by Shane Dunphy
‘That’s sort of it, though, isn’t it?’ Beth said. ‘You’ve encountered him, what, twice? It’s not really much of an indicator, is it?’
‘Well, if she’s not here tomorrow, I’m going out there,’ I said.
‘All right,’ Tristan said. ‘But more than likely she’ll be here, bright and early, with a perfectly reasonable excuse.’
That day, I had been given an illustration of what things had been like with Dominic before his epilepsy had been brought under control. It happened during a role-play exercise. Tristan often introduced issues into the drama module that were perhaps too upsetting to discuss head-on with the group, but which could be handled as a kind of game through acting and pretend.
So, Dominic was pretending to be walking home from the shop, and Tristan was a man in a car, who had stopped and was offering to give him a lift. The problem we were having was that the whole point of the thing was based on the fact that Tristan was supposed to be a stranger, but Dominic could not remember this, and kept on agreeing to get into the car with him.
‘Okay,’ Tristan said, patiently. ‘In the game, you don’t know me, Dominic, and I want you to come for a drive. But of course, you should never get into a car with someone you don’t know, should you?’
‘My daddy bring me home in the car at four o’clock,’ Dominic said brightly.
‘I know that, Dominic,’ Tristan said. ‘But that’s not for a long time yet. Okay, let’s try again. What are you doing?’
‘I walkin’ home from the shop.’
‘Good. And what did you buy?’
Dominic dissolved into giggles.
‘What did you buy there, Dominic?’
‘Sweets.’
‘And what else?’
‘A Daniel O’Donnell CD.’
‘And what else?’
‘A cake for my mammy’s tea.’
‘Very good. Now, you’re walking home, and you’re tired and hungry, and a man comes up in his car and stops beside you.’
Tristan made the noises of a car drawing up to the kerb, and mimed pulling up the handbrake.
‘Hello, young man,’ he said, in a deep voice.
‘’Lo, Tristan.’
‘No, remember, Dominic, you don’t know who I am. I’m a stranger.’
‘Oh, yeah.’
‘So – hello, young man. Could you tell me how to get to the supermarket?’
‘Yeah! Supermarket near my house!’
‘Well, why don’t I give you a lift there, and you can show me?’
‘Okay, Tristan.’
The entire room groaned in exasperation – all except Tristan who, without so much as a grimace, went right back to the beginning of the exercise. It was at this point that Dominic suddenly went quite rigid and jerked for a moment. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he keeled over backwards with a crash.
Tristan was out of his seat in a moment and kneeling beside him.
‘It’s okay,’ he said – Elaine and some of the others were looking quite alarmed. ‘He’ll be fine in a minute. No need to get upset.’
A pool of urine began to spread from beneath Dominic. Beth went and got some kitchen towels.
‘There’s really not a whole lot we can do,’ Tristan said. ‘He’ll come out of it when he’s ready. There used to be all this nonsense about people swallowing their tongues, or biting the insides of their mouths during seizures, but there’s no record of anything like that ever really happening from what I can tell. Someone just needs to sit with him and let him know he’s okay when he comes around. He’ll feel a bit yucky when he does, and will want something warm to drink.’
‘I’ve laid out some clothes for him in the bathroom,’ Millie called over.
‘Thank you, Millie,’ Tristan said.
Suddenly Dominic trembled, and tried to sit up.
‘There you go, fella,’ Tristan said. ‘You’re all right.’
‘I have a seizure, Tristan?’
‘You did.’
Dominic suddenly realized that he had wet himself, and his eyes filled with tears.
‘Don’t tell my daddy,’ he said, clutching at Tristan’s arm. ‘I a big boy. No wet myself no more.’
‘Now now, there’s no need for a fuss,’ Tristan said, helping Dominic up. ‘There was nothing you could have done. It really was an accident, and your daddy won’t be at all cross.’
‘An accident?’
‘That’s all.’
‘Come on to the bathroom and we’ll get you cleaned up,’ I said.
He came with me, holding my hand.
‘I a big boy, Shane, right?’
‘You’re bigger than me, that’s for sure,’ I said.
Dominic giggled. ‘Lonnie say you a short-arse hippy.’
‘He said that?’
‘Yeah,’ Dominic giggled. ‘He funny.’
‘He sure is.’
25
Annie did not come in the next day, so after work, I followed the winding road up Mount Muireann. I parked at the end of the tree-lined laneway, and walked. It was much further than I remembered, and I was hot and thirsty by the time I reached the place where the house jutted out into the path.
‘Hello,’ I called. ‘Anyone about?’
I could not find a door at first. The house just seemed to be a long unbroken stone structure. Finally I reached the end of it, and round the corner I found a low door leading down three steps into a dark dingy room. There was no furniture in it other than an ancient washing machine, with the drum out of it and in pieces on the floor.
‘Annie? Mr Kelleher?’
The light behind me was suddenly obscured.
‘What d’you want?’
William Kelleher was silhouetted in the doorway.
‘Annie hasn’t been in to Drumlin in almost a week, Mr Kelleher,’ I said, trying not to sound as afraid as I was.
‘So?’
‘I was worried she might be sick, or that you might need something.’
Slowly, he came down the steps and stood in front of me. I had to crane my neck to speak to him.
‘Is she okay?’
‘She’s fine. Off about the mountain, now, with her cousin.’
‘Why hasn’t she been in, then?’
‘We have visitors. Family over to stay. She loves her cousin Charlie. He understands her. Talks to her. She don’t get to play much – be a kid – so I left her off to ramble with him.’
I had not expected that. In the last thirty seconds, this man had said more, and expressed more affection for his daughter, than I had gotten from him during our previous encounters put together.
‘I was just going to have a drink,’ he said. ‘You’ll have one with me?’
‘Yeah… okay, thanks.’
He strode past me and went out of a door in the far wall. I realized this odd, subterranean room was just an entrance hall and followed him. On the other side of the door were more steps, this time going up into a wide living area, the main wall of which had been decorated with a mural of the mountain, complete with a variety of very accurately drawn animals and birds. The furniture was plain and simple, and looked to have been mostly hand-crafted. I sat on a wooden chair with a woollen pillow, and William, who had been rooting in a rough wooden press, came out with a bottle and two glasses, which he set on a low table.
‘I made this meself,’ he said, pouring some clear liquor into the glasses.
I had a sniff. ‘Poteen?’
‘Aye. My father made it, and his father before him. You won’t find a better drop in these parts.’
I took a sip. It wasn’t bad at all. I made a mental note to call a taxi for the home journey. I would be in no state to drive.
‘I never thanked you for bringing my girl home from town that night,’ William said.
‘That was a long time ago, Mr Kelleher.’
‘Call me Will, please. You make me feel like I’m in court.’
‘Will, then. That seems almost a lifetime ago, now. I was
glad to get her home safely.’
‘She doesn’t run off much. Her ma and me, we’d had a row. She got scairt, and went like a frightened fox.’
‘You didn’t go after her?’
‘No. She always comes back, sooner or later.’
I took out a cigarette and offered him one. He took it, with thanks.
‘Some days, I think she’s almost normal, nearly right. She’ll say somethin’ that’s almost genius. She’s brilliant with the animals, and she can tell you the name of every tree and plant hereabouts. You see that picture on yon wall?’
‘I do.’
‘She painted that.’
I wondered if Tristan knew Annie was so gifted an artist. He had never mentioned it.
‘She can be the sweetest, most devoted daughter a man could wish for. But you know, I can’t ask her to boil a kettle to make tea, because she’d scald herself, or set the place alight. She won’t dress herself unless her mother stands there and hands her every item of clothes in the right order. She wouldn’t eat if food wasn’t put in front of her. I know she’s a beauty, but she doesn’t. You have to be so careful of her around lads because she has no idea of what kind of message she can send out. God almighty, it’s heartbreaking, sometimes, Shane.’
I hadn’t introduced myself and was surprised he knew my name. I supposed Annie had mentioned me.
‘But you love her.’
He seemed uncomfortable for a moment. Then he said, ‘I have three other children. They have all moved on – they have no love of the land or of this place my family has lived in for generations. This mountain – we once owned most of it. It’s important to know where you come from, to appreciate what that has made you. Now, Annie, she adores the house, the fields, the stones. See the mantel.’
The shelving over the enormous fireplace was full of different types of stones and crystals of many different colours, shapes and textures. There were several of the sort Annie had given me on my first day at Drumlin.
‘Present for you,’ she had said. ‘Piece of my home. Piece of my heart.’
I felt my eyes filling up with tears.
‘Of course I love her,’ William said. ‘She’s like a part of me.’
I sat back down, rubbing at my eyes so he wouldn’t see I’d been crying.
‘Pour me some more of that fine poteen,’ I said. ‘Let’s drink to Annie.’
William laughed heartily, and unscrewed the lid.
‘Watch yourself with this, now, it packs quite a punch.’
It did. I have only vague memories of getting home.
26
Annie did finally return to Drumlin a week later. Autumn was coming down fast, and her dress was the colour of the leaves that blew and chased one another across the yard outside the unit. In news, she told us about her relatives, who were staying with her family.
‘My cousin Charlie. He likes me,’ she said. ‘Sings songs and plays games. Walks in the trees and the fields and by the rivers and streams. Charlie my friend since we were small.’
‘He sounds like a nice visitor to have,’ Sukie said. ‘How long is he staying?’
‘He will be with us until the first day of Christmas,’ Annie said, singing the last few words. ‘There’ll be snow on the ground and frost on the trees before he leaves.’
‘You’ve lots of time with him, in that case,’ Tristan said.
‘Time, time, time is on my side,’ Annie said, rocking back and forth and waving her arms above her head.
I noticed that for the rest of the day she seemed more muted than usual. She took part in everything we did, and if I had not known her, I would have seen nothing different. Yet there was a spark missing – something absent in the way she dealt with everyone, and in how she went about the business of the day. I wrote it off as perhaps being a sign that she was tired. I did not doubt she’d been up late most of the nights she’d been away, or that she was missing Charlie, her cousin.
I have to admit, I wondered about him. William had given me the impression that he was in no way intellectually disabled, but a reasonably average young man, who just happened to have an affinity with his strange, wonderful relative. From listening to what Annie’s father had said, and what Annie herself had told us, I had an image of a virtual saint. I was sure he could not possibly be like that, in actuality, and I was certainly intrigued. I could not wait to meet him.
PART 7
Among the Stones
Once upon a time there were three billy goats, who were to go up to the hillside to make themselves fat, and the name of all three was ‘Gruff’.
On the way up was a bridge over a cascading stream they had to cross; and under the bridge lived a great ugly troll, with eyes as big as saucers, and a nose as long as a poker, and teeth as sharp as razor blades. He had come up to the hillside to get fat too, but instead of grass, he planned to gorge himself on goat meat, or the flesh of an occasional passing child…
From The Three Billy Goats Gruff, a traditional
Norwegian folk tale
27
‘My daddy picking me up at four. O. Clock,’ Dominic said for the twentieth time that morning.
‘He is,’ I said, pushing the paints over so they were right in front of the huge boy. ‘But you should really paint something. It’s art time. Messy time.’
Dominic had a sheet tied about his neck so that it didn’t matter if he chose to paint himself rather than the paper, but there was not a single blotch or speck upon its white surface.
‘Not. Paintin’.’ Dominic said, and folded his arms.
I shrugged.
‘Okay. I’ll just have great fun painting a lovely picture myself, then.’
I tried to apply Tom Sawyer’s ‘picket fence’ approach to the job at hand, but Dominic was too clever for me by far. Each and every time I suggested that this was just about the best fun it was humanly possible to have, he simply snorted and turned his chair away.
‘I. Am. Not. Paintin’.’
When the session was finished, I had produced five sheets of brightly coloured paper (my attempts at art tend to be of the Jackson Pollock variety), while Dominic had not so much as generated a single brush stroke.
As we sat around in the group afterwards, admiring one another’s handiwork, I noticed that Dominic was beginning to regret his ‘not paintin’’ stance.
‘Oh Ricki, that is a lovely picture,’ Beth gushed. ‘Tell us all about it.’
It is worth remembering that when someone puts in a great effort to produce a picture, the worst insult you can level is to ask: ‘What’s that then?’ It is far better to simply ask them to explain to you what they have created. I have found that even professional artists appreciate this approach.
‘Well, that’s my mammy there,’ Ricki said, indicating an orange splodge.
‘My daddy picking me up at four o’clock,’ Dominic said loudly.
‘Ricki is telling us about her picture now,’ Beth said. ‘You decided not to paint today, Dominic, so you will not have a turn telling us about your picture.’
‘Paint now!’ Dominic said eagerly.
‘No, the exercise is over. You’ll have to wait until next time. Go on, Ricki.’
‘And this is my daddy –’
‘I’m. Paintin’. Now,’ Dominic said, and swept his chair backwards.
‘Sit down, Dominic,’ Beth said. ‘You had a chance, and you made your decision.’
Dominic ignored her, and walked swiftly to the table where the paints were still laid out. He slammed a fresh page down before him, and took a brush and plunged it into the first pot that came to hand.
‘Dominic, sit down this instant!’ Beth said.
I stood up, but as I did so, Tristan came in from his office, obviously roused by Beth’s raised voice. Dominic froze when he saw him, but his jaw set, and he continued to paint. Tristan did not pause for an instant. He strode across the room, and took Dominic by the arm.
‘You know very well, young man, that when the grou
p is together, we join it and participate,’ Tristan said firmly. ‘Now I would like you to please stop this and sit back down.’
Dominic began to do as he was told, allowing Tristan to lead him out from behind the table, but then, without warning, he turned rapidly, grabbed the table with all the painting paraphernalia still on it, and flung it across the room. Tristan just managed to get out of its trajectory, while paint, brushes, paper and pots of water flew every which way. The table itself clattered to the ground, its legs pointing at the ceiling. The room was thick with silence and tension. I expected Dominic to go on the rampage, and I jumped up to help restrain him, but instead, he continued over to the group and sat in the chair he had vacated.
‘Dominic, you will please come with me,’ Tristan, who was standing among the detritus in the art area, said. ‘I think we need to talk.’
To my utmost surprise, the giant stood and followed Tristan out of the room.
‘Now, Ricki,’ Beth said, ‘back to your painting.’
Twenty minutes later, Tristan and a red-eyed Dominic came back out to the workroom.
‘Excuse me, everyone,’ Tristan said. ‘Dominic has thought long and hard about what happened during group. He’s done some tough work with me about it, and he’s got something he’d like to say.’
Dominic, who was standing with his head lowered said, so quietly we all had to strain to hear it, ‘I sorry for what I done. Hurt your feelings. Hurt my feelings.’
Ricki tentatively came over, and looked up at him.
‘That’s all right, Dominic,’ she said. ‘We all get cross from time to time.’
He looked at the tiny woman, and said in a voice full of tears, ‘I sorry, Ricki. You my friend?’
‘Of course I am, Dominic.’
Bending almost double, Dominic reached down, and gave her a hug that must have caused her ribs to pop.
‘Okay, let’s go back to work,’ Tristan said.
And without further comment, everyone did.
The Wolf Boy
Part II
Joseph had been to see the dwarves many times, and he knew the way to their underground kingdom well. As he walked, he spied some old apples that had not yet fallen, high in the branches of a tree. He knew they would be hard and sour, but he was very hungry, so he climbed up and picked them. Further on, he found a patch of wild garlic and a bush heavy with hazelnuts. He ate these too, then broke the ice on a little pond and took a long drink. As he was bending over the water, he heard a low growl. Slowly, he raised his head, and there, looking down on him, was an enormous grey wolf.