Our Little Cruelties

by Liz Nugent

  We hustled into the church, muttering apologies to the other families and the teachers while Mum smiled benevolently at the people who nudged each other at the sight of her peacock-feathered hat. We sat in the pew assigned to us, Luke at the aisle side, clutching the missal and the pearlescent rosary beads with white knuckles. He was obviously terrified but couldn’t or wouldn’t say what was wrong. I felt sorry for him at this stage, so I leaned over. ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Just think of the money and the sweets you’ll get afterwards.’ He didn’t even look at me but just stared down at his bare knees, blinking back tears. When it was time for him to join the line of boys going up to the altar, Dad physically pushed him into the aisle. His form teacher put her hand on his shoulder and whispered some soothing words into his ear as she guided him towards the altar.

  From our spot halfway down the church, we couldn’t see exactly what happened, but we heard him suddenly screaming out, ‘I’m not good enough! I’m not good enough!’ and then there were gasps from the front rows and Dad stepped out into the aisle and was beckoned to the top of the church.

  Luke had vomited at the altar, splashing the boys around him and the vestments of the priest in front of him. Boys started crying. The priest hurriedly left the altar and another one stepped in. Nuns scuttled out of the vestry with basins of soapy water and tried to clean up the worst of the mess. The ceremony continued. Despite everything, Luke received the sacrament and calmed down instantly. He returned to the pew, a stinking mess, and as soon as it was possible, we all left the church. Mum pulled off his sweater and put it in a plastic bag in the boot, gagging as she did it. Dad apologized to Luke. ‘We should have let you stay in bed, but you didn’t have a temperature.’

  ‘It’s okay, Dad, I forgive you.’

  Luke smiled at Mum. She ignored him.

  At home, Luke was back to himself. The small gathering organized for relatives went ahead. Luke, in clean clothes, wore the rosary beads around his neck like a necklace. He did not go to bed but partook in the chocolate Rice Krispie cakes and the decrusted sandwiches and read aloud from his new white Bible. We all said a prayer for our cousin Paul, who was in hospital for tests.

  That night, in bed, I could hear Brian and Luke talking in the room next door.

  ‘What was wrong with you?’

  ‘I guess I was sick.’

  ‘You were scared, I could see it. What were you scared of?’

  ‘I … I … the devil. He could have taken my soul.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The devil told me he’d be waiting for me in the church, but I guess he was inside me. I threw him up and now I’m clean.’

  ‘You’re such a freak.’

  There was silence after that.

  Usually, incidents like this became stories to be trotted out on regular occasions to shame or embarrass us, especially as we grew into our teens, but Luke remained deadly serious about religion. Even when we were no longer forced to, he went to Mass weekly, sometimes more often, and to confession almost every day. He never discussed any of this with us. Dad’s mum was delighted. Dad said maybe Luke had a vocation. Mum said he ought to socialize more but that she wouldn’t be disappointed if Luke became a priest because she didn’t want to be surrounded by grandchildren when we were older. She’d had enough of babies, she said. Dad gave her one of his disapproving looks.

  Our next-door neighbour insisted on having a fancy-dress party every Halloween night. All of us hated being forced to dress up in stupid costumes, except for Luke. Luke invariably dressed up as a priest or a monk until one occasion, age thirteen, when he made a crucifix out of planks of wood and stabbed himself with a bread knife in the hands and feet and went as Jesus Christ, displaying his stigmata for all to see. The wounds were not deep but bled profusely. That was the day it stopped being funny.

  Dad and Mum argued that night. I could hear Dad saying, ‘There’s something wrong with him! The boy needs help.’ Mum was inclined to play it down. ‘He’ll grow out of it, it’s just a phase.’

  Luke did grow out of his religious zealotry, after Dad’s death. Whereas Brian’s reaction to Dad’s death was bizarre, Luke just accepted it. He said he’d been having doubts for some time, but now he was perfectly sure that God didn’t exist. He never went to Mass again after that, though I often caught him whispering to himself, as if he was praying. It seemed like he was almost normal, whatever normal was, for a while anyway.

  5

  1999

  I invited this actress for a drink, Amy Shine. She was just twenty-one, a decade younger than me, a fresh graduate from the new drama school in Dublin. I’d seen her in some play in the City Arts Centre. I was going to see a lot of shows then because I was about to produce our second feature film, and I didn’t entirely trust the casting director, so I accompanied him to every show. We were looking for a young male in his twenties who had to be handsome but quirky and who could convey both menace and charm. The guy we had heard about in this production had none of these things. Amy Shine, though, shone. If only she’d been able to act, she had the perfect name for a movie star. She had a small role. Nothing about the play was memorable except for this girl’s incredible body. She was corseted for the part so I guess it was a period drama. God, I wish corsets were fashionable again.

  She had a small but perfect bottom and milky-white breasts. She was tall and slender, and her hair was long and golden. Her voice was terrible, but it didn’t matter.

  Afterwards, we got talking to the cast. They knew who I was and why I was there and they insisted on buying us drinks. We gladly accepted. Being a film producer in Dublin in the late nineties was hardly lucrative, but people thought you were important and powerful, and it was easy to let them. Amy was one of those. She pretended not to know who I was. A lot of them did that and then feigned surprise on hearing my name: ‘William Drumm? The William Drumm?’ ‘Aren’t you Luke Drumm’s brother? I have all his albums.’ ‘I saw The Inpatient! I loved it!’ Blah blah blah.

  Even good actors are useless without a script. But I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the attention, the free entry to members’ bars in nightclubs and invites to insider parties. I was climbing out from under Luke’s shadow. I was something of a celebrity in my own right.

  I admit that I’d had two or three one-night stands, but it was never cheating. There were no affairs, no infatuation. I was not unfaithful to Susan. It was only sex. I always woke up in my own bed, with her. No matter how late the night had been, I got up and made her coffee in the morning. In the office in Merrion Square, I had a sofa where I often took a catch-up nap. She was suspicious sometimes and quizzed me about where I’d been and who I’d been with. Once, I watched her from the hallway going through my jacket pockets, examining every receipt, sniffing my shirt collars for perfume.

  Women would throw themselves at me. All I needed to do was drop a hint about a part they might be ideal for or offer an introduction to Steven Spielberg. I only met him once, at an American Embassy party, but I made sure to put my arm around him when the camera pointed our way, to make it look like we were old friends. The photograph appeared on the back page of the Sunday Independent. It was all good for business and had other … benefits. Like Amy Shine, for example.

  I arranged to meet her in a pub near her flat the next night after her show. It was an old man’s pub, spit and sawdust on the floor. A place where I was unlikely to be recognized or noticed. I told her I had a script she might be interested in, but it was a hush-hush project, she mustn’t tell anyone.

  In the pub, I got her talking about herself, her favourite subject, as it happened. I flattered her, told her she could have a bright future if she played her cards right. This time, I bought the drinks. Gin and tonics, doubles for her, though she didn’t know it. She became giddy after a while and when I put my hand on her lap under the table, she giggled nervously and moved her legs away, but she didn’t leave, so I knew I wasn’t wasting my time. She finally got around to a
sking about the script. I said there was no way I could show it to her in a pub. Eventually, she reluctantly suggested we could go to her flat around the corner.

  When we got there, I could see the reason for her reluctance. It was tiny, and messy. Underwear was strewn across a radiator. Her half-eaten lunch was still on the kitchen table. A rather uninviting single bed was unmade in the corner. She raced around drunkenly, shoving things into drawers, throwing cutlery and dishes into the sink.

  ‘God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect … I think I’m a little drunk.’

  She was very drunk.

  I patted the seat on the sofa next to me.

  ‘Can I see the script?’ she said, looking down at my empty briefcase.

  ‘Let’s not worry about the script. Come over here.’

  I stood up and pulled her by the waistband of her jeans towards me. I could feel the heat of her body.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I think we both know, don’t we?’

  ‘But the script …’

  I wasn’t entirely sure if she was incredibly naive or just being coy.

  ‘You’re an attractive girl, you know.’

  She pulled away from me at once and her voice turned cold.

  ‘Look, I think you’ve misunderstood.’ Her words were slurred.

  I glanced around. ‘Do you have any wine?’

  ‘I think you should go.’

  ‘Go? You invited me here. What is a man supposed to think?’

  Her voice grew shrill. ‘Just leave, please, will you?’

  I had never had this type of response before. I was furious. She had spent the evening making eyes at me, leaning forward in her low-cut top, biting her lip. The signals had been clear.

  ‘I’m going. By the way, you can forget about an acting career. I know everyone and you’ll never get another part.’ I slammed the door on my way out.

  A year later, Susan and I were going out for dinner with Brian and his latest girlfriend, Gillian. Brian had moved back to Dublin after some time teaching in Paris and then a few years working with Luke on tour. We saw each other every couple of months. Luke was in and out of contact with us both, but his star was on the wane by then. The teenagers who had idolized him had grown up and moved on. He was playing smaller venues in tours that no longer sold out. On this occasion, Luke had been invited to dinner too, but didn’t return our call. It wasn’t unusual. Brian was talking about taking over as Luke’s manager as it looked like Sean was about to drop him. I laughed at the idea. Brian didn’t have a clue how to manage himself let alone anyone else.

  Hedon was an upmarket restaurant with a Michelin star, but it was Susan’s birthday and I could afford to be generous. We had a bottle of champagne at the bar before the maître d’ showed us to our table and introduced us to our waitress, Amy Shine. After the initial jolt of recognition, I decided to brazen it out.

  ‘Amy, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be on Broadway by now.’

  She blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘Hello, William.’

  Susan knew instantly. I could sense the tension in the air. ‘Well, Amy, how do you know my husband?’

  And yet, what did Susan know? This was a girl who hadn’t let me fuck her. I was entirely innocent. I answered the question. ‘Amy was in a play I went to see with Carl last year. Have you done much acting since, Amy?’

  I knew she’d play along. I have discovered that women will nearly always protect men from the wrath of their wives. Now, why is that?

  ‘I gave up acting, just after that play, actually.’ Her tone was barbed. ‘I’m doing a degree in arts administration now.’

  ‘Good for you, Amy, good for you! Right, well, can you send over the sommelier before we take a look at the menu, there’s a good girl.’

  Amy toddled off. I tried not to watch that perfect rear end and opened the menu with a flourish.

  Susan said, ‘Don’t be such a patronizing arse, William.’

  I felt a sharp kick under the table. Painful. At first, I thought it was Susan’s heel, but I glanced up to see Brian glaring murderously at me. Susan and Gillian were buried in the menus. ‘Prick.’ Brian mouthed the word at me. I returned the gesture with a what the hell? look. I rubbed my shin under the table and we all tried to continue as if nothing had happened. Trouble was ahead, though Gillian seemed oblivious. She was very ordinary, but none of Brian’s girlfriends were ever going to set the world on fire.

  Amy never returned to serve our table but was replaced without explanation by Orla, a heifer whose efficiency made up for her lack of visual appeal. Susan and Brian talked enthusiastically to each other and to Gillian. They both ignored me for the rest of the evening. This was all the more infuriating because I was picking up the tab for all of us.

  Later, as we exited the restaurant, Brian pulled me aside. ‘You fucking cheated on her, didn’t you? Prick.’ Before I could answer, he took Gillian by the arm and they went off in search of a taxi. Susan didn’t speak to me on the way home. When we got there, I went to pay the pimply babysitter and Susan went upstairs. I poured another glass of wine and turned on the television. Susan appeared and threw the spare duvet on to the sofa and went back up, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

  I never even fucked the girl.

  6

  1983

  I was fourteen in the summer of 1983 and my friends Jim and Steve and I wanted to go and see Trading Places in the Forum cinema because everyone in school was talking about Jamie Lee Curtis’s tits and we just had to see them for ourselves. The cinema was walking distance from our house and for a full week leading up to the event we talked of nothing else

  It would be my first time at a 15-certificate film. I felt grown up. Mum had given permission without asking anything about the film. She was liberal about things like that and she trusted me. Dad was stricter but he was away at a conference that weekend. Only Steve was actually fifteen. He’d been held back a year in school because he wasn’t too bright, but he was useful. Jim and I rehearsed our date of birth just in case we were questioned. I reckoned that if we said we were sixteen rather than fifteen, we’d be more likely to get away with it. I repeated ‘1967’ over and over because that’s how they always tried to catch you out, apparently, by asking the year of your birth. I was the tallest of us. I figured I’d have no problem getting in.

  I hit the roof when Mum said she was having visitors that night and I’d have to bring Brian and Luke with me. Apart from the fact that I didn’t want to be anywhere near my little brothers, especially when Jim and Steve were around, there was no way we would all get into the film. Luke had a Cliff Richard T-shirt that he was obsessed with and wore all summer long. He was a total embarrassment. Brian’s acne was out of control and it had earned him the nickname ‘Rice Krispie Face’. I was proud of that. Even Mum laughed, though Dad said it was cruel.

  Mum said we should just go to another film. I argued that it had been arranged ages ago, that I was going with my friends, that my brothers would embarrass me. Mum gave me £5 and told me she didn’t care where we went as long as I took the boys with me. I was livid. Brian was excited because he badly wanted to see Jamie Lee Curtis’s tits too. Luke was less interested in the tits but as he didn’t get to go to the cinema too often, he was enthusiastic too. Mum often made us go to opening nights of dreadful plays that her friends were in so the cinema was still the apex of our entertainment experience. I loved the cinema more than anything else. I saved up my pocket money and often went to films on my own. I loved the darkness and the way the characters loomed above us on that giant screen.

  I couldn’t dissuade my mother. I offered my brothers £3 just to piss off, but they were adamant they wanted to see the film. In the end, I snuck out of the house early to get away from them, but sure enough they turned up and joined us in the queue.

  I tried to get Luke to change his T-shirt or wear a jacket over it, but he said it would be disloyal to Cliff to cover him up. God, he was such a spaz. Br
ian at least agreed to wear a baseball cap, but then the eejit turned it backwards. It didn’t hide any of his lumpy face. Steve and Jim were not impressed.

  ‘Ah janey, we’re not all going to get in, no way. We had some chance when it was just us three.’

  I pretended not to know them, but Luke started to cry and I wanted to just die on the spot. We were stuck with them. ‘Fine! If by any chance we all get in, neither of you are sitting anywhere near me, right? Brian, you have to say your date of birth is 1967. Luke, you can say 1968, do you hear me? If the ticket seller asks your age, you’re fifteen and sixteen.’

  ‘But I’m twelve,’ said Luke, and Steve and Jim immediately separated themselves from us. ‘Sorry, Will, but we’re not missing this because of them.’

  I took my brothers aside.

  ‘Luke, for God’s sake, cross your arms over your chest, try to look older.’ Brian ruffled Luke’s hair, because Luke always kept it neatly combed. Luke looked like a choir boy. Jamie Lee Curtis’s tits were disappearing over the horizon for me. I saw Steve and Jim buy their tickets and they hovered by the popcorn booth to see if we got in. The bored woman at the ticket office took no notice of us, but my almost-broken voice wavered a little as I requested three tickets. She peered over the counter at Brian and Luke. ‘What age is that fella?’ she said, pointing to Luke. Brian heaved a sigh of relief.

  ‘I was born in 1967,’ said Luke.

  The ticket seller looked at me and put her head to one side. ‘Do ya think I came down in the last shower? That child is nine, if he’s a day. He’s not coming in and that’s final. It’s a dirty film anyway, you should be ashamed bringing a child into that. What would your mother say?’

  ‘I’ll have just two tickets, then, please,’ I said as politely as I could while Luke tried not to cry behind me.