The Butcher Boy (23 page)

Read The Butcher Boy Online

Authors: Patrick McCabe

BOOK: The Butcher Boy
9.46Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

No matter she says then, wait till we see. She went through a few more Bradys, I had to keep saying all the time: No, that's not him.

What did you say his full name was again?, she says. Bernard Brady I said and she said it after me a few times shaking her head and it was only after I said
Benny
that her jaw dropped and she looked at me all different. From where did you say, she says, and when I told her she starts gathering up the photographs and humming and hawing. I says: He never stopped talking about the days here and the beautiful things and all that but all of a sudden she didn't want to talk about it any more she says I'd be as well gather up all these bits and pieces God knows I don't know where to start with this work. I said but what about da and that, you said.

But then she says oh I don't know, my memory's not what it used to be. She tried to make a laugh out of it. Old age is catching up on me she says ha ha. She was putting all the photographs back into the boxes and the album now and I said why will you not tell me, you said you'd tell me. She just shook her head. Please tell me I said I have to hear it I have to hear it no she said let me go. All I wanted to hear was something about them lying there listening to the sea outside the window but it didn't matter I didn't hear it anyway. When I said to her go on tell me you said you would she said:
Get your hands off me do you hear me!
What can I tell you about a man who behaved the way he did in front of his wife. No better than a pig, the way he disgraced himself here. Any man who'd insult a priest the way he did. Poor Father McGivney who wouldn't hurt a fly coming here for over twenty years! God knows he works hard enough in the orphanage in Belfast without having to endure abuse the like of what that man gave him! God help the poor woman, she mustn't have seen him sober a day in their whole honeymoon!

 

Then what did she do she said
I'm sorry
but I was in the hall when she said it it didn't matter now anyway I just closed the front door softly with a click. I went on ahead up the street who did I meet then only the manager. Oh he says did you find the place you were looking for. I did indeed I says and I gave him the thumbs up have a good stay in Bundoran he says I will indeed I called after him the wind was blowing I went into a shop and bought some fags I went down to the beach and smoked a few the sea was dirty and grey like a dishcloth there was a few boats I think there was three I smoked another fag some of the fags I just smoked half of them the others I smoked them all. I counted how many I had left in the packet. One two three I had three left. I went up the town there was a few people about they were going about their business there was a woman shopping and a council man in waders over a manhole and convent girls outside a cafe I bought a comb my hair was getting all tangled up. But the thing was that beside the shop where I bought the comb there was another shop I must have missed it on the way down it was a music shop. There was a dog hanging over the door, staring into a trumpet, trying to find his master's voice. I'm in here get me out Fido says the master. How says Fido. How do I know says the master just do it will you my best little pet dog? In the window anything you wanted. To do with music that is. A silver saxophone you could have that. Trumpets. Stacks of records and a redcheeked woman with her hair flowing and a half-knitted scarf of notes curving out of her mouth. She wanted everyone to sing along. I would. I'd sing along. I went in and who's behind the counter only the music man humming to himself and writing out notes on a music manuscript like da used to before he stayed out in the Tower all the time. The music man looked like a telegraph operator click click message for the marshal in Abilene and all this, with a big gold watch strung across his waistcoat. I said to him: I know something about you.

Oh he says and what might that be?

You know every tune in the world I says. I'll bet you know every one.

Not them all he says with a smile but a fair few, I'd say I know a fair few. I walked around. Gramophones, how many, twenty maybe. All kinds. Big trumpets, little trumpets. Any kind you want. Then what did I hear only this gurgling and when I look over what's that old music man doing only pouring himself tea. Want some? he says. A spot of tea, he says. He had some good sayings that music man. His sayings made me so happy I wanted to cry. But then what! Out of nowhere comes these cakes, would you believe it butterfly buns! Fuck me, I says, how did you know? He just smiled and said there you are and the tea looping and gurgling into the cups say when he says. I still don't know how he knew but it didn't matter I was away off filling him in on ma and da and the potatoes and salt and the song and saying the rosary on the rocks and everything. So he played the trumpet he says, your father. Yes I says and I told him some of the tunes. Well if he could handle that solo he says about one of the songs he certainly knew how to play a trumpet! He sure did I says licking the cream off my fingers. Outside the town had turned into glass the colour of dawnlight. There were tinkling mobiles in the shape of music notes hanging from the ceiling tinkle tinkle pling was all you could hear. Stacks of records, one by one I went through them but you had to be careful they could fall to pieces in your hands.
Watch it Francie! I
said and laughed:
Don't worry, I will!

John McCormack I knew him. Da conducted in the air when he came on, cut big swathes of air with his index fingers. I laughed again. Then I saw it and when I did I nearly fainted, I don't know why I'd seen it plenty of times before. My legs went into legs of sawdust. Trot trot goes the sadeyed ass pulling the cart and away off into the misty green mountains and the blue clouds of far away. And right over the picture there in big black letters EMERALD GEMS OF IRELAND. I flicked through the pages over and over reading all the names and when I went to pay the music man I dropped the coins all over the place then I went into the whole story about Philip and Joe and everything it was like a cavalry charge of words coming out of my mouth I didn't know where they were all coming from. You'd think you were finished then over the hill would come a whole pile more yee haa wait till you hear this bit too. And all the way through he listened to everything I was saying and you could tell by his eyes that he wasn't really thinking I wish this Francie Brady would shut up about Joe Purcell or anything like that I knew he really wanted to hear it. For then he says the best thing of all. But of course there's a far better book than that available now. There it is behind you. A much better book. It was called A TREASURY OF IRISH MELODIES. There was no ass and cart on the front of it just an old woman in a shawl standing at a half-door staring at the sun going down behind the mountains. So this is better than the other book, I says. Oh yes says the music man, much better. I want to buy it! I says, all excited and what did I do only drop more coins all over the floor. The music man thought that was a good laugh. He had no intention of selling it to me. He was
giving
it to me. Its not every day I meet someone whose father could play the trumpet like yours, he says. Isn't it enough that you like the songs? Then he went away off humming a new tune to himself and parcelled it up for me. I just stared at the music man when he was handing it to me. Just wait till Joe sees this! I said. But he didn't get excited. If they started hammering on the window shouting the aliens are eating all the children in the town what would he do? He'd say: Right so. I'll be with you in a minute. I'll just lock up the shop first. He was the best man I ever met that old music man I kept looking at the book over and over and trying to see Joe's face as I handed it to him I wasn't sure which road to take for the school I went the wrong way a few times what do you think of this book I said to them its good they said yes I said, its for Joe Purcell,
Emerald Gems
is nothing compared to this one.

 

The black road twisted in and out of the curly countryside like a ribbon at the end of it was Joe's school and what was he going to say then: For fuck's sake Francie, you've done it again! Hey Joe! I'd shout. Saddle up! We're riding out! Yee-haa!

I was getting as bad as ma. Whiz this way then whiz the other way. I'll do this no I'll do that. The whiz again. I know -- I'll think some more about Joe and the old days. But then, more laughing. Big whorly clouds made of ink powder riding the sky and the music book stuck in my back pocket. Then the school rising up out of the fields with all its yellow windows gleaming -- another house of a hundred windows. But this time it was different, behind one of them windows was Joe and when I thought that I leaped so high I could have headed the moon like a football. Francie Brady plays for the town he's forty yards out he's thirty yards out twenty ten yards out its a long ball and the goalie's missed it and yes Francie Brady has scored a goal for the town Francie has scored a goal the moon is at the back of the net!

 

I had been tramping for over an hour before I seen it and then soon as I turn the corner what happens. Out go the lights. Phut!, every last one. Hey -- what the hell do you think you're at up there, turning off them lights? Leave them on! How am I supposed to find Joe Purcell! Hey! Did you not hear me!

Then all of a sudden I thought: This is something to do with Mrs Nugent. She's heard about me going to see Joe and she has some plan up her sleeve. She's told the priests to switch off all the lights so they can lie in wait for me and when I'm finished running round the place like an eejit looking for him, she'll appear out of the shadows standing there with them, smiling: So you couldn't find him could you not? That's a pity Francis isn't it and then I knew that would be the end I'd never find him then. But then I started breaking my arse laughing it was such a stupid idea.
Oh no,
I said,
this is one thing that Mrs Nugent isn't going to spoil!

I'd thought some things but that was the daftest yet.

 

I went round the back and nearly walked into a big bin full of brock you'd think with me being King of The Brock I'd have been able to see that! I was in behind the kitchens. Grr says a dog.

Fuck up I said but I managed to get past him all right. I could hear the toilets hissing. Hiss hiss, we can see you Francie. I kept checking the book to see that I still had it in my back pocket. Where did I end up only in a room full of football boots and the smell of sweaty oxters. Curse of fuck on this and I had to start again. Dant-a-dan! Along the wall. Don't move! Six soldiers out of nowhere cocking rifles, up against the wall so we have you at last Mr Brady! No, none of that, only snoring priests and bogmen but where were they? Not in here nothing only an empty bed and a cupboard full of medicine bottles. I think I'll have a look at these I said and shovelled a few coloured pills into my hand out of a little brown bottle. Gulp down the hatch they went. I wonder what they were. I don't know. Whee, I thought I heard someone shouting from the other end of the corridor you take a left then the next right Francie and you'll find him no problem. I turned round to thank him whoever it was but there was no one there. Then the pill said: Oh that was just me Francie. Pill, I said, you bastard! Now now Francie said the pill for that I'll just have to turn your feet to sponge. Squish squeesh along the tiles. What's this the biggest bell in the world sitting under the stairs. I said: Mrs Nugent if you're in behind that bell you had better come out. I know you're in there Mrs Nugent you can't fool me.

Then I started laughing I couldn't stop myself. It wasn't an ordinary laugh either it was a bogman laugh the way they laugh at nothing with snots coming out of their noses still laughing long after the joke is over. I says I know what I'll do I'll give this bell a whack and see what happens. I'd say it'd make enough noise to waken every boarding school bogman in the world even the ones who are completely deaf. Ready steady -- fuck off! If I did that they'd be down on me like a ton of bricks and maybe give Joe the boot into the bargain. Oh no you don't pill you'll not make a cod of old Francie that easy. Pill, I said -- have manners!

 

I was in a right state now with all this laughing I couldn't stop. Hmm I says I wonder what tricks Joe gets up to in this place. Sliding down the knotted sheets out of the dormitory and away off to midnight feasts in the boatshed I'll be bound! I say Purcell you bounder! You are a perfect cad! For fuck's sake! I wonder is there any secret passageways I said. Fall against the knob of a banister next thing aaaaaaaaaaah! and away off down a black corridor full of cobwebs and the skeletons of dead bogmen boys.

 

Up the stairs I went what's this, a wooden door creak creak Our Lord Jesus appearing out of nowhere in the dark, hanging on the cross -- hello yes what can I do for you? I'm looking for Joe Purcell Jesus. Straight on up to the top of the stairs. Right so Jesus thank you.

 

What's all this I said, a hundred sleeping bogmen! But not for long. Wait till they seen me and Joe in action!

 

Da-dan!

 

Flick -- on goes the light blazes away and them all gone chinky-eyed and pulling the clothes round them: What's goin' on who's puttin' on the lights? I nearly said: why its me -- Algernon Carruthers of course!

When I thought that I doubled up again and all I could see was them staring at me. They were all saying to the perfect who is he you do something about it its your job and all this but he wasn't going to do anything he had the blankets pulled up the same as the rest of them.

I thumped my thigh with the rolled up music book:
Joe! Where are you Joe Boy? I'm here! saddle up! We're ridin' out!

Other books

Thalo Blue by Jason McIntyre
Sticky Fingers by Nancy Martin
Under Construction by J. A. Armstrong
The Scroll by Anne Perry
Magnolia by Diana Palmer
Big Weed by Christian Hageseth
Welding with Children by Tim Gautreaux