In These Dark Places

by Stephen Duffy

  I stayed in the bar, sipping my pint, reading my book, patiently waiting for Abigail to finish her shift. After a time, the couple in the snug took their amorous activities just one step too far, and as she had predicted, Abigail was forced to ask them to leave. The woman offered no resistance, but Con Maguire wouldn’t go so easily, his protest brought the busy pub to a silent stand still. Long since inured to his manner, Abigail deftly batted away the abuse he hurled at her and stood her ground. Once they were gone, Maguire having stumbled out of the door in a rain of curses and threats, the hum of conversation resumed, and all went on as before.

  We left the bar at ten o’clock, walking up to the top of the town to where her friend would be waiting for us. As we walked we made small talk, the weather and such. I was anxious in her company, measuring my words carefully so as not to make a fool of myself. My conversational skills were never going to win me any prizes, particularly when it came time to talk to a woman. From the bar to the top of the town took an age. On any other day it was nothing more than a ten minute walk. On that night however, with just the two of us walking along at a sedentary pace and with my heart hammering hollow echoes in my throat, our progress seemed glacial. Whether it was lust or love I still don’t know, but on that seemingly endless walk beneath summer stars I fell for Abigail, stupid I know, but there you are. It was possibly the shortest lived infatuation in the history of imagined romance, ending as it did in a cataclysm of nerves when Abigail’s college friend stepped out from under a shop awning revealing herself to be Ellie Brandon, the object of my unrequited affections all through secondary school.

  She was almost a year older than me and she had been part of that clique, every school has one, of well to do, fashion accurate, privileged kids to whose ranks I could only ever dream of joining. It had been a crush and nothing more, a crush which had endured for five long years, but it had only ever been a crush nonetheless. The summer after we sat our Leaving came the heart-breaking realisation that any and all dreams I had ever entertained of our becoming anything more than passing strangers brought me to my senses.

  Our formal introduction was staggered, stilted and embarrassing, for me at any rate. I could feel my cheeks flush anew as she shook my hand and spoke of having a hazy recollection of me at school, at a time when I had passed through an awkward hair phase as a new initiate to the following of a popular rock band of the day. In my mind I could hear my teenage self, the boy who had written clumsy and pathetic poetry about her, put a positive spin on the fact that she had even remembered me at all. Hopeless romantic, constant dreamer.

  With the interminable pleasantries dispensed with, we set off for the party. That night young revellers from all over Carneydonnagh were making their way to a party on the outskirts of town and we were happy to be counted among them. The house was another mile or two further up the road from where we’d met up with Ellie. It was an endless, tedious walk, for the length of which I was happy to let them chat between themselves, offering only every now and again a cautious smile or a perfunctory nod or shake of my head when the flow of the conversation washed towards me.

  The thump-thumping of music, the wails of laughter and the raucous chatter of the revellers greeted us as we turned off the road and walked up the short drive. There were people on the lawn, cans in their hands, fat joints hanging from their lips. There were others standing on the porch, gathered like a coven around a wicker table, the top of which was laden with bottles of spirits of all sorts. More than a few were passed out on the porch steps and we had to step around and over them as we made our way into the house. Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of cannabis stung my nose and eyes. The place was packed to bursting, the music was deafening, even though it was one of my favourite bands at the time, I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to leave, just turn tail and get out of there, get back to my digs and get my head down for the night. Ellie Brandon or no, I didn’t want to be there. The girls were well up for a party and before I knew it, Ellie had thrust a can of beer into my hand. Not wanting to look like the prude I knew I was, I took it and I drank it. And then another. The third can converted me. There were dozens of us there that night, how we all squeezed into that small house I don’t know. But there we were, carefree kids on a summer night with nothing to do but to enjoy ourselves and live our lives.

  An hour after we arrived a commotion of cheers and shouts rose up from out on the lawn. It was followed by the splash of headlights spilling across the dim interior of the house and by the sound of an over-revved engine. Abigail went to the window and peered through the blinds.

  ‘Ah, Jesus Christ!’ she said, ‘Who invited him? Oh, for God’s sake… just when I was starting to actually enjoy myself.’

  ‘Who is it?’ I asked.

  ‘Who do you bloody well think?’

  ‘Your ex? That fella from the snug?’

  ‘I wish, that wouldn’t be so much of a big deal. No, it’s his brother, Dan, and believe me when I tell ye, he’s even worse than the other fella.’

  ‘He can’t be as bad as you make him out to be, can he?’

  ‘Well, he’s not gonna come in here handing out rainbows and puppies, I’ll tell you that for sure.’

  ‘But there’s so many people here, I mean look around you. There’s loads of us. Surely he wouldn’t kick anything off with the numbers stacked against him like they are. I mean…’

  ‘You don’t know Dan Maguire like the rest of the town does, watch, you’ll see. That crowd will part like the Red Sea did for Moses when he walks through it. The fellas will drift off to the side one by one, and the women will hope they don’t pop up on his radar.’

  ‘Should we go? Shouldn’t we just leave right now?’ I asked.

  ‘Wait till he gets himself into the swing of things. Let him get himself a beer and what have you, then we’ll get on our way. If we go now he’ll know why we’re going and he’ll make a big song and dance about it. He’s nothing but trouble looking for a fight, so try not to make eye contact with him. Just steer clear of him for ten minutes or so and then we’re out of here.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s easier said…’

  ‘You’ll be grand. He’ll do the rounds while he plays the big man. He’ll bug a few of the lads, tease them like, tip their drinks, that kind of thing. Then he’ll pick himself a sweet spot to sit and drink while he has a look around and takes his pick for the night.’

  ‘His pick of what?’ I asked.

  ‘The women, of course! He’s hardly one for the fellas now is he, look at him for Jesus’ sake, does he look like a pufter?’

  ‘He picks them?’

  ‘Yup,’ she said with a level of complacency which shocked me.

  ‘And they’re okay with this?’ I asked, incredulous that this ape could carry on like that and think that he could get away with it.

  ‘Like I told you earlier, you don’t say no to the Maguire brothers.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous, he can’t just…’

  ‘Well he does, believe me, he does.’

  ‘You mean he rapes them?’

  ‘Jesus, no!’ she hissed. ‘He’s not that stupid. He’s not so wrapped up in himself to think that he’d get away with that! But if he wants a shift, you give him a shift. He gets bored, moves on and you’re done. Off the radar for another little while at least. It’s easier if you do that.’

  ‘But that’s…’

  ‘That’s life is all. Now, like I said, steer clear and keep your head down. We’ll get out of here in a bit. We can go back to mine, my Mam and Dad are up in my Aunt’s in Mullingar tonight. I’ve got the new Bowie album…’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’

  ‘Cool, ten, maybe fifteen minutes and we’re gone, tops, I promise.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Ellie came out from the kitchen with another can of beer for each of us. As she crossed the room I didn’t watch her, it was Maguire who I caught in the corner of my eye. I saw the exact moment that he noticed
her. I saw the sly grin spread across his face as he puffed out his chest and drew in his stomach. While Ellie and Abigail chatted I nodded here and there, but I was no part of the conversation. My attention was focused on Maguire as he circled the room, nonchalantly angling his way towards our little group.

  He was a mountain of a man, at least six and half feet tall and he could move all of his three hundred pounds with the litheness of an athlete. Although he wasn’t particularly muscular his arms were enormous, his biceps stretched the fabric of his T-shirt almost to transparency, as did his massive chest. He wore a greasy pair of jeans which just about reached the high polished tops of his work boots. In terms of fashion I have always believed that the Seventies were quiet forgiving. Way back then you could wear almost anything that you liked and get away with it. It was all down to the free spirit of the decade and the growing influence of the hippies across the country, but Maguire’s mullet haircut was perhaps the only exception to that rule. He had no sideburns, they were shaved up to his temples, that buzz cut faded into the knot of thick and greasy curls which looked like it sat on his head rather than grew there. This mass of curls hung off the back of his head, dangling down to the nape of his neck like a curtain that has slipped its pole. Dan Maguire would have never won a modelling contract but he would have certainly won any tussle he and I might have gotten into. At one hundred and forty pounds soaking wet, that was something I was desperate to avoid.

  ‘Let’s get out of here, what do you say? Right now.’

  ‘What? Really?’ sighed Ellie. With a barely perceptible nod of my head I made Abigail aware of Maguire’s approach.

  ‘Yeah, come on. There’s some wine and beer back at mine. It’s too crowded in here.’

  ‘Ah, you can’t be serious. What are you two like…?

  Abigail cut Ellie short by taking her arm and physically pulling her towards the front door. She was still trying to take a swig of her beer as we stepped out onto the porch and made our way down the steps.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ she cried, ‘What’s the big bloody hurry? I was enjoying myself in there…’

  ‘We have to go,’ I said. I looked back over my shoulder to see Maguire step out onto the porch. He looked down at us with a leering grin, standing there with a bottle of beer in his hand.

  ‘Oh, right. I see now,’ Ellie said to me in a whisper. ‘Come on, you’re right. Let’s get out of here.’

  It was full on dark as we turned out onto the lane. A waxing moon hung low in the sky, silhouetting the black leaves of the silver birch which lined the eastern side of the road. The Milky Way was a tenuous band of light arcing across the sky, and the only sound to be heard after we had walked far enough from the party was the faint rustle of leaves in a soft breeze. After a mile we crested a small rise in the road and the lights of town came into view. They were very much a welcome sight after such a strange evening. As grateful as I was to be in the company of two beautiful women, one whom I had fantasised over for years, the other whom I was almost certain was nurturing her own crush on me, I would have been happy to take my leave of them that night and get my head down on my pillow. Fate however, had decided otherwise.

  The splash of headlights cast long shadows before us as we walked down the hill towards town. As the lights drew nearer we fell into single file and stepped down into the ditch to allow the car pass us by safely. Its driver had no such intention of passing us.

  ‘Oh Jesus, it’s Maguire,’ Abigail said as the car came ever closer.

  ‘What do we do if he stops?’ I asked.

  ‘He won’t, he probably hasn’t even seen us. We were off the road quick enough, knowing how he drives he’ll shoot right by us.’

  ‘I hope so,’ I said, knowing full well that I was never going to be so lucky. As the car crested the hill Ellie took my hand in the darkness and my chest swelled with a nervous excitement.

  Maguire had seen us, even if he hadn’t he would have known that we were somewhere along that stretch of road given the time we’d left the party and how far it was back into town. The rumbling drone of his engine faded to idle as he rolled down the hill. He stopped on the road beside us.

  ‘Hey, Gorgeous,’ he said. ‘Fancy a little drive out to the country?’ He was stretched across the passenger seat, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.’

  ‘Not tonight, Dan, thanks all the same,’ Abigail replied. We’re just on our way…’

  ‘Not you. I meant her,’ he said nodding at Ellie. ‘How about it, Blondie, fancy spending the night with a real man?’

  ‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ Ellie said as she tightened her grip on my hand.

  ‘What’s wrong with ye, you frigid or something?’

  ‘Hey!’ I shouted taking a step up onto the road. Ellie held my hand tighter still and stopped me from taking another step.

  ‘Watch your mouth, Skinny,’ said Maguire as anger darkened his face, ‘Or I’ll be dug out of you!’

  ‘Just leave us be, Dan,’ said Abigail as she stepped up to the car, ‘We’re going home and I think that’s where you should go too, you’re drunk. Too drunk, you shouldn’t even be driving for God’s sake…’

  ‘Enough with the lecture, ye fat cow,’ he snapped.

  This time I firmly yanked myself from Ellie’s grasp and stepped up onto the road.

  ‘Hey, listen here you arsehole, why don’t you just go and fuck off with yourself and leave us be!’ My legs were shaking, my palms sweaty. Never in my life would I have ever stood up to someone as big and as drunk as Dan Maguire, but as every man who has ever drawn breath will testify to, you can do funny things when your heart’s on your sleeve.

  ‘What did you say to me?’ he asked as he took the cigarette from his mouth.

  With a bravado I had never before mustered I leaned down to the open passenger window, planted my elbows firmly on the rim and met his eyes.

  ‘You heard me, you big prick. Why don’t you just…’

  The cigarette hit me tip first, the smouldering ember smashing against the bridge of my nose sending burning lumps of tobacco into my eyes and across my cheeks. I started away from the car furiously rubbing my eyes to try and stop the pain that burned there. Maguire revved his car and laughed as he revelled in my agony. With a screeching spin of wheels he pulled back out into the road as I fired a kick at his rear fender succeeding in nothing but snapping my knee and adding to my physical woes. Not to be denied at least some form of a reprisal I stooped to the road and fumbled blind in the gravel of the soft shoulder for a stone. My hand seized on a fair sized one and without further thought I stood and fired it blindly after the blur of Maguire’s tail lights. It ploughed through his rear windshield like a rocket, the glass exploding in a hollow bang before falling down on the tarmac like a rain of diamonds. The car screeched to a halt, the scene lit by the eerie crimson glow of its brake lights. I stood in the road breathless, my heart once more thumping a hollow rhythm in my throat. The girls stepped up out of the ditch and joined me by the centre line.

  ‘Jesus, what did you that for?’ Abigail snapped at me. ‘He’s liable to bloody well kill you now?’

  ‘He’s thinking about it alright,’ I replied. ‘But he’s not sure…’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Well, for one, he’s still in the car isn’t he? And look, his foot is still on the brake. He doesn’t know if it’s worth the hassle or not. If he was coming back for me he’d have been out of that car and tearing after me a full minute ago.’

  It was just as I said this that the brake lights went off, and then the engine was cut. Maguire stepped out of the car. Cool. Calm. His figure was a dark silhouette against the lights of town. He walked to the back of the car and assessed the damage. Then, turning to face where we stood he began to walk the road toward us. After ten steps he stopped and turned back.

  ‘There, you see,’ I said trying my best to sound confident and assured of my assessment, ‘He’s not going to bother. He’s too drunk, and
girls or not, three against one when you’re that jarred can’t be a good thing.’

  Back at the car by now, Maguire opened the boot and rummaged through it. When he again turned to face us I could clearly see in the wedge of yellow light which spilled from the boot, what he now had in his hands. It was the leg of a chair, the top of which bristled with nine inch nails.

  ‘Sweet Jesus,’ I whispered, ‘This lad’s a head-case. He’s mad!’

  ‘What? What is it?’ Abigail asked as she strained to see what Maguire was up to.

  ‘He’s going to kill us. Run!’

  I took Ellie by the hand and dragged her stumbling across the road and down into the woods. Abigail went in the opposite direction, rushing down into the ditch on the near side of the road where she scaled a dry stone wall and disappeared into the darkness of the fields.

  8

  Father Earl Jessop was only a young man when the teacher’s room incident occurred, the youngest Curate in the diocese according to my grandfather. He was tall, very tall and incredibly thin. His face was sharp, chiselled with unnatural angles. His eyes were sunk deep in sallow sockets, perpetually ringed with a sickly purple tinge. They regarded the world with a dead pan gaze and only truly came to life as he preached from the pulpit. It was only when he was on the altar did Jessop’s smile reach his eyes, nothing else in the world brought him as much happiness as did sharing the good news. Preaching the word of the Lord was something at which he excelled. His sermons always hit home through the careful use of illuminating analogies, insightful observations and an uncharacteristic wit reserved exclusively for the pulpit. When not filled with the joys of preaching however, Earl Jessop was a dour and surly man who prided himself on living life by the virtue of Victorian maxims. Those dead pan eyes of his glaring out at the world from beneath his protruding brow. A corpse. That’s what Saoirse always called him.