His Father's Son: To save the son he loves, a desparate father must confront the ghosts of his past (6 page)

Joey walked into the house and called out, “Marti, are ye home, son?” There was no answer. “Marti, Shauna, are yees home?”

The place was deadly quiet, he thought. He looked in the kitchen and he looked in the living room but there was no soul to be seen. He lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and breathed out slowly. Wasn’t it the queerest thing? Shauna had hardly raised herself for days and here she was now, up and out. She’d have to be dressed and made up to face the world. Perhaps their little talk had worked. Was she finally shaking off the Black Dog? Joey smiled to himself and put his cigarette back in his mouth.

Jaysus, this could be just grand, he thought, Shauna making the effort now. And mustn’t she have young Marti with her, that was grand too – didn’t the boy need the attention of his mother. A father could only do so much, what with the working and earning their keep. No, a mother was definitely needed to raise the child properly.

Joey bolted back to the kitchen. He scanned the fridge door for a note from Shauna, but there was none. Maybe that would be asking too much of her. She was only after getting over the Black Dog, wouldn’t notes and the like come with time. He was happy to think of Shauna, fully recovered and off treating Marti to some manner of visit or other. He imagined them together, laughing and smiling, Marti pointing at all the new toys in the shops and Shauna saying, “Maybe for Christmas if you’re a good boy, son.”

Things could be just grand now, he thought, just like they were before it started to go wrong. Hadn’t Shauna been a rare one, back in their day. She wasn’t like the rest of the Kilmora culchies. There was a wildness in her. All night she stayed out, dancing and drinking and enjoying herself and didn’t she care less who knew it. Joey’s own mother had said she was a wild one.

“Wouldn’t she stick her tongue out at the cross and mind not who saw her.”

Joey heard his mother’s words and then there were more of her words came back to him, and he remembered why he didn’t like to think about the past in Ireland with Shauna. If there was one thing he was sure of it was that the past must stay where it was. That was just Shauna’s trouble, didn’t she need to lock it all away.

Joey looked out the window into the yard and saw Marti’s friend Jono sitting on the back step with his fists dug into his cheeks. The boy looked sad, he thought, upset even. He waved at him. Jono looked up, gave no sign he had recognised Joey, and then he ran out the yard at full pelt.

“Jaysus, who’s taken his cake?” said Joey, and when he turned his gaze he saw Jono’s mother at the window over the way. He raised his hand to wave at her too, but she turned her back before he could make any further movement. Am I a leper here? No, surely not. There’ll have been some falling out had because Jono couldn’t go with Marti this afternoon, sure that’s what it’ll be. Aren’t they a terrible pair them boys, inseparable.

Still, it unsettled Joey to see his friendliness rebuffed. They were always so kind with a nod and a wave in Australia, weren’t they the nicest people entirely. You had to be a real mongrel like they said to turn the neighbours against you. It was the old mateship thing. You couldn’t be falling out with anyone because weren’t you always jumping the fence for a bit of a barbie or a look at the footy or such like.

He walked out the back door to see if he could find Jono and ask what the bother was, but the boy was nowhere in sight. Joey was about to come back inside when he noticed the shed door was open, the padlock swinging from the latch, the key still in it. Well, there’s been no robbery, that’s for sure, he thought, but who would be in the shed? Wasn’t there only a bunch of junk kept there, only stuff they never used like Marti’s old bikes, a tyre with a puncture and the big old suitcases, brought with them from Ireland back in ’68. He looked inside. The shed was still a whole mess, but someone had definitely been in there. He shut the door and slipped the padlock back on the latch. There was something up, something queer.

Joey sat on the back step, watching the sky darkening and waiting for Shauna to come home with Marti. He felt the heat draining out of the day and he heard the crickets starting up. It would soon be night-time. Where were they? He lit another cigarette. He was smoking too many, he knew it. He could feel his throat getting raw, but didn’t the cigarettes calm you down, didn’t they take your mind off things. His palms were sweating and a moist ring appeared round the base of the cigarette.

“Jaysus, where are they? They should be home by now, surely,” he said.

He stood up –
think
– control was needed. Where would they be? He knocked on his head with a closed fist. There was no zoo, there was no bowling alley or even a cinema for miles, and Shauna couldn’t drive anyway. The shops would be closed and it was getting too dark to be wandering around parks. Wasn’t Marti too old for them now anyway; he was beyond the swings stage, sure. They could be anywhere. What’s to be done? Joey’s heart was beating faster. “Gordy, that’s it. I’ll ask Gordy. He’s a copper. He’ll know what to do.”

He ran through the street to Gordy’s house. It was dark now. They were never big on street lamps round their way and as he ran he tried not to think about what might have happened or what could happen in the dark.

At Gordy’s house he banged on the door. “Hello, hello. Is there anyone home?”

There was no answer and he banged on the door again.

“Hello, hello! Gordy, Jaysus, are ye home, man?”

The porch light came on and then the door was slowly opened. “G’day, Bluey, mate,” said Gordy.

“God, am I glad to see ye.” Joey was breathing heavily from the running.

“What’s the drama?”

“It’s Marti … and my wife, they’re missing.”

“What do you mean
missing
, mate?”

“Gone, vanished. Haven’t they just disappeared.”

Gordy told Joey to come inside whilst he called the station. Joey stared at his feet and ran his fingers through his hair again and again until Gordy came back and said, “There’s nothing reported, Bluey.”

“What … nothing. Well, where can they be?”

“Look, mate, could they be visiting someone or…??”

“Christ no, sure Shauna hasn’t spoken to anyone in months. She has the depression. I’m scared out of my wits here, Gordy. She’s not fit to be minding the boy.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s keep calm. Did you have a row?”

“A row … did we ever. But sure there’s nothing strange in that, a man having a row with his wife.”

“No, no, there’s nothing strange in that, but if she’s depressed and you had a row, well…”

“What are you saying here?” Joey’s mind was buzzing. He couldn’t think straight. All he could think of was Marti, where he might be and what he might be doing. Jaysus, he could be anywhere could he not, and in any state entirely.

“Was everything like normal at home?” said Gordy.

“How do you mean?”

“Were any of their things taken – clothes, toothbrushes, that sort of stuff.”

Joey jumped to his feet. He had caught Gordy’s drift. He felt his eyes open wider than ever, then snap shut like he’d been stunned by a bright flash. “God – the suitcases! That’s what she was after in the shed.”

Gordy stood up beside him. “Bluey, are you all right?”

Joey’s mouth dried over. He wondered was his heart about to jump right into it. He felt like he had just been given the scare of his life, like his entire body was fighting the shock of it. “Christ Almighty, she’s taken my boy,” he said.

“Bluey, now you don’t know that yet.”

“She’s taken him.”

Joey broke for the door and Gordy stood up. “Bluey, what are you going to do, mate?”

“Find them. What do ye think, man? My son is taken, my wife has finally lost it.”

“Bluey, don’t do anything silly.” Gordy grabbed Joey’s arm tightly and delayed him where he stood. “Sit down and I’ll give the blokes the word, to keep an eye out … okay?”

“No chance.”

“Joey, you’re madder than a cut snake. Stay away from the grog. I won’t be there to keep you out the divvy van tonight.”

“Gordy, let me go. I appreciate what you’re saying, but I have to find my boy.”

Gordy released his grip and Joey ran into the street. He ran past his own home and into the next street where he had told Marti not to climb the trees. He ran to the late-night milk bar and he ran over the cricket oval where he had taught Marti to punt a pig-skin. He ran past the stream where Marti caught the frogs that he’d taken home and over the bridge where the stream flowed into a river. He ran through the rushes and the long grass that he had told Marti to stay away from for fear of tiger snakes and red-bellied black snakes that were seen there. And he ran to Marti’s school where he grabbed the gates and shook them until they rattled so much that the entire street sounded like it was suddenly filled with machine guns firing.

“Marti, son. Where are ye? Where has she taken ye, my boy?” Joey fell to his knees and started to sob into his chest. He sobbed for only a short while, until his thoughts of Marti made him wonder what the boy might think of him, and then he stood up and started to walk away from the school gates.

The streets were cold and dark, but Joey was miles away. He was lost in despair, numb with wonder at what had happened. He’d had no clue, no inkling this was on the way. Why? Why had Shauna done it? She was at her wildest with a notion in her, always was, but why this? What did it all mean? And worse yet, would he ever see Marti again?

When Joey got back to the house Macca’s ute was parked out front. When he got closer Macca’s kelpie sat up in the back of the ute and barked, but only once. Macca was sitting on the front step, clutching a cigarette in one hand and shooing mozzies with the other.

“Bloody dunny budgies are everywhere,” he said, taking off his hat and waving it through the mozzies. When he was finished he stood up and looked at Joey. “I thought I better drop by,” he said.

Joey looked at him but said nothing. His head was sore now, his heart still pounded, he felt like some kind of mentaller – a crazy person out running the streets – sobbing and calling into the night.

“I heard from Gordy,” said Macca.

“Did ye now?”

“You’ve copped a gutful there, mate.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s not fit to mind herself, never mind my boy, Macca.”

“She couldn’t have gone far. We’ll have a look about tomorrow. We’ll get a few of the blokes together, no worries.”

“You’ll be telling me to put posters up on trees next. It’s not a feckin dog I’ve lost.”

“Look, mate, I know. We’ll find the boy.”

“You’ve no right to be telling me that. Don’t ye read the papers? Jaysus, some of these bloody women just disappear off the face of the earth.”

“Bluey, mate …”

“No. Macca, he could be anywhere. Anywhere except the one place he should be, and that’s here with me.”

Joey pushed past Macca into the house and slammed the door so hard it swung on its hinges. The place was in darkness, but Joey kept the lights out and crept into Marti’s room where he threw himself on the boy’s bed and buried his face in the pillow, then he felt the sobbing start up again.

He was back in his own childhood once more, face down in his own tears, the mighty Emmet Driscol stood over him, berating. It was to be his first stay away from home, the visit to Bunratty Castle with the school. He had never been away on any of the school’s visits before and it felt to him like a hard-earned treat. They would take the bus and see the castle that kept out Ireland’s invaders and stay over for two nights in a dormitory nearby. Joey was excited about the visit, but he was worried the other boys in the dormitory would laugh at him because he had no bedclothes. His father said he would have to grin and bear it though, because there would be no money spent on the likes. Bedclothes were a vanity only, he said, and if Joey worried what the others would say he could undress under the covers.

For days Joey begged for the jamas, even his mother said it was like a knacker child he’d be without them, but Emmet Driscol’s word was final. There would be no money spent on them. Joey’s mother couldn’t stand the mope on him or the thought of her eldest child being made a cod of – wasn’t it the type of thing that would stick with him his life. She got hold of a pattern and made the jamas out of pieces from her rag bag. There were sleeves didn’t match and seams all over but a pocket and collar of green velvet that made them look like the best jamas in the world, thought Joey.

His brothers and sisters were sworn to silence about their mother’s handiwork, and when their father was out at Molloy’s pub Joey gave them a show of the new jamas. Everyone thought they looked grand and Megan said it was like a prince in a book he was and Joey acted the part, parading about in the jamas for all to see. He even laid down on the floor and pretended to be sleeping to show how grand and comfortable the new jamas were. And then, all of a sudden, Emmet came back with the smell of whiskey on him.

“What is this?” he said. “I told ye, woman, no bedclothes.”

“Tis just a few rags, Emmet,” said Joey’s mother. “Aren’t they hardly fit for his back.”

“I said,
no
. Did I not, by Christ, did I not say,
no
?”