The Gamal (42 page)

—Cry for help, Garda John said, I suppose she wanted James to feel that she couldn’t live without him.

Detective Crowley gave him a look to shut him up and carried on,

—Just hypothermia.

—Does she know about James? Garda John asked.

—No. She does not. And she won’t a while I’d say. That was awful, what you saw. Are you all right?

I couldn’t speak.

—Try and drink some of that tea. I’m going to get a cup myself OK?

He went in the back to get himself a cup. I could hear himself and Garda John talking.

—They’ll have a job keeping the news from her.

—They’ll just have to keep people away.

—And the paper.

—And the paper.

—And the radio.

—There’ll be nothing on the radio.

—NWT call out the deaths and the funeral arrangements every morning.

—Not this one they won’t, I’ve taken care of it. The doctors know the story. She’s in the psychiatric ward. Nobody’s let in or out of there unless they’re authorised.

—When, do you think? Garda John asked.

—When what?

—When do you think they’ll tell her?

—I’ve no idea John. In a couple of days maybe. Whatever they think is best for her.

—Jesus.

—Yeah. An awful business surely.

—But the funeral.

—What about it?

—Will she not . . .

—No. She won’t be at it.

—Jesus.

Not sure what happened to me then but I kind of forgot how to breathe. I started kind of shaking. Next thing I remember is Detective Crowley trying to make me breathe in and out of a paper bag but I pushed him away. He just kept saying the word, ‘Easy,’ with his arm on my shoulder. Next thing I was in his car and he was pulling into my own house and the doctor was there waiting for me. I could hear Detective Crowley telling my father the story and then I fell asleep cos the doctor gave me tablets to knock me out.

High upon highlands

And low upon tae

Bonnie James Campbell

Rode out on a day

He saddled, he bridled, so gallant rode he,

Home came his good horse

But never came he

Home came his good horse

But never came he

Empty the saddle

All bloody to see

Home came his good horse

But never came he

James’ Funeral

My mother came in the room and said it was time. She asked me had I any better shoes than the ones I had on. I said no. We were early enough to get a seat in the chapel. People called the Protestant church the chapel. We called our own church the church. I left the mother and father and went off on my lonesome. Outside all the lads had the blue and green armbands on. That’s the colour of the football jerseys. Teesh, Dinky, Snoozie and Gregory were chief pallbearers along with two of James’ uncles. They carried him through the village to the cross where six more of his teammates took him up the hill. Then another six and then the chief pallbearers took over again at the gates of the Protestant cemetery. James’ mother and father walked behind the coffin, followed by relations, followed by the entire village of Ballyronan. Everyone was reminded of Sinéad’s not thereness by Sonny Shields’ thereness. He was the local wedding video man and he was hired by James’ father to record the funeral for Sinéad. Grotesque it was isn’t it?

For the burial bit after I went up on top of the vicar’s roof. I felt a bit closer to James. The thought of he having no spirit and just being dead meat in the coffin and no soul or nothing and that was the end of James for ever flashed in and out of my mind like a flying visit from the devil or a glimpse of hell. Just mean isn’t it?

I watched the hundreds shaking hands with James’ father and mother and sometimes his cousins and aunts and uncles and a lot of people shook hands with Dinky too cos they knew he was a great friend of James. Teesh was the main man organising the troops, with Dinky and Snoozie following him around the place, all grown-up and serious they were, a credit to the parish. And at the Mass Teesh did a Prayer of the Faithful and Dinky did one of the readings. This is Dinky’s reading.

—A reading from Ecclesiastes chapter three. There is an appointed time for everything, and a time for every affair under the heavens. A time to be born. A time to die. A time to plant. A time to uproot the plant. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build. A time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them. A time to embrace and a time to be far from embraces. A time to seek and a time to lose. A time to keep and a time to cast away. A time to rend and a time to sew. A time to be silent and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate. A time of war and a time of peace. What advantage has the worker from his toil? I have considered the task which God has appointed for men to be busied about blah blah.

Can’t type any more of it. Thought it might make me seem clever to include that reading but I think I’m only making the Bible look thick instead.

Anyhow if I didn’t hate Dinky I’d have been very proud of him up there in the altar saying them words to them all. And himself and Teesh afterwards. All handshakes and manly organisation. Postponing their woeful grief for the common good. Travesty of devastation. Show must go on. Show.

Stoic

N. 1. person who is impassive, who appears unaffected by emotions, especially person admired for showing patience and endurance in the face of adversity 2. ancient philosopher; a member of an ancient Greek school of philosophy that asserted that happiness can only be achieved by accepting life’s ups and downs as the products of unalterable destiny. It was founded around 308 BC by Zeno [14thC. From Latin
Stoicus
, from, ultimately, Greek
stoa
‘porch’, referring to the Painted Porch in Athens, where Zeno taught.]

He was a fairly stoic man. James’ father was. And he was a man of action. Even though his very worst nightmare had become a real thing in his life. Had become his life. He was making sure everything went smoothly. Ringing all the people who needed to be told. Showing his wife the catalogue of coffins to pick one out for their son. Talking to the choir people about what music was planned. Getting hold of the uilleann piper for beside the grave. Getting Dr Reid up to take a look at his wife and his sister who weren’t coping so good. Dealing with the make-up artist at the funeral home. Making sure the marks would be covered properly before his wife would see her son. Handing in the clothes for them to put on him. Talking to the vicar. Dealing with the football club who were organising a guard of honour. Dealing with the principal of St. Brendan’s about the school’s own guard of honour and about the prayers and offerings they’d organised for the ceremony. Organising three teams of pallbearers to take James from the church up to the Protestant cemetery. Passing fivers to the altar boys for a job well done. Shaking hands. Thanking people.

Being a rock for his wife and everyone else who was floored by what was after happening. He spoke of his dead son on the altar that day and then he said some poem called ‘Little Boy in the Morning’ and only stopped once for a sec. His voice went high pitched for a sec and he stopped and swallowed. Then he coughed and carried on. His voice all deep and strong.

He will not come, and still I wait.

He whistles at another gate

Where angels listen. Ah I know

He will not come, yet if I go

How shall I know he did not pass

Barefooted in the flowery grass?

The moon leans on one silver horn

Above the silhouettes of morn,

And from their nest-sills finches whistle

Or stooping pluck the downy thistle.

How is the morn so gay and fair

Without his whistling in its air?

The world is calling, I must go.

How shall I know he did not pass

Barefooted in the shining grass?

Then he said he would be delighted if all would join him and his wife for some tea in their house after the funeral. That’s the custom around these parts. I’d say pretty much everybody did go back to the castle.

He was standing at the window in the upstairs library when I seen this. He was staring out and the sun was going down on the village of Ballyronan. The river ran regardless as ever, parallel to the main street which was quietly hiding in the valley. Mute and cowering. Rathkeen Wood on the south side of the village. Parish farms and the new housing estates on the north. The football pitch his son played in was in the foreground. Only thing you could hear from him was a few deep sighs. His back straight like a soldier’s.

Then the tears started to flow out of his eyes. And he couldn’t stop them flowing. And the tears were there for all to see. When he tried to wipe them away it only made his crying all the plainer for the people to see.

His sister Bessy saw this first. She went over to him and put her arm around him. Then his wife did the same. The room started to go quiet then. Everyone started to shut the fuck up and look over. Then his brother-in-law the plumber from Wexford went over and placed his hand on his shoulder too. My mother went over then. Then Seán Fuck. Detective Crowley’s wife Angela went over then. Then Old Master Higgins and his wife, Ber. Then Detective Crowley and my father. A few more that I didn’t know went over then.

Whoever had been in the room were all gathered around James’ father now. Nobody said anything. They were in a huddle. Everyone had a hand on his back or his shoulders or his arms or the back of his head. Like they were trying to pull the pain out of him. Take a small bit of it to carry themselves.

Next thing I seen his huge shoulders heave in fits and starts to the sound of his choked tormented sobs. Hands held, rubbed and caressed his shoulders, back, arms and the back of his grey head as he rocked back and forth. His sobs grew louder and stranger and everyone else started crying now too. I’m not sure when Mr Kent started grieving for his dead son but it might have been then. Everyone needs to be comforted sometimes. Even the chief of the tribe. Maybe that’s why crying evolved.

Haven’t had a fucking headache this bad now in a while. I’m going out for a walk. Down to the river maybe. Skim a few stones. I’ll be able to see cos there’s a full moon.

I Seen

I seen fierce rotten things. Your head would be fucked if you seen what I seen. See what I see. I seen Sinéad in hospital once. Brightest place I ever been. Like they think shadows would be bad for the patients or something. I was on my own in the visitor room and next thing she’s wheeled in by a nurse and she in a fucking wheelchair. Her mouth was like a baby’s. Like she didn’t know her tongue yet. The whites of her eyes were the whitest I ever seen. Her skin was pale and pasty. She dribbled and drooled and spoke in strange muttering words. I seen someone trying to talk who’d had a stroke one time. Like the tongue was swelled up or something. Was a bit like that. Just worse cos her eyes had no life in them. No struggle. First words she got out I’d been expecting but I wasn’t prepared. They still seemed to come out of nowhere and gave me a shock. Fucking rogue wave or something. A strange horrible murmur.

—Where’s James?

I’d been told what to say.

—He’s above in Dublin. He’s gonna wait until you’re a bit better is all.

She started crying then but in a way that someone who is paralysed might. The tears came down and her face flushed but the eyes just looked down. Steady like. Her face didn’t have on a crying face at all. The muscles didn’t as much as twitch. The noise she made was a constant high-pitched hoarse drone. Most horrible thing I ever heard. Would stop for a second while she inhaled. Then started again. Could say it was like a violin sound. But it wasn’t. I don’t know what that sound was like. Maybe nothing ever was ever like it.

I had to turn away then myself to hide my own tears.

—Why won’t he come to see me?

—He’s just giving you space is all.

—He’ll find someone else now, she said.

—He won’t, I said.

I looked out the window then and said,

—You’ve a nice view of the city.

The nurse came in then and said to Sinéad that it was time for a nap like she was a baby or a hundred years old, all pet this and pet that. She wheeled her out and nodded to me.

—Bye Sinéad, I said.

I’d an old fucking cry for myself then in the visiting room over by the window and then I fucked off to get the bus home. I wiped my face with my sleeve same as I just did now.

I realised then why I’d been sent for. She was told she couldn’t see James so she asked if she could see me. That’s why I was sent for. Only reason she wanted to see me was to ask me where James was. She’d have known I’d have been in touch with James fairly often. All made a bit of sense then. Suppose I kinda knew all along but I hoped for something else. What, I do not know.