Christian looks like he’s wavering, though, and he’s about to say he’ll come with me when Fionn sticks his big, bent oar in and goes, ‘You don’t discriminate, do you, Ross? You’ll do it with anyone – other people’s girlfriends, your best friend’s mother?’ and when he says this I can’t even look Christian in the eye.
I finish my Americano and get up to go and face my, I suppose, fate, at Lansdowne Road Dorsh station. As I’m leaving, Fionn’s drumming on the table, going, ‘The noonday Dorsh will bring young Pikey, if I’m a man I must be brave, and I must face that deadly outhalf, or lie a coward, a craven coward, or lie a coward in my grave…’ and just as I’m pulling open the door, Oisinn goes, ‘Don’t forget your stor, Kane,’ in this, like, cowboy voice, the fat focker.
When we played rugby together, we had this rule, which was, like, one in, all in, but that’s obviously totally forgotten now, and we are talking totally. I pork the cor on Baggot
Street and it’s only when I go to stick a couple of squids in the meter that I realize my hands are, like, trembling. I head towards the Dorsh station. It storts to piss out of the heavens. I’m about, like, twenty minutes early, roysh, and I use the time to try to think of something that will basically save me a beating, roysh, and still get him to play against Blackrock, who’ll piss all over us if he’s not playing.
I’m standing at the crossing, roysh, and suddenly the barrier storts coming down and there’s a train pulling in, and all of a sudden, roysh, I come up with what I have to admit is a pretty decent line. I’m sort of, like, craning my neck, roysh, trying to see if Pikey’s getting off and all of a sudden I see the dude stomping his way down the ramp towards me and opening up his blue Henri Lloyd sailing jacket, like he’s getting ready to deck someone – basically me. Quick as a flash, just as he’s getting near me, roysh, I turn around and go, ‘If it’s any consolation, she was the one who came on to me. She was basically gagging for it,’ but the goy’s in no mood to listen to reason and all of a sudden – BANG! BANG! BANG! – three punches and the next thing I know I’m lying in, like, a puddle and he’s leaning over me, roysh, and he has me by the scruff of the neck and my head’s focking spinning and there’s a taste of, like, blood in my mouth.
I’m waiting for the kicks to stort coming in, but then I hear this voice go, ‘That’s enough,’ and I look up and there’s, like, three blokes there and, even though my vision is blurry, I sort of, like, vaguely recognize two of them as bouncers from, like, Reynord’s. Pikey goes, ‘He slept with my girlfriend,’ and one of the goys goes, ‘And now you’ve had your fun with him. But that’s enough. You’re not hitting him again.’
Pikey looks down at me, roysh, then at him, then back at me again, then he lets go of me – my black DKNY shirt is basically focked – and he goes, ‘Don’t bother showing your face at the match this afternoon. I’ve spoken to the rest of the goys and they’ve all agreed: if you’re coaching us, no one’s playing,’ and off he goes.
One of the bouncer dudes – he actually focked me out of Cocoon once before and Reynord’s twice – he hands me a mobile and goes, ‘There’s a telephone call for you,’ and I hold it up to my ear, roysh, which feels pretty badly bruised from where Pikey caught me when I was on the way down, and I’m just there, ‘Hello?’ and I hear this voice and it’s just like, ‘You’re some fooken tulip.’
It’s Ronan.
My head’s too sore to even stort working this out. I’m there, ‘How did you…’ and he goes, ‘I told you, Rosser. I’ve eyes and ears all over this town. The boys there are good friends of mine. I told them you were in a spot of bother. How were they, alreet?’ and I’m like, ‘They could have got here a bit quicker,’ and he’s there, ‘They’ve been there for an hour. I told them to let him get a few digs in on you. He was entitled, Rosser. And it might knock some bleedin’ sense into you.’
Doesn’t matter what side I lie on, roysh, my face still hurts. Haven’t, like, checked my boat out yet, but I’d say I’ve got at least one black eye, the left one, and my ear on the other side feels pretty bruised and I’ve got this, like, ringing noise in my head. The clock on the Savalas says it’s, like, half-five in the afternoon. I go to the window and I can see the last few stragglers making their way past the Berkeley Court and back towards town. There’s, like, six or seven Castlerock goys taking the total piss out of these two Blackrock heads, which gives me a fair idea of the result.
I wander back to the bed and think about sticking on an old grown-ups’ movie to try to, like, cheer myself up, but I’ve seen them all at least three times at this stage. I check my mobile. I’ve, like, one missed call. I dial 171 and it’s, like, Fehily, talking in this, like, whisper. He’s there, ‘I’m sorry, my child, you cannot be with us on our day of glory. A sin of the flesh, I am told. We have all fallen, my child.’
Then he goes, ‘You have no doubt pondered on the fact that, with you absent today, Scripture has been fulfilled. Moses worked hard to lead his people to the Holy Land, but he never made it there himself. His crime was to doubt the Lord when his flock was dying of thirst in the Desert of Zin. Yours was something quite different, I know, but let me read to you from the Book of Deuteronomy. I hope it will bring you succour in this lonely hour.’
He goes, ‘On that same day the Lord told Moses, “Go up into the Abarim Range to Mount Nebo in Moab, across from Jericho, and view Canaan, the land I am giving the Israelites as their own possession. There on the mountain that you have climbed you will die and be gathered to your people, just as your brother Aaron died on Mount Hor and was gathered to his people. This is because both of you broke faith with me in the presence of the Israelites at the waters of Meribah Kadesh in the Desert of Zin and because you did not uphold my holiness among the Israelites. Therefore, you will see the land only from a distance; you will not enter the land I am giving to the people of Israel.’
He goes, ‘But at least, my child, like Moses you got to enjoy the view from Mount Nebo. And for that you were blessed… Ein volk, ein Reich, ein Rock! Ein volk, ein Reich, ein Rock!’
4. God’s Gift
Having a hangover is bad enough without having to listen to the biggest knob in the universe crapping on while I’m trying to watch ‘Ricki Lake’. I don’t actually know why he rings with all the shit I throw at him. Must be, like, a glutton for punishment. He’s going, ‘I still don’t understand why you weren’t there, Ross. For your team’s big moment of glory,’ and I’m like, ‘I told you already, I was Moby. Get that into your thick skull,’ but he just won’t let it go.
He’s there, ‘Wardy, for one, can’t make head nor tale of it. Mysterious non-appearance, quote-unquote. Gerry’s the same. I mean, that chap who lifted the cup, that young Justice Thaddeus Pike’s boy, he never mentioned you. Not so much as a thank-you-very-much-indeed in his speech. Said the players were all grateful to Father Fehily for stepping in at such short notice to coach them on the day.’
He’s like, ‘I take the afternoon off from helping put together my good friend Hennessy Coghlan-O’Hara’s appeal to watch my son lead Castlerock to glorious victory, only to find he’s been written out of the script. That’s ingratitude with a capital I, Ross. I said it to Hooky in the Berkeley Court afterwards. I said, “Put me on that show of yours and I’ll tell the world”,’ and I can’t listen to any more of this, roysh, so I end up going, ‘IF YOU MUST KNOW, I KNOBBED PIKEY’S BIRD!’ and there’s, like, total silence on the other end of the line and after, like, twenty seconds of that, I just hang up.
I’m lying there, thinking of lashing on Hot in the Caribbean for the tenth time this month when Keira Knightley rings and tells me that JP’s at reception. I’d ask him up here except I’m pretty much going stir-crazy in my room at this stage, so I hop in the elevator and go down to meet him in the lobby. The dude goes to high-five me, roysh, but before I can respond he turns around and goes, ‘Fock!,’ obviously copping my eye and the general state of my boat. He’s there, ‘Was that, like…’ and I’m there, ‘Pi
key? Yeah, it was. He did this to me after my so-called friends deserted me,’ and he’s, like, suddenly on the defensive, going, ‘Hey, it was one-on-one, dude. Sounds like a strategic fit to me,’ and I just, like, shrug my shoulders and go, ‘There has to be a price to pay, I suppose, for being so desirable to the opposite sex, not to mention a red-hot lover,’ and I can see Keira Knightley giving me the big-time mince pies, roysh, her interest in me having gone through the roof since she saw the shiner. Birds love a bad goy.
JP goes, ‘Dude, there’s a reason I’m here. I have an idea. I want to run it up the flagpole and see if you salute,’ and I’m just there, ‘Shoot,’ and he’s like, ‘Well, as you may or may not know, my grandmother is going into hospital on Good Friday to have that botox operation she had reversed,’ and I’m just, like, looking at the goy in, I suppose you’d have to say, disbelief. I’m there, ‘Are you sure this is the conversation you came here to have with me?’ He’s there, ‘Listen up for a second. My old pair were supposed to be taking my grandparents to the Holy Land for Easter Week. This has put the kibosh on it, and we’re talking big-time. What I’m basically saying is that I’ve got a holiday for four – free, gratis and for nothing – and I just wondered did you want a piece?’
I’m just hoping Keira Knightley hasn’t heard a word of this conversation, roysh, otherwise my street cred is out the focking window. I’m there, ‘The Holy Land? As in…’ and he goes, ‘Israel,’ and I’m like, ‘We’re talking a pilgrimage? You’re actually suggesting that I go with you on a pilgrimage? As in, Holy Mary and how’s your father?’ and he’s there, ‘It won’t be like that, Ross. Come on, think outside the square for once. Take a look at this,’ and he puts this, like, brochure in front of me and it’s got this, like, picture of a beach, roysh, and it’s, like, wall-to-wall Blankers Koen, we’re talking stunners as well, with unbelievable top tens.
I’m there, ‘This is more like it. Where’s this – Spain?’ and he goes, ‘It’s Tel Aviv, Ross. That’s where we’re staying. We’re in the Crowne Plaza, roysh on the beach.’ I’m like, ‘You had to actually ask me was I interested? What’s the line-up?’ and he goes, ‘Christian can’t get the time off work. And he wants to be around for Lauren,’ and I’m there, ‘Understandable. Oisinn?’ and he’s like, ‘Yeah, he’s already given me a big ten-four,’ and I go, ‘Cool. Which leaves one more place. Who can we ask?’
JP goes, ‘Come on, Ross, you know who,’ and I’m there, ‘No focking way, JP. You know him – he’ll ruin the whole atmos with his guidebook and his focking glasses,’ and he goes, ‘Ross, he’s our friend. We can’t not ask him. Anyway, it’s about time you two buried the hatchet.’
I’m in Dún Laoghaire, roysh, using the old drink-link next to Café Mao, when who do I see coming out of, like, Meadows and Byrne only Erika and it has to be said, roysh, she’s looking shit-hot. She goes, ‘Hey, Ross. What happened to your eye?’ and I’m like, ‘Casualty of war, Babes,’ and she’s there, ‘It makes you look very handsome, I have to say. I’m having some of the girls around on Good Friday, Ross, for a comedy night,’ and I’m like, ‘A comedy night?’ and she’s there, ‘Yes, we’re going to watch the video of the wedding,’ and I can tell from her face, roysh, that she’s actually not joking. She’s like, ‘I was going to text you, ask you to come along,’ and instead of telling her to go and fock herself, roysh, I end up going, ‘Em, no, I’m actually going to be in Israel,’ and I end up hating myself for being so focking weedy. She goes, ‘What a pity.’
I try to, like, change the subject. I’m there, ‘How are things going with that goy, as in, like, the lawyer dude?’ and she just goes, ‘Gone,’ with this really, like, cruel, I suppose you’d have to call it, look on her boat. I’m there, ‘I’m sorry,’ and she’s like, ‘So is he. Wants me back, of course. It’s quite fun watching him embarrass himself. He couldn’t satisfy me, Ross. His problem, not mine,’ and I’m there, ‘Oh well,’ and she goes, ‘I have to say though, I do enjoy watching men cry. No, I’ve got a wonderful new boyfriend. He’s an orchestra conductor. His parents are loaded.’
*
Freya Farrell is this bird I met in, like, Café en Seine about six months ago, roysh, and who’s been on my To Do list ever since. Well, I’ve been pretty busy, roysh – what with, like, getting married and shit? – which is the reason she hasn’t heard a dickie-bird from me since I nipped her in the laneway beside the Shelbourne Hotel cor pork and asked for her phone number. Of course, she’s probably thinking her chance has passed her by, roysh, but little does she know that I’m about step back into her life and make all her dreams come true. The thing is, roysh, Ronan has me totally paranoid at this stage, we’re talking actually scared to even look at another bird when I’m out on the lash with the goys. I’ll get a text, roysh, and it’ll be like, Blondie bird, denim skirt, black boots. Heads up Rosser – yur being watched, and I’m, like, looking around me, roysh, wondering how the fock he knows this shit.
So what’s happened is, roysh, I’m actually having to fall back on my old contacts to get my Nat King Cole and, it has to be said, roysh, that Freya is a total cracker, brown hair, amazing eyes, huge baps, has that whole Eva Longoria thing going on. She’s actually a vet, of all things, roysh, and she shares a practice with her old man in, like, Wicklow town, of all places, so this particular Wednesday lunchtime, roysh, I decide to drive down there and have a sniff around.
She’s actually surprised to see me, roysh, though shocked is probably more the word. I’m there, ‘Sorry I haven’t been in touch. I’ve been up to my eyes,’ though it’s probably best I don’t go into specifics. She’s like, ‘Ross? Wow, it must be, like, a year?’ and I’m there, ‘No, must be, like, six months,’ and she goes, ‘No, it’s a year. It was before I sat my finals,’ and I’m not going to argue with her, roysh, because she doesn’t seem that pissed off with me.
She’s got one of those long, white doctor’s coats on her and it’s really doing it for me, and we’re talking in a big-time way. She goes, ‘Look, Ross, I’m, em… well, working at the moment. You should have phoned before you…’ and I’m like, ‘What are working on?’ cracking on to be really interested, which is basically a trick I have with birds. She looks over her shoulder and goes, ‘Oh, I just have a pup back there, in the recovery room,’ and I’m like, ‘Hey, I focking loves dogs,’ giving it the whole Dr Dolittle bit, and I burst straight into the room. It actually turns out not to be a dog at all, roysh, but a baby seal, which also happens to be called a pup, and he’s laid out on this, like, operating table. He smells like focking Moore Street at eight o’clock on a Friday morning. Freya goes, ‘Isn’t he beautiful? He was found washed up on Wicklow beach,’ sort of, like, petting his head and I’m there, ‘Hell of a hum off him, isn’t there?’ and she laughs and goes, ‘That’d be the sea, Ross. It’s funny how you get used to it.’
He is actually a cute little thing, roysh, you’d have to say, lying there with his eyes closed, totally out of the focking game. I’m there, ‘What is he, nearly dead or something?’ and Freya goes, ‘I hope not. No, he’s under a general anaesthetic,’ and I’m there, ‘So what’s basically wrong with him?’ and she’s like, ‘Periodontal disease,’ and I’m like, ‘I take it that’s a bad thing?’ and she goes, ‘Well, it’s not life or death. It’s only gum disease, but the swelling in his mouth was so bad it was starting to affect his vision. It’s lucky Dad’s a qualified ophthalmologist,’ and I’m like, ‘It really is,’ obviously not having a focking clue what she’s talking about.
She goes, ‘We administered an anti-inflammatory to his left eye, cleaned out two empty tooth sockets, which seems to have been where the infection started from, then sutured them closed,’ and I’m not sure, roysh, whether it’s all the talk about, I don’t know, disease and empty tooth sockets and scabby eyes, but I’ve actually gone off the idea of trying to score Freya, the other reason being that, mad as it sounds and everything, it’s pretty obvious that she’s absolutely no interest in me. She’s being quite
friendly, roysh, but I’m picking up on the vibe that what happened a year ago happened a year ago and that’s basically that, which is her loss.
So now I’m wondering how I get out the door without being rude. I’m like, ‘Do you want me to wake him up?’ and Freya sort of, like, raises her eyebrows at me and goes, ‘And how do you propose to do that?’ and I’m like, ‘I don’t know, sort of, like, slap him across the face a few times. Lightly, of course. Maybe throw a cup of water over him,’ and Freya laughs and goes, ‘If only it were that easy. Anaesthetizing seals is a very tricky business, you see. Have you ever heard of Marine Mammal Diving Reflex?’ and I’m like, ‘Duh! Of course I have,’ but she obviously sees straight through it, roysh, because she explains it to me anyway.
She goes, ‘Marine mammals that are predisposed to diving have a very unusual physiology. At very low depths, seals can almost completely shut down their vascular systems, so that their blood oxygenates only the heart and the brain and not the other, lesser organs,’ you can imagine me, roysh, I’m like one of them focking nodding dogs. She’s like, ‘A seal can slow his heart rate down from 140 beats per minute to as few as ten. Dogs, cats and birds breathe as normal under general anaesthesia. The problem with seals is that when you administer an anaesthetic, it triggers that same breath-holding response. Means you have to revive them slowly and carefully,’ and I’m there, ‘Well, thanks for clearing that up for me, Freya. So when are you expecting him up?’
She sort of, like, lifts the lids of his eyes, roysh, and goes, ‘Pretty soon. I took him off the ventilator about twenty minutes ago. Pulse, temperature, oxygenation rate – everything’s normal. He should be opening his eyes within the next hour,’ and I’m like, ‘Wish I could hang around and meet him, but I’ve got to split,’ and she goes, ‘Okay. Well, it was very… unexpected to see you,’ and she goes to shake my hand, roysh, she actually shakes my hand, and I’m just there thinking, Yeah, well maybe ‘I’m embarrassed about nipping you – has that crossed your mind?
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightdress Page 11