3.
—… She said that, Master? …
—She said exactly that, Guzzeye Martin. She said …
—… “Up there the problem is,” I said …
—… “‘Diddley die de dum,’ Caitriona sings, ‘a fine big pig for roasting …’”
—… “Martin John More had a buxom young daughter …”
—How long do you think before she marries again, what do you think? …
—Ah, go on, Kitty, my neighbour, how would I know, I haven’t a clue …
—Of course, she’d have no problem getting a man, that’s if she has any notion to marry again. She’s a fine sprightly flighty young woman, God bless her pins and what else! …
—That’s very true, Margaret, you were my neighbour! …
—That’s if she never said anything about it when she saw that you were gone …
—That wasn’t it, Breed …
—Maybe the Junior Master might marry her …
—Or the Master from Derry Lough, since the priest’s sister dumped him …
—You are really a dote, Billy. Honest, cross my heart and hope to die. Tell us if the Schoolmistress said anything about getting married again …
—Ah, come on like, was that the way it was so, the sponger, the wanker, the twisted thicko, the runt, the sweaty scumbag warm-arsed bollix! Where is he, let me at him, the crooked cunt? …
—This is a very nice way to welcome people to the graveyard …
—Son of a gun, cop on now, Master, don’t you remember what I said to you? Didn’t he die though? …
—Where is he so? …
—Come on now, Master, my good friend, easy now, easy! We were always good neighbours up above. Did I ever open one of your letters? Ah, come on now, Master, stop telling lies! … If that was the case, Master, it wasn’t me who did it … The Postmistress could do anything in the world she wanted, but don’t call me a liar, please, Master … That’s a dirty lie, certainly, Master! I never gave your letters to anyone, but straight up to your house, and stuck it straight from the bag into your hand. I’m telling you now, not every postman would do that! …
Oh, Master, Master, God forgive you Master, God forgive you! I didn’t deliver your post so promptly every day just to see your wife. Oh, come on, I hope that that idea never even entered your head! … Oh, come on, Master, you were my neighbour, stop that now. Don’t tell lies about her. She is still there above treading on the bright daisies of mendacity while you are here below in the dark pushing up the daisies of truth …
Believe every word I say, Master, that I was very sorry that you died. You really looked after people who visited your house. And it was always worthwhile listening to you too. You’d blast away there about life … Ah, come on, Master, don’t say things like that! … Ah, come off it, Master! …
There wasn’t a day passed, but I gave my condolences to herself … Ah come on, my good neighbour, for God’s sake, stop going on about that! “That’s a great one about the poor Old Master,” I’d say to myself. “It’s not the same place since he left. I’m telling you, Mistress, that I’m really sorry for your trouble …”
… Take it easy now, Master! Easy there! Can’t you just keep it to yourself! “Billy the Postman,” the old codger would call over to me, “but, sure, I know that. He really liked you …” Ah come on now, Master. We can talk about this, Master! “I did my best for him, Billy, but it was beyond the doctors …” Oh, Master my darling! Oh, Master of my heart!
… “The way it was, Billy, one way or the other, the Master was far too good …”
“Ah, come on now Master, don’t disgrace yourself and all the neighbours listening! Remember always that you are a Lord of Learning, and you must always give a good example … Just be patient now! Come on now, Master, you are really doing my fucking head in. This is a great welcome, no doubt about it, to the dirty dust …
—Do you think it possible, Billy the Postman, that you might require some degree of spiritual assistance? …
—Oh the snot-snuffling sot shit, he does …
—De grâce, Master! Keep a grip on yourself. Billy is really a very romantic guy. Honest, he is …
—You were like that too, Master …
—I swear I saw you, Master … in the school …
—It’s no wonder our kids marry heretics and blacks …
—… To make a long story short, Master, it was Whit Monday. It was a holiday. I went for a stroll up along the road just, as we say, to take the air …
… Now, I’m asking you, my neighbours, what harm is there in going for a stroll? Only once in a blue moon did I ever get a chance to stretch my legs … It wouldn’t have done my health any good to go the other direction down the road … Just shut up a minute! … As I was just going past the gate of your house, I noticed she had the car out on the road. I had put air in its tyres for her … So what, Master, so what if I did? It was just an effort to be a bit neighbourly … “God be good to the poor old Master,” I said to myself. “He really took a shine to that car.” “Billy,” the one says to me, “the Old Master was never destined to be happy. The Old Master was far too good …” Oh, Master, I can’t help it? … But hang on a minute, Master! The rest of the story …
“Sit in there, Billy,” she says. “You’ll drive the car for me fine. I have to get out and about one way or another after all this time in mourning and widow’s weeds. Nobody will think anything about it. You’re an old friend of the family, Billy …” Keep ahold of yourself there, Master. Can’t you see that everyone is listening. I never thought you were that kind of a man! …
To cut a long story short, Master, the place was deserted apart from the two of us. If you were ever down around Cala Ross that time of the day, Master, you’d know that there are very few places as beautiful. The lights were glimmering on the headlands and on the darkling pastures on the other side of the bay. I really felt it, Master … Ah, for God’s sake, Master, have some sense of decency! …
… To cut a long story short, Master, she swore to me that her love was deeper than the ocean … Just hold your horses, Master! Calm down! Come on, Master, I was convinced you weren’t like that …
“God be with four years ago!” she said. “The Master and I were here in this same spot looking out at the lights, up at the stars and down at the will o’ the wisp shimmering on the seaweed …” Looks like, Master, that you’re going to get a bad name! But hang on now! Easy! … “The poor Old Master,” I said. “The poor Old Master,” she says, “it was a great pity. But he was too good for …” … Master, Master my good friend, why won’t you just listen to the story! …
“He whom the gods love, Billy,” she says, “dies young. Do you know what, Billy, he was really very fond of you …” What could I do, Master? …
—Come on now, Master! Guzzeye Martin spotted you …
—No doubt about it, Master, you were having it off with her …
—… But what would you do yourself, tell me Master, if you were as I was down there at Cala Ross looking out at the lights, mooning at the stars and wondering at the will o’ the wisps shimmering on the seaweed? … Come on, cool down a bit, Master! … To cut a long story short, Master … Ah, come on Master, you’re a neighbour … Don’t lose the bop entirely, Master … Why are you taking your bad mood out on me? I don’t deserve this …
But to cut a long story short, Master, she got three doctors from Dublin to examine me … What do you mean, you never met the likes of me since you were born! Why are you taking it out on me, Master? Anybody who knew you when you were six feet above would never believe you were anything like this …
“What happened to the Old Master won’t happen to you,” she said, “or it’s too bad for me” … God be good to you, and take it easy Master. You’ll disgrace yourself. You’re a schoolmaster after all …
… To cut a long story short, Master, I had a vicious pain in my side and in my kidneys. I got a little bit better in the afternoon.
The lift before dying. She sat on the side of the bed and took my hand … God help us, she said! Do you see the state he’s in? … I couldn’t do anything about her, could I?
—To cut a long story short, Master: “If it happens that you don’t come out of this, Billy,” she said, “my life wouldn’t be worth living without you …” Ah, come on, Master, don’t be so nasty … If she marries yet again, can I do anything about it? … Have a bit of cop on, Master! …
… To cut a long story short, Master, I was just on the edge of eternity, when she screamed into my ear: “I’ll bury you properly, Billy,” she shouted, “no matter how long I live after you …” Back off, Master, take it easy! Give me a break for God’s sake, Master! … But I think my peace is gone, actually … If she had only thought to bury me in any other place in the graveyard except right next to this nutjob. But I suppose she couldn’t help it, the poor thing. She didn’t really know what she was doing … Come on, patience Master, get ahold of yourself! …
—Bloody tear and ’ounds anyway, isn’t that what Blotchy Brian said when Billy was struck down: “That little wanker isn’t too far from the graveyard,” he said. “By dad, he’ll be lucky if he’s buried at all. If he died in Dublin he’d be dumped in a bin. But she’ll slash him in one big scoop on top of the Old Master in the same hole. Then the two of them will gouge one another like two dogs whose tails are tied together … ’
—… God help us all, and fuck you too! … Blotchy Brian was right this time … Two dogs whose tails are tied together … Do you know, this time he was right! … Our tails were tied together, Billy …
—You got it right this time, Master …
—We were bucklepping around, wagging our tails you might say and just lounging there when we were seduced by the magic of the lights, the sparkle of the stars, the wonder of the will o’ the wisp and the pleasure of promises. Do you know what, Billy, we thought that will o’ the wisp was like unto the candle that is never extinguished …
—That’s so true there, Master …
—We believed at that moment that the heavenly stars would be our wedding present; that we would sup of the harvest home wine wherein no dregs lie …
—Oh my, how romantic! …
—Ah come on, Billy my pal, it was only all the kind of mushy mush that our egos inflict us with. We were caught in a trap. Our flighty tails were nailed and tied down. She was only, my good pal Billy, but a bushwhacking brasser of a woman who knew how to play the game. “One day I’m in Rathlin, and the next in the Isle of Man …”
—It’s “One day in Islay, and the next beyond in Kintyre,” my good Master, my good neighbour …
—You’ve got it in one, Billy my boy. That woman isn’t worth the steam of your piss or even a hard word or a moment’s worry. Billy boy, she got two stupid dogs who let her trap them and tie up their tails …
—Never spoke a truer word, ya Master ya …
—Listen Billy, my good man, we are obliged from now on not to put any strain on our tails, but just to be pleasant and neighbourly to one another …
—Well said, Master! Now you’re talking, chalk it down. Peace and quiet, Master. That’s the best possible thing here six feet under, Master: Peace and quiet. If I thought even for a minute that I’d be lying here next to you, I’d have never married her …
—It doesn’t matter a dog’s dinner what anybody does! She is the way she is, but you made a right proper hames of it anyway, you tramp, you thief, you tinker! You should have been pitched into the gas chamber, you fart face, you pig’s puke, you …
—Ah come on, Master, zip your lip for a minute, easy up now, easy! …
4.
—If I’d lived a bit longer …
—It was a blessed relief …
—If I’d lived a bit longer …
—It was a blessed relief …
—I’d be getting the pension by St. Patrick’s Day …
—Another few months and I’d have been in the new house …
—God save all here! If I had lived just a little bit more, maybe they would have brought my heap of bones beyond the Fancy City …
—… I was to be married in a fortnight. But you stabbed me right through the walls of my liver, you nasty murdering bastard. If I had survived for just another bit, I wouldn’t have left a Dog Ear within a sight of us …
—I’d have got the Old Wood’s land from my brother. Mannix the Counsellor told me as much …
—I never thought I’d die until I got the satisfaction from the seaweed that Tim Top of the Road stole …
—Oro, I hope the devil fucks him! If I had lived even another short while, I’d have hightailed it into Mannix the Counsellor, and made a proper will. And then I’d have dumped out on his arse the eldest boy, and would have got a woman for the other youngfella, Tom. Then I’d have served a summons on the boozer Crossan and his drove of donkeys, and if the court didn’t fix it up for me, I’d have driven nails through their hooves. Then I’d have gone into hiding during the night just to catch the Top of the Road shower trying to steal my turf, and then I’d hammer them with the bitch of a summons … And if the court didn’t solve it to my satisfaction, I’d get a few sticks of dynamite from the boss himself. And then …
—Then I’d sue Peter the Publican’s daughter …
—Bloody tear and ’ounds, I’d get a lift the likes of which I never got before in Nell Paudeen’s car …
—I’d see “The Sun Set” published …
—If I had lived just another bit, I’d have rubbed—what’s that you called it, Master? … that’s it, right, I’d have rubbed methylated spirits on myself …
—By the oak of this coffin, I’d have pursued Caitriona Paudeen about that pound she owed me …
—God wouldn’t forgive us, Kitty …
—I’d have made a love letter of my body covered with tattoos of Hitler …
—The Postmistress said the other day that the Irish Folklore Commission and the Director of Official Statistics asked her to give them the complete lists of the number of xxs that were on every letter. The Master averaged about fifteen, and Caitriona always appended about seven normally to Blotchy Brian: one for his beard, another for his hips, another …
—… Easy! Easy! Come on my good Master!
—… Don’t believe him Jack …
—I’d have gone to England just to earn money and to hang out with the lads from Kin Teer … My spies tell me there are hundreds of them in London … some of them wearing fancy jackets … and poncy monocles …
—I’d have travelled the world: Marseilles, Port Said, Singapore, Batavia. Honest, I would …
—Qu’il retournerait pour libérer la France …
—If I’d have lived another while, you wouldn’t have killed me, ya ugly witch ya, Joan. I’d have switched the ration cards …
—… I’d have gone to your funeral, Billy the Postman. It wouldn’t have been right for me not to go to a funeral …
—I’d have keened you, Billy, I’d have keened you softly and sweetly …
—I’d have laid you out, Billy, I’d have tended you as gently as a young girl would tend her first love letter …
—If I had lived any longer, I’d have insisted they put me in a different grave … Master, Master, come on, fix it up, forget about it!
… I know, but listen to me, Master! Two dogs whose tails are tied …
—Of course, and certainly I’d drink whole tons of porter …
—… We would have won the game. I had the nine, and it was my partner’s chance. Fuck the mine anyway, it exploded just at the wrong time! …
—I’d sue the murdering bastard because he poisoned me. “Here, drink two spoons of this stuff …”
—I would have too, even though I have no time for trying to argue with Mannix the Counsellor. Son of a gun, that’s not to say, like, that I wouldn’t sue him. He told me to start downing some whiskey. That’s what he said, no doubt about it. If I had stayed on th
e pints I’d have been alright. I never had a pain or a sickness, nor nothing …
—If I had lived, I’m sure I would have cracked the crossword. And, of course, I’d have got a huge scoop of insurance money from Jack the Lad’s place. I’d have put “God be with the days of the simplified spelling” as a nom de plume on the first ticket in the sweepstake …
—… “Say ‘cheese’ now, nurses,” I’d have called it! …
—“Cala Rossa,” Billy would have called it …
—I’d have gone to the pictures again. I swear to God I’d have given anything even to see that woman in the fur coat once more. It was just exactly like the coat that Baba Paudeen had until the soot came tumbling down in Caitriona’s place …
—That’s a lie, ya scrubber!
—Back off from me, Caitriona. I just want peace and quiet. I don’t deserve you bitchiness …
—… If I had lived another while! If I had lived another while, for jay’s sake! What would I have done? What would I have done, that is the question. A wise man might be able to deal with that …
—If I got as far as the election, I’d have given the lie to Corsgrave and his crowd. I’d have said to him that they were only sent over as plenipotentiaries, or messenger boys, and that they went way beyond their remit …
—I lived though, thanks be to God, I lived long enough to say to de Valera that they were sent over with full powers. I told him that to his face. To his face. I told him straight up to his …
—You’re a liar. You never said nothing like that! …
—I remember it well. I twisted my ankle …
—If you lived for another bit, you’d have seen the young ones from Bally Donough sucking and smoking pipes. They started that since the fags got scarce. Some people say that dock leaves and nettles are just brilliant in a clay pipe …
—If you lived as long as Methuselah and the Hag of Beare, you’d never have seen the end of the fleas being fucked off the hillocks of your own place …
—If the Postmistress had lived another while …
—She had no need to. Her daughter picked up where she left off …
The Dirty Dust Page 32
