Gurriers (21 page)

My intrigue waned, however, to leave my mind vulnerable to the flood of heartache and tears that washed over me so regularly these days. I lay, tossed and turned as my broken heart poured its laments and longings into my mind, time and time again to transform me into the weeping whiner that seemed to be all that was left of my true self.

I had lost girlfriends before but never in my wildest dreams had I imagined such devastation could be left in their wake. I was, truly, only a shell of a man. All the best bits had been scooped out and destroyed. I would be better off dead. Death would actually be a release for me. I longed for death.

My dark reverie was abruptly disturbed by the ringing of the phone. Puzzled, a glance at my clock told me that it was quarter past nine. Who the hell could be ringing at this time in the morning? Pausing at the phone to wipe away the tears, I cleared my throat with a little cough before shakily answering.

“Hello.”

The background noise told me who it was even before he spoke in his usual blunt manner.

“Hello, Sean, Aidan here. What’s the story? I have one in Lucan there for yeh. D’ye know that it’s a qua’er pas’ nine? Are ye nearly ready to go or wot?”

I should have known that he’d be ringing me and had an answer ready for him but it was all that I could do to remember writing the phone number for here on the application form –
thereby explaining to myself this unexpected call.

“I – er – I don’t think this job is for me.”

“No way. Why noh? Ye did ten jobs yesterday with some good mileage in them. That’s fuckin’ good for a total beginner!”

“But you gave out to me twice in Dun Laoghaire!” I pointed out, sulking like a child.

“Tha’ wasn’t givin’ ou’! Ye jus’ took longer than ye should have. You said yourself tha’ ye were delayed on the way ou’ an’ all I said was to le’ me know in future if tha’ happened. An’ as for the smoke, the receptionist was on the phone givin’ ou’ shi’e because ye were ony after pickin’ up.”

“Well, I was a bit silly!”

“Very funny though – she said ye nearly took the door off on the way in, grabbed the envelope, legged i’ ou’ as if ye were on yer way to pu’ ou’ a fire an’ then jus’ leaned back on her window an’ sparked up a bleedin’ smoke!”

“I wanted to show you how quick I was to get it on board.”

“Jaysus, Sean, don’t go smashin’ yourself up to fuckin’ impress me. You jus’ tell me when you’re delayed an’ don’ be afraid to ask for directions an’ ye’ll be alrie.”

“Okay.” I answered and I couldn’t believe afterwards that I had said that.

“So you’ll cover this one? It’s handy enough – pick up in the Bank of Ireland there in the centre of Lucan – sum’in’ a’ customer services comin’ inte College Green. It’s just in so ye’ve loadsa time on i’.”

The feeling of being needed was combining with the surprisingly persuasive manner employed by Aidan to make the previous evening’s determination to give up the job seem somewhat more distant.

“Sure what’ll ye do if ye don’t come to work? Ye mie as well be ou’ making a few quid!”

“I don’t even know if my gear’s properly dry yet.” This was said in a bid to fish for more persuasion.

“The bes’ way to dry leathers is to drive in dry weather an’ the forecast is a fried egg all day, so why don’cha grab this one
an’ give us a shou’, see how ye feel once ye ge’ a few jobs in. Sure ye can leave anytime. Why no’ give i’ a good go? I’ll ge’ ye’ goin’ sou’ ou’ a town – keep ye where ye know yer way round.”

“Okay.” I replied. Why not, I reasoned. With any bit of luck I’d get killed.

“Good man yourself, gis a shou’ when it’s in the bag. Rie, Dolores, you have tha’ on board so head in. I’ve go’ Nineteen Naoise, Ei’een Gerry, Five Alan an’ someone else. Nineteen Naoise, first go ahead … Roger Naoise give i’ five there. Ei’een Gerry next … I already have someone standin’ by ou’ tha’ way. Header back towards town. Ye’ll be next ou’ an’ I’ll give ye an’in I ge’ on the way in. Five Alan we start a’ nine o’ clock in here. Late gigs are no good to me when I’ve loadsa work an’ no couriers. Ge’ yer book ou’ I have one in Tallaght for you. Who else is calling there?”

Finally he allowed his attention to move from the queue of calling couriers that had built up during his phone call to me and, realising he still held the phone in his hand, hung up.

I slowly replaced the handpiece into its cradle on my end. I knew that I had taken a U-turn on a previous decision but that didn’t matter. It felt good to be wooed back to work after convincing myself that I’d never put on a radio again. It felt clever to realise that the fried egg all day was the sun with a little cloud symbol that the weather forecasters used, it felt like a courier to be so happy that today there should be no rain.

The lining of my jacket was still damp and the jacket itself was still wet at the cuffs; the gloves were soaking wet and the boots hadn’t fully dried. The foam of the helmet was moist and smelled funny and the leathers held an extremely uncomfortable amount of liquid still. The only item that had properly dried was the pair of leggings and they were bundled up and put in the bag.

Getting dressed was not a pleasant experience that sunny morning but I was happy enough to sludge through it. Getting ready for work was a welcome escape for me. Aidan said that I had loads of time and I knew where the bank was in Lucan so I allowed myself the time for a quick bowl of breakfast cereal while my engine heated up, despite the little voice in my head that cried to go straight to the pickup. The same voice protested even more as I took the time to hang my gloves on the washing line – having deemed them non essential due to the good weather. I would have rathered have a spare pair to wear for protection but c’est la vie. I felt that maybe later on in the day, I might buy another pair.

I pulled up to the bank at ten to ten and was initially shocked to realise that the bank wasn’t due to open until ten. I got off the bike wondering if I was going to have to wait for it to open. Then I saw a doorbell.

Of course there’s a doorbell, I thought. Sure aren’t the people in there working already, one of whom must have phoned in the job.

It felt odd ringing a bell at the door of a bank – something I was quite sure that I had never done before – but it was answered promptly by a security guard who locked it as soon as I had relayed the pick–up details to him. It wasn’t long before I heard the locks clicking on the inside again and the door reopened. He briskly handed me a white A4 envelope and the door closed once more, hurriedly. His briskness didn’t bother me in the slightest – I was glad to get the job on board without much delay.

“Four Sean.”

Nothing.

“Four Sean, four.”

The only sound coming from the radio was a feeble crackle. This didn’t really surprise me since Lucan was so far out and the main street was in a dip. With the briefest hesitation I decided to head towards town and to try the radio from closer in.

The radio seemed to come back to life as soon as I filtered onto the N4 coming out of Lucan. I carried on the mile and a bit to the M50 roundabout before calling the base, however, to make extra sure that he would be able to get me. It was risky enough pulling over to call in on a main road without having to try it every couple of hundred yards.

“Four Sean.” I said, louder than before to compensate for the traffic noise.

“Four Sean, go ahead.”

Finally! I thought. “I’m at the M50 roundabout with that Lucan job on board.”

“Nice one, Sean, fair play to ye,” He sounded genuinely pleased. “I have a pick up for ye in Chapelizod on the way through going to Ballsbridge. Do ye know the industrial estate
in Chapelizod?”

“Er….Em….I….” The only place I had ever seen Chapelizod was on a signpost pointing left after Palmerstown. I remember seeing the name and being intrigued by the strange sound of it but having it come at me over the radio made it seem alien and scary.

“Okay, carry on straight through Palmerstown and take the next left into Chapelizod. Come all the way into the village and turn left at the lights – as if ye’re goin’ to the Phoenix Park. Just over the bridge, the road bends to the right. Look over to yer rie an’ ye’ll see the industrial estate; down the ramp ye go an’ look to yer left an’ ye’ll see a factory called Colourfast. Anita in there’ll give ye one for Ballsbridge. Giz a shou’ if ye have any problems.”

It all sounded handy enough but I knew that as soon as I turned off this road, I would be in unknown territory.

Just keep repeating the directions, Sean. It’ll be cool, I assured myself. And it was. The road went straight to where he said it would, I knew where to turn and I spotted both the industrial estate and the factory straight away. The package was sitting on the reception waiting for me and Anita – a young, dark and pretty girl – gave me a big bright smile as she handed it to me. My spirits were definitely on an upward surge as I strode out into the sunshine to resume my job; outdoors to bask in the ever intensifying sun. Just what the doctor ordered.

Coming out of the Chapelizod Industrial Estate - having been told to head in and call him from further in – I turned right to carry on along the road that had left the motorway, gambling that this road would take me into town also (remembering that Aidan said I was heading for the Phoenix Park, and I knew my way in from the park).

After the next bend I realised that I was on a road parallel to the one I was used to that ran down the side of the park – into town! Everything seemed to be going right for me this morning.

“Four Sean.”

“Go ahead.”

“When ye drop off College Green come around here to me. I’m gonna have one in the base goin’ as far as Dun Laoghaire.”

“Roger.”

True to the day’s pattern, the College Green drop off went smooth enough, although I parked outside the wrong bank and had to walk across the road. On the way back I noticed a coffee shop next door to the other bank. Feeling peckish, I bought a Danish pastry for myself – hoping that a visit to the base would result in giving it five for a cup of tea.

I was actually glad to see a cluster of four bikes outside the base. The one called Shay that I recognised as being the whirlwind I had briefly seen on my first day, was surprisingly motionless in his seat at the table. He was far from quiet, however, and was pontificating about the weather to Gerry – the angry little man that had scared me so much on my first day (still less than 48 hours ago!) and a young, rough looking man called Joe who was obviously suffering a hangover. The one called John that I heard referred to as a “poetic fucker”, and whom I was extremely eager to have a conversation with, completed the quartet. He was the only one not at the table – busy rattling cups in the kitchen. Pausing only slightly to scrutinise me as I entered the canteen, Shay proceeded loudly with his opinions, backed up by lots of hand movements and concerned facial expressions.

“An’ there’s loadsa gobshites ou’ there sayin’ fuckin’ global warmin’ will be a good fuckin’ thing for us – sure we could use a few more degrees of hea’. Bollix! We’re a tiny fuckin’ island stuck on the edge of one a’ the biggest fuckin’ bodies o’ wa’er on the planet! Even a tiny increase in temperature will have huge amounts of extra water in the sky – an’ ye know most of our weather comes from that direction. Pissin’ rain all day in July. Ge’ fuckin’ used to i’ boys – global warmin’ doesn’t mean sun cream for us – i’ means fuckin’ umbrellas!”

“For us?” Joe seemed to have to force the words out.

“Well, of course no’ for us on bikes – for the ordin’ry average fuckin’ pedestrian of Ireland, ye dopey cunt. Go back to fuckin’
sleep.”

“You said i’ means fuckin’ umbrellas for us, ye grumpy old bollix. Are ye losin’ yer fuckin’ marbles or woh?”

John’s timing was as perfect as his point as he approached the table with two steaming mugs. “Joseph, my dear boy, the man was speaking metaphorically to create a scene and doing a darn fine job of it too if I might say so.”

I couldn’t but smile on hearing somebody so scruffy speak so grand. This man I must get to know.

Having nodded acknowledgement for the compliment to John, Shay was quick to fire a retort at Joe. “An’ I mien’t have many marbles left, kiddo, bu’ the ones I do have are all fuckin’ threesies, so if you ever want to pit yer wits against me, you jus’ bring i’ on!”

“Leave me alone, old man, I don’t have the energy.” Joe slumped into his seat with his eyes closed to end the scene. Shay went back to his speech as I realised with a start that I should have gone straight to the hatch and hotfooted the length of the canteen hoping not to be given out to.

“An’ as for the Gulf Stream, that’s fuckin’ changin’ direction also! I’ used to miss Ireland – maybe jus’ clippin’ the nor’ west ev’ry now an’ again bu’ now it’s cuttin’ rie across the country bringin’ even more fuckin’ mountains a’ rain.”

“Er, howya?” I said to Aidan. “You said you have one for Dun Laoghaire?” I was slightly out of breath and more than a little concerned.

“It’s no’ here ye’, Sean. Gizzard’s bringin’ i’ in from north. Grab a cup o’ tea there an’ we’ll see if an’in else comes in.”

The only seat free at the table was beside Shay so I gingerly placed my bag, radio and helmet on the floor beside it and my jacket on the back. Shay had finished his public speech and seemed to be watching me closely.