Tadg is well aware that Dave is an impulsive individual, easily roused. “Come on over and we’ll finish our drink,” he says.
They were in trouble with the law twice before. Tadg is a little concerned the way things are developing now. They return to their position by the bar.
“Calm down “ Tadg says. “We want no more trouble, you hear me? We’ll head back to Cahir. We’ll give Lacey a shout.”
“Right, right,” Dave says, looking behind, exclaiming in a loud tone, “They’re only two stuck-up bitches, anyhow.”
“Go on home with you now,” Bridgie says, “and mind your language.”
“We will, we will,” Tadg replies.
Dave turns on Bridgie again, ”Nag nag nag, you’re like all the other bloody women.”
Bridgie puts her hand on his shoulder as a gesture urging him to go.
“Hold on now, Bridgie. Take it easy. Don’t try the bum’s rush on us.” He holds up a finger. “Our two whiskies! We must drink our whiskey.”
“Oh yeh, the whiskey,” Tadg repeats. “We’ll be off then.”
They pick up the two half whiskies. Tilting back their heads they gulp down the whiskey like two frogs swallowing two flies. They move towards the exit door. Dave bends down and whispers something to Mad Tim.
“Take it easy now on the road,” Bridgie warns. “For God’s sake go easy. You should have let me get you a taxi.”
“Don’t worry,” Tadg says. “Good-luck.”
Bridgie locks the door. She walks back to Madge and Linda, looking relieved.
“I’m glad to see the backs of them.”
Madge goes to the window and looks out, as the two cars are heard to start up and drive away.
“That narrow lane, is that the ‘quiet mountain road’?” she inquires. Bridgie replies, “Yes.”
“Team up with us,” Linda repeats. “If they were the last two men left on the planet I wouldn’t team up with them.”
“Maybe you served them a little too much alcohol,” Madge suggests to Bridgie.
“Maybe I did. But they had a lot in them when they arrived. It’s hard to know. Running this type of business is not easy.”
“I’ll put a stop to their gallop,” Madge declares, taking out a mobile phone and dialling a number.
“Hello Bert… I’m fine… Listen, you’re patrolling the Cahir area, aren’t you? Where are you now? Outside the town. Do you know Bridgid McCarthy’s public house, at the foot of the mountain? That’s it. There’s a small, quiet, mountain road leading into Cahir… You know it well. Good… Listen, there are two drunken fellows on that road right now. They were here in the pub… Are they over the limit?” She glances at Linda and Bridgie. “They’re about three times over it… One is driving a silver Mondeo and the other a green Corolla… They’re not too pleasant, so be careful… Four of you… We just pulled in for a cup of coffee… Linda… A bit, yeh. See you later then. Bye.”
She returns the mobile to her handbag.
“They won’t bother anyone else for the rest of the day. I’d like to see their faces when they’re frogmarched into the station.”
“Listen,” Bridgie pleads, “don’t tell anyone about me selling them too much booze? None of the guards, anyhow?”
“We won’t, but you should watch it,” Madge replies. “I was implicated in a fatal accident and I don’t want to see it happening to anyone again. Those two gone out could well be the cause of one—nothing surer.”
“Have another cup of coffee,” Bridgie offers, “on me.”
“No thanks,” Linda says.
“You will, you will,” Bridgie insists, hurrying off to prepare it.
Linda shrugs her shoulders. After a little while Mad Tim moves over and stands in front of Madge and Linda. He gestures wildly with his hands.
“Did you see him? Did you see him?” he gasps.
“See who?” Linda asks.
Linda and Madge are more relaxed now, having come to terms with the situation. Also comforted by the fact that the other two are gone.
“The man! The man standing there…”
Bridgie arrives back with the tray.
“Where?” Linda asks Tim.
“Standing there with his—”
Bridgie sternly cuts him short, “What’s he saying?”
Tim is afraid of Bridgie and he goes silent. She places the tray on the table.
“Come on now,” she says to Tim. “Time to be going home now. They’ll be wondering about you.” She escorts him to the door. “Finish up that.”
He finishes the remainder of his pint glass.
“That’s the good man.” As he goes out: “and mind yourself crossing home.”
“The others put him up to say something,” Madge says to Linda.
Bridgie returns to the table. “Christ above, you never know what to expect next. I’m living on my nerves.”
The Ranch
Linda accompanied Madge down to Cahir with the express purpose of borrowing Madge’s car and driving out a few miles on the Clonmel road to visit her cousin who she hadn’t seen for ages. She remembered, as a teenager, spending holidays at this particular cousin’s family farm. She remembered learning how to do the farm chores. All the laughs they had as the ‘townie’ tripped herself up on numerous occasions. However, she wasn’t too long catching up. To travel out there now would be an ideal way of spending a few pleasant hours. They had a lot of catching up to do. But no—it being Madge’s birthday, Bert and Madge had both insisted that she join them for dinner at this exclusive restaurant called The Ranch. Linda felt she had no alternative. If her refusal was too adamant they might feel insulted.
The Ranch, a small hotel-cum-restaurant, was approached by a long winding driveway. As they drove up this tree-lined entrance, with the timber fencing on both sides, Linda admired the thoroughbred horses grazing on the lush pastures.
“Larry had a few winners recently,” Bert said, straight away conveying that he was on friendly, first-name terms with Larry, the obvious owner of the property.
So far, it all looked impressive, Linda thought, heightening her expectation of what lay in store. Still, wouldn’t the two of them be better off coming here on their own, she reasoned. After all, they were engaged. She herself was well aware of the expression two’s company, three’s a crowd. Could it be that Madge was so fond of her precious new car that she was fearful of anyone else driving it? Unlikely—didn’t she drive it a few times already? Madge liked her vodka and coke.
Entering the foyer, Linda was struck by the expensive looking paintings, the sunken carpets, the whole opulent old-world charm of the place. After having a look around to saviour the ambience they were directed in to the dining room, with its ornate decorated ceiling, exquisite oak furnishings, and Waterford glass chandelier. A glance at the other diners indicated that they had dressed well for the occasion. Bert was the only one who didn’t appear to have bothered.
Now Linda got on well with members of the Garda Síochána. She got to know a good few through her work in the A&E section of the hospital. They often arrived along with victims of domestic violence, or urgent cases where no ambulance was immediately available. Also cases where they interviewed people injured as a result of criminal attack. By and large she found them agreeable and pleasant—they looked well and were good company. Some of her fellow nurses were married to members of the Garda.
But like all large organisations there was always a certain number who would kick against the traces. There was always a small percentage who refused to conform to the standards set by the vast majority. A rogue element, if you like. Linda had already decided that Bert belonged to the latter category. Bert was overweight, with his tummy hanging out over his belt. He hadn’t even taken the trouble to shave and was sporting a thick stubble. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his baggy black trousers or his blue shirt. He just added a sports jacket that had by now become too tight for his large frame.
Linda had a certain fixatio
n about cleanliness. Her work required her to deal with some unsightly cases at the A&E. She treated all kinds of wounds and oozing sores— drunks who fell down and were badly injured, liable to spew vomit or strike out whilst being treated. That’s why, when she got home from work she liked to soak herself in the bath, or stand under the cascading shower for upwards of twenty minutes. Bert’s slovenliness put her off.
Another thing that quickly became apparent about Bert, as they made the trip to The Ranch, was the fact that his feet gave off a particularly foul odour. She wondered what Madge saw in him. How could a woman go to bed with Bert? But then she noticed that Madge too was starting to get careless, of late. She had adopted this particularly irritating habit of poking her finger up her nose, or sticking it in the outer reaches of her ear, taking it out and looking at it to see if there was wax stuck to it. Linda felt sorely tempted to blurt out her distaste a few times.
The waitress arrived along with the menus.
What a knock-down beauty she is, Linda thought to herself. Why are those Polish girls so pretty?
The menu looked impressive:
The Ranch three terrines:
foie gras, duck rillette & ham hock
served with apple chutney & blackcurrant reduction
Greenstone Point Riesling
Wild mushroom soup with white truffle oil
Sumaridge Pinotage
Pouilly Fume Domaine Raimbault-Pineau
Cosmopolitan sorbet
Sirloin steak on roasted vegetables with a
braised venison cottage pie
or
Pan-roasted fillet of corbet with crispy potato scales on a confit
of leeks with saffron & shallot sauce
The Ranch opera gateau with a praline mousse
Tea or coffee with petits fours
There was a pianist in the corner of the room playing a nice repertoire of tunes, old and new. His only fault being that he was a little on the loud side. Bert and Madge sat together at the somewhat large table and Linda found it difficult to make conversation. In any case the other two were so engrossed with each other that she was more-or-less ignored. Not that she cared in the slightest—in fact she preferred it this way.
Any clarity of conversation was further hindered by a very loud, monopolizing party who occupied the table directly behind Bert and Madge. She secretly hoped they got a whiff of Bert’s feet. She hoped the foul smell seeped across under the table like some form of odious gas. Glancing over she could detect no reaction so far.
The wine waiter arrived and Bert, after studying the list and then looking round for confirmation, opted for a bottle of red house wine. It was usually the cheapest plonk in the place.
Linda leant over and asked Bert how the two drunken motorists behaved earlier on. “Did they create a row?”
“Like I said,” Bert answered, “they were awkward and difficult. But we took care of them. We come across them awkward customers on a regular basis. They were well on. They’ll get a hefty one. One of them had no insurance, into the bargain.”
“They could have killed someone,” Madge stated.
“They could have,” Bert automatically agreed.
Madge continued with her mantra, “They were as drunk as skunks. They can’t say they weren’t warned. It’s blazoned all over the place—if you drink don’t drive. If you live by the sword you’ll die by the sword.”
All three enjoyed the starter and the soup. Like a large Black Labrador, Bert lapped up the soup with gusto. For the main course Linda ordered the fillet of corbet. Bert and Madge chose the steak. Bert wanted his cooked very rare. The fillet of corbet, when eventually it arrived along was nothing to write home about. Bert’s steak was so rare that it looked as if it hadn’t been cooked at all.
“Are you staying overnight?” Bert inquired.
“No,” Madge emphatically replied.
“Why won’t you?” he suggested in hope.
“Tomorrow is a working day. I’d rather go back, honestly.”
“In that case,” Linda said, “and seeing that it’s your birthday, I’ll limit myself to one glass of wine. I’ll drive home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You can drink away then and enjoy the night.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Bert looked disappointed that they weren’t staying. He again started to murmur away to Madge. Linda leant back and studied them both across the table. Madge was a primary school teacher. They would eventually marry. The garda and the school teacher was a union that was pretty popular. It meant they would be financially secure for their entire lives. They would probably have, well, maybe four kids—two boys and two girls. The two girls would play camogie and take up Irish dancing. The two boys would play hurling and Gaelic football. All would spend time in the Gaeltacht to further their chances of landing a good job in the civil service.
They in their turn would marry and the whole procedure would carry on and on and on, into infinity.
Linda was also very conscious of the cacophony of loud laughter and remarks from the nearby table. Comments were bandied about such as, “Good luck old boy,” A female commented, “He’s simply a ghastly fellow!” Then, “Good show,” and “You must call over for drinks.” Then the sudden overbearing guffaws at some genius’s perceived wit.
Bert poured the wine.
Linda put her hand over her glass, saying, “No, thank you.”
Earlier Bert had said he did Larry a turn. He looked around now to see if there was any sign of him. The last time he was in here Larry had waived the bill. But on this occasion he appeared to have gone to ground. Bert decided they’d linger on there in the dining room. Larry was bound to emerge from somewhere.
The dessert waiter arrived. Linda didn’t eat dessert but she decided to accept it anyhow. It was part of the package and Bert, no doubt, would hardly say no to a second helping. She requested to have her coffee served with the dessert.
Linda took seventy euro out of her purse and passed it to Bert. “That’ll cover me—tip and all,” Linda said.
“No, no, take that back.” Madge handed back the money.
“It’s all right, I’ll fix that,” Bert said, without much enthusiasm.
But Linda was independent. “Do you want me to tear it? That’s what will happen.” She returned the money.
“That’s terrible. You’re awful,” Madge then said.
The deserts and coffee arrived.
“I don’t eat desert.” Linda edged her bowl towards the centre. “If you don’t mind I’ll take this coffee out to the lounge.”
As she stood up she announced in a loud tone, “Those loudmouths behind your back are driving me nuts.” There was a slight pause in conversation at the table referred to.
Linda moved out to the lounge bar and sank into one of the comfortable armchairs, placing her cup and saucer on a small table nearby. One of the reasons why Linda wanted to sit in the lounge was to observe the two glamorous waitresses traipsing to and fro. One of the two approached her now and politely inquired if there was anything she would like.
“There is,” Linda replied. “I’d like you.”
The girl smiled, slightly embarrassed, and moved away, saying, “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
Linda sighed, thinking how she’d love to have that beauty lying beside her, feeling those blonde tresses against her cheeks, that lovely form entwining hers. Then she thought of Madge again. It was her birthday, so maybe she should get her a drink or something. She’d already given her flowers. She crossed to the bar. Straight away, and for no apparent reason, an animosity seemed to develop between herself and the slight barman, the one with the sallow complexion, the sleek black hair and thin moustache.
“What’s the cheapest wine you have on your list?” She asked.
“This one,” he pointed, with faintly disguised distain. “This Chilean one is cheap at thirty euro.”
“You call that fu
ckin’ cheap?” she blurted out. You’d probably get it at Lidl or Aldi for five euro.”
He put his fingers to his lips, “Ssssh, please watch your language.”
“I’ll watch what I like. Here, I’ll take it.” She counted out the money using all the small change she could muster to make up the last five euro.
“You’re not on the game, I hope.”
“What? What are you saying?”
“We have standards around here.”
“I don’t care what you have. What exactly did you mean by—?”
“Nothing.” He walked away.
“Come here a minute…”
But he ignored her, and served two other customers.
She took the bottle of wine in to Madge and Bert, noticing it was the same brand they’d had with the meal. They thanked Linda profusely.
She returned to her seat still thinking of what the barman said. She became aware of three Fancy Dans at the bar giving her looks. Did she appear a bit of a tart or something? Was it the clothes she had on? Eventually one of the three strode over.
“What’s a lovely, beautiful girl like you doing, sitting here on your own?” he said. “Do you mind if I join you?”
He was preparing to seat himself when Linda said, “I do.”
“Oh,” he said, halting in mid-posture, and straightening up again.
“It’s like this,” she explained. “My husband”—pointing to the dining room—”is a former boxer and he’s a very dangerous, jealous guy. You have a nice nose and I’d hate to see it splattered all over your face.”
“Oh,” he said again. “In that case it was nice meeting you,” and he scampered back to his companions. After a short discussion they looked over at her and smiled.
The piano music drifted out to where she sat. The pianist was now playing Down at the Red Rose Café in the Harbour. Linda thought again about the two guys in the pub earlier on. When all’s said and done they weren’t really all that bad, she mused. What were they trying to do? Trying to score—trying to get off the mark. Most men were the same. She was aware that at the time she more-or-less implied that she wouldn’t pee on them if they were on fire. But now she felt kind of sorry for them. If Madge wasn’t so prudish they could have palmed them off with a few jokes or something. Instead of that she’d stitched them up. They’d surely have made their way safely home by the route they planned. What would happen now? A heavy fine and off the road for two years, more likely. When they lose their cars it could mean losing their jobs as well.
Tales of the Bright, the Dark & the Bizzare Page 6