At first Philip didn’t know what to do you don’t usually expect to come out of your kitchen and see a pig wearing a jacket and trousers crawling round your front step. He was standing there with a pencil behind his ear. There was a joke but I didn’t say it. Did you hear about the constipated professor? He worked it out with a pencil. I was too busy watching Philip trying to work out a professor plan. Snort! And then Philip’s face. I looked right up at him. A game of football. Me and you against the rest Philip what do you say? Then I gave another snort and poor Philip didn’t know what end of him was up. Snort. Then off I went laughing again. Then what did Philip do only try to push me out of the hall. Ow, Philip I said, you’re getting your fingers in my eyes. I could hear his heart beating from where I was. He stuck the sole of his shoe against my shoulder. Ow I said get your big boots off me, that hurt me Philip! Then ha ha again. You’re too rough I’m not playing with you! I’m only joking. Mrs Nugent kept saying Philip Philip I don’t know if she knew what she was trying to say. Which would you say is the best Philip I said. Denis Law or Tommy Taylor? Philip was down on his hunkers trying to shoulder me out the door and he was as red as a beetroot huffing and puffing away there. His pencil fell on the ground. I never saw such pushing and shoving. Philip would push one way then I’d push the other. Then it’d all start again. Mrs Nugent didn’t do anything, all she did was stand there fiddling with the pegs in her apron pocket and I could see that Philip was on the verge of saying will you help me ma for God’s sake but he had such good manners he didn’t and what happened then whatever way he turned didn’t he knock the wedding photo off the wall and crack down on the floor it went with bits of glass all over the hall. Now look at what you did, she said, blaming Philip whatever she was blaming him for. Sure he couldn’t help it if I was snorting around the place. Then he didn’t know what he was at he starts to pick it up and she shrieks mind the glass mind the glass you’ll cut yourself no I won’t he says you will she says and then Philip starts getting all excited standing there with a handful of broken bits of glass. I gave a snort. That’s pig language for watch yourself with the glass there Philip I said. Philip’s forehead was wet with sweat and his eyes were more sad than frightened now.
I think it was him looking at me with them sad eyes that made me get up and say that was a good laugh but I think its about time I was back at the farmyard what do you say Mrs Nugent? But she said nothing only stood there twisting a clothes peg and saying please stop this please! Right you be now Mrs Nooge I said and hopskipped down the lane, I’ll call back another day I said and I did.
And the reason I did that was because when I got to thinking about it back in the house I thought what am I worrying about Philip Nugent’s sad eyes for? I had probably imagined it, he might even have been putting it on. The more I thought about it the more I said yes that’s right he was just putting it on. Philip Nugent, I said to myself, you are a crafty devil, the way they say it in the comics. That old Philip Nugent, the trickster! So a couple of days later, back I went except this time I made sure they weren’t in. I waited until I saw the car heading off down the lane I knew they were going to visit Buttsy up the mountains.
In I went through the back window hello Francie welcome to Nugents! Oh hello there nobody I said.
Dant-a dan! Welcome to Nugents Mr Francie Brady! Thank you I said, thank you very much. It gives me great pleasure to be here standing on these black and white tiles in the scullery, Mrs Nugent. Oh no not at all Francis we’re delighted to have you. Now you must meet everyone. This is my husband and this is my son Philip but of course you know him. Except that really there’d be no fear of Mrs Nugent saying any of that she’d be on the phone to the sergeant straight away but oh no she wouldn’t for she was up the mountains drinking tin mugs of tea with carrot-head Buttsy the brother in a cottage that stank of turfsmoke and horsedung. But Nugents didn’t smell like that. Oh no. It smelt of freshly baked scones, that’s what it smelt of. Scones just taken out of the oven that very minute. I went on the hunt for them but I could find them nowhere. I think it was just the smell of old baking days that had stuck to the place and she hadn’t been making scones at all. No matter. Sniff sniff. Polish too there was plenty of that. Mrs Nugent polished everything till you could see your face in it. The kitchen table, the floor. You name it if you looked at it you were in it. You had to hand it to Mrs Nugent when it came to the polishing. Flies? Oh no, not in Mrs Nugents! And any cakes there were were all under lock and key where Mr Fly and his cronies couldn’t get at them. You could see them in the glass case under plastic domes and there was a three-tiered stand with two pink ones and a half-eaten birthday cake on it. Those flies they must have been driven daft – looking in at them beautiful cakes and not being able to get at them. I was myself so I knew what they must have felt like. I could have broken it open but I didn’t want to spoil it they looked so good in there. I’d say she made all of them herself. There was a photo on the wall of Mrs Nugent lying on the grass in a park somewhere. What came into my mind was that I never knew that Mrs Nugent had been young once as young as me. For a long time I thought she had been born the same age as she was now but of course that was stupid. In that photo she was about five. She was lying there with a big gap between her teeth and freckles all over her face like Buttsy. Hee hee she was saying to the camera. Good old Mrs Baby Nooge I thought. How many years ago was that I wondered. Could have been a hundred for all I knew. Mr Nugent’s briefcase was sitting in the corner and his tweed overcoat was hanging up behind the door. I helped myself to some bread and jam and turned on the television. What was on only Voyage to The Bottom of The Sea, Admiral Nelson and his submarine gang they were getting a bad doing off a giant octopus that was hiding inside a cave where they couldn’t get at him. He was a cute bastard sending out these big curling tentacles with suckers on them knocking the sub against rocks upside down and everything. All you could see was these two eyes shining away in the darkness of the cave as much as to say I have you now Mr smart alec navy men, let’s see you work your way out of this one. Dive! Dive! snapped the admiral into a microphone but she wouldn’t go down. The music was going mad. Kill the bastard! I shouted, I was getting excited too, harpoon him that’ll shut him up! But the admiral wasn’t as stupid as the octopus thought he was. Right that’s it all systems are go! and the next thing these depth charges start hitting the octopus smack between the eyes boom and the squeals of him then. Pop pop out go the two eyes like lights and the tentacles flapping around like wasted elastic and the sub away up to the surface with the whole crew cheering and the admiral wiping the sweat off his face smiling OK everybody that’s enough back to work. Then beep beep goes the echo sounder and away off they go happy as Larry and back to normal. Fair play to you admiral, I said, that shut him up. And it sure did, the octopus was lying at the back of the cave like a busted cushion and it would be a long time before he was suckering or tentacling again. I made myself a big mug of tea and another doorstep of bread and jam to celebrate. It was hard to beat it sitting there eating and enjoying myself. It was a grand day outside. There were a few skittery bits of cloud lying about the sky but they didn’t care if they ever got anywhere. Birds, crows mostly, hanging about Nugents window sill to see what they could see. Well well look who’s in there Francie Brady. He’s not supposed to be in there. Hey crows I said, fuck off and that shifted them. Ah this is the life I said I wonder have we any cheese or pickle. We certainly had – there it was in the brown jar in the fridge! And did it taste nice! It certainly did! Make no mistake – I would definitely be staying at Nugents Hotel on my next trip to town.
When I had finished my snack I went upstairs to see if I could find Philip’s room. No problem. Comics and a big sucker arrow lying on the bed, dunk went the arrow into the back of the door and dangled there. Then I opened the wardrobe and what did I find only Philip’s school uniform the one he wore at private school in England. There it was, the navy blue cap with the crest and the braided blazer with the silver but
tons. There was a pair of grey trousers with a razor crease and black polished shoes could you see your face in them you certainly could. I thought to myself, this could be a good laugh and so I put it on. I looked at myself in the mirror. I say Frawncis would you be a sport and wun down to the tuck shop for meah pleath? I did a twirl and said abtholootely old boy. I say boy what is your name pleath? Oo, I said, my name ith Philip Nuahgent!
Then I went round the house like Philip. I walked like him and everything. Mrs Nugent called up the stairs to me are you up there Philip? I said I was and she told me to come down for my tea. Down I came and she had made me a big feed of rashers and eggs and tea and the whole lot. What were you at upstairs Philip dear she said. Oh I was playing with my chemistry set mother I said. I hope you’re not making any stink bombs she said. Oh no mother I said, I wouldn’t do that – its naughty! Mr Nugent lowered his spectacles and looked at me over the top of the paper. That’s correct son, indeed it is. I’m glad to hear you saying that. Well it thrilled me no end to hear Mr Nooge saying that. Then when I looked again he was back reading his paper.
I felt good about all this. When I was finished I said I was going back upstairs to finish my experiments but I didn’t, I waltzed around the landing singing one of the Emerald Gems to myself O the days of the Kerry Dances O the ring of the piper’s tune! and then into Mr and Mrs Nugent’s room. I lay on the bed and sighed. Then I heard Philip Nugent’s voice. But it was different now, all soft and calm. He said: You know what he’s doing here don’t you mother? He wants to be one of us. He wants his name to be Francis Nugent. That’s what he’s wanted all along! We know that – don’t we mother?
Mrs Nugent was standing over me. Yes, Philip, she said. I know that. I’ve known it for a long time.
Then slowly she unbuttoned her blouse and took out her breast.
Then she said: This is for you Francis.
She put her hand behind my head and firmly pressed my face forward. Philip was still at the bottom of the bed smiling. I cried out: Ma! It’s not true! Mrs Nugent shook her head and said: I’m sorry Francis its too late for all that now. You should have thought of that when you made up your mind to come and live with us!
I thought I was going to choke on the fat, lukewarm flesh.
No!
I drew out and tried to catch Nugent on the side of the face.
I heeled over the dressing table and the mirror broke into pieces. Mrs Nugent stumbled backwards with her breast hanging. Now Philip I said and laughed. Philip had changed his tune now he was back to please Francie. I said: Are you talking to me Mr Pig?
When he didn’t answer I said: Did you not hear me Philip Pig? Hmm?
He was twisting his fingers and so was his mother.
Or maybe you didn’t know you were a pig. Is that it? Well then, I’ll have to teach you. I’ll make sure you won’t forget again in a hurry. You too Mrs Nugent! Come on now! Come on now come on now and none of your nonsense. That was a good laugh, I said it just like the master in the school. Right today we are going to do pigs. I want you all to stick out your faces and scrunch up your noses just like snouts. That’s very good Philip. I found a lipstick in one of the drawers and I wrote in big letters across the wallpaper PHILIP IS A PIG. Now, I said, isn’t that good? Yes Francie said Philip. And now you Mrs Nugent. I don’t think you’re putting enough effort into it. Down you get now and no slacking. So Mrs Nugent got down and she looked every inch the best pig in the farmyard with the pink rump cocked in the air. Mrs Nugent, I said, astonished, that is absolutely wonderful! Thank you Francie said Mrs Nugent. So that was the pig school. I told them I didn’t want to catch them walking upright anymore and if I did they would be in very serious trouble. Do you understand Philip? Yes he said. And you too Mrs Nugent. Its your responsibility as a sow to see that Philip behaves as a good pig should. I’m leaving it up to you. She nodded. Then we went over it one more time I got them to say it after me. I am a pig said Philip. I am a sow said Mrs Nooge. Just to recap then I said. What do pigs do? They eat pig nuts said Philip. Yes that’s very good I said but what else do they do? They run around the farmyard Philip said. Yes indeed they do but what else? I tossed the lipstick up and down in my hand. Any takers at the back? Yes Mrs Nugent? They give us rashers! Yes that’s very true but its not the answer I’m looking for. I waited for a long time but I could see the answer wasn’t going to come. No, I said, the answer I’m looking for is – they do poo! Yes, pigs are forever doing poo all over the farmyard, they have the poor farmer’s heart broken. They’ll tell you that pigs are the cleanest animals going. Don’t believe a word of it. Ask any farmer! Yes, pigs are poo animals I’m afraid and they simply will cover the place in it no matter what you do. So then, who’s going to be the best pig in the pig school and show us what we’re talking about then, hmm? Come on now, any takers? Oh now surely you can do better than that! That’s very disappointing, nobody at all! Well I’m afraid I’ll just have to volunteer someone. Right come on up here Philip and show the class. That’s the boy. Good lad Philip. Watch carefully now everyone. Philip got red as a beetroot and twisted up his face as he went to work. Now, class! What would you call someone that does that? Not a boy at all – a pig! Say it everyone! Come on! Pig! Pig! Pig!
That’s very good. Come on now Philip you can try even harder!
What do you think Mrs Nugent? Isn’t Philip a credit?
At first Mrs Nugent was shy about what he was doing but when she saw the great effort he was making she said she was proud of him. And so you should be I said. Harder, Philip, harder!
He went at it then for all he was worth and then there it sat proud as punch on the carpet of the bedroom, the best poo ever.
It really was a big one, shaped like a submarine, tapered at the end so your hole won’t close with a bang, studded with currants with a little question mark of steam curling upwards.
Well done, Philip, I cried, you did it! I clapped him on the back and we all stood round admiring it. It was like a rocket that had just made it back from space and we were waiting for a little brown astronaut to open a door in the side and step out waving. Philip, I said, congratulations! I was beaming with pride at Philip’s performance. I wouldn’t have believed he had it in him. Philip was proud as punch too. I turned to the class. Boys, I said, who’s the best pig in the whole pig school? Can you tell me? Philip they all cried without a moment’s hesitation. Hip hip hooray. Clap clap the class lifted the roof. Very good easy now steady I said. Now its time for Mrs Nugent to show us how well she can perform. Can she do poo as well as her son Philip? We’ll soon find out! Are you ready Mrs Nugent? I was waiting for her to say yes Francis indeed I am then away she’d go hoisting up her nightdress and scrunching up her red face trying to beat Philip but I’m afraid that wasn’t what happened at all.
Mrs Nugent was there all right but she wasn’t in her nightdress. She was wearing her day clothes and carrying a bag of stuff she had brought back from Buttsy’s.
Her mouth was hanging open and she was crying again pointing to the broken mirror and the writing on the blackboard I mean wall. I looked at Philip he was white as a ghost too what was wrong with him now, hadn’t he got the prize for the pig poo what more did he want? But Mr Nugent said he was in charge now. I’ll deal with this!, he said in his Maltan Ready Rubbed voice. Philip and Mrs Nugent went downstairs and then there was only me and him. He looked good Mr Nugent you had to say that for him. His hair was neatly combed across his high forehead in a jaunty wave and he had shiny leather patches on the sleeves of his jacket. He sported a pioneer pin too – that was a metal badge the Sacred Heart gave to you and it meant you were saying: I’ve never taken a drink in my life and I have no intention of ever taking one either! He stared me right in the eye he didn’t flinch once. He didn’t even raise his voice. He said: You won’t get away with it this time! This time I’ll see to it you’re put where you belong. And you’ll clean up that before you leave here with the police and the walls too for my wife’s not going to
do it. You’ve put her through enough. Well, that Mr Nugent, I thought. How was I supposed to run a proper pig school with these kind of interruptions? Mm? That’s what I want to know I said. But not to Mr Nooge to myself. What I said to him was: Tell me Mr Nugent how’s Buttsy getting along? He didn’t answer me so I just went on talking away to him about all sorts of other stuff, He was standing with his back to the door in case I might make a run for it. But I couldn’t be bothered running anywhere. The rocket had cooled now and the tail of steam was gone. I was thinking about the small astronaut appearing out of the door saluting with a grin on his face reporting for duty sir when this smack hits me right on the side of the face and there’s the sergeant standing there rubbing his knuckles and saying: Don’t, don’t! Or you’ll be the sorry man. Don’t don’t what was he talking about don’t what? You’ll clean it up, he seethed, make no mistake about that. Of course I’d clean it up if he wanted me to I don’t know what he was getting all hot and bothered about. I brought it off down the garden in a bit of newspaper and broke it up with a stick behind the nettles. I was whistling. If there was a small astronaut inside it he’d had it now. Mrs Nugent was still crying when I left but Mr Nooge put his arm around her and led her inside. When the silent films are over sometimes this hand comes out of nowhere and hangs up a sign with [sc]THE END[sc/] on it. That’s what it was like when we were driving away in the car. The Nooges’ house standing there and the hand hanging up the sign on the doorknob as phut phut off we went.
The Butcher Boy Page 6