Born & Bred (18 page)

She didn’t want to open her bag in front of her husband. The men at the wake had filled an envelope to help defray the costs, unaware of Granny’s organization. There was over two hundred pounds and she managed to keep it from Jerry, letting him find the whiskey instead. But now she would have to find a better place to hide it.

“I do,” Martin nodded as he steered Danny away by the shoulder.

“Of course you do,” Jerry snarled after him. “You were in cahoots with the old bitch all along.”

**

“We’re not going to be blown to bits, are we, Martin?”

“Don’t worry, Danny, everything’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah, but is everything going to be okay with Ma and Da?”

“I told you, there’s nothing to worry about, Danny boy.”

“But Ma and Da don’t seem to be too happy about it.”

“Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

“Why do you think that Granny did that?”

“I don’t know, Danny. I suppose that she was just doing what she thought was best.”

“Do you think she’s right?”

Martin sat back as their server placed their burgers before them. Danny was hungry and dove right in as Martin searched for the right things to say. He hadn’t risked a trip to the cinema so they went straight for burgers instead, his head on a swivel all the way, but Danny didn’t seem to notice.

It wasn’t what Martin wanted either but he could see Granny’s point; Jerry and Jacinta couldn’t even look after themselves. “I’m sure your granny had a good reason and I’m sure that everything is going to work out just fine, you’ll see. It’s not like I’m going to be telling anybody what to do. I’m just supposed to let the solicitor know if there’re any problems.”

“That still puts you in charge of them.”

“Not really. I’m just supposed to look out for you—that’s all.”

“Can’t my parents do that?”

“Eat your burger and stop bothering me with questions, will you?”

“Do you know who you’re beginning to sound like? My granny.” Danny smirked and took another bite.

**

By the end of his second drink, a plan was forming in Jerry’s mind. Something that would calm his mother’s ghost and answer her accusations. He would go to London and blow it up.

They could get away with it. No one would ever suspect the likes of them. He could contact some friends of his father and they would put him in contact. They would probably pay for the trip, too. Jacinta could go with him to make it seem like they were just tourists. They would be like spies in a film. They’d have to get hats—and sunglasses and . . .

“What are ya thinking about, Jerry?”

“Nothing.”

“What is it Jerry? You can tell me.”

“It’s nothing . . . it’s just I don’t think the English should be able to get away with what they did.”

“Don’t you think we’ve all suffered enough? Do you really want other people to suffer the same thing? I heard that they were trying to piece bodies back together for burying and some people got the wrong body parts. Only they didn’t know. Just the people working in the morgue knew when they found spare parts left over. My sisters told me and they know someone that’s married to a fella that works there.”

“I suppose you’re right. Life’s short enough as it is.” Jerry drained his glass in resignation. He’d be haunted by his mother’s ghost until he did something. He’d have to make a grand gesture—that’s what his mother would want him to do—he’d have to make an example of himself, just like his father.

Perhaps if he did, his mother’s will would be changed. Maybe it was like those things you read about where someone has to take the dead father’s ashes back to where the treasure is buried—only it’s a test of their manhood.

“Get me another, will ya?” He slumped back down in his chair and festered quietly in himself.

**

By the time Martin and Danny got back, Jacinta was smoking and biting her nails. She had taken a few more pounds from the envelope in the privacy of the ladies room but they were gone and she couldn’t risk exposing the rest of it. Jerry was drunk. Drunk and mean and spoiling for a fight.

“Ah, here he is,” he sneered when he saw Martin and Danny approach. “My own son’s guardian that doesn’t think me capable of looking after my own flesh and blood.”

“Jerry?” Martin pleaded but could see there was no point. Jerry was flushed and slurring and his eyes were burning with a dark fire.

“Don’t you fuckin’ talk to me—ya fuckin’ Judas.”

“Would you like me to take Danny home?” Martin ignored him and asked Jacinta but she didn’t answer, rocking back and forth where she sat.

Jerry did, almost rising from his chair. “You’ll take my son nowhere! Do you hear me?”

“Jass?”

“No,” Jacinta looked up from her hands and struggled to focus all of her attention on him. “It’d be better if you go on and Jerry and I’ll look after him.”

“Unless you don’t think we’re fuckin’ capable?”

“Look, I didn’t ask for any of this. This wasn’t my idea, you know? This was something your mother worked out with the solicitor. What was I supposed to do?”

“But ya took it quick enough.”

“Okay! That’s it. I’m leaving. Danny? Do you want to come?”

“No you don’t, pet, do you? You want to stay with your mammy and your daddy, don’t you?”

Danny didn’t answer and just stared at his feet.

“There. See for yourself. Even Danny wants fuck-all to do with you. Go on ya piece of shite! Get out of here now before I . . .”

“Go on Martin. Go on home and we can talk tomorrow after we have had a chance to sleep on the bad news. It’s been an awful jolt and we’re all still in shock, you know, but we can talk tomorrow.”

“Good fuckin’ riddance,” Jerry called after him as he left. He blew his smoke at the ceiling and turned on Jacinta. “Your own fuckin’ brother? What kind of a family did you crawl out of?”

“It wasn’t my mother that screwed us.”

“How dare you talk like that in front of the boy and his granny still warm in her grave.”

Jacinta knew she should have let it go for all their sakes, but her pills and drinking were a bad mix.

“Well maybe it’s time that we all faced up to the truth about Granny.”

“Ah, Ma! Let’s just go home. I don’t want us to be arguing and fighting like this. I don’t think Granny wanted us to be like this.”

Before she could answer, Jerry erupted almost spitting and hissing. “That old bitch! She’s probably laughing her arse off at the lot of us.”

Danny fought back his tears and looked to his mother for a shred of comfort but her face was hard and creased—the way she used to look when she was in the hospital.

“Look, Danny,” his father continued with spiteful earnest. “Your granny did a lot of things to your ma and me. Stuff you know nothing about. And now she goes and does this.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want you talking about Granny like that.”

“Like what? Like we should be happy that she screwed us out of what we had coming after all we put up with from her. After your mother and I spent the last few years cleaning her and washing up after her. Christ! If we’d known that she was going to do this we’d have put a fuckin’ pillow over her face.”

“That’s not true. Granny was so good to you and she got Ma out of the hospital.”

“Is that what you think? We’ll let me tell you something.”

“Ah, Jerry, No! Don’t bring all of that up.”

“It’s time the boy knew.”

“Jerry. Please. Don’t!”

“Your old bitch of a grandmother was the one who put her in there in the first place.”

Danny stared at his mother, pleading with her to deny it but she had her head down, sobbing into her hands.

“That’s right, Danny boy. She never wanted your ma and me to be happy and right after you were born she got one of her big-shot friends to tell lies about your own mother and had her locked up.

“And she made me leave, too, so she could raise you with all of her fuckin’ lies and deceit.

“Your granny,” he continued, his venom bubbling out around the corners of his mouth, “was like an ugly old spider in her web, pulling on the strings to make everyone dance to her tune. Even your grandfather couldn’t take it anymore and died just so he could get some peace and quiet.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re just drunk.”

“You don’t have to take my word for it. Ask your mother—she’ll tell you. Go on. Ask her.”

“Ma? Ma? It isn’t true, is it Ma? Ma?”

But his mother didn’t answer and cried into her hands as her shoulders trembled. Danny reached out to her as his own tears streamed down his face. “I don’t believe it. Granny was always going on about God and being good. She’d never do anything like that.”

“Yeah. Your granny was a great one for talking about God, but as you’re going find out; those that talk about him are just trying to convince somebody—usually themselves. That’s another thing they don’t teach you at school.”

**

After he had finished his exams, Danny spent the rest of his summer by the river. He left the house early and returned late, after his father and mother had gone to the pub. He didn’t want to have to face them and all of the terrible things they had told him. He couldn’t sort it out and it churned around inside of him, poisoning everything he had ever believed.

So he sat by the river with a fishing rod, a fine split cane that had belonged to his grandfather. It was made for fly-fishing but Danny didn’t care. He never baited his hook—he didn’t want to have to deal with actually catching a fish, he just wanted to be left alone. He knew that if he just sat there without it someone would question his state of mind, or suspect his intentions. He had learnt that much along the way: it was all about perception. If he sat there with a rod, he was doing something that was socially acceptable. Without it he was mad—or worse, up to no good.

As he sat there a little hatred grew; a small burning inside of him that almost made his eyes well up with tears. He hated his father for the joy he took in telling him. And his mother for letting him. He wasn’t sure about his granny. He still couldn’t believe that she would do anything like that but he couldn’t be sure.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Martin had gone to London again and he had no one to talk to. He thought about Fr. Reilly but he might be a part of it all—the web of lies that he had been told. And he wouldn’t want to talk with his granny even if he could. He was alone in the world now and he would never find comfort in the company of others. He just couldn’t trust anybody anymore.

Granny had always told him to pray at times like these, so he did. He pleaded for a sign from God. He prayed to him and his mother, to the Holy Ghost, and to all the saints but most of all he prayed for his guardian angel to come out of hiding and lead him, with his sword glowing in the darkness.

“Well look what we have here, boys, all by himself.”

Maguire emerged from the bushes, followed by Collins and a few mean-faced scuts Danny had never seen before. They circled him like wolves making sure he had no way out. “There’s no teacher to save you this time, Boyle.”

“Aren’t you catching anything, Boyle?” Maguire kicked at the rod and winked at his companions. “Maybe we can help with that. Let’s throw him in the fuckin’ river, boys.”

They closed on him from all sides giving him no chance to defend himself, kicking him and punching him until he fell to his knees. They were dragging him toward the water and Danny groped around him, his fingers holding tight to any grip he could find. But he was losing. Inch by inch they were dragging him toward the water.

Suddenly they let go, and, as he raised his head, he could see their feet stepping back from him. He waited for a moment. They were probably messing with him and would come at him again when he loosened his grip.

But nothing happened so he raised his head again and glanced around through squinted eyes. His tormentors were gone but someone else was coming through the bushes. Danny knew him by reputation only: Johnny Skelton was a hard man, one of the toughest around. But they said he had changed, that he didn’t fight anymore. Some said that he had gone hippie and had gotten into drugs.

“Are you all right?” he asked, picking Danny up.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Danny wiped his face on his sleeve and brushed the dirt and grass from his clothes.

“You’re Danny Boyle, aren’t you?”

Danny was shocked that he even knew his name and just nodded.

“Your grandmother just died?”

Danny didn’t dare answer; his eyes were watering and he knew his voice would quaver.

“So why were those guys messing with you?”

“I know them from school. They’re always bothering me.”

“Don’t you have mates of your own?”

“I have my uncle Martin, but he’s in London right now.”

“Martin Carroll? Is he your uncle?”

“He is. Do you know him?”

“I do. He’s a really cool guy.”

Danny’s heart puffed up with pride. “Ya, and he’s my best mate in the whole world. Only I wish he wasn’t away so much. There’s nothing to do when he’s not around.”

“Well I’m just going over to Bushy Park to meet some of my friends. Do you want to come along?”

Danny just nodded and started to follow.

“What about your fishing rod?”

“I don’t want it anymore.”

“It looks like a good one. Why don’t you just hide it in the bushes and get it some other time.”

**

“Who’s this?” Johnny’s friends asked.

“This is Danny—Martin Carroll’s nephew. Some guys were trying to throw him in the river so I brought him here instead.”

There were five of them sitting in a circle near the edge of the trees; a guy that Danny had often seen with Johnny and three girls, two of them around eighteen and a younger one, around Danny’s age. He had seen her around, too, and knew her name was Deirdre.

“I was sorry to hear about your granny,” she smiled as he sat down opposite her. He mumbled his thanks as he lowered his head and wished he hadn’t come. He knew they all did drugs and all kinds of things.

“But why did you bring him here?” one of the others whispered but Danny could hear. “We were just about to smoke a joint.”