New Town Soul

by Dermot Bolger

  ‘Pull that face in history class,’ I said, ‘and you’ll give Bongo Drums Quinn a heart attack.’

  The bell announced the end of break. I wanted to maintain the good vibe between us, but what Geraldine had said would not go away.

  ‘Why did you come home from Leeds?’ I asked.

  ‘Have you seen Leeds United football team? Would you fancy having to trudge through life following that shower?’

  ‘You told me your aunt got sick.’

  ‘That’s what I said, yes.’

  ‘I hear that’s a lie; someone said your aunt is actually dead.’

  Shane’s tone was casual but his eyes had grown cautious. ‘What’s the big deal if she is dead?’

  ‘Why would you lie about it?’

  ‘Is this Geraldine causing mischief? Geraldine always fancied herself as a bit of an amateur detective.’

  ‘Is it true?’

  Shane waited until a throng of students heading back into class went past us. ‘My aunt died in a crash three months ago: a head-on collision with a truck. She was driving on the wrong side of a motorway.’

  ‘Then why tell people she’s ill?’

  ‘Exactly how tragic a figure do you want me to cut, Joey? I had enough sympathy when my folks died, with everyone tiptoeing around me on eggshells. I don’t need more people feeling sorry for me. I could have stayed in Leeds, but I came home because I had a few ghosts to face here.’ Shane stared out the school gates. He looked older suddenly, and in that moment I sensed an intense loneliness within him. It was the first time I had heard him talk openly about his life. ‘I still miss my folks. I even miss lying awake listening to them squabbling. It was money that pulled them apart, rows every time a bill came in. Mum was so sick of the stress that she used to say that the only way they would ever get out of debt was if one of them died and the other one collected the insurance payout.’

  The yard was almost empty now. ‘That was harsh,’ I said as we started walking indoors.

  ‘Unfortunately it was true. They both had large insurance policies. A small fortune came to me when they died. The house in Sion Hill was gutted, but I inherited another big insurance payout from that too. Then my aunt who died also left me everything. My solicitor jokes that I have a Midas touch when it comes to inheritance. Two summers ago my greatest wish was to be rich. I’m now rich beyond my dreams, though the money is being administered in trust for me until I’m twenty-one. But I would swap every last half-crown for company, to belong to a family.’

  The phrase ‘every last half-crown’ struck me as odd. It belonged to another century. ‘Where do you live?’ I asked. ‘You always avoid the question.’

  ‘I live in a granny flat in a converted garage on Pine Lawn. I get my meals and my washing done. All the bills get paid by my solicitor, who gives me a weekly allowance.’

  ‘That sounds lonely.’

  ‘It has its advantages: I’m as free as a bird.’

  ‘Come home with me some evening,’ I said. ‘Mum’s a good cook, she’d be glad to meet you. I don’t have many pals.’

  ‘I don’t want to come between you and your mum,’ Shane replied. ‘After all, she is your best friend. Besides, I’m not the one you should ask home. You and Geraldine were made for each other.’ We had reached our classroom. The door was shut, the history lesson already started. ‘I’ve seen how she looks at you, Joey. Geraldine’s a simmering fuse. All you have to do is find the courage to strike the match and she’ll need to be scraped off you.’

  Shane opened the door and the classroom went quiet as we entered. Geraldine stared up, like she knew we had been discussing her. Our history teacher, Bongo Drums Quinn, turned from writing notes on the blackboard. He had earned his nickname by endlessly boasting about his exploits as a drummer in various bands. You could spot the traits of an old rocker in him, but now he put twenty years of practised sarcasm in his voice. ‘Gentlemen, you must have been discussing something important to keep you away from learning about Hitler’s tyranny?’

  ‘We were discussing our future pursuit of happiness, sir,’ Shane replied.

  ‘Really?’ Bongo Drums fingered the stick of chalk as if half-tempted to fling it at Shane. ‘And when will this spontaneous combustion of happiness occur?’

  ‘The day after I collect my inheritance on my twenty-first birthday.’ Shane winked at me. ‘That’s when Joey Kilmichael’s world tour will start. We might even need a drummer, if you play your cards right. We plan to visit the sort of cities whose names used to be printed on the dials of old radio sets: cities that Joey has barely even heard of.’

  ELEVEN

  Shane

  July and August 2007

  For the rest of that summer, Geraldine and Shane met every morning at Blackrock Library. If they were feeling rich – Shane’s dad insisted on leaving him pocket money, though Shane knew that the man sometimes went without lunch in work – they sat in the juice bar down Bath Avenue or in Cafe Java beside O’Rourke’s pub.

  Geraldine became Shane’s passport into the soul of Blackrock. She seemed to know everyone, and everyone knew her. At the weekends, she introduced him to the stallholders in the Blackrock Market, the sellers of beanbags and vintage clothes, the tarot card reader and the owners of the old curiosity shop. The two teenagers regularly came across curios when they browsed for hours in that ramshackle courtyard until the stallholders finally shooed them away, but they never encountered any mysteries there.

  There were no mysteries to solve in Blackrock Park either, except the mystery of getting to know each other. They spent whole afternoons chasing one another across the playground or rolling down the grassy slopes, shrieking as they tried to tickle each other, with their limbs tangled up in mock fights. Afterwards they lay breathless side by side, staring up at the sky and inventing outlandish creatures from the shapes of passing clouds: camels riding unicycles or six-legged sheep with giraffes’ necks playing xylophones. Each new invention set them off into renewed fits of giggles until Geraldine would stuff grass down Shane’s neck and jump up to let him chase after her.

  The only part of the park that Geraldine disliked was the ornate pond, but one afternoon in late August, she let Shane take her by the hand and lead her across the stone causeway out onto a small concrete island. The pond wasn’t deep, but Shane knew that she was still scared to be surrounded on all sides by water.

  ‘Water will be the death of me,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘I’m not being silly. Water killed my mother and it will kill me too. Don’t ask me how I know, but I just do.’

  She looked so vulnerable standing there in the sunlight that Shane was about to put his arms around her and summon up the courage to finally kiss her, but Geraldine shivered and let go of his hand, running quickly back across the causeway onto dry land. He followed her, glancing across the Rock Road towards Sion Hill where another evening of tension awaited him. It soured his mood. The playfulness was gone from their afternoon. Shane realised how badly he wanted to kiss her, how he wanted some gesture that would cement their relationship.

  ‘Let’s go to the pool tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ll teach you to swim.’

  ‘You know I hate water.’

  ‘Coward,’ he teased.

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  But he couldn’t stop himself. ‘Coward.’

  Geraldine ignored him, walking ahead as they left the park in silence and took the muddy path by the train tracks that served as a short cut to Blackrock Station. It was so narrow that there was no way past when Shane saw the path ahead blocked by Simon Wallace, his surly teenage neighbour. Wallace was hunched down, with a naggin of whiskey in his hands. He looked up.

  ‘What do we have here: two love-birds? Off for a snog, are you?’

  ‘Don’t be gross,’ Geraldine said.

  ‘Is this your drinking den?’ Shane asked ‘You said you drank somewhere you were never disturbed.’

  ‘Well, I was wrong, wasn�
�t I? Because I was disturbed there this afternoon. I just don’t know if it was by the living or the dead.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s an old house at the end of Castledawson Avenue.’

  ‘Yeah, I know it.’

  Wallace looked at Shane sharply. ‘What do you mean, you know it? You’re only a wet weekend in Blackrock after escaping from the skangers in Sallynoggin.’

  Shane made a movement towards him and Geraldine stepped between them.

  ‘That’s right, hide behind your girlfriend,’ Wallace sneered, but Shane noticed that the older boy had taken a precautionary step backwards. He wasn’t just drunk, he was genuinely rattled. He also seemed to resent the fact that Shane had made a friend at last – especially a female one.

  ‘I know that old house too,’ Geraldine said. ‘My gran says that two old brothers used to live there, with the house falling down around them. They both went mad and were found dead.’

  ‘Anyone would go mad living there,’ Wallace said. ‘I set foot in the kitchen once and ran out when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck standing out. But I wouldn’t even go back into the garden now.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘If you hop over the back wall it’s like being in another world. I use the garden as a place to smoke a little weed in peace. But this afternoon I was scared witless. A candle appeared in the basement window. It’s always dark in that basement because of the bushes around it. This gaunt geezer was staring out, with a long face like he was hundreds of years old. I didn’t stick around to see if he was a ghost or not. I took one look and hopped back over the wall. A stray cat sitting up there scratched the arms off me.’ He revealed two long scrapes down his forearm. ‘I’m still shaking.’

  ‘You probably just drank too much,’ Shane said.

  Wallace looked at him menacingly. ‘If you want to call me a liar, then you break in there some evening and figure out who he is. Now, leave me alone before I give you a dig that will knock you back to Sallynoggin.’

  Wallace raised the bottle to his lips, and they quickly walked past him towards the Dart station, only slowing down when they reached Idrone Terrace. They agreed he was telling lies to scare them because that house was too derelict for anybody to live there.

  ‘Even standing outside it always gives me the creeps,’ Shane admitted. ‘I wouldn’t set foot in it.’

  Geraldine looked at him. ‘So, who’s the coward now?’

  ‘This is different.’

  ‘The only difference is that I could actually drown in a swimming pool. What can happen to you in an old house? How come it’s OK for you to be scared of something, but not me?’

  Geraldine’s voice had a teasing quality, but Shane also felt that this was a test. ‘I’ll go in there,’ he said, ‘if you’ll go with me.’

  Geraldine looked away for a moment and then looked back and nodded.

  ‘OK,’ she agreed quietly. ‘We can’t always be afraid of things; it’s not like we’re kids any more.’

  It felt as if Simon Wallace’s story had set them a test of courage, a rite of passage. Undoubtedly, they would find nobody there, but with the summer almost ended, here at last might be the chance to investigate a genuine mystery.

  TWELVE

  Joey

  November 2009

  The mid-term exams were looming in Stradbrook College and I was getting a bit freaked out at the prospect. I was never anything more than an average student, but for Mum’s sake I wanted to do well and show that her efforts to get me into Stradbrook had been worth it. The subject that most spooked me was history. I understood the general gist of it and even enjoyed those bits I could relate to. But memorising the dates of land acts and changes of government was beyond me. So when Shane offered to help me revise for our history exam, I was right up for going back to his lodgings after school.

  I texted Mum and she texted back to say that this was fine once I didn’t stay out too late. Then the battery on my phone died, as it often did. My phone was held together with sticky tape after numerous falls. Being put down the toilet in my old school hadn’t helped it either. It had taken three weeks to dry out after that. Mum and I had become expert at reassembling its entrails – like open-heart surgeons as we nursed it through another few weeks. I knew that she was saving up to surprise me with a new phone on my birthday. I cursed the battery dying now but at least she knew where I was.

  Shane’s place was as he had described it, a granny flat attached to a house on Pine Lawn off Newtownpark Avenue. A flustered-looking woman appeared from the kitchen when Shane opened the front door. He introduced me to his landlady, Mrs Higgins, who said I was welcome to stay for dinner. I could see her young sons engrossed on an Xbox in the front room. She had two bedrooms upstairs let out to students studying art in Dún Laoghaire, girls in their early twenties with whom Shane had little contact. Mrs Higgins’s house bustled with life, but Shane’s room seemed detached from the bustle. When he closed the door his room felt colder and I had a sense of being cut off from everything. We lay on his bed and took out our history books. Soon there was a knock and Mrs Higgins brought in two dinners on a tray. When Shane went to wash his hands Mrs Higgins looked at me with open curiosity.

  ‘You’re the first friend Shane ever brought back,’ she said. ‘The first caller of any kind, for that matter.’

  ‘I’m brutal at history,’ I explained. ‘He’s giving me a hand for an exam.’

  ‘He’d be the boy, all right: always at the history books or his computer whenever he’s here. He wouldn’t even put up a few posters on the walls. The only personal touch he put in the room is a set of Russian dolls.’ She pointed at a shelf. ‘You know, the dolls that you keep opening to find a smaller doll inside them. What class of hobby is that? Though he seems to spend most of his time on Internet gambling sites. Never says if he wins or loses, but I think he has the devil’s own luck with money. Still, it’s nice to see that at least he has one friend. Enjoy your dinner.’

  The food was nice, but I wondered what it must feel like to eat all your meals on a tray. Shane was welcome to eat with the Higgins family but he disliked doing so because he felt in the way. He was allowed the use of Mrs Higgins’s front room that was meant for both family and guests. But this was all he was – a guest. I wondered what it must be like to have only this converted garage to call your home.

  But I soon forgot such thoughts because he had me in stitches, doing impersonations of teachers while we ate. Once we began to study, however, he grew serious. There seemed to be nothing about history that he didn’t know and – better still – couldn’t explain in simple terms. It was only when we finished studying that I began to take in his room again. It didn’t feel like any teenager’s bedroom: the walls were bare and almost monastic. The furniture was nice, but I could never have coped with living in space like this, like a prison cell. Shane seemed to sense my unease.

  ‘This gaff is comfortable,’ he said with such conviction that I didn’t know which of us he was trying hardest to convince. ‘I’m happy here.’

  ‘But what do you do at night?’ I asked. ‘You don’t even have a television in your room.’

  ‘Mrs Higgins offered to buy me one but I said no. I have the Internet and my history books. This house backs onto the tennis club. Some nights I like to sit out in the garden in the dark when the tennis courts are closed and there’s nobody around to disturb me.’

  ‘That sounds a bit creepy.’

  Shane grinned. ‘It’s just the calm before the storm, before I head into town and let it rip. I am a bit of a rake really, a gambler who can’t resist a final bet.’ He stood up. ‘Grab your coat, we’re hitting the road.’

  ‘I have to get home to my mum,’ I said. ‘And anyway, my school bag weighs a ton.’

  ‘Leave your bag here,’ Shane insisted. ‘I’ll bring it in tomorrow. You studied hard; you need to relax hard.’ He noticed my hesitation. ‘Your mum was young once too, you know. Do you think she
ran away home with her tail between her legs at eight o’clock every night, at your age? I bet she was out having a ball and she could still be having one now, because she’s probably a fine-looking woman. There’s nobody forcing her to sit at home like a spinster every night, making you feel guilty if you’re not there to keep her company.’

  ‘Leave my mum out of this,’ I said, annoyed.

  He laughed. ‘I’m just saying that she could be a goer, if she wanted to.’

  ‘Just shut up about my mum, all right.’

  ‘I’m merely saying she should broaden her horizons, like you need to broaden yours. If you think this room is small, then it’s time that you saw how other people live.’ He picked up his leather jacket and stood in the doorway, waiting for me with an amused smile. ‘So what’s it to be – do you fancy a bit of hellfire or do you intend to run home scared to your mum all your life?’

  THIRTEEN

  Shane

  August 2007

  Geraldine and Shane met later that evening at the narrow entrance to Castledawson Avenue, a cul-de-sac that thousands of drivers sped past every day on the Rock Road without noticing. The noise of traffic faded as they walked up what was little more than a lane now, although a line of cottages had once stood on the right-hand side, where the playing fields of Blackrock College now lay empty in the summer twilight. Only two buildings remained standing on the left: old houses converted into smartly maintained offices. Both were overshadowed by the modern hospital complex of the Blackrock Clinic behind them. The lane grew narrower and petered out when they reached the deserted dairy.

  Looking up at the chunks of masonry that had crumbled on the front wall, Shane and Geraldine felt certain that nobody could possibly live here. The front door had a brass door knocker but they had no intention of knocking. Investigators work in secret, though they were not really there to investigate. Shane saw this more as a chance to be alone with Geraldine. If she grew scared, it would be an excuse to put his arms around her. And if he found the courage to explore this empty house, then maybe he might find the courage to do what he had longed to do in Blackrock Park this afternoon and kiss her. One kiss would be sufficient to make his summer – which had begun in such loneliness – complete. He wondered if his grandparents had first kissed in this house, away from the prying disapproval of their employer. He had never known his grandmother and it was hard to imagine his grandfather ever being so young. Shane looked at Geraldine.