Born & Bred (2 page)

Anto lit another cigarette; the bursting match filled the car with sulphur, the red and yellow glare briefly brightening the side of the driver’s impassive face. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you, Scully?”

Scully didn’t say anything and just shook his downturned head.

“C’mon, Scully. Don’t be like that. We’re all still friends.” Anto handed his cigarette packet back over his shoulder. “Here, give Scully a smoke—and have one yourself. We’re all good mates here. Right? Just a bunch of mates taking a drive in the mountains.”

Danny took the packet and fished two out. He held one toward Scully and when he didn’t raise his head, searched for his mouth. He struck another match and held it out as Scully turned his head. His face was bloody and swollen. His nose, snotty and flattened to one side. He was missing more teeth than usual and he had been crying, probably for his life. He sucked the flame toward the tip of the cigarette and nodded at Danny but his eyes were resigned.

“There’s the old church where we all went to Mass. Isn’t that right, Boyle?” Anto reached over his shoulder and took the pack from Danny. “That was where we made our Confirmation and all that shite?”

Danny just nodded as old memories flooded back.

**

He had blessed himself with deliberate care under the supervision of Mr. Patrick Joseph Muldoon, his National School teacher, who had spent most of 1966 teaching Danny and his classmates how to be really Irish as the country got ready to celebrate the once derided martyrs of the Easter Rising—those who had died so Christ-like. By 1967, Muldoon’s vocation was to ready them for Confirmation, that they might be a credit to their Church, their parents, and, of course, to Patrick Joseph Muldoon, once from a small biteen of a place in the bogs beyond in Mayo.

But when the Confirmation class went to Confession, he caught Danny blessing himself with his left hand and wacked it with a leather strap. “For the love of God, Boyle, what kind of way is that to be blessing yourself and you about to make your Confirmation? What kind of a Catholic are you?” Danny didn’t dare answer, burning as he was with shame, the lingering effects of Original Sin. Muldoon had taught them about that, too. That’s why they had to have the love of God beaten into them.

He was smiling as Danny stepped inside and took his place with his classmates. All the boys were dressed in dark suits with ribboned medals on their lapels, looking for all the world like little gentlemen.

And the girls looked like flowers in A-line coats over lace-trimmed satins and white stockinged feet in black patent-leather shoes. They weren’t women yet, but some of them were beginning to attract attention in the way they stood and eyed the boys who smiled back nervously. Some of the boys even blushed and fidgeted until someone broke the tension by whispering: “I hope the bishop asks you!”

They had all been drilled in the Catechism but when the moment came—when the bishop walked among them and stopped, searching for doubts and unworthiness—none of them wanted to be tested. There was so much riding on the day. It was the day when they took their place in the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church.

It was also the day when friends and families bestowed their blessings in a much more tangible way. The previous year, some of the boys made over five pounds. Danny knew that he would do better. His father had already promised him a fiver—the next time he came home—to make up for not being able to make it over for the big day. “Things are a bit slow right now,” he had told him when he made his weekly phone call. “But I’m just going down to see a man who knows a man who heard of a fella that might be hiring. Things are going to pick up, you’ll see.”

His father often made promises like that and usually forgot about them, but this time Danny was sure he’d come through. It was his Confirmation, after all, and the Holy Ghost was involved. He’d move his father to do the right thing. Besides, his granny said they would go and visit his mother in the hospital and Danny could show off to all the nurses and the patients. “They all have lots of money,” his granny assured him, “and they’ll be delighted for you, on your big day. Now stop fidgeting and pull up your socks. And make sure you take the pledge.”

***

“I didn’t grass,” Scully suddenly announced to no one in particular, as if the enormity of his plight had finally seeped through all of his pain and nausea. “I swear to ya, I didn’t tell them anything. They tried to make me but I just told them a load of shite, ya know. I just gave them names of people I made up. Ya know I’d never grass. Ya know that, don’t ya?”

The Driller and Anto exchanged glances but said nothing so Danny stayed silent, too. The Devil was coming to collect his due and there was nothing any of them could do about that. Scully was done-for but there might still be some hope for Danny. There had to be. Sure he had strayed from the path, but it wasn’t all his fault.

**

When the Confirmation ceremony reached its apex, Dr. John Charles McQuaid, the archbishop of Dublin, ascended into the elevated pulpit. He rose like an apparition without seeming to move his limbs under his dark robes. He looked to the ceiling and then down on them all for a moment like he was thinking about withholding Confirmation.

Danny had overheard his granny say that he was like that: “Cold and remote but, God love him, he grew up without his mother’s love to soften his world. But it’s a pity that he doesn’t pay more attention to what the Sacred Heart of Jesus used to say about Love and being nice to everyone—especially poor sinners.”

Danny never knew what to say when Granny spoke like that. He just listened and stored it all away to consider when he was alone and his face couldn’t be read. But none of that would get in his way today, not when being a Catholic finally paid off.

The archbishop was talking in a low stern voice: “I promise,” he intoned and paused until they repeated it. Danny joined in and raised his voice above them all, vowing with all of his heart: “to abstain from all intoxicating drinks, except used medically and by order of a medical man, and to discountenance the cause and practice of intemperance.”

When he’d finished, Danny’s heart soared up around the columns, searching for an open window, to fly out, all the way to the Heavens. The small fiery tongue of the Holy Ghost had descended upon him and kindled his soul and he wanted to feel that way forever.

But, by the time they got out of the warm stuffy church, the boys were tugging at their fresh white collars, loosening their stifling ties, while the girls hopped from foot to foot, trying to skip the pinch of new shoes. Muldoon was organizing them for photographs. First the whole class and then a series of each newly-confirmed with attending parents and himself—prominent for all posterity.

“If you don’t mind,” Granny Boyle had asked with polite insistence, “Danny and I would rather it was just the two of us.”

Muldoon smiled like he’d been slapped but stood back without comment. The old principal was retiring that summer and he was next in line for the job. He didn’t want to risk any more complaints reaching the parish priest’s ears. “Not at all Mrs. Boyle, and may I tell you that I’ve never seen Master Daniel looking so well turned out. He’s a real credit to you.”

“He’s a credit to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, that one. A pure angel if ever there was one, no matter what slandering sinners would say about him.” She stared Muldoon down as she arranged herself for the camera. She had never gotten over it—the day Danny came home in tears.

**

“What’s the matter pet?”

Danny was still shaking as he told her about what had happened at school that day.

They had been having a serious discussion about what went on in the local dances. None of them had been to any, of course, but most of them had older brothers and sisters.

Geraldine Wray was talking about “the Lurch”—the latest dance craze. Muldoon listened with growing indignation and puffed himself up a little more. He blamed television, the world’s latest intrusion on Ireland. He had one but he only watched RTE. His students, though, watched the BBC and ITV, watching shows like
Top of the Pops
and no good could come of that. He had warned them it was a bad influence. “God bless us and save us,” he declared when he had heard enough.

“Everybody’s doing it,” Geraldine assured him.

Muldoon puffed himself up a little more. “I don’t care if the bishop and the reverend mother are doing it.”

“I can just see those two at it,” Danny piped up in a flash. He had a bit of a crush on Geraldine and never missed a chance to be in the same conversation, but it went wrong. Muldoon turned on him with a face like thunder. “May God forgive you for saying such a thing. That’s a mortal sin—that’s what that is—and you just weeks before your Confirmation. I’ve a good mind to call the archbishop myself and . . .”

Granny gritted her teeth as Danny relayed it all.

“Oh, did he now?” she stroked Danny’s face. “You go on up and have a little lie down in your bed while I go and have a word with the parish priest. I’ll not have that
bog-amadán
talk to my grandson like that. Go on now, and here,” she handed him a small plate of chocolate biscuits. “Just mind you don’t get any on the sheets.”

**

“Big smiles for the camera, now.”

Granny composed herself. This was one of those great moments that would live on long after she had gone to meet her maker. She would have a few bones to pick with Him when she got there but for now she smiled and held Danny close to her.
Please God
, she whispered through her smile
. Look after my Danny when I’m gone
.

She had great faith in God but she also had a healthy fear of the Devil and there were, God forgive her, times when she wasn’t certain which one would win out in the end. But she kept her doubts to herself and went along with the current of the times.

Besides
, she reminded herself as she shook hands with neighbors and friends,
God tests the faithful but doesn’t stint on their rewards
. He had given her Danny, the apple of her eye and the only thing the world hadn’t torn from her. She was there for His angel when those who should weren’t. She accepted the job with joy, and dread. She knew far too well that the wickedness in the world would be out to destroy Danny, just like it had done to Jesus—and Padraig Pearse.

***

When they got to Killakee car park, the Driller pulled over and turned the car toward the twinkling lights of the city below and waited for Anto to break the silence.

“It’s nice up here, isn’t it lads? I like to come up here to think, ya know?”

“I think we’d have a nicer view over by the wee wood,” the Driller disagreed and nodded in the direction of Cruagh Wood, off in the darkness.

“What do you think lads? Do you think we should go for a walk in the woods?”

Scully said nothing but pleaded with Danny with his swollen, puffy eyes.

“I’m fine here,” Danny answered, hoping that if they waited in the car park, someone might drive by, maybe even the Garda.

Anto was probably just trying to frighten the shite out of them—and he was doing a great job. Every time Danny let his mind wander into what might happen, he had to clench his arse.

But it was all just for fuckin’ show—it had to be. They weren’t going to whack the two of them. They might just be making a show for Scully’s sake, but Danny had done nothing wrong. Sure he owed them some money, but he was going to pay them, one of these days.

In the back of his mind, Danny had always known that life was out to get him. Despite all the talk about God loving them, and all, he knew better. His God stalked the streets looking to mete out punishment when he could and there was nothing anyone could do about that.

“Always thinking of yourself, Boyle. Didn’t anybody ever teach you to be considerate of other people’s feelings? Like Scully, here. Don’t you think that he might like a walk in the woods?”

“But it’s still fuckin’ pissin’ down with rain. Maybe we should just go back down and come out another time?” It was a long shot but Danny had to try. If he could just get back to the city, he’d change everything. He’d even start going to Mass again. And he’d go to Confession and clear his slate. He prayed silently into the dark desperation that swirled around him. Maybe, if he prayed hard enough?

Anto nodded to the Driller who started the car and took the road that led toward the wood. “Ya, maybe you’re right, Boyle. What do you think, Scully? Do you think we should come back on a nicer day?”

“I didn’t grass anybody. They tried to make me but I just told them a load of shite, ya know? I wouldn’t grass you’se guys. Ya know that, don’t ya? You’se are my mates. I’d never fuck you’se over. You know that, don’t ya?”

Anto seemed to be thinking about it and nodded when he was done. “Of course we do but we just had to hear it from your own lips. You know that we’re just trying to remind you of what would happen if you did.”

“I know that Anto, that’s why I’d never fuckin’ grass you, ya know. I’m not mad, ya know?”

“Ya,” Danny joined in, careful not to implicate himself with his enthusiasm as a rush of forgiveness flowed through the car. He whispered his thanks to the side window and resisted the urge to bless himself.

“Okay,” Anto turned around and smiled at them both. “But let this be a lesson for you—the both of you’se. We have to stick together. Right?”

Danny and Scully nodded as they drove off, but the Driller pulled over when they got to the woods. “Well now that we‘ve all kissed and made up, I need to take a leak. Anybody else?”

“Ya,” Anto agreed. “We’re all cool now. Right Scully? Boyle? No hard feelings? Let’s all get out. We can have a few hits, too, and put the whole fuckin’ thing behind us. I don’t want to smoke-up in the car, in case we get pulled over on the way back.”

They all got out and stretched in the damp mountain air. Perhaps, Danny wanted to believe, it was all going to be okay; Anto was just sending them a message. He could be like that—very dramatic.