by Roddy Doyle
—I’ll finally get to see my nephew, said Les.
Jimmy could see Des and Outspan looking at Les, trying to work out the story. He was Jimmy’s brother; that was all they really knew about him. They said nothing.
Jimmy looked at Des, and felt a bit bad – a bit guilty. The Irregulars, Des’s band, had been his first clients.
—If your vocalist hadn’t died, Des, he said.
—Selfish prick, said Des.—It should’ve been me, men.
Les put his head back and roared.
—It should have been Des!
They joined him for the second shout – even Outspan.
—It should have been Des!
No one objected.
—Where is everybody?
—They’re at the dum-dum dum-dum.
—Young people, wha’.
—They haven’t a fuckin’ clue.
—There was no fuckin’ dum-dum dum-dum in our day.
—We played our instruments, said Outspan.
Jimmy looked at Outspan. He was right – Outspan had played rhythm guitar.
Les passed more cans around.
—Cheers.
—Yep.
—It should have been Des!
—I am the Des!
At last, life – a reaction came from across the field.
—Shut fuckin’ up!
—I am the Des!
—Shut up!
—I’m the Des!
—You’re the cunt!
—I am the cunt!
They were pissed but clear-headed – Jimmy was. Outspan was standing, away a bit, pissing on someone else’s tent. Les was sitting cross-legged, straight-backed. Des was lying back, leaning on an elbow. The elbow was off the jacket, very slowly sinking into the ground. Des didn’t notice or care.
Outspan was back.
—Alrigh’?
—Grand.
He took his time – a long time – bending his legs, dropping to the ground. There was one point, one second, when Jimmy saw how skinny he’d become. His legs didn’t widen; his thighs seemed as thick as his ankles.
He landed.
—Where’s me can?
—Any regrets? said Jimmy.
—I can’t find me fuckin’ can.
—Yeh brought it with you.
—Fuck, I’m not goin’ back for it —
—Here, said Les.
He handed Outspan a fresh one.
—Cheers – thanks.
—Give us one there as well, Les, said Jimmy.
—And me, said Des.
Jimmy couldn’t remember drinking as much, or for as long. He was breaking some kind of record. But he wasn’t tired. He wasn’t anything.
—So, he said – he remembered what he’d said a minute before. —Any regrets?
—Wha’? said Outspan.—Me in particular?
—Yeah, said Jimmy.—But no. All of us.
—Well, said Outspan.
—Wha’?
—Chinese cock, said Outspan.
The air was full of Excelsior. It was the funniest fuckin’ thing they’d ever —
—I’ve done all the rest, said Outspan.
They were on to the next cans before they’d stopped laughing and started and stopped again.
—I wish I’d had a few quid, said Outspan.
—Yeah, said Des.
—But, like, I did, said Outspan.—For a bit. I had a bit of a bundle. An’ I spent it. So – no.
—More women, said Les.
—Yep.
—Yeah.
—But it’s obvious, isn’t it? said Jimmy.—Nothin’ to do with health or gettin’ older. We’ve probably felt tha’ way since we were five.
—More women!
—More women!
—Shut up!
—I am the Des!
—Real regrets, said Outspan.—They’re fuckin’ pointless.
—I’m with yeh.
—Women, money, things tha’ went wrong.
—What about you, Les? said Jimmy.
Les didn’t answer.
—I wish I was you, Rabbitte, said Outspan.
—Fuck off.
—Serious.
—Fuck off.
—You’re perfect.
—Fuck off.
—Sex but, said Outspan.
—Wha’?
—I read a thing, said Outspan.—A website, like. When I was – fuckin’, yeh know – diagnosed. Kind of a list of all the things tha’ were goin’ to happen durin’ the chemo an’ after.
—I read that shite as well, said Jimmy.
—An’ it is shite, said Outspan.—Isn’t it?
—Some of it, said Les.
—Fuckin’ all of it, said Outspan.—I never stopped – except when I was really sick – now, really fuckin’ sick. I never stopped wantin’ to ride nearly every woman I saw. It was business as usual. Still is. Even though —
—Wha’?
—It would fuckin’ kill me.
—Good way to go.
—Not fair on the bird.
He coughed – or it sounded like a cough.
—But at least, he said,—there’s the chemo porn.
—The what?
—Chemo porn.
—What the fuck is that?
—It needs fuckin’ explainin’? said Outspan.
—Yeah, said Jimmy.—I think so – maybe. Just to be on the safe side.
—Ah, look it, said Outspan.—I thought yis’d know about it.
—No.
—Well, it’s – like. It’s people with cancer.
—Ridin’?
—Some, said Outspan.—Mostly just pictures. Good-lookin’ women who still look good even though they’re goin’ through chemo. Men as well – some.
—Jesus.
—It’s kind o’ reassurin’, said Outspan.—Yeh can see for yourself, if yeh have a smartphone there.
The dum-dum dum-dum was still going but something must have ended because they could see bodies now, long shadows, moving through the tents.
Les had his phone out.
—What’s the web address?
—Which one?
—There’s more than one?
—’Course there is, said Outspan.—Jesus. Chemo-porn.com. There’s a dash.
—Between chemo and porn?
—No, between fuckin’ an’ eejit.
—Don’t, Les.
—What?
—Why not? said Outspan.—What’s your problem?
The shadows were huge but the kids that came after them weren’t particularly big. They stopped dead at the lads.
—Old people! said a girl in shorts and wellies.—Old people!
—Oh my God!
Jimmy laughed. They all did.
—Put the phone away, Les, for fuck sake.
There were five of them – maybe six. Two girls and three lads – maybe four.
—Want a drink, kids? said Les.
—Cool.
—It’s a bit gross, like.
—What is?
—It’s like drinking with our dads, like.
—Could be worse, said Outspan.—We could be your fuckin’ mas.
—Here, said Les.
He passed each of them a can.
—You don’t have to stay, he said.
—Savage – thanks.
They tripped over guy ropes as they escaped to their own tents somewhere behind the lads.
—But look it, said Outspan – he’d lowered his voice.—There’s a link. To an Irish site.
—Porn?
—Not really. More online datin’.
—People with cancer?
—Yeah – ’course.
—And?
—I met up with one.
—A woman?
—A fuckin’ chimp. Yeah, a woman.
—How was tha’?
—Grand, said Outspan.—Not too bad.
—You met her?
—Yeah.
—Where?
—Yeah.
—Pub near hers.
—An’ yeh went back?
—Yeah.
—And?
—An’ wha’? It was great. I don’t know – neither of us had to feel bad.
Jimmy wanted to cry. He wanted to hug Outspan.
—D’yeh still see her?
—No.
—Ah. How come?
—She’s dead. Yeh fuckin’ eejit.
There was silence – total. The whole of the Picnic and Laois had gone missing. Then there was a rattling noise – Outspan laughing.
—Yeh cunt, said Jimmy.—You were havin’ us on.
He still wanted to cry. But laughing was easier and Outspan looked happier there than Jimmy had ever seen him.
—But, like, said Outspan.—I did go for a coffee with a woman in chemo. Once. We said we wouldn’t talk about it but we talked abou’ nothin’ else. It was a bit borin’.
—I’d say so.
—Nice bird, though.
Les was looking at his phone.
—There is actually a site, he said.
—I wasn’t jokin’ abou’ tha’, said Outspan.—That’s on the level.
There was a kid beside them, one of the boys they’d given a can to.
—D’you want some of these? he said.
The kid’s hand was out but Jimmy couldn’t see anything. Then he did. It was a plastic bag – a Spar bag.
—What have you got for us there? said Les.
Des was on his knees now, looking into the bag. He put his hand in.
—Lads – don’t, said Jimmy – too late.
There was something sticking out of Des’s mouth, like a tail. He was eating a mouse.
—Wha’ the fuck are yeh doin’?
—Mushrooms, said Les.
That was what was sticking from Des’s mouth, the mushroom’s tail – or stalk.
Les held up a fistful and put his head back.
—Magic mushrooms? said Jimmy.
—Hope so, said Les.
He shoved the crop into his mouth. The kid was shaking the bag at Jimmy and Outspan.
—Want some?
—Fuck off, said Jimmy.
A good night out with the lads – actually, more a night in with the lads – was heading out of control.
But Outspan was relaxed.
—Fuckin’ eejits, he said.
Des had spat his share back onto the grass.
—I can’t swallow them, he said.—They’re not even washed.
—Snob, said Outspan.
—They’re too dry, said Des.
Les was chewing away. The kid was gone.
—Jesus, said Jimmy.
—Relax, said Les.
He drank long from his can.
—Wha’ happens? said Jimmy.
He knew nothing about drugs. He was a white middle-aged man in the music business; he should have had a new nose from all the cocaine use. But he’d never seen cocaine.
—I’ll start hallucinating in a while, said Les.—Any minute now.
Des was rooting through the mushrooms he’d spat out.
—One at a time, he said – he mumbled.—That’s the trick.
He put a tiny mushroom into his mouth, then took a swig.
—You an’ me in one tent, Liam, okay? said Jimmy.
He was calmer now. He wasn’t going to look after this pair. Anyway, with Les’s military training, he’d be able to find the antidote – whatever the fuck – in under the trees over there. He’d boil the bark or lick a lizard or something. Jimmy would be asleep – he didn’t care.
—Definitely, said Outspan.—These cunts’ll be off chattin’ to the fairies in a minute.
—I am the Des!
—Ah, for fuck sake.
—One for the road, said Jimmy.
He leaned past Les and got hold of a can, and another one. He half expected to have his arm broken, or his eyes gouged. More of Les’s training. Protecting the supplies. Act first, ask later. But nothing happened.
—Here yeh go.
—Thanks, said Outspan.
—Wha’ were we talkin’ about?
—Ridin’ women with cancer.
—That’s right, said Jimmy.—Time to move on maybe.
—Suit yourself.
—Nothing yet, said Des.—You?
He was staring at the ground.
—Nope, said Les.—Give it half an hour or so.
—Jesus, said Outspan.—This is borin’.
He got up on his knees.
—I’m not hangin’ around to listen to this shite, he said.
He crawled across to the nearer tent.
—Where’s the fuckin’ zip?
Jimmy heard it, and saw Outspan slide into the tent, and heard him too now, inside. And he was right. Waiting for Leslie and Dezlie to turn into hobbits was boring.
—Seeyis, he said.
—’Night, Jim, said Les.
Des said nothing. He was still staring at the ground.
Jimmy followed Outspan into the tent. But it was hard to tell when out became in. The tent was so thin, it was as dark, as bright, as fuckin’ cold, inside as it was out. The slight push of the nylon against the top of his head was the only real proof that he was in the fuckin’ thing. Outspan was already buried in a sleeping bag.
Jimmy took his boots off. It was hard – he didn’t want to knee Outspan or put his head through the tent. He got one of the boots off. He was sweating, even though he was cold. All the sleeping bags were in here with him. He grabbed two of them and opened the flap of the tent. Des was sitting up now, cross-legged like Les, but staring at the ground. Jimmy threw a sleeping bag across to Les.
—Here yeh go.
And the other.
—Thanks.
—Is he alright? said Jimmy.
—Don’t worry, said Les.
—’Night. Les.
—’Night, Jim.
—See you in the mornin’.
—You will.
—Big grass, said Des.
—Oh Christ. Goodnight.
Jimmy zipped up the tent.
—The grass is huge, said Des, outside.
—Fuckin’ eejit, said Outspan.
He was tucked under the wall of the tent. Jimmy couldn’t see any of him. He unrolled his bag. He could already feel the cold in the ground under him. He was tired, though – fucked. Darfur had filled up. It was like sharing a bedroom with thousands of brothers and cousins and more fuckin’ cousins, all yapping. He’d never sleep. He would, though. He was bollixed. Les could mind Des; it’d be fine. He’d kill a deer and have it skinned and ready for their breakfast.
He left his socks on. They were a bit wet – but fuck it, they’d do. He left his jeans on too and waited till he’d got well into the bag before he started to take off his hoodie. But it was too complicated, too much bother. He left it on.
—Huuuge, said Des.—Look.
Jesus, Jimmy was freezing. He was lying down in his own fuckin’ grave.
—Huuge.
—For fuck sake, said Outspan – his voice came through several layers.—If it was even tits he was talkin’ about.
—It’s miles away now, said Des.
Jimmy got his head into the bag. He held the top shut with his fist. He was so fuckin’ cold.
—It’s big again, said Des.—Right over my head.
He was awake.
It wasn’t dark. The spotlight outside lit the walls of the tent.
Something had woken him. There was noise outside – laughter, singing – but it wasn’t that. It was the silence in the tent – it was so loud. No breath, no movement.
Oh Jesus —
Outspan’s face stared up at him. It was locked – the expression. As if he’d turned solid.
Jimmy was out of the sleeping bag.
—Liam?
Outspan wasn’t dead. The eyes were looking at Jimmy.
—D’yeh want your oxygen?
Outspan nodded – it was definitely a nod.
—Grand.
Thank fuck Jimmy hadn’t undressed. He just needed to get his boots on. God, he was stiff – his fuckin’ shoulder was falling off.
The boots were on.
—Nearly there, he said.
Outspan was staring at him. A gulp or a gasp – something – came out of him. Jimmy got the zip open.
—Back in a bit.
He was out. He could stand properly now. It was cold. Ten minutes to the car, he reckoned, and he wouldn’t be carrying anything.
An idea – a good one. He’d get Les to keep an eye on Outspan. He’d be able to thump life back into the lungs or heart.
He unzipped the other tent.
—Les?
There was no one in it. The sleeping bags hadn’t been opened. A new problem – but it could wait. He was worried though, about leaving Outspan alone.
He had to go – he had to go. He wanted to run but there wasn’t room between the tents. The guy ropes were waiting to trip him.
The car, the fuckin’ car key. He’d forgotten the fuckin’ thing. It was okay – it was fuckin’ disastrous – he hadn’t gone too far.
He got back into the tent.
—Sorry – Liam —
Outspan stared at him.
—The car key, said Jimmy.
Outspan lifted his head slightly, just a tiny bit. His jacket was his pillow and Jimmy pulled it from under his head.
—Sorry about this.
The key was in one of the pockets, under a pile of tissues.
He pushed the jacket back under Outspan.
—I’m gone again.
He was out and moving. He felt surer now. He had a clearer idea of the route in his head. He was through the tents, around them. Fuckin’ ropes. There was dum-dum dum-dum still coming from somewhere. He was going past the tower with the spotlight now. He looked at his watch. It was just after five. There were zombies wandering – to the jacks, from the jacks. There was a big lad sleeping sideways on a half-inflated chair. Jimmy looked out for Les or Des. He couldn’t see them. He heard a baby crying from not far off. Jesus – the thought of a waking baby in a fuckin’ tent.
He was out of the tents, away. This was the path. Down to the gate and the road to the car park. He could trot now. He could go a bit faster. The gate ahead was open. Grand. He stopped running, kept walking fast. The trees met above him. It was darker, he was stepping into space he couldn’t see. He tripped – he stayed up. Water went over his boot. Not much, though – he was fine. He’d walk the sock dry.
He was at the gate and puffing a bit. It was the tension, the worry – he couldn’t manage deep breaths. Two guys, security, stepped out from behind the pillar.