Poets, crime writers, philosophers, chancers, all woven together in a mess of destruction. I’d rarely find a better epitaph for my life.
Kiki, my ex-wife, had tried to give me a crash course in philosophy, to get me to think.
I’d protested,
“What I most want is not to think. What do you suppose the oceans of booze are for?”
She’d persisted.
Course, I seized on any shard of despair, any piece of damage. I couldn’t pronounce Kierkegaard with any degree of confidence, but I did remember this:
The greater the despair in one’s life, the more one is able to see.
By my reckoning, my vision now should be all encompassing. Alas, nothing could be further from the truth. Was I clogged with self-pity? You betcha.
Alongside whining, dreaming and shite talk, it’s what an alcoholic does best.
I trudged downstairs, approached Mrs Bailey. She gave a tentative smile and my heart sank. I said,
“I’ve some disturbing news.”
“Ah, don’t tell me you’re off to London again.”
“No... no. My room has been trashed.”
“Trashed?”
“Ransacked... broken into. It’s been gutted.”
“The pups.”
“What?”
“Ah, the blackguards who are loose today. No respect for anything.”
“I’ll pay for the damage.”
“Go way our that. Let the insurance cover it.”
“You’re insured?”
“No, but I always wanted to say that.”
The Magdalen
The other sound you heard in the laundry was coughing. Like a chorus from hell. The girls all chain-smoked; it relieved the tedium and gave them a sense of being adult. The fumes in the place, combined with the nicotine, produced the racking cough from the very depths of despair. When Lucifer heard that sound, she began to smile, without even realising it. The smile began at the corner of her eyes and spread in step as she stalked the length of the room. The girls, heads down, tried to gauge her mood. Course it was always foul, but the level of her wrath varied.
Her favourite trick was to select a girl and ask her to sew a pile of curtains. She’d almost sweet-talk the creature, then from nowhere, she’d lash out with a fist and send the girl spinning, as she screamed,
“You whore of Babylon, where do you think you are? This isn’t a spa. You’re here to repent, and if I ever catch you smiling again, it’s the toilet for you.”
Among her catalogue of cruelty was the wrapping of wet sheets around the offender and leaving her to stand all night thus. She called it the “cleansing”.
I went to the AIB and joined the tiueue. Took the time to fill out a withdrawal slip. Put down a hefty figure. Wouldn’t you know, the same cashier. I said brightly,
“Hi.”
She looked up and remembered. She didn’t sigh, ‘cause the banker’s manual forbids that. But she got as close as she could. I handed her the docket, said,
“I guess you won’t require proof of identity this time.”
She could delay me though. That is in the manual. She stood, said,
“I’ll need this authorised.”
“Grab a cig while you can.”
“I don’t smoke.”
“You amaze me.”
I read about home loans, equities and other riveting shit. Could see her in consultation with a suit. He looked my way four times. I know because I counted. When she returned, she asked,
“How would you like your cash?”
“In a brown envelope, keep things familiar.”
Gave me a white one, and I said,
“You’ve a touch of the bad drop.”
Went to Dunne’s, Oxfam, Age Concern and Penney’s. Bought
2 suits
3 jeans
6 shirts
4 Ts
3 shoes.
And blitzkrieged through what had been a fat lump of money. Hailed a cab, and the driver said,
“Yo... Jack.”
“How ya doing?”
“Not as good as you. What’s with all the parcels?”
“New start. Listen, could you leave all of this at Bailey’s Hotel?”
“You bought new gear for the staff?”
I pulled off a wedge, said,
“And a drink for yourself.”
No more questions.
Next to the Augustinian and lit a rake of candles for Brendan Flood. Is there a difference between one and eight being lit? Yeah... eases that nagging conscience. I didn’t know what prayer to offer, so I said,
“I miss you, Brendan.”
If not the most profound, it was certainly the most truthful.
Then to Charlie Byrne’s. Clothes might be essential but books were vital. And it’s my favourite place. Charlie on his way out, said,
“Jack, there’s a whole new load of crime fiction just arrived.”
“Brilliant.”
“I put your favourites aside.”
Now some people know bookies and believe it makes a difference. I don’t really think they’ll put a good horse aside for you, and yes, they surely do know about favourites.
Give me a bookseller every time. Inside, Vinny was reading Meetings with Remarkable Men.
I asked,
“Is that for show or are you... like seriously into it?”
He gave a huge smile.
“It’s for serious show. Where have you been? We thought you’d given up books.”
I stretched out my hands, palms up, asked,
“How can you give up books?”
“That’s what we like to hear.”
“Vinny, I’ve lost my current library.”
“Lost?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Got you. So... you’ll want to start over, get the basics in.”
“Will I run through a list?”
“No, I’ll get you up and flying. Where are you based?”
If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. I said,
“Can you deliver in a few days?”
He was writing in a pad, said,
“I’ll even bring a pizza.”
I reached for my wallet, and he said,
“Let’s do that after.”
That evening, I was back in my partially restored room. It still looked rough, but the devastation had been curtailed. I asked Mrs Bailey,
“Who did the repairs?”
“Janet and I.”
“What?”
“Sure, you couldn’t get tradesmen for a week. I could move you to another room.”
“No... no... that’s great.”
My clothes had been delivered. I showered and tried on a new suit. In the cracked mirror, my reflection was jagged. The sections of the suit I could see seemed OK. My face appeared fragmented, and I definitely blamed the glass. Time to go and meet the ban garda. As I got downstairs, Mrs Bailey asked,
“Did you tell the guards?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
In 1982, Pope John Paul II, addressing a group of garda pilgrims, said,
In the contemporary world the task of the police is certainly not an easy one. It requires a sense of vocation, of committed dedication to the safety and well being of your fellow citizens. It requires that you recognize and consider yourselves as an important and effective moral force for good at work in your society.