting. Myself and Desmond jumped out and Gary backed the lorry in and took the first load, and after the second Da jumped down out of the digger.
Am I glad to see ye, he said. I’d given up.
We got lost, said Desmond.
Oh.
Sorry, said Gary. Look, we’ll make up for the lost time, we’ll work late.
