by Dermot Healy
I think it was a Miss Theresa…Crawley.
Theresa Crawley. Who is she?
I don’t know.
Well neither do I. The only Theresa round here that I know of is married to Hughie Currid.
Well that might be her.
He told you that.
Yes. He said she married a Hughie.
Did she now?
Yes.
Good for her.
She was going out with Joejoe and the General head-butted him.
This wasn’t yesterday.
No.
They have black fucking minds, do you know that. He’s telling you this in all honesty?
Yes.
That the General shot at him.
Yes.
Why did you not tell me this before?
I tried to, but you wouldn’t listen.
Did he see him?
No.
Shit. Shit. Fuck me. Are we to go down now and interrogate the General? We’ll be had up for defamation of character. You should have told me this before.
Da, I tried ta.
Now what…Am I to head to the General next and ask him where he was at the crack of dawn on the 2nd? Do you know what reality is – it’s a joke.
We walked across the field followed by the calves.
Go down you to Joejoe’s, said my father.
OK, I said.
Go down you, said my father, and I’ll follow you. First I have a visit I have to make.
Are you going to start arguing?
No.
I came to the front of the cottage. He was sitting outside on the wooden seat in the sun surrounded by lobster pots as he knitted one on his lap.
Sh! he said, raising a finger to his lips.
What now, I thought, what’s happened now?
Then I saw the robin on the toe of his boot. I stood and watched. The bird looked my way, then turned to him. It lifted one claw and looked at it, scattered its wings, closed them and brushed its breast with its beak. Then it looked off to the left as if remembering something, bowed quickly, hopped onto his knee, fidgeted, then back again to the toe of his boot. Good man, said Joejoe smiling. The bird, shifting itself, lifted its head up and let go with one tweet then swung away back to the woodpile.
Did you see that?
I did surely.
Watch – Ch! Ch! he said.
The robin reappeared and hopped towards him, stopped, came on, stopped on one lobster pot, looked back, came on to another pot, and sharpened its beak on the knot of blue twine that Joejoe had tied to the arc of timber.
Good man, whispered Joejoe.
Then the bird flew off.
Ah, he’s had enough for one day maybe, said Joejoe. I’ve been training him since the 12th of last March but that’s the first time he’s done it. He landed on my cap first, then down to the toe of my boot. He must have been on me all of ten minutes. Isn’t that something?
It is.
I sat down on a log beside him. He put down the finished lobster pot, lit up a Woodbine, coughed and tipped his cap.
I have my own bird now, he said.
And I have my own wall, I said.
You have not.
I have.
Well good on you.
I found a wall under the cliff.
You did.
The storm took off the boulder clay and there it was.
Now.
I think it was a look-out.
Be jingo. A wall out there. On the edge of the flaming sea. Damn it.
A wall, I said, nodding. And tomorrow I have to start building one for the new garden.
We sat there considering the wonders. Then I saw that Joejoe had pasted a bit of cardboard over the missing pane of glass in the window.
I set the fire and made him tay.
Is your man coming down? he asked.
He is.
Now?
Soon.
Jesus. Well if he starts that crack again, be God, I won’t take it.
He toed a piece of turf, then broke a stick neatly into equal pieces with the heel of his boot.
It’s a strange world, he said, and threw the sticks into the fire. Have you any news?
We were out there in the car for hours watching your house last night.
For what?
To see if anyone came.
And who would come now that the damage is done?
How do I know? Anyone, I suppose.
Well you should have been home in your bed.
And we went to the Blackbird’s.
You went to the henhouse, did you now. You were busy. And what had poor Tom to say.
Nothing. His dog went mad. The father couldn’t get in and the Blackbird wouldn’t come out.
At least he’s good for something, the crature. I didn’t think he had it in him.
The father got some drenching.
Good enough for him.
He was frightened for you.
Let him mind himself, and leave me be. And can I tell ya something. Ya were outside the wrong house when you went to the Blackbird’s!
We were.
Yes, you should have spoken to another man entirely.
I see.
Leave it now, son.
The father came in with his bag of tools and a couple of panes of glass wrapped in newspaper. He took down the bit of cardboard over the break. Not a word was said. Da began whistling the wrong tune. Joejoe watched him like he was looking at me, his eyes softened, then he answered himself with a nod and went into the scullery. The father stepped outside. There was a crash of a drawer and a loud spout of tap water from within. Then Joejoe stood a while in the doorway with his chin in thin suds looking out at Da looking in as he brushed down the sill, then the auld fellow shaved in the small mirror on the dresser, emptied the basin, came back to the dresser, took down the china ornament of the Wayward Lad and replaced it with a phial of thumb tacks.
Stood back.
Moved the little boat made of reeds next to his copy of A History of Ireland with no cover.
Then he moved the book to the window. Placed the Brigid’s cross where the boat had been.
Da ran a tape across the jamb and blew away a spider’s web. I heard Joejoe say to himself for no reason: You were some bird when you left Raspberry Hill, you were, you were, then he went into his bedroom, came back, sat and changed his socks, You were, you were, scratched, put on his boots again with each lace perfectly tied, then as the window pane was tapped into place he set off again to the scullery whispering.
Then back again, down into the armchair, cap poised, legs crossed, ready.
The father thumbed in the last of the putty onto the pane of glass then came in and said, That’s that.
A neat job you did there now, said Joejoe.
Oh.
Very tasty I must say.
Thank you.
Then Joejoe got up and peered out.
Be God, I think it lets in a better class of light than before.
That’s good.
He turned and bent down and looked at Timmy. I can even see the colour of the dog’s eyes, he said.
They went silent a while. I could see my father summoning up the strength to question Joejoe again and I was wishing he wouldn’t. There was more small talk.
The weather is mighty.
It is.
More silence.
And the lad found a wall beneath the cliff.
You did not?
I did, I said.
Now.
Centuries old.
More silence.
Talking about centuries old I was draining Legget’s field with the digger, said my father, and came upon a fairy fort.
You did.
And I said to Legget I’m not taking her down. What do you mean, he said, am I not paying you? I’ll not take a fairy fort, I said.
You would not, said Joejoe.
I’ll not take a fairy fort down, I said, a place that’s been built all that time ago. So he s
aid he’d get someone else to do it, and I said, go ahead, get who you like and I finished what I was doing, and left it at that.
You did right. Fuck him.
This was about a month ago and I went by there yesterday and it’s still there, and it was still there this morning.
And it’ll be there tomorrow.
And it will be there for all time. No man will touch it.
No, said Joejoe. They won’t.
Joejoe lifted up the newspaper that the panes of glass had come in, he patted it out flat and began to look at the pictures. The father stood. Now I thought he’s going to start. Don’t do it Da.
I just wanted to say…
Aye…
Joejoe eyed him from under his cap.
…We’ll say no more about the other night.
Right.
Not another word.
No.
It was like it never happened.
That’s good enough by me, said Joejoe. But you see it did happen and that’s the problem.
Oh and by the way –
Yes?
I ran into the General.
Joejoe looked at me, hard-eyed.
Did you now?
I did.
And how is he?
He’s fine. The same General is just back this morning from Luton. He’s been away for a few days.
Is that so, said Joejoe, staring into my eyes.
It is. I just thought you’d like to know, said Da.
I see.
Da looked at Joejoe, then he looked at me, and stood.
We’ll leave it, he said, at that.
But there’s one other matter outstanding, said Joejoe.
I could see the father grow grim-faced.
Yes? he said.
An apology.
Yes?
To the Blackbird.
The father looked at me.
I see the news gets around. An apology?
If you would.
Right. All right then, Sorry Mister Blackbird, I’ll tell him next time I see him, OK. I’m off. I have a job above on a site at Lenihan’s. He put on his blue woollen cap and pulled it down above his eyes, We’ll leave it at that.
We will.
Good enoughski, Da said, and he took off out the open door with his bag of tools and down the path.
Then Joejoe let out a whoop of laugher.
He thought he got me. But I got him. Did you see him back down? Did you see that boy!
I did.
Hohoho, and he slapped his thighs, upped his fists to look at them, and made the mad eyes. I got him! I got him! He hammered a fist into the palm of his other hand and bared his teeth. I got him! he grinned, and he kicked out one foot then the other. He backed down! And you turned informer.
Joejoe, I was thinking the General was not here the other morning. I saw him go off by taxi – that must have been when he was leaving.
So if it wasn’t the General, who was it, he asked me.
I don’t know.
Then the exuberance left him, and slowly he put the reed boat back where it had been on the dresser, then the Wayward Lad, followed by the History of Ireland. He handed me Moby Dick and I turned the pages till I reached where we had left off the last time.
No, put him away, he said.
All was then put back as it had been.
Including the gun.
That I had mentioned to no one.
Chapter Eight
The Fairy
You know what you’ll do for me today.
What’s that.
Go you over to yon Blackbird, and tell him the kettle is on. Have you got that?
I have.
The kettle is on, right?
Right so.
I heeled in the bag of turf, and swept round the kitchen.
Don’t enter into words with him.
I won’t.
No don’t. He is a strange creature, the same Blackbird. He had it tough when he was young, you see. I never know with him what’s going on. He’s a bad actor. Betimes. And while you’re at it mind me bucking shoes.
I brought a can of ashes across the yard and dumped them in the rock. Timmy was rolling in the grass. He jumped high as my shoulder. A flock of ducks landed on the pond where a swan was studying its reflection.
It’s a grand class of a day, I said.
I’m leaving you this house, and this world, do you hear that?
I do.
I’m leaving you a quandary. You’re welcome to it. I never got to work it out myself.
Thank you.
For nothing.
Is there anything you want in the outside world?
No, good man, I’m fine. The Bird when he arrives will do. He will answer the question I need to know.
I headed off down Cooley Lane. The sea was flat calm. The bushes burnt by salt and wind. I was afraid to have to knock on the door what with the mad dog but the Blackbird was outside pumping his bike.
Are you going someplace?
Who’s asking?
Me, I said.
What do you want?
Joejoe has the kettle on.
Has he now.
He has.
Is that so?
He straightened up and tapped the tip of his nose with the index finger of his right hand.
We’ll see, he said.
At five the Blackbird arrived, heeled up his bike, sat into the dog’s armchair. Long time, no see, he said. Joejoe dispatched me to Mister John’s for a bottle. On the way I saluted Stefan who was wheeling a tyre round the back of Doyle’s.
Aha, Mister Side Kick.
Stefan.
You are on the way to the pub?
Yes.
Again?
Yes.
Wow, nearly every day.
Not every day.
And you walk.
Yes.
He sat into the passenger seat of a Toyota, opened the driver’s door, and said Sit in. Mister Doyle is down in Kerry.
There’s no need.
You can drive, sir.
I don’t mind walking.
But it is good for me to talk to someone. I like to talk to you, please, and so if you will not drive I will walk with you to Mister Sweets Johns, and he went to get out.
OK, I said, and I sat in.
Drive on sir.
So I took the wheel for the first time in a long time and we drove down the road talking of Cadillacs, Saabs, Jaguars, crabs, Aston-Martins, mussels, Land Rovers, how he loved Irish mushrooms and why did Irish drivers wave at people on the road that they did not know; Rolls-Royces, winkles and Triumph Heralds, Ladas and Volgas; how to say goodbye in Lithuanian, then I stepped into Mister John’s and ordered the usual Malibu and twenty Major.
How are things, said Mister John.
Grand, I said looking round the empty bar.
I see you have company outside with you.
Yes.
Is he not coming in?
No.
Now, he handed me the bottle. I looked at the pool table, paid over and took one go at the slot machine, and won two euro.
Iki, I said to Mister Sweet John.
What, he asked.
So long.
Then I drove the Toyota back to Doyle’s and said goodbye.
Drive on, Stefan said.
No, I’ll walk the rest of the way.
Iki, he said.
Goodbye, I said. On the way home I said my prayer by the fresh bunch of blue geranium and red roses in the tubs at the cross at Templeboy.
When I got back they were sipping glasses of milk with poteen to coat the stomach.
Joejoe poured out two tots.
I had a visitor the other night, said the Blackbird.
You did.
I did. Are you listening Psyche?
I am.
Yes. Some visitor. A giant of a man. He came battering on me door at dead of night.
Now for ya, said Joejoe.
A man that was not right in the head
, I’d swear. There was prolonged abuse and bad language.
And what did you do?
I kept the head and took it mild. I looked through the keyhole. He was like a shook fox. Go home and settle yourself, I said, my good man, and call round tomorrow. And be God he began battering the door again.
He wheeled round in the chair and looked at me.
Roaring and shouting he was like a madman.
Is that so, I said.
Said he’d bucking shoot me.
No.
I said I’d flatten him. Then he stopped and went off.
And that was that.
Certainly.
He put out his glass for another drop.
Oh a complete madman. I don’t know where they get them. Good luck!
Good luck! said Joejoe.
And I’d swear, he said, turning to me, that he had a certain accomplice sitting out in the car –
– No –
– Aye. A certain wee gentleman waiting to finish me off.
Weren’t you lucky, said Joejoe.
I was, he said slowly.
The Bird got up and went to the window and studied it. Then he looked out the back window. Then back again to the front.
Get out of my light, snapped Joejoe.
What ails you?
You’re blocking me.
Oh.
Do you know you are in my house.
I do.
Good, I thought you were lost.
I know where I am, thank you.
Well make yourself at home. Are you expecting someone?
No, said the Blackbird.
So what’s bothering ya?
Just checking.
Checking what?
There was talk of a bullet hole about these parts.
Was there? And Joejoe’s eyes floated across at me, then over to the window. Well I don’t see any.
But then on the other hand I see you have a new window pane in.
That’s right.
Was the last lad draughty?
She was.
Very good. He sat. His elbows came up onto his knees. It’s tight to get a craftsman so handy. So now, Mister Psyche, tell me truly, is this business finished?
Yes, I said.
Well it’s a while since I’ve had to call in the law. The brown eyes pierced mine.
It would be a while back, Joejoe agreed.
And I don’t want to be the one to call them in. Do I?
No, I said.
But sometimes a man is driven too far, do you know what I mean.
Yes.
So you might let a certain gentleman know that if there is any more dragging of a man out in the middle of night for talk of summary execution I’ll be driven to have a word with the Sergeant. Have you got that?