The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightdress

by Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

  He goes, ‘What’s the one thing you want in your life roysh now, Ross?’ and I go, ‘Probably the new Porsche 911. In black,’ but there’s no bullshitting him, roysh. He goes, ‘And that would make you happy for how long? What do you really want, Ross?’ and I just find myself opening up to the dude. I’m like, ‘Sorcha back,’ and he goes, ‘Love, in other words,’ and I’m there, ‘I suppose you could say that.’

  He rubs his boat. I think he’s actually growing a beard. He goes, ‘Love. It doesn’t cost what a Porsche 911 costs, does it? It’s free. And it’s yours, if you want it,’ and I’m there, ‘Sorcha hates my guts,’ and he’s like, ‘That girl doesn’t have it in her to hate,’ and he’s actually roysh. I go, ‘But it’ll be a long time before she forgives me.’

  He puts his hand on my shoulder, but not in a funny way, and he goes, ‘Have you prayed?’ and I just, like, burst out laughing, roysh, I shouldn’t I know, but it’s, like, the most stupidest question anyone’s ever asked me. I’m there, ‘Sorry, JP, but what do you think?’

  He goes, ‘I can’t claim to know all the answers, Ross. I’m only embarking on my journey. But I know that prayer is a powerful thing.’ I’m there, ‘I wouldn’t even know what to say, what, like, words to use and shit?’ He’s like, ‘John Bunyan once said–’ and I’m there, ‘Dude, I don’t even know who half these goys are that you’re mentioning,’ and he gives this little chuckle, I suppose you’d have to call it a priestly chuckle, if that’s an actual word, and he goes, ‘John Bunyan was a seventeenth-century English preacher. I’ve been reading quite a bit about his life. “When you pray,” he said, “rather let your hort be without words than your words without hort”,’ and though I’m not exactly the sharpest tool in the box, I actually understand what he’s trying to say.

  He goes, ‘Go home and pray, Ross. Then go and be with your wife,’ and I’m like, ‘Are you going to be okay, as in here on your own?’ and he nods, basically to say yes. As I get up to go, roysh, he puts his hand on my shoulder, leans close to me and goes, ‘Will you have a Baileys?’ and I tell him, no hord feelings, roysh, but I’m fine for Baileys, thanks very much.

  In Trap Two in the jacks in Kiely’s, on the back of the door, someone’s written,

  WWW.RQSS-PISS-PANTS.IE

  and it’s, like, pretty obvious, roysh, that Fionn’s actually gone ahead and put the thing on the internet and I’m actually disappointed in him, roysh, because I thought he was, like, bigger than that.

  I spend the best port of Friday night standing outside the Club of Love rather than inside for two reasons, roysh, the first being that the pen off the corpet is totally Pádraig since cigarettes were, like, banned, the second being that all the really hot and, it has to be said, fit-looking birds are all to be found outside the front door, huddled in little groups, sucking on the old oily rags, which is why the Government ban has actually encouraged me to, like, take up smoking.

  It’s a great opening line as well, not that I need any help in that deportment, but now I just say, Won’t be voting for that shower again,’ even though I’ve never voted in my actual life. And of course the birds tend to go, ‘I know, it’s like, Aaahhh!’ and then I’m going, ‘I’m thinking of giving them up,’ and there I am, roysh, not even knowing how to inhale the focking things.

  I must be pretty tired, roysh, because after seven or eight Britneys I’m totally horrendufied and – possibly not the best idea I’ve ever had – I decide that now is the best time, we’re talking basically midnight here, to go to see Sorcha and, like, tell her how I feel, as you do when you’re hammered. The thing is, roysh, I know for a fact that she won’t turn me away because she has this, like, mothering instinct that always takes over when I’m mullered and she wants to, like, mind me.

  So my mind’s made up, roysh, I hop into a Jo and tell the driver to take me to Chateâu Lalor on the Vico. I bell her from outside, put on the old Little Boy Drunk act and before I know it she’s opening the front door and asking me – OH! MY! GOD! – what the hell I think I’m doing calling to her door at that hour of the morning. She goes, ‘It’s like, OH! MY! GOD!’ She looks incredible. I’m there, ‘I couldn’t wait any longer, Sorcha, to tell you how I feel,’ and she sort of, like, waves her hand in front of her nose and she goes, ‘You’re, like, drunk?’ and I look at her, roysh, as if to say, of course I am, then I go, ‘HELLO? It’s, like, Friday night?’

  She invites me in. She goes, ‘I’ll make you some coffee, then I’ll call you a taxi,’ and I’m there, ‘Kool and the Gang,’ and she’s like, ‘And keep your voice down. Dad’s still up. You know what he’ll do to you if he finds out you’re here,’ and I don’t, roysh, but I can imagine. I’m there, ‘What’s he doing still up?’ just making conversation more than anything, and she goes, ‘He’s working. You know he’s representing Lauren’s dad now?’ and I’m there, ‘As in Hennessy?’ and she’s like, ‘He’s going to the High Court tomorrow to try to get him bail pending his appeal,’ and I’m thinking how happy I’d be for Lauren if he gets out of the clink, but how focking unbearable my old man is going to be if he does.

  We’re just, like, standing there, roysh, and there’s the usual electricity between us. Sorcha’s trying not to feel it though. She’s there, ‘Look, I’ll put on the kettle,’ and quick as a flash I go, ‘It wouldn’t suit you,’ and for the first time, roysh, since the whole wedding fiasco I see her actually smile. I walk over to her at the sink as she’s turning on the tap and I touch her orm and she storts, like, trembling, roysh, and I go, ‘You can’t deny there was something between us that day on the beach in Wicklow,’ and she’s there, ‘Don’t, Ross,’ and I’m like, ‘We saved a baby seal. You can’t say it wasn’t special,’ but she won’t look me in the eye, because she knows if she did she wouldn’t be able to trust herself.

  She goes, ‘I said a coffee, Ross, then you can go. Dad’ll have a fit if…’ and I’m there, ‘Forget about your old man, Sorcha. This is about you. Your happiness. It’s about… us,’ and I reach for her hand, roysh, and she lets me hold it and then she plucks up the courage to basically look at me and suddenly I’m, like, staring into her eyes, like a mongoose hypnotizing a snake.

  Her eyes are, like, filling up with tears and I’d have

  nipped her there and then, roysh, if I wasn’t so bursting for an Eartha Kitt. I’m there, ‘Sorcha, I’m going to leave the room for five minutes to let you think about what you want,’ obviously not wanting to spoil the moment by telling her I’ve got to drop off the shopping.

  I go out into the hall, roysh, and I have to pass her old man’s study on the way to the jacks and even though I try to be as quiet as I possibly can, roysh, he hears me and I get this, ‘Ross, come in here,’ and from the way he says it, roysh, I know I’ve no choice and I end up just going in and he’s there at his desk in this, like, big oak-panelled room.

  I go, ‘Hello, Mr Lalor,’ but he’s in no mood for my bullshit. He’s like, ‘Sit down,’ which I do and he opens up a drawer, I presume to get out the bottle of port that he keeps for special occasions, but all of a sudden, roysh, he’s pulled out a focking gun – as in an actual revolver – and he’s pointing it straight at me and suddenly, roysh, I don’t need the toilet anymore and I’m thinking this is, like, two things I’m making a habit of: one, having guns pointed at me and two, I don’t know, soiling myself. He cops it straight away, of course. He sort of, like, looks down, then turns up his nose and goes, ‘I must remember to clean that chair. That’d be DNA evidence.’

  I’m having, like, palpitations I suppose you’d have to call it. I’m there, ‘You can’t… you can’t kill me…’ and he’s going, ‘Don’t you remember me telling you what would happen if you ever hurt my beautiful daughter again?’ and I go, ‘I thought that was just, like, a figure of speech. You can’t just… kill somebody. I mean, there’s gonna be, like, evidence,’ and he reaches down with his other hand – the one that isn’t holding a gun – and he puts a shovel up on the desk, then a bottle of Mr Musc
le Multi-Task. He’s obviously thought this through.

  He presses the gun against my forehead, roysh, and I close my eyes and wait for the bang. Then an amazing thing happens, I actually stort praying. I think about what JP said and I’m there going, ‘Please, God, let me live. Oh my God, totally let me live,’ and suddenly, roysh, I’m not afraid. It’s not the drink, roysh, but this wave of, like, peacefulness comes over me and I’m, like, as calm as you like, thinking, Hey, what can you do, dude! If he pulls the trigger, he pulls the trigger.

  And after, like, ten seconds of waiting to hear the bang, roysh, I open my eyes and I look into Sorcha’s old man’s eyes and I go, ‘You’re not going to shoot me, Mr Lalor. You know why? I’m the one person in this world who can make Sorcha truly happy. We saved a seal together. I’m not scared of you. Shoot me if you want. It won’t alter – if that’s the roysh word – the fact that I love your daughter and she loves me.’

  We sit there for a few minutes, roysh, just sort of, like, staring at each other, then I get up and I walk to the door, still not 100 per cent certain I’m not going to get a piece of lead in the back. Nothing happens. I go down to the jacks and make a bit of an effort to, like, clean myself up, and it’s at that moment, roysh, that I decide that no matter what I have to face – even if it’s, like, more guns – I’m going to get my wife back.

  But not tonight. Not with my trousers in this state. I end up climbing out of the toilet window and I head back out onto the Vico Road and start walking back in the direction of town.

  *

  My phone beeps. A text from a number I don’t recognize. It’s like, Sam u piss ur pants. Funniest ting i ever saw and it’s, like, the tenth one I’ve got this weekend. And I’m there thinking, If you only saw me last night.

  Sorcha asks me to meet her in the coffee shop in Habitat, roysh, and she tells me over a couple of skinny lattés that if her old man had actually pulled the trigger, what I’d have felt would have been nothing compared to the humiliation I put her through on her wedding day – ‘of all days’ – which I think is a bit of an exaggeration, roysh, but I let it go. I’m just there, ‘I wouldn’t have felt anything because I’d have been, like, dead and shit?’ but she goes, ‘That would have been too good for you,’ and she takes a sip from her coffee and when she pulls the cup away she’s got this cute little white Ronnie on her top lip.

  I ask her how can she say that, roysh, and be a member of Amnesty International, which I have to say I’m pretty pleased with, and she goes, ‘I know. I’ve thought about that, whether it makes me a hypocrite. I mean, I’ve been campaigning against the death penalty since, like, transition year. Maybe for the first time I was able to see the other side of the argument. It’s, like, SUCH a terrible thing to say, but if he’d shot you, Ross, I’d have put on a pair of rubber gloves and helped him dispose of the body,’ and I just nod, cracking on that I believe her. This girl is SO in love with me it’s not funny.

  She goes, ‘I admire you, Ross. And believe it or not, Dad admires you,’ and I’m like, ‘As in your dad? I don’t think admire is the word,’ and she’s there, ‘Well, not so much you as what you did. To defy him like that, when he was pointing a gun at you… it was brave. And he said you told him you loved me.’

  I go, ‘I wasn’t lying,’ and she’s there, ‘That’s what Dad said. He said, “I don’t like the little maggot, but when he says he loves you he’s telling the truth”,’ and I’m thinking, Who the fock’s he calling a maggot? but I let it go.

  I reach across the table and touch her hand and I’m like, ‘Well, if you understand that, maybe there’s still hope for us,’ and the next thing I know, roysh – the worst timing in the focking world – my phone rings and I wouldn’t usually answer it, except that it’s, like, Ronan. It’s a pretty bad line. He goes, ‘Alreeeet, Rosser? Storrr-ee?’ and I’m like, ‘Kool and the Gang, Ronan. How the hell are you? Are you smoking there?’ and he goes, ‘Won’t tell you a word of a lie, Rosser, I am. Ah, me nerves are shot to fooken ribbons,’ and I’m like, ‘Ronan, you’re, like, seven,’ but I’m basically laughing as I’m saying it.

  Sorcha’s mouthing the words, ‘Tell… him… I… said… hi,’ across the table and I go, ‘Sorcha says hi,’ and he’s like, ‘Is she coming to me Communion, is she? I was meaning to text her, but I’ve no credit,’ and I’m there, ‘Sorcha, would you like to come to Ronan’s Communion?’ and Sorcha goes, ‘Oh my God, I’d love to,’ and I go, ‘You heard that, Ronan?’ and he’s like, ‘Ah, game ball, Rosser. So what’s the story, are you two back together or wha’?’ and I don’t say anything, roysh, and Sorcha goes, ‘What’s he saying?’ and I go, ‘He asked are we back together?’ and I swear to God, roysh, this, like, surge – if that’s the roysh word – of total happiness passes through me when she goes, ‘Yes, Ronan, we are back together,’ and I end up just sitting there, staring at her across the table, with the phone up to my ear, not saying anything, and obviously Ronan cops what’s going on, roysh, because he goes, ‘I’ll leave you two love boords to it. Tell Sorcha I’ll text her later.’

  We just sit there, roysh, staring into each other’s eyes, our lattés going cold, getting total filthies from people queuing for a table. Eventually, she takes off her scrunchy, shakes her hair loose, smooths it back, puts it back in the scrunchy and then pulls, like, four or five strands loose. I go, ‘You don’t have to come, you know. To the Communion,’ but she’s like, ‘If we’re going to be part of each other’s lives again, then I want to be part of everything,’ and I just, like, nod and I’m there, ‘I should warn you, Ronan’s family, they’re very… working class.’

  She goes, ‘I have to admit, I know hordly anything about these types of people. They’re different, aren’t they? I mean, what do they eat?’ and I laugh and I go, ‘Anything as long as it’s got focking curry sauce on it,’ and she sort of, like, stares off into space and she’s like, ‘I can have a chat with Claire. She’s from Bray. I suppose that’s an underprivileged area. She could give me some tips.’

  I ring JP. He sounds surprised to hear from me. He tells me none of the other goys have called him since… well, since… I’m surprised at them. He’s still the same JP to me. I go, ‘Are you going to be, like, talking to God at any stage today?’ and he cracks his hole laughing. He’s like, ‘I’m always talking to Him, Ross. It’s an open line. Not just for me, for everyone,’ and I’m like, ‘Oh, roysh. Look, can you, like, give Him a message from me?’ and he goes, ‘Why don’t you give it to Him yourself?’ and I go, ‘Because I don’t believe in Him,’ and he’s there, ‘But you want me to give Him a message?’ and I’m like, ‘Yeah,’ and he goes, ‘Makes sense.’

  I’m there, ‘I prayed to Him and, well, what I prayed for basically came true. And I just want the dude to know that it hasn’t gone unnoticed, that I appreciate it,’ and he goes, ‘You tell Him, Ross. He’d love to hear from you, you know?’ and I’m there, ‘Even if I don’t believe in Him?’ and he goes, ‘Even if you don’t believe in Him,’ and I’m like, ‘Kool and the Gang.’

  Sorcha’s in the house, like, ten seconds and already Tina’s old man’s in her ear, crapping on about nothing. He’s there going, ‘Can’t woork out de jaysusin price of anthin since de yoo-ro came in, knowhorramean?’ and I can see Sorcha’s eyes, like, panning the kitchen, wanting to be let loose in here with the J. Edgar and a packet of Flash wipes. He’s going, ‘In my day, now, it was four-bob, tree shillings, two-and-six, half-a-crown and tuppenceha’penny-fardin – you knew where ye stood.’

  He nods towards this, like, filthy-looking ormchair in the corner and he goes, ‘Sit down dare, love,’ and I can see this, like, fear flash across Sorcha’s face and straight away I know what she’s thinking. She’s dressed to focking kill, in this, like, silver, sequined top – ‘the Lanvin one that Scarlett Johansson’s wearing in the new Vogue’ – black trousers and a pink, fluffy cordigan, and she’s wondering would it be rude to wipe the seat before she does, but in the end she sits down without wiping it
because people’s feelings actually matter more to Sorcha than how she looks.

  Tina comes in then, roysh, and I have to say she’s actually scrubbed up pretty well, even if all the sovs make her look like a Jimmy Saville tribute act. The two birds are introduced and a couple of times I catch them checking each other out on the sly, roysh, not being big-headed or anything but obviously thinking, I wonder what Ross saw/sees in her.

  ‘Holy Jaysus, Rosser, you are one lucky fooker.’ Ronan in the house. Tina goes, ‘You’re makin’ your Foorst Holy Communyin today, Ronan, any chance of it bein’ a day widout coorsin?’ but he’s like, ‘Sorcha, you look… well, you’re after taking me breath away,’ and she goes all red, roysh, but she’s delighted and she gets up and gives him a kiss on the cheek and goes, ‘Hi, Ronan,’ and he goes, ‘Hey, Doll,’ and he looks her up and down and he’s there, ‘Unbelievable,’ then he turns to me and he goes, ‘Jaysus, Rosser, I hope it stays well for you.’

  So me, Sorcha and Ronan hit the church in my jammer, which I can’t help but notice that someone has cleaned again while we were in the gaff and this time, by the looks of it, polished too. Outside the church it’s, like, wall-to-wall CHV, we’re talking denim minis, we’re talking white stilettos, we’re talking peach-coloured trouser suits with matching bags and hats. Of course, Sorcha stands out among that lot like a focking banana in a bunch of carrots and I overhear a few, ‘Who the fook does she tink she is?’ comments, which thankfully she doesn’t.

  One of the first things I notice, roysh, is that all the little girls look like they’re from focking Loompaland, they’re, like, tangerine, which – as anyone who’s spent time hanging around the Orts block in UCD knows – is a sure sign that they’ve been on the sunbeds. Sorcha, whose tan came out of a tube this morning, turns around to me and goes, ‘OH! MY! GOD! They’re only children, Ross. Do their parents not realize how dangerous that is?’ and I give her a look to tell her to keep her voice down because I wouldn’t mind actually leaving here today with my kneecaps pretty much where nature put them.