The Butcher Boy

by Patrick McCabe

  Then they both got down on their knees and said the rosary together on the rocks and I wondered how it could ever have been, that moment, with its half-heard prayers carried away and the carnival swirling in the distance, the waves lapping on the shore and da fingering the beads and looking longingly into her eyes just as he did now. You could almost hear the whisper of the dead afternoon as we stood there in the empty, lost silence of that huge room.

  Shut up I said, shut up about it, something rose in me and I wanted it over. She was a good woman your mother he said, he was starting to slobber. It wasn’t always like this you’ll never know how much I loved that woman. I got it into my head that a couple of the bony arses were coming over to the window to gawp I told him again to shut up it was no good now, none of it. He said not to talk like that to him he had his dignity. I got down on my knees like he used to when he rolled home after a skite with his clenched fist up and one eye closed may the curse of Christ light on you this night you bitch the day I took you out of that hole of a shop in Derry was a bitter one for me. He said no son should say the like of that to his own father. Every time I thought of them standing there at the water’s edge I said worse things to him and in the end he cried. I came here to see you, son, he said if you only knew. I said you have no son you put ma in a mental home. Maybe I’m better off then to have no son how could you call yourself a son after what you did. After what I did what did I do I had him by the lapel and I knew by his eyes he was afraid of me whatever way I was looking at him. What did I do? It was hard for him to say it, I could barely hear him I loved you like no father ever loved a son Francie that was what he said it would have been better if he drew out to hit me I just let go of his lapel and stood there with my back to him fuck off I said fuck off and I knew I’d been alone for a long time when I heard Bubble’s soft lisp well Francis wasn’t that a nice surprise?

  Swish swish off we went across the quadrangle together. I didn’t know your father was a musician said Bubble. Oh indeed he is Father, I said, it was him set up the brass band at home and there’s no better man to play a trumpet. Really, said Bubble, isn’t that wonderful! Yes, it wasn’t long after they got married he set up the band. They got married in Bundoran you know. Is that so?, said Bubble all ears. Yes, I said, there was a boarding house there called Over the Waves, that was where they spent their honeymoon. They were always talking about going back there but they never got round to it. Everyone knew them there, all the guests. He used to sing for them in the evenings. Its a pity they never managed to go back. Perhaps they will yet Francis, he says, there’s still plenty of time. Indeed there is, I said, its not often you see a singing skeleton she’ll bring the house down.

  Tiddly said wouldn’t it be lovely if we could get married. I said it would be great. I could buy you flowers and chocolates and you could have dinner ready when I come home he says. Ha ha I laughed, like a girl, and did Tiddly like that! Little Miss Snowdrop, I said, Queen of All The Beautiful Things in the World!, and that nearly drove him astray in the head altogether. The sweat hopped off him. Flip, in went the Rolos.

  One day I was down in the boilerhouse watching the circus of sparks putting on a show inside the big stove. I was puffing away on a Park Drive Tiddly had given me. Then I heard the voice: I know you’re in there, you can’t fool me! You needn’t think I’m afraid of you, Mr Head-The-Ball Brady. I’ll take you! I’m the man will take you! Your trick-acting’ll not annoy me! Come on! Come on out you snaky bastard!

  I heard the keys rattling and when I looked up who was it only the gardener with a big graip pointed at me and his eyes mad in his head, I have you now my buck what’ll the priests have to say about this!

  I went white and I said well I suppose that’s me fucked but then what does he do only start chuckling to himself and lock the doors, give me a light he says. Effing sky pilots, what do I care about them! What one of them was ever any good? They wouldn’t give you the steam of their piss. He said they owed him five shillings since nineteen forty. All of a sudden the whole boilerhouse smelt of weeds and fertiliser. We stood there watching the sparks’ circus inside the little door of the stove. There was a touch of the bogman in that gardener too. Hate, he called it. There’s great hate off that stove, he said. O, I says, powerful hate! Powerful hate altogether!

  I’m afraid you appear to have missed this part of the grass verge, the sky pilot says to me. I had the shears in me hand! I had! He was a lucky man that day I can tell you. He was within that of getting it with the shears!, he says, and showed me a bit of his thumb squeezed between two fingers.

  He bit away at the butt of the cigarette. Me, he said, who fought for this country. O yes, he says, I was in the GPO in Easter Week. All I cared about in the GPO was Michael Collins and that was only because da was reading a book about him when they were in Bundoran. Did you know Michael Collins, I says to him. He nearly had a stroke. Did I know him? Didn’t he stay in our house!

  He stared at me with the eyes dancing, flicking away at the fag. I said da knew about him. O aye but not as much as me, oho I knew him all right he said and hunched down looking right at me. You don’t believe me?, he said and gave me a thump on the arm it nearly knocked me into the fire. I do believe you I said. You want to see the amount of rashers and black puddings that man’d eat, he said, small wonder he was a good soldier!

  Then he leaned back and folded his arms with the butt stuck in the corner of his mouth. His foot was tapping away waiting for me to say something. I landed a big farmer spit in the middle of my hand. By Christ!, I said, there’s not many men can say that! Stayed in your house! He looked at me proud as a dog with two cocks.

  Now you said it he says and dragged happily on the butt.

  And I’ll tell you another thing he said – I was one of the best lads with a rifle he ever seen.

  Be the hokey Jasus!, I said with my mouth open.

  There you have it, he said and closed one eye: But don’t breathe a word. I wouldn’t please the bastards.

  It was nearly dark by the time he was finished blowing up Crossley Tenders and plugging Tans.

  The red eye of the cigarette glowed as he pulled on it through the pink claw of his clay-caked fingers.

  I’ll meet you here tomorrow he says and I wondered was he another Tiddly. But I knew he wasn’t. All he wanted was a Black and Tan to sit on his knee so he could shoot him in the head. Jasus he shouts there’s the priest get down get down and the two of us hunkered down. When I looked at him he had his arms wrapped around his head like an octopus. All you could hear was mumble mumble oh yes indeed and the squeak of the leather shoes as they went past. O yes, I could hear them saying, he certainly came into his own in the county final! Its all right I said they’re gone now. The bastards he said, peeping out through a crack in the door, if they catch me here its more than my job’s worth!

  So that was the way it went. Between being Tiddly’s wife and keeping an eye out for the Black and Tans for the gardener I was doing all right in that old school for pigs only Tiddly had to go and fucking spoil it didn’t he.

  Sit up here now, he says and took me on his knee. O he says you’re a picture. Ha ha I says the way he liked it and he says you’ll never guess what I got for you.

  I stuck my finger in my mouth and rolled my eyes mischievously.

  Guess, he says. Go on, guess.

  Sweets, I said.

  No, its not sweets.

  A book, I said, its a book.

  No, he said, its not a book.

  I tried all sorts of things but it was none of them. I could hear Tiddly rooting about behind the big armchair and the crackling paper of a parcel. His fingers were all over the place as he fumbled with the twine and tried to open it.

  Let me, I said.

  O, said Tiddly.

  Tiddly’s eyes were the size of jampot lids. I swooned.

  O father its lovely!

  It was a woman’s bonnet with a long white ribbon dangling down.

  I felt like laughing
my arse off but poor old Tiddly wouldn’t have liked that biting away at the skin of his mouth oh Francis.

  What do you think says I putting it on and doing a twirl for him in front of the mirror. I went spinning round the room and Tiddly got so weak he had to steady himself against the arm of the chair.

  Oo do you think – ah I’m beautiful – ah!, I says.

  His bottom lip was trembling. Sit up here now I says so up I went. He puts his arm around me you’ve no idea how much I love you Francis he says in the nights I even dream about you. I want to know everything about you. Ten Rolos, says I. Tell me all about yourself. I told him a heap of lies and true stuff mixed in. That was a good laugh, all about the football match and the town and the drunk lad and all the things that went on but that wasn’t what he wanted to know. Yes yes he says but I want to know about you Francis. I’ll bet you live in a nice house do you? Do you live in a nice house?

  He gave me a big uncle smile and that was the first time I thought to myself: I don’t like you any more Tiddly.

  He chucked at the ribbon of the bonnet and crinkled up his eyes. Go on, he says you can tell me. I was going to tell him nothing but he kept at it go on go on and all this. I told him we had black and white tiles in the scullery and a twenty three inch television but that wasn’t enough for him he still kept at it. The more he made me say things the redder my face was getting I had said so much now I could never go back and say that I wasn’t telling him about our house at all but Nugents I had to keep going if he had stopped then it might have been all right but he didn’t, he kept making me say more and more. And that’s what Mrs Nugent wanted. I saw her standing there beneath a tree in the lane behind the houses not far from me and Joe’s puddle. Ma came out into the yard to take in the washing. When she seen her Mrs Nugent smiled through her thin lips. Then she went over to her and leaned over the wall. Ma stumbled with the washing piled under her arm. She just kept smiling at ma. With her eyes she was saying: I’ll speak when I’m ready.

  And when she was, she said: Do you know what he did? He asked me to be his mother. He said he’d give anything not to be a pig. That’s what he did on you Mrs Brady. That’s why he came to our house! Her breast was choking me again, lukewarm in my throat. I think I hit him first he fell back and I heard him shout Don’t hurt me Francie I love you!

  There was a paper knife on his desk I seen it there plenty of times I just felt around for it and tried to cut him but I couldn’t get at him please please I love you! was all I could hear. Put it down!, I heard I wasn’t sure who it was I think it was Bubble and someone else I couldn’t see their faces right my head swum, all I could see was ma smiling and saying to me over and over again don’t worry Francie no matter what she says about you I’ll never believe it I’ll never disown you ever ever not the way I did you ma I said no son no! she said I said its true ma no she says but it was and it always would be no matter what I did.

  Roast pig in the dark that was what I was when I awoke, they’d locked me in the boilerhouse. I could hear whispering outside it took me a while to make it out. You’re an awful man. It took four of them to hold you. I hear it was like trying to wrassle a weasel. Do you hear me, eh? You showed the fuckers! Hee hee!

  The circus sparks put on a show for me. Look Francie they said but I couldn’t see them right I think they must have given me the needle one minute Joe and me would be standing in the lane getting ready to throw the marble, the next Bubble would be floating by like a black parachute in the wind. I could hear the music of the carnival Joe was there on his own just walking in and out of the sideshows. The big wheel turned and yellow balls bounced on watersprays. Pop went the rifles and old targets were thrown away. Beside the gallery the goldfish swam in a big glass tank. There were plastic bags for taking them home in. Then the boy doing the shooting turned around and pushed the hair back from his eyes. It was Philip Nugent, smiling and counting the number of holes in his target. He was going to say something but it wasn’t his voice that came out of his mouth: Hi! Hi! Are you in there? Ha! Ha! Do you want a fag?

  Then this fag comes rolling in under the door. I don’t know how many I smoked when I was in there. Hundreds maybe. The doors opened and there’s Bubble standing in the light but he wasn’t his usual self tugging away at his sleeve and looking away from you when he was speaking. You didn’t often see him doing that. Well my fine fellow are you ready to behave yourself yet?, he says.

  I knew by him he was afraid I was going to say no. For he had no idea what he was going to do then. But I didn’t. I liked old Bubble. But Tiddly he was a different story. It’d be God help him if he ever came near me again.

  Its not my job to cut effing grass verges, says the gardener. If he says it to me one more time, that’s it. I’m out.

  What do you say?

  I didn’t say anything, just looked at him advancing on the inch of ash with one eye closed.

  Or have you quit talking altogether?

  The way he said it I thought I’d be as well to say something before he took into me with the graip.

  Cut no verges, I said. No verges now and that’s all’s about it!

  He nearly burst open with excitement. He whacked his corduroys with the battered cap.

  Now you said it!, he cried.

  Not a one! I said.

  Not a shaggin’ one he says with the fag shaking, by Christ you’re a good one, here have a fag he said and shook a few of them, a fag for every fucker of a sky pilot that gets his arse kicked! Go on!

  He chuckled away as a ballerina of sparks did a twirl. Did I ever tell you about the time I sprung Michael Collins from the Bridewell jail? he says.

  No, I says.

  I didn’t?

  He licked his lips and little infantrymen ran from one eye to the other. And what would your business be says the officer? Oh I’m a Holy Ghost Father officer, I says. Very well he says, proceed padre. So off I went and not half an hour later there’s me and the head of the Irish Republican Army rattling through the streets of Dublin in a horse and cart! Good man says Collins from under a pile of turnips you’ll be remembered for this!

  The light was failing outside and they were all heading towards the refectory for tea.

  The more I tried to get the goldfish out of my head the more it kept coming back.

  One wet day I seen Tiddly climbing into a car and he was never seen again, probably away off to the garage to rub some bogman with his mickey good luck and good fucking riddance. Bubble called me up to his study and I could see he was on for a bit of detective work. Every time he thought I wasn’t looking he’d look at me over the rim of the teacup. If I turned he’d look away again quick as a flash. He was trying to think of the right words for he knew if he got the wrong ones I’d tell him nothing and maybe if he did I’d tell him nothing anyway. I sank into the big leather chair and he says do you like Scots Clan I do indeed I says. He asked me a few questions about how I was getting on now. I said OK and yes and no to them all. His face was all creased up trying to find the right way of saying things it was like trying to turn the corner on two wheels. Sometimes I just shrugged my shoulders and looked out the window. Then Bubble stands there staring out knotting the fingers together behind his back wondering what way would he start his speech. It was a different speech this time there was no jokes or any of that for he knew what I thought fuck the jokes and he was right. He said life was difficult, people had their troubles. Some of the things people did were hard to understand. A soggy football went sailing past the window and a clatter of bogmen chasing after it. He said Father Sullivan was a good man. I said nothing. He starts to tell me this story then about him going off to Dublin to visit his sister. He’s been working hard lately too hard if you ask me, he says with a watery laugh. His sister will look after him I said and sipped the tea. She will, he says, she’s very good to him. He’s lucky he has her. I didn’t mean to laugh but I just had to when he said that. I was chuckling away to myself. Sister, for fuck’s sake! Poor old Tiddly was
probably climbing up the walls of the garage by now shouting I love you bogman! to some young farmer lad.

  Bubble knew I was laughing but there wasn’t much he could do about it. If he said: Stop laughing, I’d only go and do it worse. I’d push him out of the way and shout out the window: Hey bogmen! Did youse hear about Father Tiddly the Rolo man!

  That was what Bubble was afraid of. That everybody would hear. But he didn’t have to worry about that. As long as he left me alone and minded his own business I wouldn’t say anything about old Father Big-Mickey I mean Tiddly. Now he was gone I didn’t give a fuck. I just wanted to be left alone. I hope you’re happy here says Bubble. I said I am. Then I said: I’m going now.

  Yes Francis, said Bubble holding the cup with one finger up in the air. I wasn’t going to tell about Tiddly. But he didn’t know that. All he knew was he’d seen him lying whingeing in the corner saying I love you to me. I don’t think poor old Bubble was used to seeing things like that. The last thing I seen as I went out the door was him standing there all helpless and pained-looking. He was thinking: Why can’t all these bad terrible things be over so as I can sing a little happy song. Like Michael Row The Boat Ashore maybe!

  After that the days were all the same, they just drizzled past, days without Joe without da without anything. I didn’t have to worry much about getting the Francie Brady Not a Bad Bastard Any More Diploma any more after the Tiddly business for I knew they were going to let me go the first chance they got I was like a fungus growing on the walls they wanted them washed clean again.