Born & Bred (30 page)

Just as long as no one asked where he was getting them from. He’d have to get a day job soon—now that the Dandelion was gone.

“Well, as long as it’s not Liverpool.”

“Can I go, too?”

“Since when do you watch football?”

“Football? I’m just going over to do a bit of shopping. They have far better stuff over there. Gina’s wedding’s coming up and I want to be able to show up in something stylish—from London, no less. And only we’ll know that it was bought in the East End.”

“We’re not made of money, you know.”

*

Jacinta sipped her tea. She’d been down to the pawn with the last of Nora’s silver: the prize set that hadn’t been used in decades. But it was okay this time; Nora had told her to do it. She also told her that she should spend more time with Danny—to try to give him a normal life.

Jacinta felt guilty about that, but Nora told her not to. She said that the past couldn’t be changed, but the future could. Other people had tried to tell her that before but this time it was different. This time it was like Nora was inside of her, speaking directly to her. It would have been disquieting if she wasn’t so worried about Danny. Nora told her to smile and go along with him until they could see which direction he was headed.

“If Danny is going to London then I’m going to go along with him whether you like it or not. Besides, I’m owed a trip. Remember?” she nudged her husband. “After Nora died? You said you would take me and you never did.”

She was about to pout a little when he shook his head and went back behind his paper.

*

“I might only be able to get one ticket–two at the most.”

Danny couldn’t ask Anto if his ma could come along, too. That would be pushing it. But he would ask about his father. Even Miriam and Fr. Reilly would think it was so nice, being nice to his family, and all.

He hadn’t really lied to them. He just hadn’t told them the whole story. Fr. Reilly said that stuff like that was a sin of omission. But he also told him that he wasn’t going to get good again over night. “It’s like God and the Devil are at war for your soul. And the battle could go either way. God needs us to believe in Good, Danny, not in all the stuff we made up about him. We need to show God that we are worth fighting for so that He can win.”

He probably meant it to encourage him, but Danny found it very depressing. If God needed help from the likes of him, He was fucked. And then they’d all be fucked.

Unless those that believed in Him could be stronger. “Faith,” Fr. Reilly had tried to explain to him, but Danny didn’t want to think about it, although he pretended he was listening. “Faith is the key.”

Danny was surprised that he’d remembered that but he couldn’t help thinking it was like the type of things people said to get you to believe in what they were saying. People had been doing that to him since he was a child. It got his back up.

Besides, it was better to be unaffiliated until he saw which way the battle was going. Until then he had to do what he had to do.

*

Anto closed the door and lit another candle as the darkness closed in around him, again. His hands shook and his stomach churned but he had kept all of that hidden when Danny dropped in, hidden in the gloom that gathered after the sun began to set. And now that he was gone, Anto sat alone. The newly glowing flame made it all clear: he didn’t have too many choices. There was nobody else he could trust with this run. Not that he trusted Danny, but then again, he didn’t have to, he had control over him and that was better. But he wanted it to seem like they were both in this together—almost as equals—so he had agreed that it would look better if Danny’s father went with him. He was surprised that Danny came up with that on his own. That was the kind of thinking that could run the business—after he was done with it. Maybe he’d give Danny a chance, for a while. He’d take a percentage but he’d be in the background where no one would come looking for him. He’d think about it and decide when Danny got back.

He fumbled with his cigarette pack until he managed to get one out and lit it before he realized that there was one still burning in the ashtray. He had to admit it: it was all starting to get to him.

There was always somebody, somewhere, out to get him and everything he did had to be considered with that in mind. He’d been that way as long as he could remember. There was always someone wanting to fight him; jackasses trying to prove themselves. Or the irate older brothers of those he had previously disproven. Sometimes their parents got involved, too, pointing long bony fingers at him and threatening him with banishment to Borstal, or to Hell.

His father got involved, too, when complaints reached the house, taking his leather belt to his errant son while his mother whisked his sisters away.

The last time, when he was almost eighteen, Anto snapped and grabbed the belt and took it away from him. There was nowhere else to go after that. He moved out and got a place on his own in Ranelagh. He found work where he could, when he could. It was only a matter of time before he drifted into the business and found he had a talent for it and quickly established himself.

Fear. That’s how he got where he was. People were afraid of him, and, when the cops were snooping around, no one would speak out against him publicly. He could stay hidden in the dark cloaks he’d spun around himself, but there were those that he feared—those who killed on principal, or for prejudice, or price. He should never have gotten involved with the Driller; he never really trusted him. He got him for his reputation and his willingness to do the dirtiest jobs without complaint or comment. He was just a gun for hire and now others were making him a better offer.

The Driller had given him fair warning with his comments about the gun.

After looking at it from all sides, Anto knew he couldn’t outbid them. Guys like him were getting pushed out. It used to be just a bunch of “heads” who’d go over to England to get some stuff. It made sense to bring enough back to make the trip worthwhile. But then more and more people got into it and they had to get organized. That’s when the problems began. They had to set up territories and, in time, protect them from heavies who wanted to muscle in. It wasn’t long before they started to hire guys who had been involved with the Boys, now cooling their heels, hiding out in plain view.

When these packages were sold off, he would retire. He’d set the Driller up, too, so the fucker would leave him alone. He was bringing in some heroin this time—not that Danny knew. He probably thought it was the usual run for hash. Anto almost felt bad about that, but when it was over, when he was ready to get out, he’d give the gun to Danny and they could all let bygones be bygones.

But first, he’d rattle Danny’s cage a bit, just to keep him honest. Then he’d go to the Gardens and retrieve it. He’d hidden it there, buried beneath the fifth tree on the left. He’d put it there at night when there was no one around. It was freaky. He felt like he was being watched all the time.

That feeling was growing, too, and the only person who knew it was there, besides him, was the Driller.

*

When they got to her bus stop, Miriam asked if she’d be okay getting home on her own.

Deirdre found that so nice, that Miriam was concerned. They had been at a poetry reading near Parnell Square. Deirdre didn’t know anybody there but Miriam knew them all and introduced her like she was proud of her—almost like a big sister—boasting about her to everyone.

After the reading, the crowd talked about the deaths of Steven Biko, Andreas Baader, and Hamida Djandoubi like they knew them personally, jostling with each other to seem more informed. Miriam was in among them, augmenting the conversations she approved of and quickly excusing herself from those she didn’t. Deirdre admired that about her but could never see herself like that—being able to act so confident and assured.

It was such a contrast to the Miriam she knew in private. That Miriam had so many doubts about herself as a woman and sometimes seemed to be looking to Deirdre for advice or approval. She was really pretty for a woman her age who had been through all that she had been through. When she smiled, everyone around her noticed. She didn’t seem to know that about herself even though she was very smart with everything else. But sometimes she fussed a bit.

“I’ll be fine from here. Will you be okay?”

“Well,” Miriam hesitated and Deirdre thought that she was about to blush. “I was actually going to go back and talk with someone.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not like that. He’s American and I need to go back and get in touch with that part of me. Sometimes I miss it.”

“America?”

“Yes, and the person I was there.”

“A Nun?”

“No, though it had its advantages. I never had to worry about how I looked back then. What I really miss is being an active part of what was going on in the world.”

Deirdre wanted to know more but she could tell that Miriam was anxious to get back. She had heard snippets of stories about the gang she referred to, and, in particular, a Fr. Melchor whom she had gone to visit in Rome.

“Can’t you go back?”

“Back? To America? There’s no point anymore. Our little gang of conspirators was broken up and scattered to the four winds.”

“Go on then. Go back to your American, I’ll be fine. The bus will be along in a few minutes.”

“Are you sure? I could wait.”

“Go on before someone else steals him.”

“If only it was like that.” Miriam smiled wistfully.

“I am sure you will enamor him.”

“Don’t be silly.” Miriam pursed her lips the way nuns did.

“I’ve seen you do it before.”

“When?” Miriam’s pursing was wrinkling at the corners where a smile was struggling through.

“Lots of times. Only I can’t remember this exact minute. But there were a few.”

“Oh. It’s a few, now? So why is it that none of them ever calls or writes, young Miss-Know-It-All? It’s God’s curse upon me. I’m just like Cain, wandering the wilderness.”

“Maybe they’re just a little bit intimidated by you.”

“Me? How am I intimidating? I’m just an ex-nun that gets lonely.”

“Maybe they think you are some type of scarlet woman.”

Miriam walked away laughing at that and waved back over her shoulder.

When the bus came, Deirdre sat downstairs near the driver, where the conductor stood when he wasn’t collecting fares. The upper deck would fill up with drunks—spilled out from the bars as they closed. Mostly young fellas full of drunken bravado, making lewd comments about her as they passed. It did no good to try to stare them down with disdain; that only encouraged them, so she rummaged in her bag for her book so they could all see that she was reading and they might ignore her. That was why she never saw Anto get on. He went upstairs as she turned her page and she didn’t see him until after she had got off and was halfway down the lane that led directly to her house. She knew somebody was walking behind her but she wasn’t too concerned. She was almost there. She could see the porch light and the front door.

“Slow down there, Deirdre, so we can have a little chat about that boyfriend of yours.”

She turned as he emerged from the shadows. His cigarette glowing in front of him. She wanted to turn again and march quickly up to her door.

“I’m not going to do you any harm. I just want you to tell Danny something from me. Tell him that I was just asking after him. Right?” He grinned and sauntered away.

It always bothered her that he had such poise and arrogance—like he owned the place.

He wasn’t ugly the way he should be if the world was the way it was supposed to be.

But he was menacing and looked like the type that enjoyed being that way.

That was another unfairness. Bad people always looked like they were enjoying themselves while the people who were trying to be good always looked a bit miserable—like it was a struggle. That made sense when she considered that the wrong thing was usually easier. People were forgetting to stop and think about that, jumping on to any bandwagon without knowing where it was going to end up. “It’s not where things start,” Miriam often reminded her. “It’s where they finish.”

She wanted to believe that there was still more good in the world than bad. She wanted to believe in a God that was more like a parent who let you fall down a few times so that you could learn to walk properly, like her mother.

Her father, though, was more like the God in the Bible.

Perhaps that was why Catholics had clung to Mary, even when they were being persecuted.

They did their share of persecuting, too, and that was something she often wondered about. What was the difference between being misguided and just plain being bad? In Anto’s case there was no discussion. He was definitely just pure black-hearted badness.

But he couldn’t have started out that way. Nobody did. She knew him when he played football and wondered what had happened along the way that made him the way he was. Probably something like what happened to Danny—only there was no one around to help him.

Then she thought about why he had followed her and why he spoke to her. Was Danny still working for him? Or was Anto just trying to imply that he was? Or was he trying to get him to go back by letting him know he could get to her anytime he wanted?

She watched him walk away and wished that something terrible would happen to him—that he’d be hit by a bus or something.
That is the problem in fighting evil
, she decided as she reached the front gate.
Can you do it without becoming evil, too?

“Was that little bollocks bothering you?” Her father stepped out of the shadows where he might have been watching them all along. “What did he want with you, anyway?”

*

He didn’t believe her but he kept his thoughts to himself for a few days. He knew no good would come from confronting her. Deirdre always seemed angry at him lately. Like he was the cause of all the problems in the world—including the ones that women caused.

He blamed it all on her seeing the ex-nun, although he never did follow through on the boarding school. They missed the enrollment and by Christmas she was behaving like an angel again, doing so well at school and helping out around the house. He had peace for a while and that’s what had lured him off his guard.