Peter Walsh

JOHNNY

Copyright Peter Walsh The right of Peter Walsh to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers. Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library. ISBN 978 1 84963 147 1 www.austinmacauley.com First Published (2012) Austin & Macauley Publishers Ltd. 25 Canada Square Canary Wharf London E14 5LB All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1
The waters of the Amazon lapped around his chest. Suddenly, the snake was upon him. It wrapped its coils around his chest and started to drag him under. He struggled and managed to grab his knife. Rolling underwater with the massive snake he struck with his knife and struck and struck again. Thats when the face appeared. Like a Harvest moon it was suspended directly over him. Strange how a smiling face turned upside down appears to be frowning. Well, Johnny, whats got you this time? Tis a snake Uncle Andy one of those big ones that lives in rivers! Andy Maguire laughed and leaned back on his barstool. You mean an anaconda where are you anyway in South America? I dont rightly know, but twas an awful big snake. I seen one down at the pictures last week, and it was eating horses, dogs and even people till it was killed! Johnny, for Gods sake will you get up out of that sawdust look at the state of you. His grandmother came round from behind the counter and, pulling him up, began to dust the pieces of sawdust from his pullover and trousers. That pullover is like a magnet for the sawdust. Andy Maguire leaned over pressed a sixpence into Johnnys hand turned and said; But dont you know Babs, he was fighting snakes! Ill have another pint when youre ready. Itll be more than snakes hell be fighting if his mother sees him in that state. Babs poured the Guinness slowly along the side of the glass and, three quarters of the way up, left the pint to one side to settle. She and Andy spoke about all the important trivialities that define peoples lives. When ready, Babs grabbed the pint glass and filled it to the top making certain of a nice head on the pint. This ritual fascinated him.

Granny was so smooth in the way she did it and could talk and banter not even looking at the glass without ever spilling or spoiling a pint. Never spill and never spoil was what she said when her grandson used watch her fill the pint glasses of an evening when the bar was crowded and many thirsty mouths waited on the far side of the counter. Nectar of the Gods pure Ambrosia was how Andy referred to Guinness. This seemed strange as Johnny had once taken a sip from Andys pint and, to hoots of laughter from Andy and his brothers, had run outside to spit the awful liquid from his mouth. Still, it had been worth it, as the brothers had each given him half a crown ten shillings in all!! His mother had confiscated the money given him a shilling back and put the difference in his piggybank. Otherwise itll be spent in Dwyers, she said, and the teeth will be falling out of your head. Still she didnt know the knife trick which his pal Jamie had shown him! Grab the piggybank and turn it on its side. Insert a flat bladed knife and jiggle the piggybank. Keeping hand very still remove knife slowly and, with luck, one, or maybe two, coins will be resting on the blade of the knife. Utilising Asset Resources is what Jamie called it. His dad was the local bank manager and he knew about such things being so much older and wiser. But what does it mean? hed asked. Jamie gave his broad smile. Its a posh way of saying help yourself! So Johnny had been helping himself on a regular basis. Dwyers business was benefitting and as Jamie said they were contributing greatly to the local economy. Time to go. Granny was wrapping him in his overcoat his mother having taken over behind the bar. We dont want to be late. Grabbing his hand she walked past the customers nodding to Andy. Say a prayer for me, he said, doffing his cap in mock salute.

Granny laughed. I will surely. Good night Andy. This always surprised him as Granny despite being a publican had a generally low opinion of her customers, referring to some as wasters and others as sots or, in the worst instance referring to someone as a waster and a sot. But with Andy it was different. Hed once asked her why, although everyone knew that Andy was fond of his drink, she never minded him coming in every evening or ever referred to him as a sot. Well, its like this, shed said. Andy works all the hours God sends and hes not in here leaving a house full of children starving at home. Still, his mother said that Granny and Andy had been great pals all down the years and that Andy had a soft spot for his Granny. They stepped into the cold night air the stars shining and forming a twinkling diadem over the steeple of distant St Michaels. It was extremely cold. Granny said it was going to be a hard winter. The frost was already forming on the icy pavement as they walked into the main street. Passers-by said a quick hello and hurried on. The main street was typical of a border town. One long street with the Church of Ireland parish church at one end and the courthouse at the other end. Mirror images of each other, is how Andy often referred to them. The theatrical reflecting the impractical, is how he always answered when asked what he meant. On they went. Will there be snow tonight Granny? Heavens, no. Theres no cloud cover. But therell be a bitter frost. Thats for sure. On they walked, past Grahams the butchers, past Gillespies grocery store, past the bank, where Jamie lived. At the corner they reached Brennans bar. The door suddenly flew open and out, in a half walk half stagger, came Annie McAndrew. Ah howya, Mrs Nolan, and howya too, young fella.

She staggered slightly, holding onto the door jamb for support. Granny nodded and turning quickly said, Were off to church pity others couldnt do likewise. Strange, how Granny disliked Annie. Granny was always polite whenever Annie came into their pub. But in a formal and grown-up sort of way. Once, when Annie arrived in and was very drunk, shed downed a large brandy and staggered out the door. Johnny was standing behind the counter beside Andys largely reassuring frame when he heard Granny say, That ones the town bicycle! Andy laughed. Little pitchers have big ears, he said, pointing at Johnny. This amazed him. He knew not to ask. But why did Granny refer to Annie as the town bicycle? At the end of the town, passing the Cheval Blanc Hotel, a pretentious name for a place as Jamie always said, Youd think we were in the middle of Paris, not in the bogs of Ireland. Directly ahead was the modestly Gothic Church of Ireland. Mr Wilson was the rector. Johnny liked him. He and his wife would sometimes come into the pub for a sherry usually on a Saturday night. Mr Wilson always called him over and, winking at him, would press a shilling into his hand and say, Keep the faith. However, this was a border town and the religious fault lines were clearly demarcated. Andy always said that people like Mr Wilson were decent folk whod landed on the wrong side after 1922. Johnny wasnt sure what he meant. Some people always referred to Mr Wilsons church as the Protestant church and Granny often said that Protestantism was a cold religion. The cold heat of resentment always simmered beneath the social niceties and paving stones of this small country town. Around the corner lay St Michaels. Here was a place dear to Grannys heart. Johnny loved the smell of wax

polish that greeted his nostrils when he entered. The church was packed with people, some in their Sunday finery, some in their rough working clothes. Many nodded to them, with Granny nodding back and mouthing a silent, Hello. They sat close to the altar, Granny not being renowned for her long-sightedness. There were the usual sounds; people coughing, shuffling in their seats or, occasionally, dropping a Missal. A bell rang to the side of the altar as the congregation stood and the great organ from the loft at the back of the church played Panis Angelicus. The Monsignor entered enrobed in white and golden vestments, accompanied by three altar boys. And so began the ritual. Suddenly the cold church was transformed. The singing, combined with the heady smell of incense, under the glittering stained glass windows, changed this tabernacle of sin into paradise on earth. As the priest incensed the altar, the choir intoned the great hymn O Salutaris Hostia and, as the congregation joined in the singing, once again the Saving Victim opened wide the gates of heaven. The incense rose in a great cloud, to touch the feet of the Archangel, standing in perpetual vigil over the High Altar as he trampled Satan underfoot. Having placed the Host in its golden tabernacle Granny said it was a monstrance, and having blessed the congregation with the Host the priest would kneel. Thus began the litany of the Blessed Virgin. Tower of Ivory; Ark of the Covenant the priest would intone. To each of these the congregation replied Ora pro nobis. Once again the divine spark came down to earth. The incense wafted around the great wooden beams high in the roof and, as the bells tinkled, the stained glass twinkled in the reflected light of the candles on the High Altar. And so, Gods word was made man. Walking back home the pavements glistened their light white patina promising the onset of a heavy frost. Well,

there was no school tomorrow. Johnny loved Saturday his pocket-money day. A quick run down to Gillespies to buy his favourite comics where the Tommies and the Germans were engaged in perpetual warfare. The Germans always called the British soldiers schweinhunds but the Tommies always got the better of the Germans by delivering the knockout punch and saying Take that you rotter! Lord Snooty always wore a top hat and poor Dennis the Menace always ended up across his fathers knee, having his backside slippered for some misdemeanour. Comics were like the seasons. You knew what to expect. A heavy silence descended. Brother Ambrose walked into the classroom with his head down, sniffing heavily. Runny nose Ambrose was his nickname or Runny for short. He was a thin anaemic looking man with a slight stoop to his left. The boys hated and feared him in equal measure. All stood for the introductory prayer. Now boys, I hope that youve learned the designated questions that I set for you last night. Remember, each question must be answered exactly as the answer is given, with no deviation from the text. After all, we dont want you to make a show of us before the bishop especially as Confirmation is one of the sacraments! An uneasy silence followed. Outside, from the corridor, the ticking of the old school clock could be heard clearly. Brother Ambrose, catechism held at his side like a sword, walked into the centre of the classroom a foe amongst enemies with desks on either side of him. What is the Church? he asked. His head turned slowly as all the boys kept their heads down, each sensing that the gimlet eyes of this old and vicious predator were looking directly at him. Well have you Maguire. At the end of the classroom a boy stood slowly and moved into the central aisle, coughing nervously. Well, we havent got all day, boy! and so saying the brother advanced towards Maguire; no longer the thin anaemic but now a warrior advancing

manfully on the hated enemy. Maguire coughed again and began his answer. The Church is an institution founded by Christ. Suddenly Brother Ambroses fist hit Maguire on the side of his face and sent him flying to the floor. You thundering little ignoramus! roared Brother Ambrose, his face purple with rage. Suddenly a leather belt appeared from the sleeve of his soutane. Maguire got several whacks of the belt across his head and arms as he lay whimpering on the floor. Get up and get back to your seat! Maguire shuffled back to his desk; a red stripe clearly visible across his left cheek. Brother Ambrose faced the main body of the class. In future remember that the Church is the institution founded by Christ not an institution founded by anybody and, if anyone uses the indefinite article again, then theyll get worse than what Maguire got! Returning home from school, Jamie turned to Johnny and said, Hes a queer vicious bastard that Runny Nose. Johnny nodded. But why was Maguire given such a belting? I thought he was answering the question rightly! Jamie laughed. No, he said an institution instead of the institution. Seeing Johnnys puzzlement, Jamie gave a quick laugh. By saying an he was using the indefinite article. Now if the Church is an institution, it implies that there are other institutions or Churches like Mr Wilsons or, God help us here Jamie looked heavenward making a large sign of the cross and looking suitably mock pious the Presbyterians, that are equally valid institutions. Johnny nodded. So if youre asked that question be sure to say the after all, there is only one Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church. Here Jamie looked heavenward again his hands clasped under his chin in prayer, rolling his eyes to the heavens and looking like a plaster saint. Youre mad, said Johnny. The boys burst out laughing

and ran charging down the main street like a pair of lunatics. Sitting beside Andy in the pub sipping lemonade, was always enjoyable. Listening to Andys recollections was surely great entertainment as he spiced up his stories with colourful phrases and anecdotes. Best of all was his reaction to other people. Granny said that Andy could see through people and get to the nub of their character. And so, one evening, having completed his homework, Johnny was sitting beside Andy when the door of the pub flew open followed by a cold breeze. A well-dressed young man came in along with Minnie MacMahon. They moved to the far end of the bar as Granny headed down to serve them. The young man ordered a Babycham and a large gin and tonic. Both sat at the bar as the drinks were served and, as Granny returned to Andy, the young mans voice could be clearly heard. Yeaas, ahmm staying with Lord and Lady Carrickmore. Ahh must say the castle is one of Ahhlands finer stately homes. Granny looked quizzically at Andy. Whos he? Andy muttered something about, Castle Catholics, and, placing his glass on the counter, leaned over and whispered, His names John McFarlane. Hes staying with the Carrickmores, up at the castle, to research the familys history and genealogy. Granny shook her head in disbelief. Aye, said Andy, picking up his glass. I remember crossing the border many a time to buy cattle from his father and buying some bits and pieces of groceries in his fathers shop and having a wee pint in the small pub at the back of the shop afterwards. Theyre decent people who scrimped and scraped to send Lord Muck over there to university in Dublin. And do you hear him now, with his drawing- room accent! I mind the time he was a wain running around with snots hanging down his nose and the arse out of his trousers! A brief silence followed and then McFarlanes voice could be clearly heard describing dinner that evening with

Lord and Lady Carrickmore. Ahh must say that the butler was getting on maah nerves. He kept pacing up and down behind me and looking over maah shoulder during dinner. Andy winked at Granny. Probably wanted to make sure that none of the silver was missing. Granny cupped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter. After a while the couple got up to leave. Minnie approached the bar. How are you keeping, Mrs Nolan? Im fine Minnie. How are your folks? Theyre grand, Mrs Nolan. John McFarlane came up to the bar. Come along Minnie, well be late for the cinema. Andy nodded. How are your parents, John? Sorry, do I know you? said McFarlane doing a halfturn so that his face was slightly tilted, whilst glaring in Andys direction. Probably not. Although manys the time I bought cattle off your father. Tell me, does he still have the wee shop outside Ardboe? McFarlane nodded. Aye, nice talking to you. Come along Minnie. He grabbed Minnies elbow roughly. Were going to be late. The pub door slammed shut. Andy smiled. Uncle Andy, why was he so cross with you? Andy smiled again. Hes scorning the base degrees by which he did ascend. Seeing Johnnys puzzled look he laughed and, taking a large gulp from his pint, turned saying, Shakespeare, Johnny, Shakespeare. Granny leaned across the bar and, raising both eyebrows, said, Shakespeare indeed! There was a commotion the following day. A registered letter arrived for Johnnys mother. It was from London as Johnny, answering the door to Paddy the Post was greeted by a, Howya young fella. Would you ask your Mammy to come down here, Ive a letter shes got to sign for. Winking conspiratorially at Johnny he leaned over. Its from

London, if you dont mind. A few minutes later, having signed for and opened the letter, Johnnys mother spent a few minutes whispering to Granny, Johnny, be a good lad and run down the street and ask Rosie if she could look after the bar for me this morning. Johnny looked puzzled but his mother just said, Scoot! So, pulling on his duffle coat, he ran down the main street and up Hennigans turning, arriving breathless at Rosies house. This was a small terraced house that was always full of cigarette smoke. Granny said that Rosie must have lungs like a leather bellows. She and her husband, her old man as she called him, seemed to always have a cigarette between their lips. Rosie was the part-time barmaid who stood in to cover in the bar when Granny and his mother had other business to attend to or just needed a break from the endless tedium of pulling pints. Rosie fascinated Johnny. She could pull pints and talk to the customers whilst puffing on the cigarette wedged in the corner of her mouth. Sure its no problem, said Rosie, pulling on her coat. How come your Mammy wants me today? Johnny shrugged as they walked along the narrow and frosty path in Hennigans turning. Im not sure. Mammy was to do the bar this morning as Grannys going to Cavan to do some Christmas shopping. Johnny explained how a letter had come from London, a registered letter, and that something was definitely up. Blowing the smoke from her cigarette into the air Rosie smiled and said, It all sounds a bit hush hush to me. Back at the bar, Rosie went straight behind the counter, giving Johnny her coat to hang up. His mother was in the side hallway, her hair freshly combed, and looking into the mirror whilst putting on her lipstick. Johnny, Im off to the bank. Granny left five minutes ago to get the bus. Shell not be back till after six. Try not to

get under Rosies feet. Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek she let the hall door slam behind her. What was going on? Anyway, Christmas was only some weeks away. Maybe he should write another letter to Santa Claus. Sitting in the kitchen at the back of the house he heard the brass knocker sounding on the hall door. Opening the door he saw Jamie standing there, shivering. He stepped back as Jamie ran into the house. Boy, its freezing out there! said Jamie, as they sat in the kitchen. Johnny poured him a cup of tea. Your mother came into the bank a few minutes ago and asked to see my father, said Jamie, sipping the hot tea in small gulps and blowing into his cupped hands. Whats up? Johnny shrugged. I was hoping you might hear something. She went racing down to the bank after a letter arrived from England. Jamie sat up and, putting on a long face said, in a mock serious tone, Of course, the Pater and I always discuss bank business. Hed be lost without the benefit of my financial acumen! The boys laughed. Johnny spluttering as some tea went down the wrong way. Jamie could always see the funny side of things. That night, after closing time, Johnny crept down the back stairs. The old stairs creaked as he tiptoed in barefooted silence, stepping over the squeaky tread halfway down. Despite the hot water bottle under his dressing gown he still felt cold, but he knew that his mother and Granny would be sitting in front of the kitchen range drinking tea before they went to bed. The back stairs came around the side of the kitchen allowing access into the kitchen itself or, if you turned right, into a lobby leading into the back yard. He stopped, just before the final turn in the stairs. His mothers voice wafted up the stairs, mixing with the odour of the menthol cigarettes that she liked so much. Well, Mammy, Tom had a good look at the cheque and he said it looked authentic. Anyway, I lodged it to my account

and, if and when it clears, Im going to take the money and put it into a deposit account for Johnny so that hell have it when he comes of age. There was a short silence as cups clinking on saucers mingled with the sound of a match striking. Johnny sat down noiselessly on the stairs. The smell of freshly lit tobacco hung in the air. Suddenly Granny spoke. But where did he get a hundred pounds? Did he rob a bank or something? A hundred pounds! Johnny couldnt believe it. That was a fortune! Ach, sure you know that he was always good at making money, came his mothers laconic reply. Aye, and chasing women! replied Granny. Oh, Ma, please dont start. Thats all water under the bridge now as far as Im concerned. Johnny could hear his mother inhale and exhale on her cigarette. A chair scraped across the kitchen flagstones. Im off to bed, said Granny. Picking himself up quickly, Johnny tiptoed silently up the stairs and climbed into his bed, pulling the old eiderdown up under his chin. He smiled. With one hundred pounds he was now a rich young man. Should he wear a top hat, like Lord Snooty? No, maybe not! After all, people would laugh at him and refer to him as Lord Muck; the way Andy had referred to John McFarlane the other day. And so, still smiling, he turned on his side and fell asleep. The next day, being Saturday, there was a rap on the hall door just after breakfast. Jamie came in, grinning from ear to ear. Guess what Johnny, old Runny-Nose Ambrose has got pneumonia. Theyve taken him to hospital in Cavan. Isnt that great news! Sure, if he dies, well get a day off school for the old bastards funeral. Itll be the happiest send-off since old Stalin popped his clogs! Never mind that, said Johnny, grabbing his friend by the elbow, come up to the parlour; Ive got some news for you too.

A minute later, as Johnny told Jamie about what had happened the night before, his pal kept opening his mouth and saying, Good golly, over and over. Johnny looked at Jamie. But what if the cheque isnt real, or if its a dud or something? Jamie whistled slowly. No, old chap, if my Dad says it real, then its real. Hes got an eagle eye for these things. The friends looked at one another. Suddenly, Jamie frowned. Wait a minute, you said your mother was going to put the money into an account, until you came of age. Johnny nodded. Well, thats no use, is it? Seeing Johnnys startled look, Jamie got onto his feet and began pacing up and down. I mean youve seen those American films where some kid gets left millions and millions of dollars. He only gets the loot when he comes of age, which is usually when hes twenty-five. Then theres usually some awful condition attached like he has to marry some ugly oul wan that you wouldnt be seen dead with in a cemetery. I mean, your mother could insist that you only get the money if you married Minnie McMahon, with her big buck teeth! Johnny started to laugh as his pal continued. Even if there were no conditions sure youd be an old man at twenty-five! Here Jamie walked up and down with a mock stoop and an imaginary walking stick. Putting on a strong Ulster accent he continued. Ach, sure, what use is all me money and me at Deaths door. Sure. I might as well go and buy meself an auld tombstone. Sure, Ive only a wheen a months ta live. Johnny rolled back on the armchair, his hand over his mouth as he stifled his laughs. Well, boys, so this is where you are. Both lads jumped and turned. Johnnys mother stood smiling in the doorway. Gran sent me up to fetch you downstairs for lemonade and crisps. We had some news for you, Johnny, but I see you were ahead of us. As the boys moved towards the door, Johnnys mother

tousled his hair playfully. You see eavesdropping is a talent that runs in our family, she said; smiling and winking at Jamie. Downstairs, in the kitchen, Andy was sitting at the table and sipping tea from a Willow Pattern cup. He nodded to the boys. Granny was bustling about. Sit down, fellas, sit down. The boys sat at the edge of the table as Granny filled up two glasses with lemonade and plonked them down in front of the boys. Returning to the table, she placed four bags of crisps between the boys. Help yourselves, fellas, remarked Granny, as she moved around the table and sat next to Andy. Picking up her cup of tea she turned in Johnnys direction. Your Mammy has a bit of news for you son. Johnnys mother was leaning against the kitchen sink, lighting a cigarette. She blew a cloud of smoke into the air, exhaling slowly. He already knows. Seeing Granny frown, she laughed. It looks like weve got mice on the back stairs or, rather, a mouse. You know the kind that creeps out at night just before bedtime. Oh! said Granny. Well, his mother continued. Jamie here was saying that he probably wouldnt get the money till he was an old man of twenty-five! Granny and Andy started laughing. His mother continued. Even then, thered be a condition attached, as hed only get the money if he married Minnie McMahon. Granny and Andy were now convulsing with laughter. Jamie looked flushed and embarrassed as Granny dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. Andy turned to the boys. It could be worse, your Mammy might insist that you marry Annie McAndrew when you come into the money. Granny, hooted with laughter. God help us all, the money would be drunk in a week! Johnny sat up. Well, if she asks me to marry her, shell

get a straight NO for an answer! Even Jamie was laughing now. The laughter began to subside and finally Andy spoke. Dont worry, Johnny, I think marriage is the last thing on Annies mind. Aye, said Granny, and we wouldnt be cruel enough to insist on you marrying Annie. I dont think any money would compensate you for marrying that old rip. Andy leaned towards Johnny. Your mothers going to put the money in a deposit account. That means that when youre older itll be worth a few quid more than one hundred pounds. Its not going into the piggybank anyhow. Andy gave Johnny a playful nudge. Granny smiled. Oh, you mean the magical piggybank! How is it magical? asked Andy with mock seriousness. Well, said Granny, the more coins you put into it the lighter it gets! Jamie and Johnny exchanged glances. Is that a fact? Andy had his bemused look on his face. Aye it is, replied Granny. Do you know but Ill swear that that thing is going to float up into outer space. Itll end up floating around in space like that dog that the Russians sent into orbit. Andy turned to Granny. Well, Babs, its true what my father used to say. Someday, hed say, pigs will fly. Aye, indeed! said Granny. I think theyve already started yes theyve already started. Everyone, including Johnny and Jamie, started laughing again. Flying pigs and money in the bank! What more could you ask for?

Chapter 2
A Trip to Dublin
The train chugged slowly into the station. Johnny shivered and pressed against his mothers coat as the train slowed to a halt. Quick Johnny, in here. His mother opened a compartment door and they clambered in followed by an elderly couple. Luggage placed on the overhead rack they sat facing the old couple. They were obviously going to Dublin as well Granny always said that people put on their Sunday finest when they went to Dublin, or the Big Smoke as his mother called it. The elderly couple smiled at them. The cuffs on the old gents shirtsleeves were slightly worn and he had a faint odour of mothballs and linseed oil. This was an unexpected treat, his mother suddenly deciding to spend a few days in Dublin, shopping and whatnot, before the Christmas. Shed gone up to the school and squared it with the head brother. This meant that Johnnys holidays had begun early as, by the time they returned, the Christmas school holiday would have started. His mother was now exchanging the usual pleasantries with the old couple. Yes, the old couple were off to Dublin as well. They were going to do some shopping and returning on the last train that evening. They seemed amazed that Johnny and his mother were going to spend the night in Dublin. The old lady shook her head slightly. But sure, its such a dirty place. Its full of litter with pubs full of drunken men! Johnnys mother laughed. Well be staying in a fairly central small hotel sure itll be fun. The young fellow here has never been to Dublin. A shrill whistle sounded and the train gave a heavy lurch and, slowly picking up speed, moved out of the station. The town buildings began to race past and,

suddenly, they were in the open countryside. This was Johnnys first time on a train. The fields were a patchwork of different shapes covered in a light dusting of snow. They whizzed past, in different shapes and size some in neat squares and others with curved boundaries and squared ends. Still others had hedges at one end and gorse bush and bog at the other. Cattle stood under the cold hedgerows and, as he pressed his cheek against the cold window he blew his breath out slowly, forming a small mist each time. Hed watch it evaporate till he blew out slowly again and formed a fresh mist on the freezing pane. Johnny, youll get filthy leaning against that dirty window. His mothers hand pulled him back gently by his shirt collar. The old gent was rummaging in his jacket pocket and he pulled out a crumpled paper bag which he held in front of Johnny. Here, have a bullseye, itll keep you nice and warm. Thanks, said Johnny, eagerly taking one of his favourite sweets. His mother and the old lady each took one; so too did the old gent. All four leaned back in their seats enjoying the sudden silence as the mute and frosted countryside sped by. The train stopped several times to pick up more passengers. Nobody entered their compartment and soon they were underway. Johnny loved the sound of banging doors, the shouts, the people scurrying past the window. Then, suddenly, the shrill whistle and the train beginning to move, slowly at first and then gathering speed as the engine roared and the carriages swayed on each turn. Soon the countryside began to give way to houses small clusters at first and then larger swathes of houses. The train was slowing down. Back yards and gardens were on display, some neat and tidy, some full of rubbish whilst others had washing lines filled with semi frozen clothes. Were nearly there, said his mother. The old gent was

now on his feet taking their case off the overhead rack. Thanks a lot, she said as the old man wedged the case between his own and his mothers legs. The train was now moving slowly along the platform and suddenly shuddered and halted. The sounds of compartment doors opening all along the train could be clearly heard as the old man swung their door open. They clambered out, the old man handing them their case after his wife had stepped out. His mother shook their hands and wished them a Happy Christmas. Soon they were walking down the platform. Gonny, Mammy, the whole of Cavan mustve been on that train! His mother laughed, presented their tickets at the gate, and soon they were waiting in a queue for a taxi. Johnny was fascinated. There were hundreds of people walking in all directions. Some were well dressed and others looked shabby and dejected. There were cars everywhere and, as for the buses, hed never seen anything like them! Two storey buses with little platforms where people could jump on and jump off in the middle of traffic. The queue moved quickly and, a few minutes later, they were climbing into the back of an old taxi that had seen better days. Where to Missus? said the driver, leaning back, half turned, over the front bench seat. His mother gave directions and soon they were weaving their way through the hustle and bustle of Dublin traffic. Johnny kept looking at the drivers profile in the rear view mirror. The face was wrinkled and had a grizzly and worn quality. It reminded him of a wrestlers picture hed seen in a magazine that Jamies uncle had sent him from New York. Johnny couldnt think of the fellas name. What was it? Basher MacMahon or Squasher MacMahon? Suddenly Johnny took a fit of laughing. Young wan seems happy, Missus. Johnnys mother shifted slightly and smiled. Ach, sure, this wee fella lives in a world of his own. There was a

slight pause. Is it all right if I smoke? No problem, Missus, replied the driver. I was just going to have one meself. His mother proffered her cigarette box over the front seat. Please, have one of these. The driver gave a quick smile. No thanks, Missus, and no offence like. My sister, she loves them cigarettes, but I think ya might as well be smoking a mothball! His mother laughed. Aye, my mothers the same, hates me smoking. She thinks its unladylike. The driver grinned. Sure me mas the same. Hates me sisters smoking. She says that only rossies and loose women smoke! Talk about livin in the Middle Ages! Mind you, shes awful religious. She spends all her spare time in the local church. Confraternities and what not! Then again, I suppose shes making up for the old lad he spends all his spare time in the pub! His mother caught her breath as she started laughing and spluttered and coughed. Johnny chirped in. Mammy, whats loose women? His mother and the driver started laughing. Never you mind! she replied. Honestly, she said, talking to the back of the drivers head, this fella would hear the grass growing! Theyd arrived at the hotel. His mother paid the driver, gave him a tip for a drink and wished him a Happy Christmas. As they walked into the dingy reception area Johnny made a note in his head to ask Granny what loose women were. The receptionist checked them in. Ive given you rooms on the second floor. Your rooms are right beside the bathroom. Im afraid theres no lift. Do you want a hand with your luggage? No, thats OK. Weve only one case for the short time were here. They moved up the rickety stairs. Having found their rooms his mother quickly unpacked. After all, we

wouldnt want to miss Dublin. Soon they were out in the streets, busy with people and ringing with the cries of stallholders and street vendors. Lets have something to eat first. Grabbing his hand, his mother pulled him into a crowded restaurant filled with chatter and the fug of a heavy pall of cigarette smoke. A young couple stood up to leave. His mother nodded to them and, pushing past quickly she shoved Johnny ahead of her saying, In here Johnny. The table was quite small but his mother beamed. Its great to have a table to ourselves. I cant stand sharing with people who slobber their food. She picked up the menu, with a smudge of ketchup on the back. Id like a fried egg and chips, Mammy. His mother looked at him over the menu. Sure you wouldnt prefer something more substantial like a pork chop with veg and chips? Johnny shook his head. That was his favourite and he was sticking to it. The waitress came over and his mother ordered. Fried egg and chips for the young fella and Ill have Spaghetti Bolognese. Could I have a pot of tea with that and a glass of lemonade as well? The waitress smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. Johnny liked this place. The waitresses fascinated him. They wore black skirts and white blouses with small white aprons to the front. A pocket in the apron held the order book and pencil. Their hair was pinned up and topped with small white linen front pieces. They moved at top speed towards the adjoining doors into the kitchen. One was an in door and the other an out door. The waitresses had a knack of moving rapidly with trays of used dishes towards the in door; either giving it a swift kick or barging into it sideways, swinging the door open and shouting the next order. The out door would suddenly burst open followed by a waitress holding a laden tray and accompanied by a small puff of steam from the kitchen. His mother had lit a cigarette. Sorry, me lad, but I was

gasping for a smoke and I think well be waiting for a while. She let a long stream of smoke out through her nostrils and slowly blew the rest from her mouth. They werent waiting too long. His mother had just put out her cigarette when the waitress arrived back. Johnny looked in horror at the spaghetti Bolognese. What are those those; they look like worms! Laughingly his mother coiled some of the spaghetti around her fork. Here, try some. Theyre not worms. Its pasta made from wheat. Johnny leaned back in horror. It looks like a load of worms. Dropping the forkful of spaghetti onto her plate his mother lifted her teaspoon and, dipping it into the Bolognese sauce, offered it to Johnny. Try this instead. Be careful! Its hot! Johnny blew gently on the sauce and tasted it gingerly. Its not bad. His mother laughed again. Well, arent you the right little gourmet! Johnny didnt know what she was talking about. He didnt care as by now he was tucking into his chips which hed covered in gooey egg yolk with a mix of ketchup on top. Both ate silently and, his mother having paid the bill, were soon back in busy streets. They walked past Clearys with Christmas trees and displays in the front windows. Crossing OConnell Street his mother pointed out the General Post Office. You can still see where bullets hit the building in 1916! Sure enough, several of the large pillars had small holes or gouge marks. Lord Nelson was on his pillar, directly opposite. Hed floated above the events of 1916, looking with a calm serenity towards the Dublin Mountains as rebels fought to overturn the Imperium that hed died at Trafalgar to defend. On into Henry Street they went. His

mother had promised to bring Jamie to see Santa Claus. Not the real one, of course, but a sort of stand-in Santa, shed said. They were soon queuing outside Santas Grotto in the basement of one of the larger department stores. The queue moved fairly quickly and soon they were next in line. His mother leaned over and whispered. Five bob to see Santa! They dont half know how to charge in Dublin. And they say Cavan people are cute with money! When Johnnys turn came he climbed quickly onto Santas lap. Well, young man, and what would you like for Christmas? Im sure youve been a good boy; especially to your mother. Santa smirked and winked at his mother. Johnny noticed his mother stiffen slightly, almost imperceptibly, and glare at Santa. Reciting what he hoped to get, he shifted uncomfortably. This Santa was far too familiar. He kept squeezing his arm around Johnnys waist, moving his hand up and down, and tickling Johnnys legs with his other hand. There was a strong smell of his breath. Johnny recognised it as hed often smelt whiskey off customers breaths in Grannys pub. Climbing off Santas knee he found his hand grasped suddenly. Come on, Johnny, I think Santas had a few wee drinks! As they walked away they could hear Santa laughing. Come back next year, missus! Same time, same place! His mother shook her head and, looking at Johnny, she suddenly smiled. Your first time to see Santa and hes as drunk as a skunk! Boy, wont Andy get a laugh out of this. Yon Santa mustve been in the early houses.. Johnny frowned. Whats an early house, Mammy? His mother explained that these were pubs that opened early for shift workers and people who worked in the markets. And for Santas who like an early drop! By now they had moved down the street. People kept

bumping into them. Some apologised; others brushed past and disappeared into the growing numbers of people. There was a smell of cinnamon in the air. A small bakeshop nearby was jammed to its doors. Afterwards Johnny always associated the smell of cinnamon with Christmas. Come on, son, lets go and see the traders in Moore Street. We can buy some fruit for later on. His mother was now walking behind him. She kept a hand firmly gripped on his collar as they manoeuvred between the streams of people. Turning a corner they found themselves in a narrower street. Stalls were lined on either side some on the pavement and others on the street. Some of the older women had prams, with pieces of timber across the top. These served as makeshift stalls piled precariously with different kinds of fruit and vegetables. One shake of the pram and the whole lot might tumble. A few of the stalls sold fish and some near the Henry Street end, sold flowers. The stallholders were all women of varying shapes and sizes. Some were small and skinny; others were plump with large bosoms. Some sat on small chairs whilst others stood beside their stalls vigorously shouting out their prices whilst handing bags of fruit and vegetables to their customers. Some wore large print aprons decorated with floral patterns. The older women had black woollen shawls wrapped tightly around their shoulders. The street was littered with rotting fruit and paper wrappers. The noise was incredible. All these women shouting at the top of their voices. Get youser apples n oranges; six for a shillan. Freash peairs, four for ten pence. His mother bought some apples and pears. The stallholder smiled. Are yes up fur the Christimaas shoppin? Aye, replied his mother as she slipped her change into her purse. The whole of Ireland must be up here shopping!

The stallholder leaned over and handed Johnny a large orange. Here. young fella, thats for yourselaf, You be a good lad noaw and Santyll briang ya loads a toyas. His mother blushed and, thanking her, they turned and headed back up the street. Lets go back to the hotel, my feet are killing me. Johnny looked at his mothers high heels. How she walked in those things was amazing. No wonder her feet were killing her! Back at the hotel they lay on the bed in his mothers room. Johnny soon fell asleep. His mother was soon shaking him awake. Got to get ready for dinner, son. Go to your room and change into a fresh shirt and put on that tie that Granny got for you as well. His mothers voice floated after him as he walked across to his own room. Dont forget to polish your shoes and brush your hair! Fifteen minutes later he was back at his mothers door. Knocking gently, he gingerly turned the handle and was greeted by a strong heady perfume. He gaped in amazement. His mother was wearing a figure hugging black dress with matching high heels. Standing in front of the mirror she clipped on a pair of pearl earrings and turned to admire her figure in the mirror. She looked stunning. He suddenly realised what a feminine shape she possessed. His mother smiled and winked at him. Come on, son. Im starving! The head waiter escorted them to their table and promptly returned with a wine list and menu. The table glistened with silver cutlery laid over a white linen tablecloth. Table mats showed hunting scenes from Merrie Olde England with huntsmen in full hue, cry and pursuit of their quarry. The wine glasses twinkled and shone in the reflected light of an overhead chandelier which looked as if it could do with a good dusting. The place was full of elderly well-dressed people. Johnnys mother leaned over and whispered. I think

Queen Victoria must have eaten here the last time she came to Ireland. Johnny smiled. His mother had read his mind perfectly. Soon they were ordering. The head waiter referred to his mother as Madam and bowed slightly when she had completed the order. As they waited for their first course, Johnny gulped at a glass of lemonade. His mother had ordered a half bottle of wine. Leaning across, she removed the glass from Johnnys hand. She poured a mouthful of wine into her wineglass and gave it to him. Try this, but dont let on to Granny! Shed have my guts for garters if she knew. He tasted the wine, taking a small mouthful. Not bad. Then, smiling broadly, he lifted the glass and swallowed the remaining wine. His mother laughed. You hated it, you little show-off! The first course had arrived. Johnny stared at his soup. Ma, theres nothing in it! She smiled. I know. Its consomm. Its supposed to be a clear soup. Now eat up and dont have an outboard engine on the edge of your spoon. Sip it silently. The main course arrived as they were finishing the soup. His mother was clearly impressed. They dont hang around here, thats for sure. Johnny knew that his mother hated waiting for anything. A few months previously, Granny had insisted on bringing them to the Cheval Blanc Hotel to celebrate her birthday. The service at dinner was very slow. Having waited a long while for the first course; they had waited an even longer time for the main course. His mother, having poured herself another glass of wine, suddenly said, That chef needs a bomb up his arse! Granny had not been impressed. They ate silently and quickly. Both were fairly ravenous. His mother was eating something called Wiener Schnitzel. Johnny had ordered beef. Shed laughed when

hed asked what type of an animal a Wiener Schnitzel was. Its veal, Johnny, done in the Viennese style. Shed had to explain where Vienna and where Austria was. God save us all, do they teach you anything in that school apart from religion? Dessert was plain ice cream with chocolate sauce, followed by two coffees. Having risen from the table, his mother steered Johnny towards the lounge bar. Lets have a few nightcaps, son. After all, we dont know when well be back in Dublin again. The Residents Bar was an adventure in plush red. From a dark red carpet to an equally red and heavy wallpaper; matched with damascened dark red curtains. Gas jet lights gave off an eerie and funereal glow. Several people were sitting at various tables while others sat at the bar itself. Lets sit at the bar, son. They moved across the carpet, their feet sinking deep into the pile as they walked. Two high-backed stools remained at the corner end of the bar and they gravitated in their direction. Johnny climbed onto the stool beside the corner while his mother went to sit next to him, letting out a small sigh as she did so. That was good thinking son; heading for these stools. My feet are killing me. As she ordered drinks, Johnny couldnt help noticing the man seated on the other side of his mother. He was dark haired with a firm square jaw and looked like an American detective. His suit fitted him neatly and gave him a dontmess-with-me air. Hed turned and, seeing Johnny, given him a wink. Sorry, I hope were not intruding, said his mother as shed paused before sitting on her stool. Please, its no bother. Hed gestured with his left hand as his mother slid onto the stool beside the dark stranger. After ordering drinks she took out her cigarettes. The stranger nimbly slid his packet across the counter and said, Try one of these; theyre American.

His mother smiled and, leaning over, picked up the packet and removed cigarette. Thats very kind of you. She blew a small plume of smoke into the air as the stranger shifted his stool closer to his mother. Johnny winced. This was what Jamie would call getting on the buzz. Men and women, said Jamie, always did this when they wanted to start flirting. Then, to his amazement, his mother introduced herself. Then they shook hands! She turned slightly. Oh, this is my son, Johnny. The stranger smiled at Johnny. His name was Ted; short for Theodore. Hed been to Dublin for business purposes and was getting the early sailing back to Liverpool. Had to come down for a few nightcaps. My older brothers with me and sharing a room with him is not the best. He could snore for England. There was a slight pause. Hes already hit the sack. As he was finishing his drink, Johnnys mother insisted on buying him another. Ted smiled broadly and enquired about their trip to Dublin. Since youre in an hotel, I gather youre not from around here. His mother explained that this was by way of a preChristmas trip and, fun as it was, shed be glad to get back home. Johnny felt slightly cut out of it all. The two were quickly engrossed in their own conversation, making eye contact and laughing over the silliest things. Johnny noticed Teds eyes scanning his mothers legs every time she lifted her cigarette to her lips. As Johnny slurped into the end of his lemonade his mother turned and smiled. She opened her handbag and lifted out a key and, handing it to Johnny, said, Bedtime young fella. He slipped off his stool as his mother pecked him on the cheek. Ted shook hands with him and, with his other hand, dropped a note into his pocket. For some more lemonade,

he said, smiling broadly. Johnny was thrilled when he discovered that Ted had given him a pound note! These English werent so bad after all! Still, by the time he climbed into bed he had an uneasy feeling that something was up. Switching the light off he was soon asleep. After what seemed like a few minutes a scuffling noise outside his door woke him. Hushed voices and a muted giggle soon had him tiptoeing across the room to the door. Removing the large iron key as quietly as possible he looked through the large keyhole. It was like watching a film where the actors had their heads cut off. He could see Teds arm wrapped around his mother. Then, after a few seconds silence, his mother whispered something. Her door opened behind her and they both disappeared into the darkness. The door was shut quietly behind them. Johnny went back to bed as a strange feeling took hold of him. He knew that Ted and his mother were going to do something. What it was he wasnt sure of. But he knew instinctively that Granny would definitely not approve. Finally he managed to fall asleep. The next morning his mother had to shake him awake. Come on, sleepyhead. Down to the bathroom for a quick wash and then get dressed. Well have a quick breakfast and then run for the train. Over breakfast he noticed her smiling broadly to herself. Finally he asked, Did you stay up late with Ted or try to get an early night? His mother smiled again and, after sipping her tea, said, No, we just had another drink and then said our goodbyes. Johnny smiled back. It was the first time that his mother had lied to him. It was what Granny would call a brazen lie. Still, his mother seemed happy. Will we see Ted again? he asked. Oh I think so. After all, he comes to Dublin regularly on business and you know how I like to come shopping to Dublin.

Johnny gulped some tea. This was what Granny would call an affair! Oh yes, I think well meet again. Ted is such a nice chap. Not like some of the clodhoppers we meet in our neck of the woods. So it continued. All through the train journey his mother had a preoccupied air. He saw her smiling as she looked out the window and knew that something ineffable had been lost. He didnt so much know as feel it. That maternal love that a mother has for her child had, somehow, been tainted. Its the dark stranger who, in passing, casts a shadow over something important in our life. Somehow the colour of a special relationship is drained and it never fully recovers its vibrant sheen. He felt a quiet sadness as large drops of rain fell against the carriage window and the green fields were enveloped in the greying patina of winter.