Love on the Dark Side of the City

by Kennedy, Thomas

  They paid the bill and went down on the escalator to the second floor.

  “What are you going to do?” Sonia asked as they came off the escalator. “You should not meet this Frank person, it’s too dangerous.”

  “What about the idea of the double date?” Sara asked.

  “Well I could switch Samuel to Monday and tell him to get his son to come along. It might be no harm to have a wider group rather than a family inquisition.”

  “Please.”

  “All right. Now lets see if that dress still looks the business.”

  “I’m to meet Frank in Davy Byrne’s bar at half eight for nine.” Sara explained. “As you know Monday is a quiet night at the club, so I will be able to take it off.”

  “It is very small.”

  “No the side bar.” Sara corrected. “Its’ very lively but no music and we can get a corner table It will be OK.”

  “Sounds like Samuel’s style. He likes a lively place where he can sit. We will see you there around nine. Don’t get murdered while you wait.”

  Having bought the dress for Sonia they decided enough was enough and took a taxi back to Morehampton road. They did not talk much in the taxi. Both girls had enjoyed the outing but now were back with their own thoughts as they took it easy in the taxi.

  As the Taxi drove up to the front door Sara saw two girls going around the side of the house to the kitchen entrance.

  “Did you see those girls around the side? Who are they?” Sara asked Sonia.

  “I know who they are,” Sonia said as she busied herself with her purse and paid the taxi fare. As she straightened up she added. “Leave them to me. I am going to put my shopping upstairs and sort them out.”

  “O.K.” Sara said lightly. “I’m going to have a break and then shower and get ready. See you.”

  Ivan Turgenev opened the front door as they approached and stood back to let them in.

  “Ivan” Sonia said, “We saw some itinerants going around to the kitchen. I thought we agreed that they would not be allowed in.”

  “We did discuss, but if I want them out I have to throw them out and it’s a big scene. The cook says they are no harm and let them in. She say, if we are good to them their men won’t burgle the house. I don’t know what’s’ true.” Ivan shrugged his broad shoulders.

  Sonia shook her head and followed Sara up the stairs where they parted company and went to their separate rooms. Sonia parked her shopping and made her way back down to the kitchen.

  There were two itinerant girls at the kitchen door and Ellen the cook was getting them some food out of the fridge. Sonia stormed in.

  “What is this, beggars? What do you want?” She demanded.

  “Please miss, we are not beggars we are itinerants.”

  “You want something for nothing, you beg, that makes you beggars. Cook why are you giving these big strong girls free food.”

  “Its’ only the old stuff out of the press and freezer, it’ll just go to waste. The girls in this house waste a lot.”

  “I don’t like beggars,” Sonia said. “In my country we don’t encourage beggars, but there at least there is an excuse. There are hundreds of jobs in Ireland these girls could do. They don’t need to beg.”

  “It’s part of our culture miss,” The older girl said. “We go door to door and its’ good luck to care for us.”

  “Is that a threat?” Sonia demanded, remembering Ivan’s remark about burglaries.

  “Not a bit of it” the girl said, “and if you don’t want us we’ll go, we have others who will treat us better. Christian people.” The girl spoke cheekily.

  ‘What are your names and where do you come from?” Sonia demanded.

  “We’re Irish Miss.” The girl continued, “this is Megan and I am Maureen if you please.”

  “Please go and get yourself a job. Show some respect for yourself and get a job,” Sonia said and went over and closed the door in their faces. Cook looked disapprovingly but said nothing. For her part she enjoyed the cheeky chat the two girls brought to her door every week and she had fallen into the habit of giving them some of the older but still edible food in the fridge.

  “I don’t want strangers around the place,” Sonia said when the girls went on their way.

  “I saw no harm.”

  Sonia cut across her. “Solveig won’t tolerate any strangers on the premises. He can’t have any trouble. He walks a thin line in Ireland and he is afraid of anything that might upset his business. He would fire us both if he thought we were doling out charity to strangers who knock on the door. Just don’t encourage it.”

  ‘Whatever you say.” Cook said agreeably and Sonia knew she would continue to do as she pleased. Sometimes Cook was too stubborn for her own good. But she was a good cook and generally easy to get along with. Sonia sighed and decided she would go and have a shower.

  Maureen was livid as she and Megan made their way back down the driveway. “Russian bitch, she sounded like the Russians in James Bond. Who does she think she is talking like that to Irish people in `Ireland. I have a good mind to report her under the equality legislation for discrimination.”

  “Refusing to give handouts is not discrimination,” Megan said, trying to calm her down.

  “And who are you two lost girls?” a voice cut across them. It was Ivan who had seen them come around the house and decided to intercept them. His voice was friendly and interested although accented in heavy Russian.

  “Jasus, another Russian,” Maureen said as they both jumped.

  “You come in here. You should not come in here pretty ladies,” he said in pretend reprimand.

  “And who are you?” Maureen demanded, interested in the strongly built but handsome Russian.

  “I'm security. Good looking girls should not be running around the gardens like this.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Maureen pouted, enjoying the exchange.

  “I’ll walk you to the gate and as you say in Ireland, I’ll thank ye not to call again.”

  He said smiling at them. Somehow they knew they could call again.

  “No need” Maureen said. “We know the way.” And she led Megan down the driveway without a backward glance.

  Ivan watched them, appraising their retreating backs. Good cattle, he thought. Could fetch about five thousand Euro each in the international white slave business. Especially the younger one. She was pretty and seemed more pliable. The older one would need some of that cheek taken out of her.

  Then he shrugged. Solveig would kill him if he freelanced in Ireland. And he would need to know how vulnerable the girls were before they could be considered.

  It looked like neither of them were married, unlike the Rumanian beggars he saw when he was in town, who were very pretty and bright but all seemed to have a child in tow. That or they were very old and beyond use in his game.

  Deciding he would keep an eye on them and not discourage them if they called again, Ivan made his way back into the butler’s pantry and put on the kettle for another cup of coffee.

  “You enjoyed that,” Megan said as they walked out the gate.

  “Don’t look back,” Maureen instructed. “Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

  They walked further along the road. Today they were begging house to house. They had a system of markers in scratched lines on the walls outside the houses on their route. This reminded them who was a good giver and who was not. Maureen decided that the Russian house was worth leaving as O.K. for callers and did not change the markings, which were unintelligible to any causal passer by.

  “Two more roads to go and then back to town.” Maureen said and they picked up the buggies they had parked outside the house away from the gate, as they made the call. The buggies were filled with the day’s takings, including clothing and food in plastic bags. Anything they received which was of no apparent value they disposed of down one of the many lane ways in the neighbourhood.

  “Have you ever thought of getting a job?�
� Megan asked as they went along.

  “No” Maureen was emphatic. “When my fella gets out of jail I’m getting married and getting my own caravan. That is enough for me. And who would hire an itinerant anyway. Who would want us?”

  “I don’t know,” Megan agreed, “Tis is a hard life. Them with jobs and cars seem to be better off.”

  “Stick with your own kind” Maureen advised, “Get yourself a fella or that father of yours will start calling in the matchmaker. What about Phelan?’

  `’Would you shut your gob Maureen or I’ll hit you a box. Isn’t he my first cousin and isn’t he after a daughter of Johnny Mac’s. I wouldn’t have Phelan if he were the last man alive. I like him but he is too much a cousin.”

  “You better get a move on girl. Your dad will want you married soon. You are taking up too much space in the caravan and he’d like to get a dowry for you.”

  “Stop it” Megan said and walked ahead trying to end the conversation.

  “What about that black fella, Adizua?” Maureen teased. Most of the time together they discussed boys and this day was going to be no exception.

  “What about him?” Megan threw back over her shoulder.

  “Did you fancy him?”

  “No” Megan refused to be drawn.

  Their banter was interrupted as they reached the next house. It was more difficult begging in Morehampton road as the houses were do big. Maureen preferred suburbia here the houses were closer together and it was possible to make more contact with the inhabitants. However Morehampton Road and its surrounding roads was a part of their route and they liked to keep it active, if only to forestall any other itinerant family from moving on to their patch. From time to time it could be very lucrative as the houses were richer and occasionally threw out valuable items.

  By five o’clock they were finished. They trudged their way back to Stephen’s green to wait for Phelan and the van. There they would dispose of their takings, which Molly would sort between useable at home in the caravans and saleable. Mostly they tried to get cash from their collections, but a lot of householders would only give goods, if anything, as they feared that money given would be spent on drink.

  It was half past six before Phelan came and took their load.

  “I’ll be back when you are finished the begging at twelve,” he said and drove off.

  “Do you think he will be back?” Maureen asked.

  “He’ll be back, even if he goes drinking, you can trust Phelan.”

  “Then marry him,” Maureen said with a laugh. ‘There’s not many I’d trust.”

  Megan made a face. Normally she would have cursed but lately she was trying to get by without cursing. People in the films did not curse all the time and Megan was determined to improve herself.

  “See you at half ten for a coffee at the MacDonald’s.” Maureen separated at the top of Grafton Street and went towards her begging patch.

  “O.K.” Megan said with a smile and set out towards her pitch around the Powerscourt centre.

  Megan stepped back into a doorway as she saw him. It was Adizua. This was the second time she had seen him. He seemed to be looking for something. Her heart raced.

  She had though a lot about him since the encounter in the back of the van. It was impossible, they came from worlds apart, but she was afraid because he made her heart beat faster through her veins when she saw him. She did not know what to do.

  Adizua walked along briskly. He had learned to look busy and never to dawdle. If ever he appeared lost or uncertain it could cause the police notice and maybe to question him.

  He usually took a jotter or an envelope with him just to appear he was going somewhere. He had learned to be cautious. But as he was coming familiar with the city he realized that there were not many police about. Not in the city. Just routine patrols that did little if one minded one’s own business.

  He cut left and left again. He was sure that Paddy had said that Megan had her patch around Powerscourt, but he had been unable to find her. Desperately he wanted to talk to her.

  He had begun to doubt that there had been a silent exchange between the two of them in the van on the way to Johnny Mac’s. But his heart was scalded by the encounter. He could not get Megan out of his mind. He just wanted to talk to her again and see her pretty friendly face.

  When he rounded the second turn he saw her in a doorway. She was sitting on the ground wearing a woollen shawl. Every now and then a passer by would drop a coin into her paper cup, which she extended to everyone who passed by.

  As Adizua watched, she saw him out of the corner of her eye. She stiffened but pretended not to have noticed. He’s found me she thought. Now what will happen?

  Adizua sat beside her on the pavement. “Hello Megan” he said, “it is wonderful to see you again.”

  Megan looked around at him through the side of her shawl. “Is it Adizua? I thought you had to get to England.”

  “From the moment I saw you” he said, “I no longer wished to journey. I think when I met you I met a destiny.”

  “Shut up” Megan retorted, embarrassed.

  “I touched against you in the van,” Adizua continued.

  “So what, if you touch me again I’ll scream,” Megan said, becoming nervous.

  “Did you not look at me Megan?”

  Megan was silent, her eyes hidden by the shawl.

  “Look at me Megan” Adizua asked quietly.

  After a moment Megan turned her head. She was blushing but she met his gaze. Their eyes met and held for a moment. Then Adizua stretched across and they kissed briefly, a fleeting brush of the lips.

  Both were deeply moved and their eyes met in real earnest. “I have come for you,” Adizua said and his open face and softness of manner made this an invitation rather than a pronouncement.

  “We can’t sit here,” Megan said scrambling to her feet and picking up her cup with the few coins in it. “The cops might pass and they might pick you up.”

  “Where can we go?” Adizua asked.

  “No where, the pubs won’t let me in, I’m too young and they don’t like itinerants, same for coffee houses. We can’t meet.”

  “We have met” Adizua said standing beside her and taking her hand.

  “Follow me” Megan said, shaking her hand free and she led him across towards Camden Street. In a side alley she pushed a hoarding and indicated he should enter. “It’s a squat, nobody will mind us here, it’s just junkies and alcho’s. Don’t let any of them near me.”

  “Don’t worry” Adizua said quietly, “I will protect you with my life.”

  Megan looked at him. She knew he really meant it.

  Adizua leant forward and kissed her again. Megan responded and then sat near the entrance to the fence. “I have only a half hour then I have to meet Maureen at the MacDonald’s. I don’t want her to see you, Understood.”

  “Understood” Adizua said, happy that this was the first, and he was hopeful that it would not be the last, time they would meet.

  “Tell me” Megan said, “What has happened. I heard you got the job with Jimmy Joe. Have you a place to stay?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ann anxiously scanned along the Ballyfermot road from the roundabout towards Walkinstown. They were due to go in five minutes and still no sign of Robbo. Then she saw him. She could see a figure jogging steadily along, unmistakably Robbo with his uncombed flaxen fair hair jutting out in all directions.

  “He’s coming” Ann told Father Cleary.

  “Great, lets’ get the loaded, knapsacks in the back,” Father Clearly said indicating to the minibus. Father Cleary was parish leader for the Hill Walking group. Already most of the group were in the Parish mini bus, which with its’ three rows of seats, could accommodate up to twelve at a push. There were ten this week, and the group planned to climb around at the back of Glendalough. And as a difficult walk was anticipated, this week there were no children in the group. The regulars had all turned up, a mixture of ages, but mai
nly early forties, with Ann as the child of the group.

  Ann threw her knapsack in the back of the minibus and stood and waited for Robbo.

  As he came down to the roundabout she could see he was wearing a green T-shirt and blue shorts, set against white socks and dirty runners. He had a pair of football boots around his neck and a small schoolbag on his back. Ann felt a little embarrassment at his appearance and wished she could comb his hair.

  Father Cleary had been delighted when Ann mentioned she had invited a friend. Although a regular in the group Ann was the only teenager, and was ten years younger than the next oldest in the group. Father Cleary was delighted she had found a friend, although he knew Ann got on well with everyone in the group.

  Robbo did not seem winded by his jog as he smiled and stopped beside Ann.

  “Put your shoes and bag in the boot and we are off” Ann instructed, adding, “for a moment I thought you were going to be late.”

  “I ran it during the week to get the timing,” Robbo explained with a broad smile, delighted to see Ann. “Then I got a bit delayed trying to find the butter for my sandwiches, but I knew what speed I needed to jog. So here I am.”

  “Lets’ go” Ann said leading him onto the minibus.

  “This is Robbo” she announced and then confused him by introducing him to everyone on the bus, names he instantly forgot. Except for that of Father Cleary, who surprised him as he was dressed in casuals without the normal priest’s collar.

  “I hope you get the weather you are expecting,” Father Cleary said dryly with a look of disapproval at Ann.

  “We have some weather gear in the knapsacks,” Ann hurriedly assured him.

  Ann shared Father Cleary’s concern that Robbo was not dressed for hill walking where all possible types of weather could be anticipated, and indeed despite the weather forecast, the day looked dark and threatening of rain. Ann was annoyed that she had not warned Robbo of the need to bring protective clothing, but it was too late now and they would just have to hope for the best.