The Barrytown Trilogy (9 page)

Jimmy explained to the rest.

—It was on the News. Some tossers up on the roof. An’ Outspan just said one o’ them was Mickah.

—I recognized him.

—They had their jumpers wrapped round their faces.

—I recognized his jumper.

—Fuck off. ——He’s doin’ bouncer an’ that’s it. He’ll be grand.

—Who else? Derek asked.

—We won’t need annyone else, said Jimmy. —Nobody’s goin’ to act the prick with Mickah here.

James spoke. —Mickah’s okay.

—How would you know?

—I meet him a lot. ——He lent me a few books.

—Yeh still read Ladybird books, do yeh? said Outspan.

—Don’t let Mickah hear yeh sayin’ tha’, said Jimmy.

—Let us tune up, Brothers, said Joey The Lips.

The girls came out.

—Yis rides, yis, said Deco.

He stuck his tongue out at them and jiggled it.

—Fuck yourself, said Natalie.

The male Commitments changed.

It was seven o’clock. The caretaker came back.

—Suits, he said.

—Yeah, said Jimmy.

—Monkey suits.

—D’you approve?

—Oh, very nice. It’s a long, long time since I seen a band all dressed the same.

He went over to the girls.

—I know your daddy, he said to Imelda.

—So? said Imelda.

She raised her eyes to heaven.

—You’re just like him, said the caretaker. —A cheeky little fucker.

Mickah Wallace arrived.

—How’s it goin’, Mickah, said Outspan.

—Alrigh’, said Mickah. —An’ yourself?

—Alrigh’.

—Guitar, wha’.

—Yeah.

—Are yis anny good?

—Alrigh’.

—The best, said Jimmy.

The ones not from Barrytown studied Mickah. He wasn’t what they’d expected; some huge animal, a skinhead or a muttonhead, possibly both. This Mickah was small and wiry, very mobile. Even when he was standing still he was moving.

—I haven’t a bad little voice meself, yeh know, Mickah told Jimmy. —Give us tha’, please, pal.

He took Deco’s mike. Deco stood back.

—Don’t worry, said Mickah. —Your job’s safe.

He bashed the mike into his forehead.

—That’s a good strong mike, tha’. Quality’s very rare these days.

He tapped the mike.

—Testin’ one two, testin’. Time now, ladies an’ gentlemen, plea-se.

He tapped again.

—An’ it’s Ben Nevis comin’ in on the stand side, Lester’s ou’ o’ the saddle. Come on, Ben Nevis, come on, come on. ——Shi’e! He’s fallen over an’ croaked.

They were afraid to laugh.

—Now I’ll sing for yis.

He coughed.

—RED RED —
WIY —
   YUN——

STAY CLOSE TO —
ME —
   EE YEAH———

Wha’ comes after tha’?

He gave the mike back to Deco.

—Howyeh, James, he said. —Did yeh read tha’ one I gave yeh?

—I’m halfway through it.

—It’s better than Catch 22, isn’t it?

—I don’t think so, Mickah.

—Fuckin’ sure it is, said Mickah. —How much in, Jimmy?

—Two lids.

—Tha’ all? Yis mustn’t be anny good.

—Time will tell, Brother, said Joey The Lips.

—It told on you annyway, pal, said Mickah.

He was noticing Joey The Lips for the first time.

—The fuckin’ state of yeh.

Imelda laughed.

Bernie stared her out of it.

—Can we come in?

A small boy stood at the door.

—No, Mickah shouted down to him.

—When?

—When I say so. Now shut the fuckin’ door.

Mickah jumped off the stage. He landed in front of the caretaker, back in a clean shirt.

—I need a table, son, said Mickah.

Mickah and the caretaker took the table to the door. They sat behind it. Jimmy drew the stage curtain, a manky red thing. The Commitments took turns at peeking through it into the hall. The caretaker got an empty tin for the money.

—Righ’, said Mickah.

He slipped down in his chair and stretched so he could swing the door open with his foot.

—Get in here, he shouted.

There were about twelve of them outside, all kids, brothers and sisters of The Commitments, and their friends.

The caretaker took the money. Mickah laid down the rules as each of them passed the table into the hall.

—Anny messin’ an’ I’ll kill yeh, righ’.

—I’ve oney a pound, said one boy.

The caretaker looked to Mickah.

—Let him in, said Mickah.

Jimmy was standing behind them.

—How long are yis on for? Mickah asked him.

—Abou’ an hour.

—I’ll throw him ou’ after half, said Mickah.

—I’m unwaged, said another boy with his pound held out.

—Yeh weren’t this mornin’ when yeh were deliverin’ the milk, said Mickah.

—He sacked me after you seen me.

—Go on.

The caretaker took the pound.

It wasn’t a big hall but three hundred could have stood in it. There was room for two hundred and seventy more at halfseven.

Mickah looked outside.

—There’s no more ou’ there.

Jimmy looked at the crowd. Four mates of himself, Outspan and Derek leaned against the back wall. He’d let them in for nothing. Ray Ward (ex And And! And) was with them. He’d paid in. There were six other older ones, in their late teens or early twenties, mates, he supposed, of Deco or Billy or Dean. There were three girls, pals of Imelda, Natalie and Bernie. The rest were kids, except for one, Outspan’s mother. The caretaker got her a chair and she sat at the front, at the side.

Outspan looked again. He dropped the curtain.

—Fuck her, he said. —She promised me she wouldn’t come.

—I’m scarleh for yeh, said Bernie.

—Soul has no age limits, said Joey The Lips.

—Fuck off, Joey, said Outspan.

—She’s wearin’ her fur, Imelda told them.

She was at the curtain.

—Fuck her annyway, said Outspan. —I’m not goin’ on.

—If yeh don’t go on, said Deco, —I’ll tell your pal, Mickah.

Outspan looked at him.

—My ma could beat the shi’e ou’ o’ Mickah Wallace anny day.

At ten to eight Jimmy shut the door. The numbers had risen by three, his brother Darren and his mates.

Jimmy grabbed Darren’s shoulder.

—Come here, you, bollox. There’s only one E in Heroin.

He thumped Darren’s ear.

—Make them all go up to the front, Mickah, will yeh. It’ll look better.

—Righto. ——That’s good thinkin’.

—We don’t want the group demoralized.

—Fuck, no.

Mickah went along the back. He shoved everyone forward.

—Get up there an’ clap or I’ll fuckin’ crease yis.

He was obeyed. Mickah followed them.

—Cheer when the curtain opens, righ’. ——An’ clap like fuck. Great gig, Missis Foster, he shouted to Outspan’s mother.

Billy stood back and looked at the banner.

—That’s not how yeh spell heroin.

Imelda looked at it.

—Oh, look it, she said. —That’s brilliant.

—The syringe is very good though, isn’t it? said Dean.

—It’ll do, said Derek. —It’s grand. ——None o’ those cunts ou’ there knows how to spell an’annyway.

Jimmy was back-stage.

—If we do tha’ dance in Walkin In The Rain we’ll fall off the fuckin’ stage, said Natalie. —It’s much smaller than Joey’s garage.

—Yis’ll be alrigh’, said Jimmy. —You’re professionals.

—Janey!

The Commitments were all at their positions.

Jimmy stood at the side of the stage. He had a mike in one hand and the curtain cord in the other. He nodded to them. They looked at themselves and each other and stood, ready, very serious.

This was it. Even if there were only thirty-three in the hall. James Brown had played to less. Joey The Lips said so.

—Ladies an’ gentlemen, Jimmy said to the mike.

There was a cheer, a big one too, from the other side of the curtain.

—Will yeh please put your workin’ class hands together for your heroes. The Saviours o’ Soul, The Hardest Workin’ Band in the World, ——Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes ——The Commitments.

He dropped the mike and pulled the cord. The curtain stayed shut.

—Wrong rope, son, said the caretaker.

—Yeh fuckin’ sap, said Imelda.

The caretaker got the curtain open. There was another cheer. (Jimmy dashed down to the mixing desk. —Get away from tha’, youse.) The house lights were still on. The crowd wasn’t even two deep in some places. The caretaker went to turn off the lights.

The clapping stopped. The lights went off. There were a few cheers, but no music.

—Hurry up, a boy shouted.

—Who said tha’? said Mickah. —Which one o’ yis said tha’? They watched him tearing along the front, grabbing shoulders.

—Billy, said Joey The Lips.

—Yeah?

—I Thank You.

—Wha’ —Oh fuck, yeah! Sorry.

—THUH THUH — DAH THUH — THUH THUH — DAH THUH —

THUH THUH — DAH THUH — THUH THUH — DAH THUH —

Deco stepped up and walked along the front of the stage. He looked down at his audience.

—I want everybody to get up off o’ your seats an’ (—Wha’ fuckin’ seats? Mickah shouted.) —an’ get your arms together an’ your hands together an’ give me some o’ tha’ Ooold Soul Clappin’.

Billy: — THUH THUH — DAH THUH — THUH THUH — DAH THUH —

Derek got going on the bass.

Deco sang.

— YEH DIDN’T HAVE TO LOVE ME LIKE YEH DID BUT YEH DID BUT YEH DID —

Joey The Lips and Dean: — TRUP —

Deco and The Commitmentettes: —AND—

I — THANK — YOU——
—YEH DIDN’T HAVE TO SQUEEZE ME —

The girls squeezed themselves.

—Get up! someone roared.

—LIKE YEH DID BUT YEH DID BUT YEH DID —

The horns: — TRUP —

—AND —
I — THANK — YOU

A small hand grabbed Bernie’s shoe. She stepped on it and turned.

—AAAH! ——Oh mammy! ———yeh cunt, yeh. —Jaysis!

—EVERYDAY —

THERE’S SOMETHIN’ NEW——

    YEH PULL OU’ YOUR BAG AN’ YOUR BATH IS DUE —

Imelda sniffed under her arm. Someone whistled.

—YEH GOT ME TRYIN’ —

NEW THANGS TOO —

JUST —

SO —

I—

CAN KEEP UP WITH YOU ——

YEH DIDN’T HAVE TO SHAKE IT —

The Commitmentettes shook it.

—LIKE YEH DID BUT YEH DID BUT YEH DID —

The horns: — TRUP —

—AND —
I — THANK — YOU ——

YEH DIDN’T HAVE TO MAKE IT —

A mike screeched.

—Sorry ’bou’ tha’, they heard Jimmy shout. —My fault. ——Won’t happen again.

It did though.

So far Outspan hadn’t played a chord. He stood looking at the boards, stiff. Deco was prancing up and down (he was used to his suit by now) and Joey The Lips and Dean had been forced back, up against the drums. Natalie’s shoes were digging into her. Bernie’s hair was coming down.

But they were getting away with it. The thirty-three and Mickah were enjoying the show. They were also expecting Deco to fall off the stage any time now.

So they didn’t need Mickah’s prompting when I Thank You ended.

—Clap. Go on. ——Clap.

They were clapping already. Mrs Foster was out of her seat. She hadn’t noticed that her son hadn’t done anything yet.

—Hello, Barrytown, said Deco.

—Hello, Deco!

Deco rubbed his arm across his forehead.

—I hope yis like me group, said Deco.

Those watching the other Commitments saw them stiffening, and Billy making a rude gesture at Deco’s back with one of his sticks.

—This one’s called Chain Gang.

—HUH ——————

—HAH ——————

HUH ——————

HAH ——————

Outspan turned so that he was looking away from his
mother. That helped. He began to play, the same chord, but it was a start.

Derek sang.

—WELL DON’T YEH KNOW —

Deco stepped in front of him.

Deco: — THAT’S THE SOUND O’ THE MEN —

WORKIN’ ON THE CHAIN——
GA—EE—ANG——

They were dancing. The audience was dancing, a lot of them, little mods and modettes, shaking, turning in time together, folding their arms, turning, folding their arms, turning. Mickah tried to stop them.

—Just listen, righ’.

But this was their kind of music. Jimmy saw Outspan’s mother dancing with them. Mickah had to leave them alone.

Two heavy metallers were leaning against the wall at the side. Mickah went over to them.

—Get dancin’, youse.

They started to head-bang.

—Not like tha’.

Mickah stopped them.

—Like them over there.

Back on-stage, an accident was going to happen. It was James’ solo and Deco was killing time, swinging the mike over his head. The mike was rising to his right and swooping to his left. It swooped into the back of Bernie’s head. She was sent flying forward and she had to jump off the stage.

The Commitments stopped.

There were disappointed Aahs from the crowd and then clapping, Mickah inspired.

Joey The Lips jumped off the stage. There were cheers. Jimmy was down there too, helping them find the heel that had broken off Bernie’s shoe. The search kept her mind off the pain at the back of her head.

On-stage, Deco was being given out to.

—Yeh stupid cunt, yeh.

Imelda kicked out at him, and connected. Billy threw a stick at him. It hit his shoulder.

—Yeh were told not to do tha’, said Derek.

—I forgot.

—Another thing, said Billy. —It’s not YOUR fuckin’ group.

—Okay okay, said Deco.

He stood at the edge of the stage. Outspan was looking mean.

—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, righ’.

Bernie came back. She left her shoes and heel in Jimmy’s hands. Imelda and Natalie took their shoes off.

—Good girls, Sisters, said Joey The Lips.

He stopped on his way past Deco.

—You apologize very, very nicely to Bernadette or you get my trumpet up your ass.

Deco couldn’t believe this. This little baldy fuck was threatening him.

—Move! Joey The Lips roared.

Deco hopped to it.

—Listen, Bernie. ——Sorry, righ’. ———Really.

—Yeah. ———Well, said Bernie.

—Wha’ Bernie’s tryin’ to say, said Imelda,—is tha’ you’re a stupid bollix.