The Valparaiso Voyage

by Dermot Bolger

  I leaned forward so that my head rested on the steering-wheel. ‘I’m a fool and I’m scared,’ I said. ‘He sees right through me.’

  ‘I just see you.’

  ‘Then who am I?’

  ‘Yourself. Not perfect but not damned either. We are allowed flaws, to make mistakes and screw up, if we don’t lose sight of ourselves. But when you look in the mirror you seem to see just an empty space.’

  I started the car engine.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Ebun asked.

  ‘The fanciest address in Meath.’ I released the handbrake. ‘All-The-Cows-Shat-Manor.’

  Tar barrels were placed across the entrance to what soon would become Aldershot Manor at the bend of a pot-holed sideroad. The billboard contained an artist’s impression of idyllic town-houses encircling two apartment blocks. Only the show town-house was completed, with silhouettes of half-finished walls arrayed around it like tombstones in the moonlight.

  Ebun and I pulled in a few feet from the entrance and watched for any sign of a security guard, before leaving the car there obscured by bushes at the entrance to a field. The tar barrels were surprisingly easy to move, with just a few rocks inside to keep them upright. We manoeuvred our way carefully across the haphazard building site. A light shone in the kitchen window of the showhouse. Gripping a car-jack, I stumbled towards it.

  Ebun’s eyesight seemed better than mine. Twice she prevented me from slipping into uncovered trenches before we finally reached the window. Conor sat on a kitchen chair pushed back from the table as though trying to maintain a distance from Slick McGuirk who sat up on the table, flicking a set of oversized darts at a wooden plank beside the door. A bottle of whiskey and two glasses were beside him. McGuirk leaned over to top up Conor’s glass, which looked like it had hardly been touched. I noticed that he did not refill his own.

  ‘It’s better that I go in alone,’ I whispered to Ebun. ‘Take the car and ditch it when you get near Dorset Street.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to leave you?’

  ‘This is not your concern.’

  ‘You mean it’s your real life that I have no part of.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ I hissed. ‘Slick is one dangerous bastard. If he sees you he’ll feel it’s getting outside his control. Just leave this to me, please.’

  McGuirk leaned forward, gesturing to Conor and obviously laughing at some joke of his own. His eyes never left the boy’s face.

  ‘How will you get to Dublin?’ Ebun asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Start the car and wait five minutes. If I don’t come out then bugger off.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me like that.’

  McGuirk gripped the wooden back of Conor’s chair. The boy shifted uneasily while trying to look tough.

  ‘For Christ’s sake,’ I snapped, rattled by the scene inside the room. ‘I’ve only known you three days. Now I’m sorry about your friend but will you just go!’

  Slick glanced towards the window as if he had heard something. I ducked down and when I looked up to apologize Ebun was already backing away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. ‘I didn’t mean it like –’

  ‘Keep practising,’ Ebun interrupted. ‘One day you will sound exactly like your friend in the big house.’

  I went to speak but she slipped silently away into the dark. McGuirk had risen to retrieve the darts. He threw one which landed in the wooden armrest at Conor’s elbow, then laughed and flicked the remaining two simultaneously back at the loose plank by the door. I couldn’t wait any longer.

  There was no proper front door yet, just a steel one left open with the bolt and padlock off. The hallway was dark, with a blade of light beneath the kitchen door. I was about to walk towards it when a set of headlights distracted me at the bend on the road. They swung in towards the entrance and were switched off. Somebody got out of the passenger door to roll back more barrels and allow the car through. The driver drove carefully across the mud, halting to let his passenger get back in. The brake-lights briefly illuminated a crouched figure flitting between the barrels as Ebun slipped away.

  From behind the kitchen door came the scrape of a chair being pushed back along the concrete floor.

  ‘Just don’t you even think about it!’ Conor’s raised voice was scared yet defiant.

  ‘Take it easy, lad. That’s just Slick being Slick. Sure your daddy and me are old school buddies. He’d tell you there’s no harm in old Slick.’

  McGuirk’s seemingly slurred voice was deliberate, a safety mechanism to allow him to explain away anything that might happen as just clowning around under the influence of alcohol that he could not remember afterwards. Pete Clancy cursed outside as he tripped over something nearby. There was no door in the front-room which I slipped into, but I could not be seen unless Clancy turned on the hall light. He strode in and pushed open the kitchen door with P. J. Egan close behind. Egan blocked the doorway but beyond his shoulder I saw McGuirk glare belligerently at both intruders. Conor seemed to have retreated into a corner.

  ‘Boys-o-boys,’ Clancy said. ‘This is a cosy tête-à-tête, eh?’

  ‘What the fuck do you want?’ McGuirk was rattled, the slur gone from his voice.

  ‘To save you from your worst excesses, Slick, like always.’

  ‘Who says I need your help? This time I’m looking after things quite nicely by myself.’

  ‘Like you looked after the African?’ P. J. needled.

  ‘What African?’ McGuirk’s tone was insolent. ‘I know nothing about any nignog.’

  ‘I hope the police believe you,’ Clancy said, swinging a chair around the wrong way so that he sat on it with his elbows leaning on the backrest.

  ‘There won’t be cops.’

  ‘There will,’ Clancy replied. ‘And newspaper columnists and lentil-munching Civil Liberties types with bad haircuts elbowing each other in the scrum to get their indignant mugs on television. His body is up in the mortuary at St Mary’s.’

  ‘You don’t scare me,’ McGuirk sneered. ‘Even if I met some jungle bunny all he got was a few digs for himself.’

  ‘Where did you leave him?’

  ‘Moaning in his bare feet by the river.’ McGuirk laughed. ‘Thought he looked more natural…authentic…without the shoes. I’d have left the sponging bastard back in Africa if I could. I did you a favour, Pete, he was trying to blackmail you in your own country – not that he’d a clue what the account numbers were. The gobshite actually thought I was going to lash out money for them. He won’t go near any cops. There’s feck all wrong with him beyond a few cuts and bruises he’d get in any honest day’s work on a plantation. He limped off with a flea in his ear.’

  ‘He limped off into the clutches of a cider party,’ P. J. said. ‘The Forensic boys will be lifting specks of thread and dandruff off him. I’d burn those clothes if I were you, Slick, because you’re in deep shit.’

  McGuirk looked at Clancy helplessly. ‘I did nothing beyond give him a few digs.’

  Clancy ignored him, rising to move out of my line of vision. ‘Are you OK, son?’ I heard him ask.

  ‘Just tell this ape to keep his hands to himself.’ Conor’s voice came from somewhere in the room.

  ‘Your father was worried about you.’ Clancy moved back in vision, while McGuirk fretted at the table and Egan invasively watched proceedings, never leaving the doorway.

  ‘Worried about his passport more like,’ Conor retorted.

  ‘That’s a bit harsh. He’s a sensible man who doesn’t cause trouble. I hope you take after him.’

  ‘I know your face from the funeral and off the telly. You’re that TD.’

  ‘You could forget my face,’ Clancy replied gently. ‘Like I can forget what I know. The name of your school principal. The name of the first-year UCD arts student who’s fucking you despite knowing you’re under-age. The fact that your mother conned an insurance company and compensation board.’

  ‘Mam knew nothing about that.’

&
nbsp; ‘A court might see it different if I testified that she did know. That your grandfather came to me for advice on the matter. Both these men here will testify that she boasted about getting away with it.’

  ‘That’s fucking lies,’ Conor replied angrily, picking up enough confidence – now the others were present – to venture closer to McGuirk where I could see him.

  ‘Your granddad wasn’t above telling a few porkies either.’ Clancy sat down. ‘To be honest, Conor, I want nothing to do with this business and neither do you. You’re an innocent party but so is Slick here. Your granddad used you. He was paranoid about putting his own name to anything. He died before he had time to return certain things to their rightful owners. Your father explained this. Take a flight to Jersey with my friend in the doorway and by teatime tomorrow this will be all over, with you handsomely rewarded.’

  ‘What do you mean with P. J.?’ McGuirk snapped indignantly. ‘It’s my money. I’ll travel with the kid. We might even make a night of it. He’s already agreed and for none of this percentage shite you apparently offered him.’

  ‘I want nothing that doesn’t belong to me,’ Conor said. ‘But I won’t say a word, don’t worry. Give my share to my father along with his passport. I’ll do this for him. It’s what he came back for.’

  ‘There it is from the horse’s mouth.’ McGuirk sounded triumphant. ‘Me and the kid will see this through ourselves.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen,’ Clancy said curtly.

  ‘Who says so?’ McGuirk retorted.

  ‘I do,’ I interrupted, appearing at Egan’s shoulder. ‘Do you think I’d let my son board a plane with you?’

  Startled, P. J. turned with his fists raised. McGuirk rose from the table as if about to attack me. Only Clancy seemed unperturbed by my appearance.

  ‘The prodigal,’ he said. ‘Take it easy, lads, let the Hen Boy in.’

  Conor backed away towards the sink by the window, looking discommoded by my appearance.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.

  ‘Trying to mind you.’

  ‘That’s a laugh.’

  I looked around at Clancy. ‘He’s getting on no plane with Slick or with any of yous. Fuck your passport. I’ll take my chances back in Portugal without it. The boy walks out of here.’

  ‘Stay the fuck out of this, Hen Boy,’ McGuirk threatened.

  ‘Leave my son alone or I’ll have you up on more charges than you ever dreamt of. I don’t know how long I’ll serve, Slick, but you’ll be there on manslaughter charges to keep me company.’

  ‘Fuck off back to your nignog friends,’ McGuirk sneered.

  ‘Who is this African?’ Conor demanded. ‘You told me my father gave you the account numbers.’

  ‘He was the unfortunate legacy of a romantic attachment that your father has hopefully sorted out,’ Clancy said. ‘Brendan appears to have hidden charms.’

  ‘Maybe it’s because officially he’s been stiff for the past decade.’ Egan alone laughed at his own joke.

  ‘It’s hardly sexual attraction,’ McGuirk sneered luridly. ‘Maybe she liked him because he kept the flies off her.’ He made a sudden chucking noise and darted towards me. ‘Get up the yard, eh! There’s still a smell of hen-shite off you!’

  ‘Leave him alone!’ Conor raised his voice as he attempted to shrug off Egan, who held him back.

  ‘Leave it out, Slick,’ Clancy cautioned patiently.

  ‘I won’t leave it out. It’s me who has the numbers not just for my own accounts, but every fucking account your father ever had.’

  ‘Is that why you really left?’ Conor asked quietly as if we were alone. ‘Were you screwing around even when you still lived with us?’

  ‘This isn’t the place, son.’

  ‘Don’t call me son. You won’t be calling me that once you get your precious passport.’ He glanced at Clancy. ‘If I do this you’ll get him one, won’t you?’

  ‘Wheels are turning as we speak,’ Clancy assured him.

  Conor turned back to me. ‘So don’t come the concerned father. Fuck off to Valparaiso for real this time. Fly Chilean Airlines, first class. You’ll find it’s just another fucking city to get lost in.’

  There was a hatred in his eyes I had never thought to see. He looked close to hysteria.

  ‘Is that what you really want?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah. Stay out of our lives, you hear me?’ He addressed Clancy. ‘I don’t care who the fuck I go with, just get me on a plane.’

  ‘You heard him,’ McGuirk said. ‘He’ll go with me. First flight in the morning. This is my fucking show. Barney cheated my father, I know he did. And others too, taking advantage of his illness before we understood it. Slab gave things away, paid for goods twice, three times, he didn’t remember. Barney was like a sponge sucking up every penny. But you’ll not fucking divvy up my father’s money between yous all now with nothing left for me.’

  ‘No one’s going to cheat you,’ P. J. said evenly.

  ‘So how come there’s only two accounts open on this list when there were three sites? Someone’s already rifled one account.’

  ‘Pete told me there were four parcels of land,’ I said.

  McGuirk turned on me. ‘There were three sets of fields, two Mickey Mouse ones and one a good size. I walked them with my daddy often enough, never knowing who owned them. But he couldn’t pass the road without looking in at them. So what else did Pete tell you?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said, aware of Clancy’s glaring at me behind Slick’s back. Something didn’t add up, but this wasn’t the time to say it.

  ‘Well you needn’t listen to him,’ Slick said. ‘Because every time he says something he twists it some way so your head gets fucked up. Me and the kid are going to Jersey alone.’

  ‘No,’ I replied firmly.

  McGuirk brought his face close to mine. ‘Why not? What exactly are you fucking insinuating, Hen Boy?’

  ‘Don’t you call my father that,’ Conor said sharply.

  ‘Brendan is right,’ Clancy interjected soothingly. ‘It’s not wise for you to rush off abroad after what happened this afternoon. I know it had nothing to do with you and when they find the thugs I’ll do everything in my power to see that no other questions are asked. But you shouldn’t do anything out of character that might be suspicious. Go and play golf.’

  ‘I hate fecking golf,’ McGuirk snarled.

  ‘Why join the bloody club then?’ Egan asked.

  ‘My father helped found that club.’

  ‘Well play golf badly in the morning then,’ Clancy urged. ‘Look relaxed. You were with P. J. when the African met his little accident.’

  ‘My missus made tea for us, with pinhead scones and all,’ P. J. added. ‘Remember, Slick.’

  ‘Give me the account mandates and the kid’s passport,’ Clancy said. ‘Go beat the shite our of a few golf balls and P. J. will join you in the clubhouse, straight from the three o’clock flight. He can say he was visiting his father. You’ll have cash in your hand and everything settled, with Brendan on a flight out of here that evening.’

  ‘Why would the police be watching me at the airport?’ McGuirk sounded bewildered.

  ‘They watch everyone these days.’ The hint of a threat entered Clancy’s voice. ‘Remember that poor chap in Dublin arrested at the airport with bags of cash from the Isle of Man? Besides, Slick, what if the missus heard you were getting on a plane with a young lad?’

  ‘What harm would there be?’

  ‘Did Pete say there’d be any?’ P. J. piped up. ‘It’s just that it wouldn’t be the first time and she was upset at that misunderstanding.’

  ‘Just shut the fuck up and go then,’ Slick muttered uneasily. ‘The envelope is in my jacket pocket. But if yous cheat me I’ll kill you.’

  ‘Ask him the real reason he doesn’t want you to go,’ Conor said quietly from the corner.

  ‘Eh?’ Slick turned, puzzled by the interruption.

  ‘Ask him what he
doesn’t want you to find out.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up, kid,’ Clancy said. ‘It’s all settled now and doesn’t concern you.’

  ‘Just who the fuck are you to tell me to shut up?’

  ‘Take it easy, Conor,’ I cautioned.

  ‘I’ll take it any way I want,’ the boy replied. ‘When I think of poor Granddad in thrall to these Clancys. From the way he talked you’d swear Barney Clancy shot streamers of gold dust from his dick when he came.’

  ‘That will do about my father,’ Pete Clancy warned tetchily.

  ‘It won’t do.’ Conor glanced at Slick. ‘Was he nice, this boy you went off with?’

  ‘For the last time I went off with no boy,’ Slick bellowed. ‘Can’t a man pay a young neighbour’s bloody airfare without people jumping to conclusions? I gave money to Carol to go off with herself this evening. That doesn’t mean I’m bloody well trying to jump her.’

  ‘It’s a brave man who would, with that arse on her,’ P. J. muttered.

  ‘I bet it was nice,’ Conor said, ignoring P. J. ‘I bet you came so hard with him you had to wipe it off the ceiling.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up, you twisted queer!’ If I hadn’t blocked McGuirk’s path he would have struck Conor. He glanced at me and backed off. ‘Why wouldn’t he be twisted anyway, the offspring of a man who was half fucking’hen?’

  ‘At least I have offspring,’ I replied quietly.

  McGuirk sat back on the table, motioning warningly to Clancy who seemed about to say something. ‘Keep talking, kid, and none of yous interrupt him.’

  ‘Granddad had his share of secrets too,’ Conor said. ‘I don’t know them all and I’m not sure I want to. But I know that one haunted him. The day the tribunal summons was served on him I called over to Cremore to see my gran.’ Conor glanced up, defying me to contradict her title. ‘A moron had sprayed graffiti at my school. A moron who couldn’t spell.’

  ‘Don’t rub it in, kid,’ Slick growled, embarrassed.

  ‘I wanted to tell Gran,’ Conor continued, ‘but she was more concerned for Granddad. He was digging in the garden, weeding out weeds that weren’t there, putting off the moment when he’d have to go indoors and face the shame of that summons again. That’s how he felt, humiliated before the world no matter what he said at the tribunal. I don’t know what he’d done in his life, but he was just an old man in a garden with his world collapsing around him.’