That distinctive tone. It was Padraig, the head wino. He took my arm, said,
“There’s a bench here, far from the madding crowd.”
Led me down. I thought, if my mother’s watching, as she always was, she’d hardly be surprised. Got to the seat and Padraig said,
“Here, attempt a sip of this potion.”
I looked at a brown bottle and he said,
“Can it be any worse than what you’ve already imbibed?”
“Good point.”
I drank. If anything it was tasteless. I’d expected meths. He said,
“You expected meths.”
I nodded.
“This is an emergency concoction I learned from the British army.”
“You were in the army?”
“I don’t know. Somedays, I would swear I still am.”
Already, I was improving, said,
“It’s doing the job.”
“Certainement. The British understand the concept of relief. They don’t, alas, always know where it applies.”
This was way beyond me so I said nothing. He asked,
“To paraphrase our American allies, you tied one on?.”
“Whoooo... did I ever.”
“Was there an occasion?”
“My friend died.”
“Ah, my condolences.”
“I missed his funeral and, no doubt, pissed off what few friends I had.”
A garda came, stood and barked,
“Ye’ll have to move along, this is a public area.”
Padraig was up before I could answer, said,
“Yes, officer, we’re on our way.”
As we moved, I said to Padraig,
“Jumped up gobshite.”
Padraig gave a small smile, said,
“There’s a pugnacious streak in you.”
“I know those guys. I used to be one.”
“A gobshite?”
I laughed despite myself.
“Well, probably. But I used to be a garda.”
He was surprised, stopped, took my measure, said,
“Now that I wouldn’t have surmised.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“One senses a certain longing though. Perhaps you might reapply.”
“I don’t think so. These days, they like candidates to have a degree.”
“But a degree of what.”
We’d reached the top of the square. A drinking school near the toilets called to Padraig. I said,
“Before you go, can I ask you something?”
“Verily. I cannot promise an answer of truth, but I’ll try for conviction.”
“Do you believe in karma?”
He put a finger to his lips, didn’t answer for ages, then,
“For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction... yes, I believe.”
“Then I’m fucked.”
‘The challenge to each human is creation.
Will you create with reverence, or with
neglect?”
I’d gotten home with only a six pack. At the off-licence, I’d wanted to lash in the Scotch but if I had any chance, that wasn’t it. Padraig’s potion had held and I got to bed without further damage.
Slept till dawn. Coming to, I wasn’t in the first circle of hell. Was able to forego the cure and get some coffee down. Sure, I was shaky as bejaysus but nothing new in that. Put the sixer in the fridge and hoped I could ration down. Showered till my skin stung and even trimmed the full arrived beard. Checked the mirror and went,
“Phew”
The reflection showed a tattered face.
Phoned Ann. Answered on first ring.
“Yes.”
“Ann, it’s Jack.”
“Yes?” Ice.
“Ann, I don’t know where to begin.”
“Don’t bother.”
“What?”
“I’m not able for this any more. I’ll send you a cheque for your services, I won’t be requiring them further.”
“Ann... please.”
“Your friend is in Rahoon Cemetery. Not far from Sarah. If you’re ever sober enough to get there. Personally, I doubt even that.”
“Could I just...”
“I don’t want to hear it. Please don’t call me again.”
The phone went down. I struggled into my suit and headed out. At the cathedral, I heard my name being called. A man came running over, said,
“I got it.”
“What?”
“The Post Office. I gave you as a reference.”
“I thought you didn’t want the job.”
“I don’t, but it’s nice to be wanted.”
“Well, I’m glad. When do you start?”
“Start what?”
“The job.”
He looked at me as if I was nuts, said,
“I’m not going to take it.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, I have a horse for you.”
By this stage, I half expected he’d trot a stallion out from the church. He said,
“The 3.30 at Ayr. Rocket Man. Take a price and go heavy.”
“How heavy?”
“Feckin’ medieval.”
“OK... thanks.”
“Thank you. I always wanted to be a postman.”
Stopped in Javas for a coffee. The waitress had no English but a dazzling smile. That’s a fair trade. I said,
“Double espresso.”
Pointed it out on the menu.
Moment of financial truth. Took out my wallet and gave the first sigh of relief. It wasn’t weightless. Had a peek. Notes... notes were visible. Slow to slower count, one in fact to count cadence. Two hundred. Before I could rejoice, a shadow fell across me.
A large man, familiar if not instantly recognisable. He asked,
“Might I have a word?”
I put my left hand on the table, said,
“Come to break them again.”
It was the guy from the security firm, the guard who’d given me my original beating. He pulled out a chair, said,
“I want to explain.”
The waitress brought the coffee, looked at him, but he waved her away. I said,
“This I’ve got to hear.”
He began.
“You know I’m a guard. The security is a good nixer, lots of the lads do it. When Mr Ford told me you were causing trouble, I helped out. I didn’t realise what he was. He’s dead, did you know?”
“I heard.”
“Yeah, well, turns out he was a pervert. Hand on my heart, I’d never stomach that. After... after we’d done you... I found out you used to be on the force. If I’d known... I swear, I’d never have done it.”
“What is it you want, forgiveness?”
He lowered his head.
“I’ve been reborn in the Spirit.”
“How nice.”
“No, it’s true. I’ve resigned from the force and the security. I’m going to do God’s work now.”
I sipped the espresso. Bitter as unheard prayer. He said, “I hear you’re still on that case, the young girl’s suicide.”
“Yeah.”
“I want to help. To make amends.”
He produced a piece of paper, said,
“This is my phone number. I still have contacts, and if you need anything...”
“I’ll have God on my side, is that it?”
He stood up, said,
“I don’t expect you to understand, but He loves us.”
“That’s a comfort.”
He put out his hand, said,
“No hard feelings.”
I ignored his hand, said,
“Cop on.”
After he’d gone, I looked at the piece of paper. It had his name
And a phone number.
I was going to sling it but changed my mind.
Went to the florist’s. It was the same girl who’d sold me the roses. She said,
“I remember you.”
“Right.”
“Did they work?”
“What?”
“The roses, for your lady?”
“Good question.”