Heartland, page 16
And whenever I got back, almost as soon as I came in the door, I found myself in such a state of elevation that, straight away, I got out a sheet of paper and pen and sat down to pen my response to Jody Kane’s letter.
One that would be straight-talking, I had already decided, direct and honest, with no punches pulled.
Inquiring as to how he might have thought it was easy for me, and that, at least, he’d had the privilege of knowing his parents, even if only for just a little while, which was a hell of a lot more than I’d had.
At least, compadre, that was something to help you to make your way through life, I scribbled furiously, my brow covered in perspiration.
Before going on to explain how, insofar as I could, I had done the best I could to look out for myself, at least not ending up like my poor unfortunate mother and father, killed in a road wreck, mangled beyond all recognition for all I knew.
Yes, just like my mother and father, I continued on writing.
You getting me, Jody? You know what I’m saying?
OK, so I’m sorry – I fucked up our plans. I screwed it over. I admit that, friend.
But – and you had better listen to this, amigo – at no time was I trying to pull a Judas.
Because I didn’t, and never would.
Not on you. Jody, old friend.
Not you.
All that happened was I’d got so roasted after the funeral that I lost precious time trying to remember where I’d stashed the bonds.
I accept it all – it was the screw-up of the century.
And another thing, Jody – as far as all of that business with Redlegs goes, if you want to know the truth, he threatened to fix me with those shears if I said anything, if I opened my mouth to anyone. So it isn’t as simple as you might think.
You want your tackle harvested as well – that what you’re fixing to happen, little dogie? That’s what he said – and not just once or twice.
You’ve got to believe me, Jody, you really have to.
I know it might sound strange, but by the time I had finished pouring out all my feelings, all I can say is that I was feeling exhilarated.
Having cleared the air and put things straight as best I could.
Except that when I turned the paper over and cleared my throat in order to start reading the pages from start to finish, all I could make out from the manic, illegible scribble were the words:
YOU’LL HAVE TO LIVE WITH THIS
Scrawled I don’t know how many times.
And overleaf was exactly the same.
As I shook my head and found myself starting to laugh.
Before deciding to go out to the pub.
What else could I do?
It must have been was close on 3 a.m. when I finally made it back home, still high as a kite.
Snorting as I crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the fire grate, before falling on top of the bed, like I hadn’t a care in the world.
At least, that is, until I woke up.
So maybe, like the doctor says, it does all go back to receiving that letter.
But, no matter what he or the padre Fr Conway might insist, there are other memories lying in wait, patiently gauging the best moment to strike. Bringing you back, when they choose to, to that open coffin of an attic over Mervyn’s, when you would happily have given everything you owned in the world, such as it might be, to be accorded the privilege of just one single cathartic scream.
Chapter 19
El Brindis Del Paso
Sonny Hackett stood up and went across to the jukebox. Then he changed his mind and walked over as far as the fire. The next thing he was standing underneath the Woolworth’s picture of the little boy sitting on the potty clutching his teddy. After that, he spent a while worrying the dartboard with a couple of fantails. Then it was off to the lavatory and back again. But, try though he might, the tall brooding man just could not seem to settle or sit still. Now rising to his feet as he shot, sharply, over to the window, sparking up yet another rollie.
As Red Campbell and Hughie remained at the table in silence, with Big Barney Grue continuing with his loud, intermittent snoring.
Under which a tense and brittle silence reigned, with the jukebox machine dead, until, at last, Red Campbell looked up and said:
–You used to know her when the lot of us were young, didn’t you Hughie?
–I sure did, Red. She used to live up the Backs, behind the railway.
–The Kid, murmured Red, with his mouth still all dry. One day I came and found she wasn’t there.
–She didn’t leave you, did she, Red? I didn’t know anything about that. I didn’t hear.
–No. That’s right, she didn’t. She didn’t leave. I mean, she’s there every day whenever I get home. But she isn’t there.
–She’s not where, Red?
–What I mean is – there’s a stranger in her place. Do you want to know the truth about her and me, Hughie?
–If you want to, Wee Hughie said, flushing, that is if you think it’s any of my business.
–I do think it’s your business … she doesn’t love me anymore, Hughie. She tries but she can’t. And every time I look at her sitting there, I’d give anything to see them lovely eyes of hers, the way they used to gleam when she’d look back, returning my gaze. Red, they used to say. But now they say nothing. For the simple reason that they aren’t hers. No, they aren’t her eyes. I’m afraid not, Hughie. Because she’s gone, the Kid. Yes, I’m afraid the Kid ain’t there anymore.
Big Barney belched and shifted a little in his chair. As his mouth fell open and his words rolled around the room.
–I’m sorry for what we done that night on Wilson Gillis …
Then he woke up, looking startledly all about him.
–It’s all the gypsy’s fault, bawled Sonny, only for him none of this would even be happening.
As Wee Hughie Munley lifted his two arms, leaping into life.
–It’s gonna be OK, Sonny, he insisted, because any minute now Tony will be here, and after that we can all go home. Whaddya say?
The phone rang and everything went dead.
–It’s Tony, said Mervyn, he says twenty minutes. Or half an hour, at the latest.
He replaced the receiver in its cradle and smiled, and then returned to wiping a glass.
–There. Didn’t I tell you? We’ll soon be on the last train home, declared Hughie.
As Sonny turned pale and erupted in a fury.
–What are you talking about, last train home? What kind of lamebrain shit you talking now, you fucking dwarf. Guffing out of you the whole night long – sit down and shut your stupid fool mouth. Sit down, you hear, or I’ll fix you, and a coupla them sisters o’ yours along with you.
–Here, said Red, easy there, Hackett. For there ain’t no call to be talking like that to Wee Hughie …
–There ain’t no what? returned Sonny. No what?
Then he rounded on Hughie.
–You think he’s right? You think I’m treating you disrespectfully?
–No, said Hughie, I think you just said it. I don’t think you meant it. Did you?
–That’s good, Patches, I’m glad to hear that. Because that’s not something that Sonny Hackett would be inclined to do, disrespect Patches the world-famous comedian. The funniest man in all of Glasson County. Ain’t that the case?
–Yes, agreed Hughie, yes Sonny. If you say so, then that’s the situation.
–Screw you, grumbled Campbell, screw you, friend. In any case, he might be a midget, but at least he’s got a wife that’s happy to stay at home with her child, instead of running out to caravans every chance she gets.
Sonny raked his fingers through his glistening hair and snarled viciously, swinging on his heel:
–You ever talk to me like that again. You ever dream of saying the like of that to me one more time, and O, I swear to God, but I will hurt your lousy body oh so fucking bad.
Looking, however, like he was about to faint as he stumbled towards the nearest wall in an effort to support himself.
–Don’t say that to him, Hughie Munley pleaded with Red, standing beside him, looking into his eyes.
–Because I don’t want no hassle with him. You know what Sonny Hackett can be like!
Red nodded and grunted, saying he didn’t care. Lifting his glass and staring over at the small man, emptily.
–Not now that I’m living with a stranger. Not now that the Kid is gone.
As Big Barney snorted and his chair gave a screech.
–Sometimes I think I’m a stranger, they heard him say.
He seemed groggy, still half asleep.
–What? said Hughie. Sometimes you what?
Big Barney got up and tossed back his chair, sleepwalking across to the table beside them.
And just sitting there, in silence, for quite some time, his fleshy chin propped up on his soft broad hand. As his enormous prize-fighter’s shoulders sagged dramatically and they heard him murmur:
–Sometimes, out of nowhere, I’ll just get the oddest feeling, and find I’m kind of beat, becoming completely miserable and way kind of down, you know? Not knowing what to do with myself – with the strangest thing being the way that it just somehow comes, like I say, completely out of nowhere. Maybe when I’m just sitting at the table eating my dinner, or it could be when I’m watching TV. Like it did that day when Foghorn Leghorn appeared on the screen.
–Foghorn Leghorn? asked Red Campbell. Who’s that, Barney? Foghorn Leghorn – because I don’t really know.
–He’s a rooster, interrupted Hughie, a great big yella fella. Isn’t that right, Barney?
–Yes, that’s correct, Barney Grue affirmed, you’ll sometimes see him on the evening TV. But anyway, I was telling you: it’s whenever you least expect it that this feeling I’m talking about will arrive. This truly awful black mood which is really beyond words. I hope youse don’t mind me saying all this …
They heard Sonny Hackett loudly clearing his throat.
–I don’t know what you’re talking about, he shouted, and if I did – if I did happen to feel like that – I think I’d be inclined to keep the information to myself.
But Big Barney ignored him and continued in a dozy haze. With Red starting up with his teeth again, even worse this time.
You could see Hackett wincing.
–I told you, he bawled, I warned you to stop doing it.
But Red didn’t.
Stop, I mean.
As Barney proceeded, with his heavy eyelids drooping.
–It’s the kind of mood that’s nearly impossible to describe, he said, one for which you’ll never, not properly, ever be able to find the words. The more I try to describe it to anyone, the harder it always seems to get. It’s like a kind of great big emptiness, so it is, that just comes floating right down out of nowhere and then – boom. You could be anywhere, like I say, even watching Foghorn Leghorn, absolutely anywhere in the world when it happens. I hate it. I really do. Hate it more than anything. I suppose youse must think I’m mad.
–No we don’t said, Hughie, shaking his head, we don’t – do we, Red?
But Red too now seemed lost in a world of his own, trying his best to come back from it by grinding his teeth.
Except it wasn’t working.
–Kid, he was saying, where did you go? Did I ever tell you about my memories of Spain?
–What’s he saying now? Sonny Hackett called over.
As Red poured a glass and continued clicking and grinding.
–Break his back, I swear I will, Hackett muttered sullenly, take him down, and one by one take out those teeth. Don’t think I wouldn’t.
As he left his chair and breasted up to the counter, grinning away at the barman.
–Right, Mervyn? Am I correct there, my man?
As the barman smiled, continuing to polish the glass, closing one eye as he lifted it up, for inspection, to the light.
–How’s that, Sonny? he said, with a twinkle.
–Some people they just got a knack o’ getting on other peoples’ nerves! Comprende?
–Maybe, said the barman, and then again maybe not. It’s not for me to say, I guess. You know what I mean, Mr Hackett? That it really ain’t my place to say.
As he set about replacing the now-gleaming glass and Sonny’s beady eyes narrowed into slits.
–You’re a funny customer, he said, not a bit of wonder that sometimes I get these things into my head about you, Mervyn.
The barman flexed his knuckles and smiled.
–That a fact? he said. Do you now?
–Yeah, sniffed Sonny, things in my head – I get them about you.
–Well well, the barman smiled, how about that.
–Ha ha, called over Hughie, that’s like my joke – well well well …
Then, all of a sudden, and in spite of his abrupt attempt at levity, seeming quite agitated as he strode across the floor, noisily pushing down a few of the flyblown slats.
–No sign, he announced, returning to the table.
–No sign? said Red.
–That’s right, repeated Hughie, it’s like a stack of black cats out there …
As Barney Grue seemed to sway in space, with his large knotted fists swinging loosely by his side.
Lunging forward as though just having experienced second thoughts and was doing his best to retrieve the words which that very second so passionately had been set free from his quivering lips.
With his falsetto cry frantically penetrating the air.
–I don’t care what any of youse say. Because never as long as I live will I forget it.
–Forget what? asked Hughie.
–He’s just drunk, aren’t you, Barney? That’s all it is – it’s just that loco crazy jungle. It think it’s getting to us all, tell the truth …
But Barney wasn’t listening to a word he was saying.
Anxiously scratching away at the palm of his right hand, doing the best he could to collect his disparate thoughts, before dramatically exclaiming:
–I was supposed to meet her there, you see!
He lifted his head and looked at them imploringly.
–Please. Can any of you tell me? he continued. Can any of you please help with this? Have any of you ever been in an airport at midnight? Give you the shivers so they would. But especially this one, because it was completely deserted. Although a couple of planes were still coming in. I was just looking out the glass of the observation bay, staring out right across the tarmac. I had never seen it before, ever, looking the way that it did. You’d have thought the moon was going to plummet right out of the sky and land right there in front of you, right out there on the runway, I swear to God. But it didn’t. It just stayed where it was. Quite a ways away, you could see the city – well, not see it so much as feel it, you know? I still don’t know what it was that made me think about the electrisms. I wonder did any of youse ever hear about them? Hmmph? Well did you, guys?
He waited, hoping that someone, anyone, might chance a response.
But no one did.
So, blindly, he proceeded:
–Years ago, when I was a little boy, don’t ask me what age, maybe eight or nine – the electric men came to Glasson County and they brought the electrisms with them. Which came from the water, the old men said – many’s the time I heard them talking about them. Yes, they came from the rivers and there was more of them in the waters of Glasson County than anywhere else in Ireland. These were the men who brought power to the valley, the very same electrical impulses that I could feel now, travelling through thin air, as I waited alone in that airport. Watching. All the electrisms of the world be’s in them wires, I remember the old men saying, so I do. Before looking at one another, scratching their heads and saying: but what are they? What is an electrism? No one could say. Not then, not back in them days. And it made me shiver all over again thinking about that. Because I could see the fields under the mist spreading towards the city … over there in the air, many miles away.
He waited again to see would they speak.
They didn’t.
–And then, as well as that, the ticking of street lights, and gas lines hissing. I tried my best to shut my ears but the sweat was already streaming all the way down on my forehead and neck. To tell you the truth, I felt like crying. Because there were just too many sounds at one time. That’s why I sometimes pull up my collar, to keep out electrisms. I know that sounds stupid. But, I’m sorry guys – what was I saying? Yes – right then, very close by, I saw this rabbit. Just standing there, watching, with his ears pricked up, hunched right there, in the middle of the tarmac. Dead in the centre of it, alert and waiting. And when I seen it I became all choked up. I suppose, because it was just the two of us there now. And because, all of a sudden, it had seemed to go so cold. All I kept thinking was that maybe the plane I was waiting for had crashed. You see, an even heavier fog had started coming down. As a matter of fact, now that I remember, it was already well down. Like a great big massive grey sheet that was covering the whole airport. And it was then I heard it – the low drone of an aircraft making its way in, approaching the landing strip. You could see the windsock blowing this way and that, real slow, you know the way they do. And then, sure enough, I could make it out real plain. Yes, there it was, banking as it made its approach, coming on down the coast.
Sonny struck the wall with his fist and announced that this was more than enough. And that if Barney Grue didn’t shut it then he might very well come over and give him some encouragement.
–No threatening, called Mervyn Walker, you got that Sonny Hackett?
–Well well, Sonny grinned, if it ain’t the big-talking barman. Who asked you to interfere?
–I said what I said, replied Mervyn, quite genially, that’s all.
As Wee Hughie Munley looked anxiously around him.
–Well well well, he chuckled hopefully.
And, in that instant, deciding privately that he didn’t give a damn any longer about being funny, or being called a ‘gas ticket’ or ‘the flower of the flock’.
Or any of the other stupid names that they used to describe him.
–The hell with this, he shouted, why should I have to do it – put up with it?
