Marie was looking upset.
“Stevie, maybe just this once – it’s a promo offer, see? Quid a pint.”
I just gives her a look.
“Stevie I’ve only got the money for Porky, and I need it bad. Till the giro comes in. You know. I gotta have the stuff regular. I can’t…” She trails off and tries smiling at me.
Joe, the ignorant git, interrupts.
“Talking about money, Stevie Wonder,” he says with a big ugly grin on his chops.
“All right, all right,” I says. “You’ll get your money. End of the month. Swear it.”
Joe grabs me by the front of my shirt, drags me up on my feet, bangs my legs against the edge of the table, not that he cares less. He’s some size, the boyo.
“Know what, rat face? Not the end of the month. Now. Or it’ll be too bad for you. I’ll have to tell big Shamie you’ve been a naughty boy, see?”
If you think Joe’s a big one, you oughta see big Shamie. My teeth’s starting to chatter and my legs is wobbling and I feel sorta sick.
There’s people all around, lined along the bar, crowded into booths, standing about with their glasses in their hands. And nobody paying no heed. They turn away, look into their drinks, talk all the louder, laughing about nothing. I could be dead in a second or two for all they care.
Marie grabs Joe by the arm.
“Let him go, you big bully, you! He hasn’t got no money! You can’t hurt him! You said—”
“Hasn’t got no money, you’re telling me? Then,” says Joe, leering at her, “I just wouldn’t like to tell you what’s gonna happen to him, babe. Not the kinda stuff to say to a lady like you, see.”
Marie bursts into tears. Then she starts scrabbling in her handbag.
I can’t see too well what she’s doing, with the way Joe has my shirt scrunched up round my neck so’s I can’t hardly breathe, but I can sorta see, out of the corner of my eye, right, that she’s taking something out of her bag, a white envelope, maybe.
“Here!” she says, and she pushes it at him. “There’s that fifty quid in there. You know. All I got. Leave Stevie be. Give him a chance to get the rest of it together, okay?”
“Chicken feed! His bill’s in thousands!” says Joe. Then he looks at her and he musta changed his mind. Fancies her a bit, maybe.
“Okay, babe,” Joe says. “End of the week, right? Not any longer!”
And he drops me back into my seat, looking sorta contemptuous, like, and brushes off his hands. As if he wants to get rid of the feel of me. “Don’t know what you see in this dirty wee squirt, Marie. A right lump of scum,” he says. “You can do a lot better for yourself.” And he walks away.
So then Marie throws her arms round me and she’s all huggin’ me, like, till I has to say, “Whoa, whoa, girl! Everybody’s looking.”
They were, too. Voyeurism, it’s called. Anything sexy, they’re avid, especially one fat git staring down Marie’s top. But, hey, if someone looks like getting beaten up, that’s another story, right? Time to look away. And I’m wondering about the stuff going on between Marie and Joe Murphy. How would she think he should know she has fifty quid? And what’s with the “You can’t hurt him! You said…” bit? And I was starting to wonder if Joe gave her the fifty quid to tell him where he’d find me.
Still and all, she’s done a really nice thing, hasn’t she, giving Joe her drug money to help me, so I says, “How’s about getting outa here, babe?” and I takes her hand and move her outside, round the back alley, and I let her kiss me.
The half moon was out by then, and a star or two twinkling in the dark navy-blue sky, and there was just a sweet warm summer breeze touching our cheeks and lifting Marie’s hair enough to make it look like, what’s that stuff, gossamer, and the smell of the creamy honeysuckle and the pink roses in the hanging baskets, and Marie’s own scent, sort of spicy and oriental, and it was really getting to me.
And, I’m telling you, I couldn’t help feeling a bit of a stir when I looks down at her with her arms tight round me and putting everything she has into the kiss, and half her acid green top dragged off with the action, like, and I thinks, “Hey, guess what, maybe I could do worse?”
Never reckoned on a live-in girl friend, and still don’t want one, but maybe Marie and me could see a bit more of each other? I knew she’d been wanting to. Things she’d said. Maybe it was time I rethought our relationship? I hadn’t thought she cared all that much about me, compared to the drugs, hadn’t thought I could trust her, well, you can’t trust anyone, can you, specially druggies on H? But maybe I’d got her wrong?
And, hey, if she’d been up to something with Big Joe, sure, she didn’t want anybody but me, now, did she?
Then she opens her eyes and looks right up at me, her mouth still fastened on mine. She’s smallish, right, Marie, and her body just fits good against me, and I could feel her all the way down pressing close against me, and I have to tell you, honest, I felt my legs go all trembling.
It was, like, something special, see?
Hey, what’s this, another tequila? Hey, it’s my round, mate. Well, okay then, if that’s the way you really want it. Cheers, mate!
Any road, we goes on snogging for a bit, and then I goes, “Okay, babe, let’s do it!” But funny, she pulls back and says, “Hey, wait a minute, Stevie, I gotta go to the bogs,” so I acts cool, though I’m, like, ready enough. I steps back and I says, “Don’t be long, babes,” and I gets out a fag and lights up while she skips off.
And that’s where I might feel a bit guilty if I wanted to, right, because if I hadn’t let her go back in there, it would have been different.
But, hey, what else could I do?
I stood there and leant against the white washed stone wall and smoked, and I wondered again about Joe Murphy. And about Marie and Porky.
So the fag’s about done, but I’m not, like, get me? And there’s no sign of her coming back. I’m starting to wonder what’s keeping her, when I hears this racket going on inside.
I goes over to the back door of the pub, with its new bright red paint, and I open it a bit, thinking, like, it’ll be a gas to see what sorta fight’s going on.
It’s not that easy to see, what with all the guys crowding round, but there’s Marie, right in the middle of it.
I open the door a bit further, but I make sure to keep well behind it. Out of sight, like.
I can see big Porky. I nearly yelled out at him, but I got myself stopped in time.
He’s a huge guy, hard to miss.
Hard fat, they call it. Muscles as well as bulk, see? And his ginger hair shaved to nothing.
I never liked him.
Ex para military, heavy into the drug scene these days. Not the only one, like. Trouble, for sure. A man to keep away from. But Marie hasn’t the sense to do that.
What, you going, mate? Oh, just heading up to the bar, right? Yeah, I’ll stick with the tequila, ta.
Where was I? Yeah, Porky’s useful in a sort of way, see? Useful to Marie, I mean. Any road, he has the drug franchise, like, for round here.
Doesn’t bother me. I don’t need him. I keep clear. Like I told you, I don’t go for the hard stuff.
He’s standing there with his hands on his hips like some ould targe of a woman, his face stuck out forward with a glare in his eyes I wouldn’t want aimed at me, and he’s yelling at Marie.
And give it to her, the girl, she’s yelling right back at him. Up close and personal, as they say.
“You owe me!” Porky yells.
“Only one bag!” Marie yells. “Peanuts!”
“Can’t do business that way,” Porky grunts. “Pay on the nail, that’s how it goes. If you want some now, you pay up front, right!”
“So I don’t have the cash, okay?” yells Marie back at him. “Whatta you want from me, tell me that? Blood?”
Funny her saying that.
I knew rightly she’s spent her last, paying Joe off for me, and it sorta crosses my mind I should maybe give Por
ky the twenty-five she owes him? Maybe I should help her out this time? But sure, what difference would it make? She could manage without it for once, right? Do her good! She shouldn’t be so hooked on the stuff!
Anyway, I don’t want to talk to Big Porky at all. I’d rather just have nothing to do with him.
I’ve my hand in my pocket, fidgeting about with the roll I won on the scratch card Wednesday, coupla hundred, but I’ve got plans for that. Horse called Stevie’s Luck, couldn’t lose, a name like that. Mind, I wasn’t far off giving it to Joe earlier on, when he was near choking me. Would have if Marie hadn’t jumped in.
I’m trying to make up my mind, when the real trouble starts.
Tommy Moore and three or four of his heavies comes into the pub.
You know Tommy, right?
Got out on the Good Friday agreement, and kept away from the political stuff. Went for the drug dealing instead.
A wee shrimp of a man himself, with the wedgie heels on his cowboy boots to give him more of a height. Not just small enough to be in a circus. But the boys with him makes up for it okay.
Another round? Thanks, mate! Like, I’m real chuffed to get talking to you tonight, mate. I sorta felt like I needed someone to talk to. A good listener, right? Anybody ever tell you you’re a good listener, mate? Make a person feel like you’re really interested, see? Hey, I must be getting a bit bluitered here, listen to me getting all sentimental.
So, Tommy Moore and his heavies come into the bar, right?
He was looking for Porky, I heard after. Porky’d been muscling in on Tommy’s territory, it seems. Not happy enough with his own patch, the big eejit. Tommy and the boys were here to teach him a lesson.
Well, that’s what they do, everybody knows that. If Porky’d been cheating on Tommy, he was asking for it.
“Hey, Porky!” Tommy goes, all friendly like. “Glad to see you sticking to the Drummond, boyo!”
“Yeah, right, this is my patch, Tommy, you know that,” says Porky. You could tell he was dying with nerves, but doing his best not to show it. A huge big fella like Porky, and Tommy hardly up to his chin, but Porky was shaking in his trainers. It was kinda funny to see. I couldn’t help laughing.
Tommy’s lip was dripping with sweat, and he had a funny grin on his thin wrinkled face with the red cheeks and the droopy pouches at his jaw line. He was a lot older, I could see, than he’d like people to know. Oughta get a facelift, like Joan Collins.
“So it’s a funny thing, Porky,” Tommy says softly, “but somebody was telling me they saw you dealing blow down the King’s Head Monday night, Porky. That’s a funny thing, isn’t it, Porky? And an even funnier thing, I’m told you were dealing the gear on the Tuesday night, Porky?”
Every time Tommy says ‘Porky’, his voice seems to go up a bit higher and get a bit louder. He’s moving up closer to Porky all the time, and Porky’s sorta trying to slide back a bit, without being too obvious about it. Marie’s moved back a step or two, I’m glad to see, and I was wishing she’d get herself on over to me at the back door and out of it, but I suppose, like the rest of us, she was too hooked on watching what was going on. A right soap opera, so it was.
“No, Tommy, you’ve got it all wrong,” Porky starts stammering out, he’s turned a weird sorta colour, like a dirty white, like his mammy doesn’t use Persil.
“Wrong, am I, Porky?”
Tommy sounds ever so soft and gentle.
For about half a minute.
Then suddenly he’s screaming.
“Get him, boys! Take him out the back!”
Then there’s a lot of action that I mostly don’t see too well, what with everybody crowding round, and what with Tommy mentioning the back door, which made me pull my head back, thinking I’d be as well getting away from there myself. I just caught sight of Charlie, the Drummond bouncer, out of the corner of my eye, and he was dodging away out of the picture, making for his post at the front door, there’s just one of him, see? And then, like, I think I hear Marie doing a bit of shouting.
Seems Porky’s pushing her in front of him, trying to keep away from Tommy and the boys.
There’s punches being hurled all directions, and a lot of screeching and stuff, and I stick my head round the door again, and I’m just wishing I could see better when there’s a gleam of metal and one of the boys is pulling a knife.
So then I’m pretty pleased to be so far back and out of it, and I look round to make sure no one’s coming up behind me and I can get away okay if I want to.
It’s fine, a clear exit, good enough.
I takes another look round the door, just interested to see what’s going to happen next, like, and then for the first time I gets a good view of Marie.
Porky has her by the arms in front of him, with her back up against his fat belly, like one of these human shields you hear about on the news, and she’s, like, struggling to get free and not getting any joy out of it, and I starts wondering to myself if maybe I can do something for her, but, hey, what could I do with all these big guys?
It all happened in a minute.
I can still hear Tommy shouting, “Get him, boys!” sounding just like a big baby yelling for sweeties, and everybody else is screaming and bawling away, and Marie’s looking round, sorta wild, with her fair hair coming down over her face and her green top dragged lower than ever. Then I don’t rightly know but I’ve a sorta idea she sees me, peering round the door, and her face changes and goes all soft, like she thinks I’m going to come riding in on a white horse and rescue her, but, hey, my shining armour’s away this month for a polish, and just as she seems to be catching my eye the fella with the knife kinda makes a lunge at big Porky, and Porky sorta swivels round and drags Marie further in front of him and the knife goes thrusting up right into her belly.
I see her face going white and her eyes dreadful and a big gollup of blood, like, spurting out of her, and then I’m outa there.
Down the back alley and on the first bus back to my own flat, right?
And the door locked and no lights showing the rest of the night.
She died in the hospital, not long after they got her admitted, I heard.
Nobody knew I was ever there at all. Except Joe Murphy, okay, but he was long gone and not wanting mixed up in it, so, far’s I know, he never said nothing, right?
They were looking for witnesses, but, sure, I couldn’t have told them much any road. All I saw, like, lotsa people saw more. Up to them to spill their guts if they weren’t worried about what Tommy Moore might do to them later.
I kept my head down and no one came near me for a bit.
Sure, I’d missed mosta the excitement with being out the back all along, hadn’t I?
One of Tommy’s guys got arrested, they tell me, but there wasn’t anything on Tommy, well, naturally. He hadn’t even been armed, and no one was saying anything much that would tie him in with it.
And nobody knew Marie had anything to do with me. Well, she hadn’t, by then.
And, hey, it was her own choice to go there, nothing to do with me, all I did was go along with her. None of it was my fault, not in the way I see it.
See, I’m not a criminal. Never did anything all that bad.
Never had anything to do with big Porky, and less still with that Tommy Moore, so my name never got mentioned.
I was right out of it.
Lucky, wasn’t it?
Yeah. Totally.
Like, I’ve had a lot of luck, see? Mind you, the flippin’ horse came in sixth. Still, you can’t always be lucky, can you?
But, hey, I was lucky meeting you tonight, like. Dunno why, but I felt like I needed someone to talk to. That’s not me, not usually, right? Know who I am and what I’m doing, don’t need anybody else propping me up, not me. Got my life organised the way I want it. See, I’ll tell you a secret. You don’t want to let anyone else get too close. Not so’s you start caring too much about what happens to them. Start that, and you find yourself getting right and mess
ed up. Look out for yourself, make sure things go your way, that’s the thing. I’ve been doing that since I was a wee kid, and I’m telling you, it works for me.
Why’re you gettin’ up? What, chucking out time, is it? Give me a tick, I’m trying to get up, here. What was it I just said, don’t need anybody to support me, like? Got that wrong, didn’t I? All those tequilas, mate!
Going my way?
Well, maybe you might give me a hand. Looks like it’ll have to be a taxi for me, this time. What was it you said your name was? Bas?
Hey, just like Marie? Nothing to her, are you?
What did you say? It means ‘death’ in the Irish? Funny, that.
You want to turn off down this alley?
Right, mate, whatever you like. It’s a shortcut, a bit dodgy, right, but hey, there’s two of us, okay? You’ll not be needing that knife you’ve got there, mate, but does no harm to have it ready, yeah?
It must be my eyes, mate, that last Tequila, maybe? But you’re looking sorta funny all of a sudden.
Got a lot taller or something.
And your face, it’s gone sorta bony.
Hey, like you’re getting more like a walking skeleton sorta thing every time I look at you now! And, like, with wings, or somethin’? Like a picture I saw yonks ago, the Angel of Death, is that it?
Funny. Must be my eyes.
Listen, mate, you’re my friend, right?
It’s really good I met up with you tonight. Lucky, that’s what.
But see me, I’m always lucky.
~~~~~~~~
About the author
Gerry McCullough, born and brought up in North Belfast, graduated from Queen’s University with a BA Honours in English Literature and Philosophy, and an MA in English Literature. She has been writing since childhood, with more than fifty short stories published, some of them prize winners; her story Primroses won the Cuirt International Award. Her regular podcast of her own Irish stories has proved immensely popular, with listeners in the thousands. In November 2010 her first full length novel, Belfast Girls, was published by Night Publishing and has proved to be a considerable bestseller. This was followed by Danger Danger in 2011, and a collection of short stories, The Seanachie: Tales of Old Seamus in January 2012. The first book in her Angel Murphy series about a feisty Belfast girl, Angeline Murphy, Angel in Flight: An Angel Murphy Thriller, was published in June 2012, and will be followed shortly by the second in the series, Angel in Belfast.
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