You’ll be wondering about Gearstick, the dog. Bess, the cleaner, took him. Adam and Caitríona might be a bit upset by that. I know they loved playing with him on the trips home. Them with their leashes and him never been near one before in his life. Still he took it gracefully and walked under their guidance for the week or so you’d be around. A gentler soul, you wouldn’t find anywhere.
Do you remember your mother when I got him first? But sure you were long gone by then. She was alclass="underline" ‘You can’t be calling the poor wee thing Gearstick,’ and him after chewing the gearstick in the car all the way home.
And I said:
‘Sure what does he care?’
That was the first and only time he was ever in the house. Of recent months I’ve left the back door open, trying to coax him in. He’d reluctantly step over the threshold into the back hall, poking his head around the kitchen door but only to let me know he was there. Panting, he’d wait in expectation of some outing or other. No amount of cajoling with a bit of Carroll’s sliced ham or even the fat of a rasher could bring him any further. I’d have been happy for him to sit with me as I watched the telly or even to just lie under the table when I was having dinner. But there was no budging him. I suppose I’ve not been afraid to raise a stick to him over the years so he wasn’t going to risk it. In the end, he just lay down and slept on the muddied mat, drifting off listening to the muffled sounds of my life.
The day Bess came for him, she brought the whole family, husband and three children. All stood around smiling at each other, me doing my best impression of one, nodding and pretending we knew what the other was saying. They’re from the Philippines; at least I think so, somewhere out foreign anyhow. The children bounded up and down the yard with Gearstick for a bit. He obliged, jumping and skitting alongside.
‘What he eat?’ Bess asked.
‘Anything you have leftover.’
‘Leftover?’
‘The dinner.’
‘You feed him dinner?’
‘What’s left, you know. A bit of bread soaked in milk, even.’
She looked at me, her brow contorting like I’d just farted. I could feel the will seep out of me.
‘Anything, sure. Feed him anything.’ I’d had enough. I stroked Gearstick’s ear and watched his head tilt and his eyes close one last time.
‘Good man. Go on now,’ I said, pushing him towards her but he wouldn’t budge. I patted his silky head then held my hand under his chin as he looked up, panting and eager, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Everyone flashed before me in that moment: you, Adam, Caitríona, Sadie. Tiny snippets of the memories you’d spent with him. And I saw me too – him at my heel as we walked my fields over these past years. And I nearly said no. Nearly told Bess to turn her car around and leave us be. My eyes pleaded with Gearstick not to make this any harder but every time I inched away, he followed. What did I expect of that loyal soul, that he would just abandon me, like I was doing to him? My treason was a lump caught in my throat, refusing to be swallowed or grunted away. In the end, I could do nothing more than walk into the house and close the door. I leaned with my back against it, knowing that Gearstick was on the other side, looking up, watching and waiting for the handle to turn. I made myself move on through to the kitchen, refusing the temptation to look out the window as I heard the commotion of them trying to get him into their hatchback. Instead I kept on moving, mumbling away, trying to block out the weight of another ending, another loss in this worn-out life of mine.
I never asked where they live. Up in the city is all I know. In a walled back garden possibly, or worse, an apartment. I’m not sure Bess knows quite what she’s letting herself in for with a working dog like that. It was her or the pound; maybe that would’ve been kinder. I know I could’ve given him to any of the boys around here. They’d have been glad of a dog as good as him, but then they’d have known, wouldn’t they, that something was up. When Bess eventually drove away, I sat in the sitting room and closed my eyes, listening to the engine recede into the distance, imagining Gearstick’s confusion. I ran a hand over my face, my mouth opening wide, warning away the burn in my eyes.
’Course, this is the first you’re hearing of it all – the sale of the house, the land, the lot. I just, well … I just couldn’t run the risk of you stopping me. I couldn’t let that happen, son.
Svetlana’s inspecting the bar. Looking at the bottles one by one, checking the fridges, her finger touching labels as her hand passes over each brand. Her head nods and her lips read silently, memorising. Every now and again her eyes land on mine as she looks out at the room. She gives me a tight-lipped smile and I raise my glass a notch in her direction. Out she goes from behind the bar with a cloth to each table and dusts it down again. Can she not smell the Mr Sheen? Through the mirror I can see her hands make circular movements shining the already shined. She moves stools centimetres one way then back again. A real worker-bee, this one.
After Anthony left this morning I headed for Robert Timoney’s office. I’ve always said he’s a solicitor a man can trust. Not one for sitting at the bar spreading rumours. Every inch his father. Robert Senior knew a man’s business was no one’s but his own. Not that I’ve let him in on everything. Anthony sorted a solicitor in Dublin so I wouldn’t have to use Robert this time, didn’t want him getting suspicious over the house sale and lifting the phone to you. Up to now, all I’ve asked him to do is to sort the hotel room.
‘Is he around?’ I asked his receptionist when I arrived into his offices earlier. She’s a Heaney. You know her; you used to pal with the brother, Donal.
‘He shouldn’t be too long. You can take a seat there.’
I looked at the row of four black-cushioned seats, sitting right in the window, overlooking main street.
‘And have the world know my business? I’ll be in his office.’ I was already mounting the stairs.
‘That’s a private area, Mr Hannigan!’ she said, following me, her step echoing mine. Narrow stairs, no room for overtaking, I kept a steady, calm pace.
‘It’s locked,’ she added, at the top, all smug like.
‘No bother.’ My hand reached up over the door frame, finding the key and showing her. ‘All sorted,’ I said. Her indignant face disappeared from view as I shut the door and gave her my biggest smile.
‘That’s breaking and entering, you know. I’m calling the guards,’ she shouted through the door.
‘Super,’ I replied, from Robert’s chair, ‘I’ve a bit of business with Higgins, we can kill two birds with one stone.’
When she added nothing further, I tilted my head back and fell into a welcome doze as I listened to her thudding down the stairs.
‘Glad to see you’re making yourself at home, Maurice,’ Robert said, coming through the door not five minutes later, smirking, reaching for my hand. ‘’Course it’ll take me all day to pacify Linda.’
I’m sure, young Linda’s at home right now telling the same story to her father over the dinner. Him loving the roasting she’ll be giving me.
‘Robert, good to see you.’
I rose and began to round the table to the not so comfy chair.
‘No, sit, sit,’ he replied, taking the cheaper model. ‘True to your word, what? Not a day late. I’ve the key, here.’
He laid his briefcase down on the table, opened it and handed over a good old-fashioned weighty key that I put in my pocket.
‘Do they know it’s me that wants the room?’
‘A VIP, I said – “he’ll take nothing less than the honeymoon suite”,’ he laughed. ‘Emily tried everything to get it out of me.’