by Paul Kelly
“What was that you said, Willie Blair? I can’t be hearin’ right. You speak as though a Jew was a dirty word and no’ to be used. God was a Jew, wasn’t He, Mammy?”
Mary Blair was aware of her very limited knowledge on any matter of religion, but she never wanted to feel inadequate in front of her children.
“Well now, Hen... I’m no’ sure about God, but Jesus was a Jew, that’s for certain. Maybe you would be best to ask Fr. O’Halloran. He would know.”
Sadie pushed her hair away from her face and turned her back on her brother, but Willie wasn’t thinking about religion at that moment. His thoughts were full of Rachael’s beauty and he forgot for the moment about Cathie Coutts and her passion for chips. Besides, Coutts had spots. She was fat and she had greasy hair and a squint in her right eye, he added mentally . . . or was it the left? To hell with it... What did it matter? Rachael was beautiful, he concluded with a lovesick sigh and that Coutts lassie wasn’t worth a bag o’ chips, in his estimation.
He would have to talk to Charlie and get this woman problem resolved in his mind once and for all. That’s exactly what he’d do . .
He went to bed earlier than usual that night and lay awake for a long time before Charlie came in from his night out with the lads.
“I’m knackered,” he groaned as he started to undress. “Hand me that towel there, will you, Willie?”
Willie obliged and Charlie went out to the bathroom for a few moments, coming back to the bedroom again, drying his head and blowing like a war horse. Willie lay silently until his brother had settled beside him.
“Charlie...” he called softly, but Charlie was already half way into the land of nod. He called again. A little louder this time, but there was still no reply.
“Charlie,” he shouted a third time and dug his brother in the ribs. Charlie jumped.
“What the hell was that for?”
Willie settled himself, with his arms above his head on the pillow. It was easier to ask embarrassing questions when you didn’t see who you were talking to.
“I need to know something, Charlie. I need to ask you a question.”
Charlie rolled away from him.
“Och! I’m dead tired, Willie. I’ve been hard at it all day and I need my sleep. Can’t it wait till the morning?”
Willie shuffled and pulled the clothes closely around him, leaving his brother half naked.
“You’ve been ‘hard at it’ in more ways than one . . . haven’t you?” he probed and by this time Charlie was wide awake. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.
“What do you mean by that?”
Willie waited a while before he spoke again. He was embarrassed and he didn’t want Charlie to look at him, but he just had to know.
“Do you do dirty things to lassies, Charlie?” he asked and Charlie looked at him in amazement.
“What’s brought all this on?”
Willie stared defiantly at the ceiling. His lips were tight as he waited for an answer, but Charlie wasn’t going to oblige.
“Do you talk to Cathie Coutts?” he asked and his voice shook with emotion.
“Yes I have done. Why?”
“Do ye buy her chips?”
Charlie laughed and scratched his left nipple
“Sometimes ... yes, I have done ... why?”
Willie could stand the evasion no longer.
“And what does she give you, Charlie,” he demanded to know as Charlie rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand as he turned to face his brother.
“Who have you been talking to, Willie?”
“Never mind that ...What does she give you?” Willie made his demand in his best English.
“Och! Go to sleep, ya wee bugger . . . I’m tired.”
Charlie pulled the sheets back over him and they lay still in bed together. Nothing more was said for a few moments, but Willie was restless and he knew he would never sleep until he got his answer.
“Charlie . . . Charlie.”
Charlie threw back the sheets and glared at Willie
“What now?”
There was another long pause before Willie could speak again . . . and he forgot his best English.
“Ye would’na really dae dirty things tae lassies, wid ye Charlie?”
Charlie turned towards Willie with a tired and exasperated look in his eye.
“Naw Naw, you know I widna dae things like that Willie, surely.”
Willie sighed contentedly as he touched Charlie’s hand under the bedclothes, but he wasn’t prepared for the answer that followed. “This week, I’m doin’ it tae wee boys . . . NOW GET TO SLEEP.”
Willie scowled and then he laughed. They both laughed and rolled over for a good night’s sleep, but the smell of chips wouldn’t leave Willie’s nostrils.
***
The following day was Charlie’s day off from the building site and he had intended to make the best of it. His sisters made a great fuss of the working man in the house and he had tea and toast in bed. Willie shared the toast before he went to school.
“Come in.” Aggie answered in response to the doorbell, to see Rachel Harris standing on the door step. She looked very shy.
“I don’t want to disturb anyone, but could I possibly speak to Willie for a moment, please?” she asked as Willie stood stunned and with his mouth wide open. Aggie invited Rachael into the house and asked her to sit down whilst she went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, she said leaving Willie alone in the room with Rachael.
“Would you like a cup, Rachael? It is Rachael, isn’t it?” Aggie enquired, popping her head back into the room for a moment from the kitchen.
“Oh! No thank you ...Please don’t go to any trouble. I just wanted to see Willie for a moment, that’s all.” She sat down and crossed her legs and Willie stared at her wide-eyed. “I would like to thank you for helping my brother the way you did, Willie,” she said as she smiled and took her hair back from her forehead where it had fallen.
Willie was speechless. He hadn’t expected anything like this, but Charlie appeared at that moment at the living room door, stripped to the waist and with his bronzed body accentuating his blonde hair and blue eyes as he stood before the visitor. He had seen her before. He knew she was the girl he had seen carrying the suitcase and who had looked up at him as he stood on the scaffold that morning when he had first started work on the site.
Willie was embarrassed as he looked from Rachael to Charlie and back again.
“This is my brother, Charlie He works on the building site in Tradeston Street and there is no need to say anything more about your brother . . . Nathan, isn’t it? It was just something that happened, but it wasn’t of any importance. It was nothing . . . Nothing at all I have to get to school now Bye.”
Willie left the house with his heart in his boots and started his wishing session again.
“Wish I was blonde and good lookin’ just like Charlie. Wish I had a job on a building site so that I could get a tan like that .Wish I didn’t have to go to bloody school. Wish Charlie hadn’t come into the room when he did. Wish he had put his bloody shirt on at least . . . “
Willie walked on moodily, sniffing back his tears and he was strongly tempted to buy some chips for Charlie to take to Cathie Coutts.
***
“I think I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” Charlie asked Rachael as she sipped the tea that Aggie had insisted she have. Aggie was getting used to scenes like this one before, with the men folk in the house, who were always arguing about girls and she made herself scarce . . . besides, she was due at the factory in ten minutes.
“Will you excuse me Rachael,” she pleaded gently as she slipped out of the door. Sadie and Meggie had left earlier to attend Mass with Mary and Charlie was left alone in the house ...well alone, but with Ra
chael who wouldn’t admit that she had seen him before on the building site. They looked at each other for a long time without speaking and Charlie’s chest heaved as he stared.
“Oh! I’m sorry “he spluttered, “I’ll just go and put some clothes on .Will you wait for a few minutes and then perhaps, I could walk you home? I don’t have to be at the site this morning. It’s my day off.”
Rachael put her cup down on the table.
“I really must be going now I have some things I promised to do for my grandmother,” she spluttered as Charlie stood still, making no attempt to find his clothes, as he had suggested.
“Can I see you again?” he gasped, surprised at his own alacrity but Rachael did not answer. He went to the door to open it for her. “Please,” he said gently, “Come back again soon.” She smiled and left the house.
When Rachael had gone, Charlie jumped in the air and shrieked before he fell, stunned across the settee where he had banged his head on the low ceiling in his joy-jump. He ran into the bedroom and sprayed his face with aftershave, splashing it liberally over his chest and under his arms and spelling RACHAEL with every aromatic squirt. His nostrils quivered with the intoxicating excitement that he had just found as he closed his eyes and smiled broadly, before biffing the air once more with his fist.
***
The girls went their separate ways, to look for work and Mary returned home after Mass. She could not believe her eyes to see Charlie looking so smart in a white shirt and grey flannels. He had on the new pair of brown and white shoes that he had bought from his first wage, she remembered and she smiled at the latest fashion, thinking he looked every inch the ‘Diego’ that he imagined himself to be.
“Did you see her, Mammy,” he exclaimed as Mary was taking her hat off. “That girl who lives with old Mrs. Harris ... did you see her? I think the old lady is her grandmother Oh! She’s lovely really, really lovely Mammy. The girl I mean ...not the grandmother ...”
Mary stood back and gasped.
“The grandmother?” she asked, but Charlie heard nothing for the bells that were ringing in his ears.
Chapter Six
Craig came to school on the following Monday and Willie was delighted to see him. He looked carefully at his friend’s face but there was no sign at all of any bruising and certainly no black eye. He called to Willie as he walked across the playground and they went together to a side area, by the old boiler room, to talk. The walls were always warm there in the winter and Willie could see that Craigie was upset about something and was sure he would want to talk about it.
“What is it Craigie? What’s wrong? I know there’s something and you can tell me, if you like.”
His friend could not speak for some time, but Willie knew by his eyes and by the way in which he stuttered, that something was worrying him. The stutter was different for each mood somehow and Craigie stuttered regularly, but not like he was doing that morning. He was a serious minded, reserved little boy and not given to much conversation, but he never gave the impression that he was particularly unhappy.
“I don’t know how to tell you, Willie,” he stammered out in his usual fashion. His speech was slow and deliberate, even if it came in spasms and when he was excited about anything, which wasn’t very often, he would have to draw his breath and wait for a few seconds, before he could continue.
“Take your time, Craigie. Take your time. It’s a good ten minutes before the bell,” Willie tried to console, but he became really worried when his friend struggled laboriously to breathe and then he began to cry. The tears ran slowly down from his eyes and rested on his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and Willie gave him his hankie.
“It’s my step-father,” he said and dabbed his mouth with Willie’s handkerchief.
“Was that the man I saw when I came to your house last week?”
Craigie opened his mouth wide and closed his eyes tightly as if to suck in all the air he could find.
“Yes But I didn’t want to see you until my face got better.”
“What happened? Can you tell me?”
The little boy swallowed hard and looked about him with fear in his eyes.
“He ...He hit me, Willie.”
“What? Why did he do that?”
Craigie started to cry again and with much more emotion than before.
“Craigie,” Willie demanded a second time, “Why did he hit you?”
The boy hesitated and dried his eyes as he appeared to be more in control of the situation.
“It doesn’t matter, Willie. It was my fault anyway. I should always do as I’m told. Mammy always told me that I should always do as I’m told . . .”
“Don’t be stupid, Craigie . I know you should do what you’re told but there are times when you just can’t do that.”
Craigie stared at Willie and the tears welled up again in his eyes.
“Willie, I’m frightened.” he said softly and Willie knew he would have to use a different approach if he was to help his friend. He understood Craigie’s natural temperament and he always avoided shouting at him, or losing his temper, but he looked hard into the little boy’s face and took a deep breath.
“Tell me, Craigie Tell me what’s happened. I want to know.” he demanded and he hated himself for being so hard. Craig Daniells shivered and his lips began to quiver.
“He hits me because because I won’t touch him, that’s why?” he said and his nostrils widened with fear. “That’s just why,” he said again and started to cry.
Willie stared at his friend in horror as he continued to sob pitifully. He put his hand on Craigie’s shoulder and asked defiantly,
“Do you mean He wants you to play with him?”
Craigie screwed up his eyes and was convulsed in fear. The boys looked at each other; one with fear in his eyes and the other with pity and understanding.
“He says if I don’t let him play with me he’ll tell my Mammy that I’m wicked. Willie, my Mammy is in hospital you know that, don’t you? She is very, very ill and if she knew what I was doing she’d . . . well she’d die Willie. I know she would. Oh! Willie, please help me. I don’t know what to do.”
Willie Blair suddenly felt very mature in his way of thinking.
“We’ll think of something, Craigie. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
***
Wattie arrived on the scene as the two friends were having their discussion and he stared at Craigie.
“What are you blubberin’ for then?” he bellowed, critical of Craigie when he saw him crying and with his red, tear-stained face. Craigie ran off.
“Your mouth’s bigger than your bloody airse, Wattie and that’s big enough. What did you want to say that for?” screamed Willie as he watched Craigie run to the other end of the playground. Wattie stood back in amazement and felt his rear, before returning again to Willie.
“What have I done?” he asked, wide eyed and with his mouth hanging open.
“Never mind . . . Just leave it Wattie.”
“But, Willie I . . .”
“LEAVE IT WATTIE.”
Wattie tried to change the subject, having suddenly felt some guilt for something that he did not understand, but he would never contradict Willie and he shut up. He knew something must be seriously wrong when Willie appeared so annoyed and he waited for a few moments before he spoke again.
“My Mammy’s coming up to the school to see Mr. Havers sometime this week about me goin’ to University when I leave here, Willie. Did you know that? Did you know that I was going into the University?”
Willie did not hear what Wattie had said. His eyes and thoughts were elsewhere, but Wattie started again.
“My Mammy wants me to get to the University and she says it’s what my Daddy would have wanted for me too. What do you think, Willie?”
Willie blinked and stared at the potential under graduate.
“Wattie ...”
Wattie grinned happily with reassurance.
“Yes Willie?
“Get your heed out of your airse and go wipe your bloody nose, will you.”
Chapter Seven
Willie stood next to Harry McKenzie behind the bar at the party, but they did not converse easily.
“Can I have two Cokes please?” someone called out and Harry edged in to serve the order. He was a fat boy, not unlike his sister Moira in shape and size with the same flaming red hair. His face was round and pink and his eyes were like slits surrounded by puffy, pink flesh. Together with this he had, what Willie would describe as a ‘bloody rose-bud mouth’ . . . Needless to say, Willie did not like him.
“Ginger beer please over here mate.and don’t muck about.”
Harry was beginning to get flustered and Willie stood cool, making no attempt to move as he watched his fat friend grunt and groan under the strain of his voluntary offer to be barman.
“Gies a packet o’ peanuts there ... afore the row starts ...”
Harry looked about him in surprise at the latest demand.
“What row?” he asked innocently, blinking his ginger, fair eyelashes.
Someone giggled and a raucous voice screamed from somewhere in the crowd,
“The row when you find I’ve got nae money tae pay for the ruddy things. That’s what row, Buster.”
Ackie thought this was a great joke and fell about laughing, but Willie was beginning to feel guilty for his laid back attitude and he wasn’t at all amused. He was looking for Craigie, hoping that he might spot him somewhere in the hall and Harry seemed to manage to be serving everyone with such total diligence. Moira gazed at her brother in wonder and he smiled back, knowing that his duties as Bar Steward excluded him from such frivolities as dancing or anything like that, as Moira moved with her feet tapping impatiently as she stroked her red mane.