Tales of the Bright, the Dark & the Bizzare

by Maurice Connolly

  Jim the postman struck his fist off the handlebars of his bike for emphasis, “You know something, you could be right! You could have hit the nail straight on the head. Sure everyone knows Fat Ned couldn’t hit a barn door at twenty paces.”

  Smitten

  Lily and Poacher are sitting by the fire in the backroom— or what used to be called the snug—of a very old country licensed premises. They are conversing with Bridgie, the proprietress. The accoutrements one associates with this type of business are in evidence: a nice oak table with accompanying oak chairs occupies the centre. There is seating around the sides with another few small tables. Hanging on the walls are enlarged photographs of family members, long since deceased. A few old posters advertising alcoholic drinks also adorn the walls. Like most long established pubs a lot of timberwork is on display.

  Poacher is thirty-one years old, strong and wiry, of medium build, wearing Wrangler jeans, an open-neck shirt and a jacket. Lily is twenty-two years old, blonde haired, blue eyed, about five feet seven inches tall, slim and attractive. She is wearing jeans also, a blouse and pink jumper. Bridgie, a tall, dark haired woman is touching the seventy mark. She is wearing a long dress, has beads draped around her neck and bangles on her wrists. She is a pleasant woman, usually with a ready smile. However, she is driven to grumble a lot lately as the licensed trade is somewhat in the doldrums. For the moment, Lily and Poacher are the only customers.

  “You know, it all adds up,” Bridgie is saying. “Even the coal for that fire costs money. All the overheads have to be taken into consideration. Everything is gone up in the moon. There’s no sense to it. No sense at all.”

  “You’re right, Bridgie,” Poacher agrees, “things are gone to hell.”

  “The government, God blast them, are after killing off the pub trade,” Bridgie moans. “Look around you, you can see the way things are gone. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

  “I’d say you’re right,” Lily now concurs. “Driving along some nights you’d hardly see a car outside most of the pubs.”

  “Then they’d try to tell you the smoking ban had no effect,” Bridgie adds, placing a couple of logs on the fire. “Be Christ above it had a big effect. People standing outside the door like idiots. The women won’t tolerate it anyhow. Late at night they can smoke away here, if they want to. They were doing it for the last hundred years.”

  “I’m not gone on smoking though,” Lily asserts. “Lots of people aren’t.”

  Bridgie pretends not to notice Lily’s comment, continuing, “And then this bloody drink-driving thing, down on top of everything else. Did you ever hear of any kind of serious car crash on any of the old by-roads around here? Up around these mountain roads where you’d be only doing thirty miles an hour in any case. I never heard of a crash anyhow. Did you?”

  “No, now that you mention it,” Poacher responds.

  “Not up our road anyhow,” Lily confirms. “But then our road is more of a lane. The County Council are the whole time talking about tarring it. Somehow I can’t see it happening. It’s a case of live cow till you get grass.”

  “That crowd keep saying they’re strapped for cash too.” Bridgie takes money out of her own purse. “Anyway, Poacher, here’s the money for that salmon, before I forget it.”

  “Thanks Bridgie.” He gives her back a ten euro note. “We’ll have the same again—a pint and a vodka and bitter lemon.”

  “Right, I’ll get you that.”

  “No hurry.”

  “A pint and a vodka an’ bitter,” Bridgie repeats as she goes out to the main bar. There is a serving hatch to the room but in mid-week the orders are mostly taken in from the public bar.

  “You’re not worried about the guards?” Lily queries, with a smile.

  “I don’t know when was the last time I saw a uniform around here.”

  “You’d never know though where they’d pop out of.”

  Poacher glances behind to make sure Bridgie is out of earshot. “I didn’t want to say it to her, but the old booze is the cause of a lot of accidents. You can’t get away from it. Two guys I went to school with were killed on the road. The two of them were savages for the drink.”

  “They’d go wild at home if they thought I was here drinking vodka. They’d fly off the handle completely. My mother in particular.”

  “They’re strict, you keep saying.”

  “You have no idea. My head will be wrong now after those two vodkas.”

  “It won’t. We’ll take our time. Sure we’re not in any great hurry?”

  “No. You’re fond of this place, aren’t you?”

  “I like to give Bridgie a turn,” Poacher replies. “She’s a sound person. All belonging to her were decent people. Would you rather if we had gone somewhere else? Someplace for a bite to eat, maybe?”

  “No, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care where we go.”

  “You’re not fussy. I like that.”

  “We’re together, aren’t we? That’s what matters. I was just thinking today—we’re together now practically since you came home from England.”

  Bridgie returns with the drinks and places them on the large table. “Don’t be sitting opposite each other like two strangers,” she says. “Why don’t you sit over here?” She indicates a longish soft-cushioned seat, positioned close to the fire, which could accommodate three people. They cross over. Bridgie now moves a small table in front of them and places the drinks on it. “Isn’t that better?”

  “Thanks Bridgie, you’re a topper,” Poacher says.

  “Thanks,” Lily says, “that’s grand.”

  “Here’s your change—or what’s left of it.”

  “Put it in the box. Eddie and Kate might be along yet.”

  “I hope so. I like to have some few in.”

  “You always get a good few, don’t you? It’s hard to beat tradition,” Poacher says.

  “Nothing at all like it used be,” Bridgie assures him.

  “You have the poor mouth, Bridgie.” Lily jokes.

  “Be God, no. The people from the town used to drive out here in droves. A lot of them still like the old country pub. They like to get away from the spit and polish of the big places in town. The drink-driving killed that trade off—wiped it out. This place was always packed on the weekends. There would be a sing-song above in the main bar. God, it was great. In the middle of the week this room here was used for card playing.”

  “My father looked forward to it,” Poacher says.

  “That’s right—he was a regular. There would be rows over the cards to beat the band. They’d fight like cats an’ dogs. But that was all part of the fun, you see.”

  “I used hear him on about it—about who played the wrong card.”

  “If only this room could talk,” Bridgie says, her eyes wandering about. “This room has an atmosphere to it. Do you feel it?”

  “I suppose,” Poacher muses, glancing about also. ”Being so old, maybe, gives a certain feel of history to it.”

  “The timberwork is lovely,” Lily adds, “It makes all the difference.”

  “Many’s the match was made here in this room” Bridgie informs them.

  “That so?” Poacher says, in a slightly bemused tone.

  “Here, in this room?” Lily also expresses her curiosity.

  “Yes, here in this very room. It was renowned for it. When I was a very young girl I remember seeing shy, awkward young women, meeting similar types of men. Now some of them men mightn’t be that young, mind. Their fathers would be with them and another—a go-between, or matchmaker, if you like. A deal would be struck and money would change hands the same as any fair day. A little celebration would then take place.”

  “I could imagine,” Lily exclaims. “This room could tell stories for sure then.”

  “They were mostly farming stock,” Bridgie continues.

  “Most of those arranged marriages turned out all right, didn’t they? Poacher queries. “That’s what I heard anyhow.”
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  “Oh be God they did,” Bridgie assures him. “There was no divorce back then. It was a question of when you enlisted you had to be prepared to march. Sure couples break up nowadays at the drop of a hat.”

  “It must have been hard on the girls,” Lily reflects.

  “Some poor girls had little choice,” Bridgie explains. “Times were hard. It was either marriage or the convent for a lot of them. So, as you can see, a lot of important, life-changing events started here in this old room. Hopefully most of the people who met here got on fine afterwards. They probably grew to love each other in their own way and enjoyed life. And enjoyment is what it’s all about. Remember the old song, Poacher?” She commences to sing: Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think.

  Poacher responds: Enjoy yourself, while you’re still in the pink.

  Bridgie continues: The years go by as quickly as a week.

  Together: So enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think. All three enjoy a little laugh.

  “And remember, the words of that song are spot on. I’ll leave you to it now. If you want anything just tap on that hatch with a coin.” She winks. “You know, it’s nice to see the two of you here together in this room. This room, where romance blossomed for so many.” Bridgie retires to the main bar area.

  “Romance blossomed!” Lily smiles. “I wonder did it? Bridgie likes her bit of fun.”

  “She always did, for as long as I know her. I’d say it’s her manner that draws people in. She’s still doing okay. Don’t mind what she says. Later on she’ll have a good few customers here.”

  “What she said,” Lily ponders. “Hard to imagine people haggling over the worth of a woman. Did they examine her legs I wonder—or her teeth? It sounds awful.” She then adds coyly, “How much would you think I’d be worth?”

  “Oh, about half a dozen heifers. Maybe a few sheep thrown in to seal the bargain.”

  “Is that all? I thought I’d be worth a good bit more.”

  “It would be hard to put a price on you, Lily.” He reaches over, and they embrace and kiss for some seconds.

  “Will you stay at home for good now?” Lily asks.

  “I don’t know. I probably will.”

  “Do they want you to? I hope they do.”

  “They’re shoving on a bit. My father’s getting a bit shook now for any kind of heavy work.”

  “I suppose.” There is a slight pause. “Do you like the poaching?” Lily asks.

  “In a way. It’s a bit of handy money. It’s something that gets into you.”

  “At night, on the river, on your own? It sounds a bit scary and dangerous to me.”

  “It’s the cold that gets you, more than anything. My feet, at times, would feel like two slabs of ice, my fingers might be hanging off me with the frost, and then the wind whipping up the river would cut through you.”

  “Aren’t you foolish so. You must be mad.”

  “Maybe I am. Mad is probably the right word.”

  “Anyway, poaching is illegal.”

  “I know. That’s where part of the thrill is.”

  “Knowing the bailiff is after you?”

  “It’s all part of it. A kind of cat-and-mouse thing.”

  “My father says that anything that is illegal is sinful.”

  Poacher grins. “Sinful! That aspect never entered my head. Your parents are fairly strait-laced alright.”

  “And religious,” Lily volunteers. “The rosary at night lasts about half an hour—prayers for this, that and the other. They hardly go anywhere, only to whatever kind of service might be on in the church. Are you religious?”

  “No, not that much,” Poacher replies. I only go to please them at home. That’s about the size of it.”

  “But then, you were in England for a good while.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Pagan England. People lose their faith when they go to England.”

  “A lot of those things you hear are exaggerated.”

  “Did you like it over there?”

  “Fair enough. It was okay, I suppose. Look, it’s like this, you meet good and bad everywhere. One thing you learn quick enough and that’s how to take care of yourself. I’ll tell you one incident that happened to me: one day, for no apparent reason, this big gorilla hit me a haymaker and sent me flying. I got up, feeling a bit dazed, but what he didn’t know was that I had a half brick in my fist.” He stands up to demonstrate. “We circled around each other, looking for an opening. Suddenly I saw me chance, and I hit him full force on the jaw with the brick, and—”

  “You flattened him,” Lily interjects.

  “Flattened him! You know something, I’d swear to God he didn’t wake up yet.” He sits back down.

  “Did you meet many girls over there?” she queries.

  “A few, on and off.”

  “What were they like? Were they decent?”

  “God they were—all of them.”

  “I hear stories about girls leaving themselves down when they go to England.”

  “I don’t know about that. Some, maybe.”

  “Did you ever sleep with any girl over there?”

  Poacher is a trifle taken aback. “No… no I didn’t.”

  Lily smiles. “You hesitated.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Anyway, I shouldn’t have asked you that. It’s just that I feel I’m a bit of an innocent at large. Nancy and Kate are a lot more streetwise. I notice them laughing behind my back sometimes, over something stupid I said. Maybe it’s the way I was kept down so much at home. I’ve a lot to learn.”

  “You’re fine the way you are, just fine.”

  “You think so?”

  “I’m certain sure of it,” he emphasizes.

  “I’m glad you think that. Sometimes the others tell jokes that I don’t see through. That’s when they giggle too.”

  “Don’t mind them. They’re older than you anyhow.”

  “Would you say Eddie and Kate will marry?”

  “Probably. They’re together long enough anyhow.”

  “Did you ever think of it yourself?”

  “Most single people do, I suppose. Do you?”

  “I’d like to be married to someone I really cared about. I’d like to be cuddled up close to him in bed, listening to the rain lashing off the window panes. Feeling secure, comfortable and loved. It would be my dream.”

  “A cold, wet, stormy winter’s night,” Poacher adds.

  “Just lying back, listening to the gale howling outside. Thinking of the poor old trawler men out at sea, getting tossed around like corks.”

  Poacher runs his fingers through Lily’s hair. “Lily. I like that name. ‘Lily of the valley.’ You live in a valley an’ all.”

  “What are your folks like?” Lily asks. Are they old-fashioned and strict like mine? But then, you’re independent of them. You flew the nest years ago. I should have left too. Gone away someplace foreign. Travel is educational. I’d be the butt of nobody’s joke then.”

  “You’re not. Don’t take any notice of them other two. You mentioned years there. I am a good few years older than you,” Poacher reminds her.

  “It doesn’t matter. I prefer it like that.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeh.”

  “You asked me were my parents strict? No, they’re easy-going individuals. Like I said, they’re shoving on a bit now. They’re getting anxious about me remaining single.”

  Lily raises an eyebrow. “They are?!”

  “Definitely. There’s a little house down the road a piece where my grandparents—God rest them—lived. The other day my father said, ‘No sign of you bringing home a nice young woman. If you find one now don’t worry about us. We’ll move down to the little house.’ We call it ‘the little house.’”

  “That was very considerate of him,” Lily says. “So there’s no impediment then to stop you finding some nice young woman.”

  “No. I’d have to find he
r first though. That’s the problem.”

  “That’s the problem all right,” she agrees, eyes down.

  “Not everyone would suit me, you know” he continues. “I’d be very particular.”

  “Oh I’d say that.”

  “She’d have to be about five foot seven inches tall, with blonde hair, blue eyes, aged twenty-two, with a nice figure and a big friendly smile. It wouldn’t matter even if she was a little bit innocent of the world—or said so herself.”

  “You’re making my cheeks turn red now. When you know me better you might think different.”

  “Lily, I think you’re lovely… That’s the truth.” She puts her two hands up to his face. “What are you staring at?” he asks.

  “You have nice features. You know that—Tony” Lily responds. They embrace and kiss.

  “What Bridgie was talking about…” Poacher says.

  “Yes?”

  “About this room—she said there was something about this room. You know, I think she’s right.”

  “If those walls could talk,” she said.

  “The sudden way couples were brought together.”

  “The way their future was decided,” Lily adds. “The way girls pledged themselves to men they hardly knew.”

  “Not like us.”

  “No.”

  “Lily, would it be… would it be too sudden if… if?”

  “What?”

  “If I asked you to marry me?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll do it the proper way.” He goes down on one knee and takes Lily’s hands in his. “Lily, I love you. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  The Mountain Road

  The public bar of Bridgie’s licensed premises. Bridgie is standing behind the counter talking to two customers, Tadg and Dave. Tadg is thirty one years old, wearing slacks, open necked shirt and sports coat. He is dark haired, thick set, heavy jowled. Dave is twenty eight years old, with light coloured hair, which is now prematurely receding at the front. He is slim, fit looking, wearing jeans, sweat shirt and lumber jacket. Mad Tim is sitting over in a corner by a table, head bent down, felt hat pulled low, growling away to himself, a half consumed pint of Guinness on the table. He has an old gabardine coat pulled around him, concealing some worn work clothes beneath. He is red-eyed, sallow cheeked, unshaven. Horror of horrors, he is smoking a cigarette.