She likes travelling, I said, hoping it would shut Ma up.
Travelling. Good! We have something in common. Tell you what. Why don’t you invite her around some evening? I’ll make us something to eat. Play your cards right and I might even make myself scarce for an hour or two. I’m sure she’ll be impressed.
It’s OK. We have places to hang out.
Listen to you, she said next, slapping her hands into the bathwater, sending suds and water everywhere. The expert! Well, don’t go breaking her heart. My last word on the matter. Now, do me a favour. Pass me my gown.
She was now fast getting ready to step out of the bath.
Her da still wants to come over to see you, I said, grabbing the gown and flinging it at her.
Does he now? she said, tying her belt.
He’s been crying for a year. He’s going to knock her into the middle of next month if he doesn’t get to see you.
Is he indeed? she said, flicking wet hair away from her face.
Well, do you have an answer? He could come the day after tomorrow, after Mario is long gone.
Here’s what you can tell your little pip. Tell her I said she should stick to the children’s games she’s good at, and leave the other stuff to adults.
YOU’RE AN AWFUL WOMAN
Next morning and I was watching Ma in front of the cracked mirror. Shaping her lips. Colouring her cheeks. Pencilling the rims of her eyes, blueing the lids. Attaching a set of warped sea-horses to her ears. Spraying something peachy about her neck. And I thought I could glimpse in her faraway face the little girl she would’ve been in the not-so-distant past, full of her own ideas and dreams. The open road ahead of her. Like it was whenever she gripped the wheel of Mattie’s car.
Well, do I pass? she said, when she noticed me hovering.
I’m heading out, I said, when I was bothered opening my mouth. I’m going down town to rob the bank.
You might as well, she said.
While I’m at it I might start a fire in the Market Square.
Good idea.
And I was thinking of taking my axe to a couple of old ladies.
That sounds like a splendid way to pass the day.
I’m going now.
Get me a Mars bar, will you?
The sun was out again, was making swift work of the few excuses for clouds knocking about the sky. I walked the back lane and tried not to think about Ma and what she would soon be up to with Mario, but it was easier said than done, and a picture of Mario showing up with his leery smile and boggy hands, the palpitating head on him as he grabbed Ma, and the horse sounds coming out of him as soon as they were up the stairs and he knew what was in store. Ah, Jaysus, Jacinta, there’s no doubt about it. You’re an awful woman. And once that first image had found a way inside my head, a host of others were not long following hot and hotter on its heels, until, in no time, I had a full-length feature film going on inside that daft noggin of mine, complete with Dolby stereo and surround sound. The pair of them making a fine racket in some riverside Paris hotel, and the grunting and moaning coming out of that bull-nut seller as he sloshed around in his eagerness to get at her. And so I tried to think about other stuff, all the bad news letters and pay-up phone calls Ma had been receiving. Her daft talk about how dangerous she would be if she was a man. And I thought about one or two of the spins we had taken together in Mattie Conlon’s car and about cop Lawless waiting for us that last time, and fock me if the feature film didn’t cut to her in the storeroom of the Hungry Worm, bending down for some chocolate icing and cop Lawless moving spider-like up behind her and with both hands grabbing a hold of her, and there and then proceeding to have a grand old time of it for himself, and I had to get my head fast out of the storeroom and so I tried thinking about Ma on the phone, and how she had me down as someone with E-coli and renal dysfunction or whatever it was called, in need of a new kidney and pancreas, not that it mattered because any day now I would be dead from the devastating dose swirling around non-stop inside my rugby-ball-shaped numbskulls. And even though she had laughed at my suggestion to have the girl’s da pay her a visit and it not my suggestion to begin with, and though I couldn’t get away from that image of her and cop Lawless in the storeroom together, still it hit me: today was August 15th. Ma’s birthday. The next happy day in her life. And I still hadn’t got her anything.
ANGELFACE
I was on my way towards Mel Campbell’s shop when I saw her. Sitting up on Mel’s wall. Swinging out her legs. Sticking out her non-existent chest. After our last encounter I was in no mood for her. Too late. She had already spotted me.
I’m still waiting for you to impress me.
Why are you so obsessed with being impressed?
A girl needs a hero in her life.
And you’ve chosen me?
I suppose I’m just a hopeless romantic.
Yeah? Well, last time I checked you were quite happy to sail off without me.
I’m a girl. I’m allowed to change my mind.
Now you sound like someone else I know. What if I don’t want to be chosen?
What you want or don’t want won’t make the slightest bit of difference. Did you ask your ma about my father?
Yeah.
And? What did she say?
She said your father can call over any time he wants.
Really?
Yep. She’ll be expecting him. She’ll run a bath and cover herself in suds and wait until he shows up.
Tell her to light candles. That always works.
You suppose?
Who yanked your chain?
I think I’ll let you figure that one out by yourself.
I was thinking about what you said. And I agree with you. You do look a bit like Marlon Brando. Obviously you’re not near as dangerous-looking as him. Not with those cherub cheeks of yours.
What!
That’s OK, though. On this occasion I could go for cherub cheeks. In fact, I think I’ll call you Angelface.
You’re not calling me Angelface.
So tell me, Angelface? When are we getting together? We have to now, you know. Now that I have poured out my heart to you.
Yeah, well, I don’t have time to stick around and listen to any more pouring. It’s my ma’s birthday. I have to get her something.
Like what?
I don’t know. Something to cheer her up.
You should get her happy pills. They used to work on my father.
Happy pills?
You know, uppers and downers.
Yeah, I’ve heard of them.
I might be able to get some.
Really?
Yep. But it’s going to cost you.
I don’t have any money.
Maybe I was talking about something else.
She had started sticking out her chest again, and jiggling herself, whatever that was supposed to achieve, and, ah Jesus, I was thinking, here we go again, is there nothing else this one ever thinks of.
Speak some French, she said next.
French?
You said you were going to Paris. So . . .
So what?
Speak some French.
I don’t know any French.
And for a second there you sounded like such an expert. Don’t suppose you have anything in that useless bag apart from photographs of dead actors?
You mean like cigarettes or booze?
I mean like anything.
I’ve got this.
I took the page from the atlas, unfolded it, and spread it out between us.
Now. Show me the Russian Steppes.
Without needing a second to think about it, she pointed to a far corner of the atlas page.
OK. Now show me where the pharaohs hang out.
Again she pointed, as fast as you like.
Now show me Ithaca.
Ithaca?
Aha! Not so fast now, are you?
Of course, as soon as I had spoken, she was pointing again, this time to the vast sea be
low Greece and Italy and France.
Ithaca is somewhere between here and there.
To make sure she wasn’t trying to put one over on me, I had her point them all out again. I threw in a few others while I was at it. She didn’t get one wrong.
Hey, Angelface, she called out after me, after I’d left her sitting there on the wall, and before I’d thought twice about it, I’d already turned around to her grinning head. Catch, she said, and blew me a kiss off the palm of her hand.
WHAT PART OF NO DO YOU NO LONGER UNDERSTAND?
Get the hell out of here, toe-rag! Mel Campbell let rip, when I stepped inside his shop.
There’s no need to be like that, Mel, I told him.
Whatever it is you want, I don’t have it.
It’s not me. It’s Ma. She has a yearning for a Mars bar. You know how it is, Mel.
I don’t have anything for her either. Now scram.
Now, Mel. We had a good relationship once upon a time. Let’s go back to the beginning.
Leave now, please.
Why not, Mel? For old times’ sake.
Because I have no problem breaking off ties with customers who haven’t paid up in six months. You and your precious ma were barred then. And you’re barred now.
Mel, is this your way of saying you want us taking our business someplace else?
No, it’s my way of letting you know you’re not getting so much as a can of beans from me until you start paying off what you already owe.
How’s Mrs Campbell?
She fine, thanks for asking. Now clear off.
I was in here one time and we had a great conversation about arms. You know, she is such a sympathetic person. I’d say she’d put her own arms around the entire country if she could. I like that in a person, Mel. The place could do with more like her.
Really.
Believe you me, Mel, I wish there were more like her. Then maybe we wouldn’t be facing the abyss everybody keeps banging on about.
Tell me something, toe-rag. What part of NO do you no longer understand?
The same part you don’t understand. A Mars bar, Mel. Just the one. For old times’ sake.
HAPPY PILLS
The girl was in the street. Looking in the window of Pageturners bookshop, I’d no idea why. Pageturners had been closed for a few months and there were hardly any books left to look at. As if she had heard my thoughts, she moved on as far as the window of the Hungry Worm. She had both hands bridged over her eyes, shielding out the light, taking in the cream buns and sticky tarts and lemon meringues and whatever else was fresh out of the oven today. She probably couldn’t make up her mind what she wanted.
Are you hungry? I called out.
She didn’t react, didn’t seem to have heard me.
Is there something you want? I can get you something, I tried again. She looked my way, and for a minute I thought she was going to nod her head, and we could take a table and talk places in the world over a rocky road and a smoothie. Instead she looked around her and hurried off. Her tattered tackies flapping at the ground. Her skinny legs looking like a pair of stilts that had been jammed into her backside.
Wait! I shouted. I have a euro. Make that two euros, we can get something. But she was already on her way down the street, past Patsy Fagan’s betting shop, past Farrell’s Shoes and the boarded-up computer place. She paused at the blinking green cross of Logan’s Pharmacy. Then she stepped inside. I followed.
Hey! I hissed at her. Did you not hear me?
She was moving further ahead of me, drifting among the aisles of pain-killing tablets, the soaps and perfume.
Hey!
Still no reaction.
And she was walking past all the creams and lotions and hair gels. Past stuff for painting your nails and stuff for removing it again. Past toothpaste and shaving foam and aftershave. Tubes of vitamins. Past all the make-up kits. And the cardboard cut-outs showing off the results. The perfect faces. The whiter-than-white teeth. What did she want in here?
I didn’t have a chance to ask her. Big Beatrice Glynn was bounding through the aisles, on her way to that back counter she was so fond of. Gabbing into her phone as she moved. Yes, yes, I hear you. I just have to pick up my pills. Then I’m on my way. She was still gabbing away into her phone when she reached the counter and Logan the chemist handed over a paper bag which Big Beatrice scooped away from him and landed inside the huge handbag swinging from her shoulder. As soon as she about-turned and was out of there, the girl grabbed my arm and hauled me after her.
Out on the street, Big Beatrice had stopped to chat to Nora McGuinness. She hadn’t closed her bag properly and the girl yanked me off the footpath and in behind a parked car.
Are you ready to impress me? she whispered.
Huh?
See that big whale’s bag? I need what she just put in it. I’ll be lookout, while you go fetch. OK?
What is it we’re after?
The question was no sooner out of my mouth than it hit me.
Happy Pills. Big Beatrice’s Happy Pills.
Beatrice was still talking to Nora and her handbag was swaying and I was angling my outstretched arm towards it when out of Slevin the butcher’s marched Virgin Gemma carrying a chicken, headless and raw, and of course she had to stop and join whatever amazing topic of conversation Big Beatrice and Nora had lit upon.
Go on, I heard the girl urge, and was about to reach my arm out again when out of the same butcher’s hobbled Scary Mona Quinn. She had a chicken too and she joined the others, raised her prize and roared: Everybody for himself said the elephant as he danced among the chickens. And the four of them erupted where they stood.
Then Big Beatrice’s mobile started ringing again and she rested her handbag on the bonnet of the car to go rooting for the noisy thing, and when she answered she turned round, leaving the bag on the car.
Now! the girl hissed.
Inched my way round the car, reached my arm inside the open handbag, felt a package, lifted it out and showed it to the girl. Donuts! She rolled her eyes, I slipped the donuts in my bag and tried again. Seconds later I had fished out something flaky. A croissant! Again, the girl rolled her eyes, and I thought: this is not going according to plan. I made another lunge and this time the girl was nodding when she saw what I came away with. GO, GO, GO! I heard the girl call out. And I straightened myself up, turned on my heels and legged it out of there.
Without turning round I kept going. Slow down, will you! I heard a voice shout out, no way was I doing that. I pulled my hoodie tight and moved as fast as I could, not stopping until I was sure I had given my pursuer the slip.
Was deep inside Cutthroat Alley. Figured I’d be safe there. Away from prying eyes and any posses on the lookout for pill thieves. Tore apart the paper bag and took a look at what I’d taken. A few boxes, labelled with long, daft-looking names. I opened one, removed the strip of foil, saw the blue lozenge-shaped pills. Six, twelve, eighteen, twenty-four of them. What else? A haul of little yellow discs in the next box.
Oh boy.
I had a full set of uppers and downers. Enough to keep Ma going until the next happy day in her life.
A few minutes later I moved quietly out of the alley. Looked around and wondered where was the girl.
No sign of her.
I crossed the street and ducked inside McMorrow’s.
SUICIDE
Harry and Fergal were practically touching heads. At her low table by the wall, the pale-faced woman was smoking her unlit cigarette. The card game was still in progress. Shirley was staring at the high-up TV.
The one and only, she said when she turned to me.
How are the mood swings, Shirley? I said, already on a stool at the bar and keeping my bag close.
Never better. Right now, I’m thinking of opening your head with my dodgy bacon slicer.
I can think of worse things.
Shirley grabbed a bottle, uncapped it, waved it in front of me, along with a bag of nuts.
&n
bsp; Fanta and a packet of peanuts. That comes to . . . one euro.
Tell me something, Shirley. Did we ever get that tab up and going?
Let me take a moment from my hectic schedule to investigate. No, we didn’t.
Well, in that case, this might be a good time.
She set down the bottle in front of me. She hadn’t quite formed a smile, but she wasn’t a million miles from one either.
By the way, how’s that trick carpet treating you?
It’s gone in for a service, Shirley. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for another while.
That’s too bad. I was really hoping to watch you fly that thing out of here.
I’m trying my best, Shirley, I said to that, just as the card players let a whoop out of themselves.
I took my drink over to the card table. Watched the men at their game. Tried to get a handle on what was going on.
The one with the brim hat seemed to be doing most of the winning. He had a small puddle of coins gathered at his corner of the table. Plus one or two notes. The one with the toothpick seemed to like dealing. The one with the scar running down the side of his face looked as though he was going to kill someone. The last one was smiling at every card set down. Didn’t seem to care if he was winning or losing. So long as he was involved in the game, that was good enough for him.
Can I play? I asked after a couple of more hands, even though I still had no idea what was going on.
Got any money? Brim Hat asked without looking up.
Yep.
Take a seat.
The one with the non-stop smile made a little room and I slid in beside him. I was opposite Brim Hat. He was giving me the full stare.
So. You think you are a card player? He had taken the deck of cards and was shuffling them with one hand.
Got to start some time.
The others sniggered. Then the one with the toothpick piped up.
Take him on, Chancer. Just you and him.
A little game of Suicide will soften his cough, Chancer.
Without acknowledging any of the comments, he dealt me a card. Then himself. Then he left the deck on the table.
Ithaca Page 14
