The Gamal

by Ciarán Collins

  We arrived into some kind of a dreamplace. There was music everywhere. On the corner a girl of about our own age singing sean-nós. Old style. And twenty or thirty around her and they all so quiet that you could hear the girl draw breath for the next bit each time. On another bit and a young fella sitting on a crate playing the concertina and an old man standing beside him playing a wooden flute. Crowd around them too. Next was two old women singing sean-nós and a girl of about eight tapping on a bodhrán. It lined the streets as far as the eyes could see. Went for a piss in a pub and the inner room was crammed with people listening to a tin whistle player with a comb-over. Sinéad’s face was best of the lot though. She was stunned. Smile would break out in her every now and again and her eyes were bright as flame taking in all the wonders.

  We were camping and we’d only one four-man tent. It was my sister’s. They’d no problem sleeping cos the nights were warm and the drink had them immune to the hard ground. We talked and then they fell asleep and I liked to listen to the two of them breathing and the sound of the sea.

  On the Saturday night there we ended up in the bar of the hotel in the middle of the street. It wasn’t that full but it was cosy and there was a good session on there. A session is where everyone takes it in turns to sing or play a tune. Sinéad started singing then. She sang a song called ‘Carraig Aonair’ that she learned out in Cape Clear and a change started coming over the place. The murmur stopped and people started coming in from the street to hear her. Crowds at the door looking in. The place erupted when she finished and they called out for more and she went shy and said,

  —Ah no, someone else now, so they left her alone.

  A few of the musicians started playing a reel then and this woman came over to Sinéad. A blonde English one of about thirty. She said she was a singer-songwriter and was always on the lookout for a great voice. They talked for hours. She told Sinéad how she started out busking outside a tube station in London and went on from there. She said her work is more popular in Japan, mostly piano-based. Some guy came over then and introduced this one to the crowd and asked her to play one of her own pieces on the piano. She said she would only if Sinéad would sing along and Sinéad went all apologetic and said she didn’t know her music and your one just goes sing anything and coaxes her over to the piano beside her.

  —Whatever comes to mind, just let yourself go, she said.

  —God, said Sinéad, I’ll try.

  Your one started playing on the piano then. A fierce nice tune it was. Not complicated. And not slow. But it was kind of innocent or something. Remind you of a small stream. After a while she started to look at Sinéad to encourage her on and then Sinéad started. She sang some phrases from U2’s song ‘Bad’. The same ones over and over. Desolation. Isolation. Revelation. In temptation. Let it go. And so fade away. Over and over and over.

  The electricity in the place went bananas. It was like a phenomenon we witnessed. Same as some shooting star or some eclipse or some comet. After all the applause and people congratulating them the woman and Sinéad spent the whole night talking again. James was very drunk. Just smiling and muttering away to himself and saying,

  —She’s fantastic. Simple as that. Fantastic.

  When we were leaving the woman wrote down Sinéad’s name and address and gave her her own card and asked what we were doing the next day. Sinéad said,

  —We’re hoping to get to Mass at ten in the church cos there’s these famous musicians playing O’Riada’s Mass. It’s like this Irish music Mass an Irish composer wrote. Really beautiful.

  —My goodness, that sounds amazing. Where’s the church?

  —Just up at the top of the hill I think.

  —Great, see you there then tomorrow. Ten is it?

  —Yeah, said Sinéad.

  We were a little bit late cos James was still very drunk. When we went in Sinéad saw her sitting down but was too shy to sit in beside her and walked on ahead. Then we heard,

  —Pssst. Sinéad.

  It was your one so we went and sat in beside her. She gave us a big wink and smiled. She was on her own. We enjoyed the Mass but the talking bits were boring. At least it was in Irish and we didn’t understand so you couldn’t find yourself listening even by accident. Afterwards your one insisted on buying us all breakfast and wanted to give us money for the bus when we said we were hitch-hiking home but we wouldn’t take it.

  —The bus would take twice as long anyway, James said.

  —Well you guys mind Sinéad. She’s rather precious you know.

  —I know, said James and put his arm around her.

  —I’ll be in touch, she said. Have a good summer.

  We did have a good summer but it’s long since passed. I could tell you your one’s name but she mightn’t like it, I dunno. If you search hard enough you’ll find who it was. Music is how you’ll find her.

  We were all giddy coming back. Especially Sinéad. Your one was touring for the summer but had said to Sinéad she’d love to bring her over and do some recordings in her house. She had her own studio. James could come too and me too if I wanted Sinéad said. Sinéad was finally starting to believe it about herself. That she was special.

  We got back to Ballyronan Sunday night so James was fresh as a daisy for his match the next day. I went with my father. There was a big crowd at it. They had programmes and everything. I was inside the wire doing the water when I seen James coming over to the subs bench when the game was starting. Roundy and Kerby said they were starting Teesh instead cos he was more committed and didn’t go off to a concert for the weekend. They’d beaten the hardest opposition in the semi-final thanks to James and now he was on the bench cos they knew that they’d win the final easily anyway cos the other crowd were only fair. And Teesh midfield the cowardly prick and he trying to punch the ball away from him instead of catching it in the air. After half time James was still on the bench so he got up and headed for the dressing room. Sinéad met him at the wire and walked him up. I knew James would be OK but I could see his father outside the wire and I knew that’s who James was thinking about. The picture of the team was on the South Cork Weekly with the cup and no James and no mention of him either and all the smiley heads up on Teesh and Dinky and Roundy and Kerby and all the other fools too. James put a brave face on it all and acted like he didn’t care but he did. And he knew it hurt his father. People said not very nice things about Sinéad in the pub too for taking him to Dingle. How she was a bad influence and all.

  —He should have more sense anyway than be hanging around with that tramp. She’s a bad influence and that’s proof.

  —She’s a slapper anyway and she sharing the tent with James and the gamal over.

  —Weird shit boy that.

  —Isn’t it?

  —Weird shit yeah. Not right like.

  —They’re no good for each other them two, and the gamal inside in the middle of them then and the clueless head up on him. Name of Christ.

  Sinéad’s Father Sick

  Next thing Sinéad’s father decides to come down with some sort of sickness or other and the whole Dublin plan goes to shit. Cancer is a terrible illness. Good people get it. Nasty people get it too. Sinéad’s father got it. Bollicks cancer. That’s not cancer of the bollicks, that’s testicular cancer. Bollicks cancer is the kind of cancer bollickses get. He got it in his stomach.

  —Oh you’re a nice one. Fuck off to Dublin just when your family needs you. You ungrateful little bitch.

  I think Sinéad wanted me in the house in case her mother started trying to hit her. Stuff like that happened her before but I can’t tell you about it cos she made me swear not to repeat a word about it. That stuff and worse stuff as well. Private kind of worse stuff that shouldn’t happen to people any time but definitely not when they’re only small. Cruel things.

  Anyhow I used to hang around Sinéad’s house in case she’d get hit or something. Nobody took any notice cos I’m a gamal. And anyhow, I did their gardening for them. Prete
nded I loved gardening. One time her father told her to fuck off out of it and take the retard with her. The retard was me. But really he liked the way I kept the garden.

  —Am I supposed to give up my job now is it? Over my dead body will you go to Dublin you little fucking jade you.

  That was her mother again. Truth is Sinéad’s mother drank even more than her father sometimes. One of Sinéad’s older sisters was off in Australia. The other one was married up in Northern Ireland somewhere. Teesh called them the ugly sisters. One of them was in Teesh’s class in school long ago.

  I still don’t know why she didn’t go to Dublin. James could have helped her with some money and she could have got a loan. But there was some hold over her. Some unnatural or natural hold over her. She loved the drunken old bollicks of a father I suppose isn’t it? Bit of love from him would’ve meant a lot to her I think.

  Roundy’s

  So Sinéad’s father got her a job in Roundy’s, the pub.

  —You’re not going to be sponging off us no more. Teach you what a day’s work is.

  Then there was the time James arrived down to my house after we all thought he was gone off to Dublin. That morning they took me for the spin up to the train station. Me, Sinéad, James and his father. His mother didn’t come cos she doesn’t like goodbyes cos all her brothers had to go away long ago to find work in America. Even the fella who played for Dublin and he was one of the best footballers in the country in his day. Came back later on and settled in County Wexford, he did.

  —And I’m not saying goodbye. We’ll see you again in a couple of weeks. Just mind yourself for God’s sake.

  That’s all she said. James hugged her and then she said it. By the time James had sat into the car she was after going back in the front door and closing the door behind her.

  —Your mother doesn’t like goodbyes James, his father said.

  —I know, said James.

  In the car Sinéad was quiet in herself. James just entertained his father’s ramblings about his own college days.

  —And join the societies. That’s where you’ll meet people. Sinéad will go up to you next weekend. I’ll give you a spin to the train station next weekend if you like.

  Sinéad wasn’t listening. James turned around with a smile for her. Then he noticed she was crying.

  —Yeah she might take that lift dad.

  His father adjusted his rearview mirror for a second to see Sinéad’s face. When he saw her tears he readjusted the mirror and he said,

  —Ah. I see. That’s a new kind of pain you’ll be feeling there now, the both of ye. The pain of leaving. Separation is hard for those in love.

  James threw back his hand for Sinéad to hold. She squeezed it tight. She’d a crumpled tissue in her other hand. James’ father went on.

  —No distance in the world could come between the love you two have for each other. Ye’ll see each other Friday night when you go up to him.

  Silence then for a while. At least from human voices. The old Volvo the size of a house droned away up the road and Mozart or Beethoven or Carmen or whatever rusty old classical tape he had on fleeted and flittered and flitted away in the background. Only other sound now and again was Sinéad trying to stifle her crying.

  At the station James’ father spoke to me.

  —Very good, very good, very good. Gardeners will always have work. In fact I might have a bit myself for you now that James is going. Would that suit?

  —Ha?

  —Would that suit you?

  —Ha?

  —A bit of work. I could give you some gardening work. Would that suit you?

  —Yeah.

  —Very good. Ah yes. Yes indeed. Mam and dad are both good?

  —Yeah.

  —Very good. I suppose you’ll miss James too will you?

  —Yeah.

  —I’ll miss him myself. As will his mother. You know, his mother now will be awful quiet in herself for a few days. Then she’ll get used to the idea of him not being around. Went to Greece for a week without him when he was about two. Took her a few days to get used to him not being around then too. She’ll be fine in a few days.

  He stared at me suddenly then, half worried-looking, same as a child after dropping something and he goes,

  —Do you think?

  —Ha?

  He stared off into the dark tunnel then where the trains go off to Dublin. Then half to himself he said,

  —At least I hope she will.

  Silence then again. He looked over to where James and Sinéad were. They were beside an old steam engine that the rail crowd had there for people to be looking at. James had her hands in his and was talking to her. They hugged and kissed. Talked. Hugged and kissed. Talked. James’ father turned his attention back to me then.

  —I hope he keeps up the football now in college. Good for the body. What’s good for the body is good for the mind. Isn’t that right Charlie?

  —Yeah.

  —Christ I dunno how he’ll ever manage without her. They’ve been side by side ever since we came to Ballyronan. Doesn’t seem natural somehow that they’re parting. Such a shame. Such a shame she couldn’t go. He’d settle much better with her up there you know. And she’d be a damn sight happier too, I fancy. I really don’t know. Maybe I should have spoken to her parents. James told me not to, you know. Didn’t think it was my place. Still. They shouldn’t be holding her back like that. We all have our misfortune. This is her hour. Her season. This is when Sinéad should come into her own. Dublin is the place for her. Art college is the place for her.

  He looked at me then like he didn’t recognise me for a second.

  —Isn’t that right Charlie?

  —Yeah.

  —Yes indeed. I go on Charlie. I do go on you know. Don’t mind me.

  I didn’t mind him. He looked at all the people around. From head to head to head like he was looking for someone.

  —Youth. Christ youth is important though isn’t it? All we have is our youth. All we’ve ever lived for. Let them live damn it all. Let them live. That’s what I say. What do you think Charlie?

  —Yeah.

  —He’ll not get a seat on that train you know at this stage. I suppose he doesn’t care. He’d stand for seven days for another minute with her I fancy, let alone the few hours’ train journey. And who’d blame him Charlie. Am I right? Hmmm?

  —Yeah.

  —Still. They’ve five minutes. He’ll have to go underneath the track in the tunnel to the other side to get on that train. He’ll have to get a move on. Charlie would you ever go over to them and tell them it’s five to six. Like a good fellow.

  —Yeah.

  There was a train on the near track as well as the one on the other side so we couldn’t see him to wave goodbye as the train pulled off. Sinéad puckered up a little on the way home. James’ father spoke nice words to her. Made her cry a little but made her feel better at the same time.

  —Sinéad you’re the best thing that ever happened to him. And he’s the best thing to ever happen to you too I fancy. You’ll be together soon. I’ll bring you to the train station next Friday. You can go up to him for the weekend. Don’t worry. Hundred years ago he could be emigrating to America. Or going to war. You’ll be fine.

  He dropped Sinéad home first. Then me.

  14

  About two hours later I was up in my room when I heard gravel hitting off my window. James it was.

  —I forgot to get on the train! Bleddy thing went off without me.

  —Ha?

  —Ha yourself. I wanna spend another night with Sinéad. We need it.

  —OK.

  —Will you mind my bag? I’ll collect it in the morning.

  He threw it up and I caught it.

  —Cool. I’ll be over for it in the morning. Think I’m mad?

  —No.

  —Do you think your mother would miss a few roses from her rose bush?

  —Probably. But she wouldn’t mind if she knew where they
were going. Where ye gonna stay?

  —Dunno yet. Somewhere nice hopefully.

  —Don’t get seen.

  —I won’t. See ya.

  —Bye.

  Early in the morning same thing again. Gravel at my window. Looked out the dreary window at the dreary morning and I saw the smiling faces of Sinéad and James looking up at me. Two candles in the dark.

  —G’morning Charlie.

  —Gimme the bag and come on. We’re getting the seven o’clock bus to the train station.

  I threw on my clothes, went for a pee and went straight out the window to them. We’d the bus all to ourselves. We were down the back seat. James was leaning on the window at one side with Sinéad between his legs. I was leaning on the other side facing Sinéad and James.

  —You’ll mind Sinéad for me Charlie won’t ya?

  —Yeah.

  —Do you swear?

  —Yeah.

  —Thanks Charlie, but we both know ’tis James needs looking after.

  When he was gone Sinéad cried again for a bit. We had a wait up in Cork for a bit then before the next bus. She told me about a swimming final I never knew about. Sinéad was way out in front but tried so hard that she forgot to breathe and a few strokes before the finish line she panicked and nearly drowned. She lost the race. How she tried so hard and couldn’t believe she was winning and was going to get a gold medal, a gold medal around her neck, and bring it home to show it to her mammy and daddy who couldn’t go to the competition and that she’d be so special and loved when she won this and it would make everyone proud and when she knew she was winning she tried even harder harder harder so that she’d definitely win and next thing near the very end of the race she left it too long to breathe and panicked and then inhaled some water and was flailing around in the pool for air while all the rest passed her out and she came last instead of first. She was nine years old and she cried and she cried. Anyhow. People do be failing isn’t it? We walked back to Merchant’s Quay from the train station. We sat on the benches overlooking the dirty mossy green River Lee.