The Connacht Press
Thief Charged at Adragule
District Court
A thief was arrested at Glenbruff train station following suspicious behaviour on the Friday evening service from Dublin Heuston.
Nine separate thefts of personal belongings had been reported over a six-week period on the same train service, Detective Garda Dermot Kilgariff testified yesterday at Adragule District Court.
Gardaí investigating the thefts were on standby at the station to arrest the suspect, Dylan Hartigan (23) of Saint Malachy’s Road, Glenbruff, upon the arrival of the train.
‘He came out onto the platform holding a golf bag. We asked him to open up the bag and he refused. He dropped it on the ground and began running. He was apprehended by Garda Noel Healy, who got the cuffs on him,’ Detective Kilgariff said.
When the golf bag was searched, Hartigan was found to have concealed two wallets, a quantity of jewellery and €300 in cash, all of which was determined to have been stolen. Hartigan later handed over additional items including laptops, cameras and mobile phones. Gardaí are making efforts to reunite the items with their owners.
Defence barrister Lisa Durkan said the accused had been under a great deal of stress and financial hardship, having recently retired from a stint at professional golfing that had not proved to be lucrative. She asked that this be taken into consideration during sentencing.
Judge Gerard Madigan handed down a twelve-month suspended sentence and ordered Hartigan to complete forty hours of community service.
Evelyn phones me early on Saturday morning. Maeve wants to get new curtains for her bedroom, and she doesn’t feel like driving, and Evelyn’s provisional license has expired. Will I take them up to the fabric shop in Adragule?
‘Maeve’s got very bossy. She was never like that before,’ I say. She’s been acting up since we told her we’re going to London. I’ve even noticed her wearing some of Evelyn’s clothes. Nice clothes. A blazer with jewelled shoulders and the yellow sundress.
‘Half the reason I’m going to London is getting away from Maeve. She has me damned. She’s like a child, Katie. She has a child’s mind. I’m fed up of her. I’m starting to really hate her,’ she complains before hanging up the call.
We’re in the car on the way to Adragule. Evelyn’s holding a cigarette in her right hand. She rolls down the passenger window and rests her left hand against the outside of the car. I see her shoulders are speckled with dainty freckles from the New Mexican desert. Her turquoise feather earrings whip about in the rushing air and tendrils of her dark hair flap out behind her. I’m thinking I’ll need a new look in London or I’m going to be pushed into the background. I’m thinking I’ll need a new haircut and better clothes, but it probably won’t be enough. It’ll never be enough. ‘How come Peadar didn’t take ye to get the curtains?’
‘I can’t get him. He’s gone on the bike. Step on the gas, chicken, will you.’ She flicks cigarette ash onto the car floor and positions her feet up on the dashboard.
‘If we were to end up in a crash, your knees would smash into your eyeballs and burst them. You’d be blinded for life.’
‘Fuck’s sake.’ She lowers the feet in a huff. ‘You’re an awful nervous driver. You’re uptight.’
‘I need to stop and go to the toilet,’ Maeve calls loudly from the back seat.
‘Can you at least wait until we get to Adragule?’ We’re barely on the road ten minutes.
‘I’d three cups of tea before I left the house. I’ve to go now, Katie. I’m bursting.’
‘Jesus Christ.’
There isn’t a pub or petrol station in sight, or anywhere else with a toilet, so I pull in for Maeve to urinate behind a hedge. Myself and Evelyn are smoking in the car at the side of the road, waiting for her with the hazards on. Chk-chk-chk-chk-chk-chk. Evelyn takes her phone out and begins fooling with it. The phone bleats like she’s playing one of those downloaded games. I notice she has black nail polish with an iridescent sheen, like a beetle’s back. ‘So. Had you a chance to read the screenplay?’
‘Mm. I’d a look at it alright.’
‘Well. What did you think?’
‘It’s in the wrong font.’
‘The wrong font.’ Is that all she has to say about it?
She inhales through clamped teeth with her lips curled back. ‘It needs a lot of work if I’m being honest. It’s kind of unrealistic.’
‘It’s supposed to be unrealistic,’ I say, stinging. ‘It’s magic realism. It’s a flight of the imagination.’
‘I don’t like your lead character either. She’s got too many issues and she’s also really self-absorbed.’ A thick band of dread tightens round my chest. Is this what it’s going to be like in London, Evelyn dictating what’s good and what isn’t. My ideas living and dying with Evelyn’s say so. If only it was as easy as reading a book to conjure up friends for yourself.
‘I thought we could consider it for Au Contraire Films. That’s what I wrote it for. I thought we could work on it in London.’
‘Actually, myself and Peadar met a producer in New Mexico and he loves the whole concept of The Psychopath’s Overcoat. He wants to start principal photography in November, so we’re going to be pretty busy as it is.’ She looks up from her phone. ‘Actually, Katie, it might be better if you just do your own thing.’
‘Do my own thing. What do you mean, do my own thing?’
‘It’s just that myself and Peadar have a creative connection that’s really working for us. Having a third person could disrupt the flow.’
The shock is nuclear. A white-hot implosion, instantly devastating. ‘You’re asking me not go to London. Is that it?’
She’s looking right at me, callously nonchalant. ‘You can’t even afford it, sure. Where would you get the money? It’s expensive over there and you’re always broke.’
‘I would have found the money. I would have got it from somewhere.’
‘It just seems like if you came to London it’d be like you’re riding my coattails or something. I mean, I’m the one who did all the work. I’m the one who made a film in the first place.’ I can’t feel my arms or legs and it’s as though my head is taking off, swelling up like a balloon, and it’s going to pop and I’m going to die. ‘The film-making is sort of my thing anyway. It’s not like you’ve any experience.’
‘We always said we’d go away together and do great things. Whatever happened to that?’
‘Sure, that was years ago,’ she scoffs. ‘Why don’t you figure things out by yourself, Katie, instead of looking at me all the time and what I’m doing. Do you want me to wipe your arse for you as well.’
‘Why would you say that? What are you saying that for?’ I want to hurt her badly. Sew up a voodoo doll and set fire to it. ‘Peadar’s going to drop you like a hot snot when you get to London. He couldn’t care less about you. He’s going around with Stacey Nugent, taking her out on the bike every night of the week and everyone in the whole town knows about it.’ I’ve said it now. I’ve come out and said it and there’s no going back.
Evelyn laughs. The laugh sounds like it’s caught behind her nose. It’s a derisive, contemptuous laugh. Hard and mean. ‘Peadar says you’re in love with me. He thinks it’s hilarious, you traipsing after me to London. He says you’re a lovesick lesbian weirdo. He’s been saying it for years, and he’s right.’ It sounds like something she’s rehearsed, or prepared. ‘You’re in love with me, Katie. Admit it, would you. You’re obsessed with me.’ My heart’s about to sputter to a stop. This is it. This is how friendship ends. Not only that, but the dream is over. I should have stayed above in Dublin with Nuala and Norma. I should have applied for the teaching, even.
‘No, no, no.’ Maeve’s slipped into the back seat without either of us noticing. ‘All this talk of London has to stop right now. Will no one think about me for a minute? Does no one care about me at all?’
‘Oh my fucking God, Maeve.’
‘Shut the fuck
up, Maeve.’ I attempt to turn over the car engine but there’s nothing doing. The car is broken down. Piece of fucking shit. ‘We’ll have to hitch a lift back to Glenbruff. Everyone out.’
‘Are you joking me? I’m not hitching a fucking lift. I’m calling Peadar to come and get me.’ Evelyn takes up her phone and dials Peadar’s number, but he doesn’t answer. She tries again and he still doesn’t answer. I can see the neon wristband is grubby and frayed round her wrist.
‘Everyone out, I said. I’m locking up.’ This is the actual worst day of my life.
We’re walking along in the hard shoulder. I’m out in front. Maeve’s behind me, and Evelyn’s several feet behind her, and her high-heeled boots go gadum-gadum-gadum on the road. My head’s melted. I want to go back and undo everything. Undo the friendships and choices I’ve made, because Evelyn’s had a hand in everything, and look at how I’ve ended up. I’ve nothing now. No London. No films. No art. I’ll never do anything worthwhile. I’ll never be someone. It’s Evelyn who’s set for life. It’s Evelyn who gets what she wants. I could pluck up a rock now out of a stone wall and knock her out with it. Bash in her brains and finish her.
Maeve’s whistling softly between the peg teeth. ‘I could kill her, Maeve,’ I mutter, blinking back hot tears. ‘I could murder her. How have you stuck it out down here with her?’
‘Oh, I’ve often wanted her dead, but I’d have had no one if I’d done that.’
Minutes pass that feel like hours. There are no cars coming and we can’t hitch a lift. ‘Evelyn,’ starts Maeve. ‘You can’t leave us behind and go to London. We’re supposed to be friends. We’re supposed to go places together. That’s what friends do.’
‘Get a fucking clue, Maeve,’ barks Evelyn. ‘No one wants you in London. You’re an embarrassment. You’re a mental case.’
Maeve spins about. ‘I am not a mental case,’ she bellows. ‘You think you’re God’s gift, but you’re stuck-up. You think you’re Cleopatra or something, but you’re not.’ Go on, Maeve. Give her a piece of your mind. Do it for the both of us.
Evelyn rears up, her face contorting. ‘Do you know what. You’re no good to anyone. No one at all wants you. You’re a waste of space. You should never have even been born.’
I come to a standstill on the road. ‘You can’t say that,’ I admonish. ‘You’ve crossed a line there, Evelyn.’
‘And you. Why don’t you just go away, Katie. Why did you come home at all? What more do you want from me? I’m sick of looking at you.’
‘We’re the only friends you have,’ cries Maeve. ‘You’ll be sorry yet with the way you’ve treated us.’
‘Friends. Some friends. I’m only sorry I ever met ye.’ Evelyn flounces away up the road – gadum-gadum-gadum – and it isn’t long before we lose sight of her altogether.
Myself and Maeve sit ourselves down on a stone wall. ‘Do you think she meant it?’ says Maeve. Her face is white and crumpled, like an old paper plate. Her eyes are big and round and look as though they might fall out. ‘Everything she said about us. Do you think she really meant it?’
‘Whether she meant it or not, she said it, and that’s bad enough.’ A lovesick lesbian weirdo. After all we’ve meant to one another, that’s what she thinks of me. I turn my shoes together until the soles are touching.
Maeve shakes her head from side to side. ‘She hasn’t a friend in the world now. Not one friend.’
‘Are you finished with her?’ I know myself that I’m finished with Evelyn. I know now where I stand, and there’s no more confusion.
‘I am. I’m finished with her for good. She doesn’t deserve friends like us.’
‘You couldn’t be more right. You did well to stand up to her.’ It’s as though a heavy storm has broken, and there’s cool clarity in the aftermath of it.
‘What will you do now, Katie?’
‘I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll have to come up with something.’
‘You could stay down here. You might get to like it.’
‘No, Maeve. No offence.’
‘Do you know, I’ve a feeling I’ll be gone soon myself. I’ve been thinking about it long enough. It’s been time for something new for a long time now.’ We slip off the wall and commence the journey home. ‘Will we go for a drink in Donovan’s later? Myself and yourself.’
‘Alright. Why not.’
As we approach the outskirts of Glenbruff, a dumper truck roars past us on the road. ‘Did you hear they’re filling in the quarry,’ she calls to me above the din.
‘Are they? How come?’
‘There’s animals falling in and breaking their backs.’
Maeve is taking her time with the drinks. She’s up flirting with Kenneth at the bar, giggling on her tippy toes and leaning over the mahogany counter.
‘Free drinks,’ she says cheerfully, planting down two vodka tonics in front of us.
‘Free? Good woman yourself.’ I take a nice cool sip. ‘Mm.’
‘He’s a nice lad really. It’s a shame he’s so bad in bed,’ she says, and I almost choke on the drink. ‘Did I tell you I’ve a work conference coming up? Over in Florida.’
‘No. You never mentioned it.’
‘There’s a fella in the Florida office called Salvador. We’ve been getting to know one another over the phone. He’s a manager on the supply chain end of things as well.’
‘Will you meet up with him at the conference?’
‘I will. We’re going on to Disney World the day the conference is over. It was myself who suggested it.’
‘Do you know what. You’re full of surprises.’ Maeve’s company has me feeling emboldened.
‘My life is only just starting, really,’ she says, looking over at me earnestly. ‘That’s the good thing about it. I might even be able to get a transfer if I play my cards right.’
‘God. That’s great. Will you still change your name to Roxanne?’
‘I don’t know. I’m in two minds.’
Peadar lands in, and there’s no sign of Evelyn with him, and Stacey Nugent is nuzzling at him and swinging out of him. ‘How is it that Evelyn lets Peadar away with his carry-on?’
‘Oh, I think she enjoys it. It keeps her going. The drama of it. It’s like fuel.’
‘I always thought she’d come to Dublin but she never did.’
‘Sometimes staying at home in your own place is more interesting to a person than moving away.’ It has me thinking that Maeve is smarter than she looks. She draws on the long necklace around her neck and yanks the pendant out from beneath the fabric of her blouse. She drops the pendant down between her fingers and idly swings it about before her. It’s the ballet slipper pendant belonging to Pamela Cooney. ‘I got a new chain for it. Do you like it?’
I can feel my blood running cold. ‘Do you not feel strange wearing it?’
‘No. I thought if she was ever found alive I could give it back to her. There was no use leaving it in the shed.’
‘You must tell me now. How did you come across it? Tell the truth, Maeve.’
She chews on her crinkled lip. ‘I found it in the car, Katie. The silver car. Myself and Evelyn and Aidan and Peadar drove out to the famine workhouse to go ghost hunting. I was sitting behind the passenger seat and I looked down and saw it under the seat. I just picked it up and took it.’ A girl’s necklace broken in Aidan’s car. It’s like something that’d happen during a struggle.
‘How is it you never told anyone?’
‘I did. I told Evelyn. I told her only recently. I saw a blood spot too. Evelyn said to say nothing for fear the lads would get in trouble.’
‘A blood spot.’
‘It isn’t there any more. Still, I should go to the guards over it. I should have gone long ago.’
‘It could happen to another girl and you’ll feel badly.’ It could have happened me, sure. It almost happened me, only Pamela took my place. How lucky I’ve been and didn’t know it. ‘You know what. We’re the lucky ones, Maeve.’ It’s hitting me h
ard how lucky we are.
‘The lucky ones,’ she says softly. ‘I’ve never thought of myself as being lucky.’
‘We didn’t get caught up with fellas or events at home. We’ll be getting away and doing our own thing. That’s why we’re the lucky ones,’ I tell her, as she trails a forefinger along the condensation on the side of her vodka tonic. Maeve’s come together now, at long last. You can sense it. The talismanic pendant concealed in the folds of her blouse. The blue starfish hairclip. The blazer with jewelled shoulders. Perhaps the black hole inside her wasn’t empty at all, but whirling with the promise of metamorphosis. ‘Did ye happen to see a ghost at the famine workhouse?’
‘I didn’t see anything. But Evelyn did, according to herself. A woman in rags with black gums came flying at her, according to herself,’ she says, smiling the peg-toothed smile, and I have to laugh. She has Evelyn down pat.
It’s a Sunday afternoon in September. Evelyn’s wearing her mirrored sunglasses and sitting up in bed with the curtains drawn. ‘What are you doing here?’ she says listlessly, and staring into space.
‘I was sent for.’ Alma Cassidy phoned Mammy especially, and I went up immediately, for all the good it’ll do. Doctor Fitz has been and gone before me.
‘I’m going to London in the morning. You can come if you want.’
‘What? No.’ The place is like a bomb hit it. I can’t see how she’ll find her way out of it to go anywhere in the morning. The doors of the wardrobe are flung open and not a thing hanging up inside it. The beanbag has a hole and there’s a stream of polystyrene filling gushing out of it.
‘Now’s your chance, Katie.’
‘You must be joking.’ The pages of my screenplay are strewn about the floor with footprints and filth all over them. ‘Go and shite.’
‘Myself and Peadar have ended things. He won’t be coming with us if that’s what you’re concerned with.’
‘This again. I suppose Peadar cancelled on you.’
You Have to Make Your Own Fun Around Here Page 21