Ma always sent us to wash our hands before our dinner. Only before our dinner, never before our breakfast or our tea. I sometimes didn’t bother; I just went up the stairs, turned the tap on and off, and came back down.
I pushed the hair out of the way. It was white and bristly. Benson tried to charge away in front of me. He hadn’t a hope. Me touching his tail hair made him panic; we could feel it in him. Now we could see the butt of his tail. It didn’t look like it had been cut—his hair kept springing back—it looked normal, like it was supposed to be that way. There was nothing else to do.
We were disappointed.
–No marks there.
–Press your finger down on it.
We didn’t want to let him go yet. We’d expected more, scars or redness or something; bone.
Ian McEvoy was really worried now. He thought we were going to do something to Benson because his tail hadn’t been worth looking at.
–My ma’s coming; I think she’s coming.
–She’s not.
–Chicken.
We were definitely going to do something now.
–One—
–Two—
–Three!
We got our hands away and, just when Benson thought he was free, we kicked him, me and Kevin; hollow thumps, one boot each, nearly together on each side. Benson staggered when he was getting away. I thought he was going to fall over on his side; a terror screamed through me, up through me. Blood would come out of his mouth, he’d pant, and stop. But he stayed on his legs and straightened and ran to the side of the house, to the front.
–Why can’t we? I asked my da.
–Will you feed it? he said.
–Yeah, I said.
–Will you pay for his food?
–Yeah.
–With what?
–Money.
–What money?
–My money, I said.—My pocket money, I said before he could get anything in.
–Mine as well, said Sinbad.
I’d take Sinbad’s money but it was still going to be my dog. I got sixpence on Sundays and Sinbad got threepence. We were getting more after our next birthdays.
–Okay, said my da.
I could telclass="underline" he didn’t mean Okay you can have a dog; he meant Okay I’ll get you some other way.
–They cost nothing, I told him.—You just have to go down to the cats and dogs’ home and pick one and they give him to you.
–The dirt, he said.
–We’ll make him wipe his paws, I said.
–Not that dirt.
–We’ll wash him; I will.
–His number twos, said my da.
He stared. He had us.
–We’ll bring him for walks and he’ll be able—
–Stop, said my da.
He didn’t say it like he was angry; he just said it.
–Listen, he said.—We can’t have a dog—
We.
–and I’ll tell you why not and that’ll be the end of it and you’re not to go pestering your mammy. Catherine’s asthma.
He waited a bit.
–The dog hair, he said.—She couldn’t cope with it.
I hardly knew Catherine; I didn’t really know her. She was my sister but she was only a baby, a bit bigger. I never spoke to her. She was useless; she slept a lot. Her cheeks were huge. She walked around showing us what was in her potty; she thought it was great.
–Look!
She followed me.
–Pat’ick! Look!
She had asthma. I didn’t know what asthma was, only that she had it and it was noisy and it worried my ma. Catherine had been in the hospital twice because of it, never in an ambulance though. I didn’t know why dog hairs had anything to do with her asthma. He was just using it as an excuse for not getting a dog, my da; he just didn’t want one. He was just saying about Catherine’s asthma because he knew that we couldn’t say anything about it. We’d never complain to our ma about Catherine’s asthma.
Sinbad spoke. I jumped.
–We can get a dog with no hair.
My da started laughing. He thought it was a great joke. He messed up our hair—Sinbad started smiling—and that killed it. We’d never get a dog.
Marrowfat peas sat in the gravy and soaked it up into themselves. I ate them one at a time. I loved them. I loved the hard feel of their skin, and the inside soft and messy and watery.
They came in a net in the packet, with a big white tablet as well. They had to be soaked in water, starting on Saturday night. I did it, slid them into the bowl of water. My ma stopped me from putting my tongue on the tablet.
–No, love.
–What’s it for? I asked.
–To keep them fresh, she said.—And to soften them.
Sunday peas.
My da spoke.
–Where was Moses when the lights went out?
I answered.
–Under the bed looking for matches.
–Good man, he said.
I didn’t understand it but it made me laugh.
Sinbad and me knocked on their bedroom door. I did the knocking.
–What?
–Is it morning yet?
–Morning not to get up.
That meant we had to go back to our bedroom.
It was hard to tell in the summer when you woke up and it was bright.
Our territory was getting smaller. The fields were patches among the different houses and bits left over where the roads didn’t meet properly. They’d become dumps for all the waste stuff, bits of wood and brick and solidified bags of cement and milk bottles. They were good for exploring but bad for running in.
I heard the crack, felt it through my foot and I knew there was going to be pain before it came. I had time and control to decide where to fall. I fell onto a clean piece of grass and rolled. My cry of pain was good. The pain was real though, and rising. I’d hit a scaffolding joint hidden in the grass. The pain grew quickly. The whimper surprised me. My foot was wet. My shoe was full of blood. It was like water, creamier. It was warm and cold. My sock was wringing.
They were all standing around me. Liam had found the scaffolding joint. He held it in front of my face. I could tell it was heavy, the way he was holding it. It was big and impressive. There’d be loads of blood.
–What is it? said Sinbad.
–A scaffold thing.
–Thick eejit.
I wanted to take my shoe off. I held the heel and groaned. They watched. I pulled slowly, slowly. I thought about getting Kevin to pull it off, like in a film. But it would have hurt. It didn’t feel as wet in there now, just warm. And sore. Still sore. Enough for a limp. I lifted my foot out. No blood. The sock was down at the back, under the heel. I took it off, hoping. They watched. I groaned again and took the sock away. They gasped and yeuched.
It was brilliant. The toenail had come off my big toe. It looked cruel. It was real. It was painful. I lifted the nail a little bit. They all looked. I sucked in breath.
–Aaah—!
I tried to put the nail into its proper position but it really hurt. The sock wasn’t going to go back on. They’d all seen it. I wanted to go home now.
Liam carried my shoe. I leaned on Kevin all the way home. Sinbad ran ahead.
–She’ll put your foot in Dettol, said Aidan.
–Shut up, you, I said.
There were no farms left. Our pitch was gone, first sliced in half for pipes, then made into eight houses. The field behind the shops was still ours and we went there more often. Over at the Corporation houses, that end, wasn’t ours any more. There was another tribe there now, tougher than us, though none of us said it. Our territory was being taken from us but we were fighting back. We played Indians and Cowboys now, not Cowboys and Indians.
–GeronIMO!
We built a wigwam in the field behind the shops. Liam and Aidan’s da called it an igloo by mistake. He came into the field to look at us building it. He was walking back from the shops.
–That’s a grand igloo, boys, he said.
–It’s a wigwam, I said.
–It’s a tepee, said Kevin.
Liam and Aidan said nothing. They wanted their da to go away.
–Oh, that’s right, said Mister O’Connell.