Gurriers (17 page)

“You’re goin’ to ge’ tha’ fuckin’ grin rightly wiped off yer fat ugly little face one day!”

“Some day – but not today!” Ray stated in a TV presenter style dramatic voice. I was amazed at the audacity in the face of what I considered a particularly dangerous animal. I could picture this character running through the lion’s enclosure in the zoo carrying a leg of lamb when the lions were due to be fed. He was great for entertainment value, though. Charlie’s response was totally unexpected.

“Not by me though, bud! I’d never be able to harm a hair on tha’ fat little head, ye cheeky bastard.”

Another king-size helping of total relief for me, causing me to wonder if my nerves were ever going to be able for this company. The colour returned to my face as my shoulders freefell to their original position and I couldn’t help but grin. It was grins all round in the canteen as Naoise returned from the kitchen bearing refreshments.

I finished off my baguette in silence as I drank my tea – happy to listen intently to every word spoken between the other three. The format of the conversation was mostly Charlie questioning Ray about his welfare, with Naoise – burdened with the task of eating a pretty plain looking home-made sandwich – contributing little beyond nods, gestures and grunts (both affirmative and negative). I gathered that Ray was currently being given a tough time by an ex-girlfriend and mother of his son. I also felt a great deal of empathy in the manner in which the conversation was held – these questions were being asked by somebody who genuinely cared. Every reaction that Naoise had to what was being said was in support of Ray. I wanted someone to ask me
loads of questions about how miserable I was and to be totally on my side like these men were for Ray. I actually felt a longing need for friendship.

Having just finished the baguette, I fished my cigarettes and lighter from my jacket and sparked up as per my usual routine, placing my smokes and lighter beside my tea and leaning back to enjoy. I had taken my customary long three drags to get the cigarette well lighting when I realised that all conversation had stopped between the other three. I was shocked and genuinely confused to realise that all three were staring quizzically at me. The penny only dropped when Charlie finally spoke.

“Don’ mind us, man – you jus’ enjoy yer smoke and don’ be bodderin’ yerself abou’ wedder any of us’d like a smoke as well, ‘n dat rie, Ray?”

“Sure why’d any of us like a few lungfuls of cool tasty smoke, Charlie? I’m gettin’ enough pleasure watchin’ him suckin’ the guts owa da’.”

Despite the explosion of heat and colour that I could feel erupting all over my face, I was happy enough with my composure as I grabbed my smokes.

“Jesus, sorry lads! I suppose I’m spending too much time around non-smokers. Here you go, Naoise.”

My explanation seemed to be accepted as no more comments were made while I handed out the three cigarettes and lit them.

I was still glad of the distraction of a bike entering the yard to grab their attention. I recognised this bike too, it was Number One Vinno. He parked and dismounted without doing a backfire this time but still got greeted with Ray’s singsong, “Numero-Uno!”, as he entered the canteen. I was delighted to see him because I felt more at ease following our conversation the previous day. We each got a slight nod as he noted who was present before speaking. Charlie was the honoured one.

“Your clutch lever wasn’t bent tha’ way yesterday, was it? Sum’in’ happen?”

“Bitch opened her door on me.”

“Oh, jaysus – you hurt?”

“Me hand’s bleedin’ killin’ me.”

Ray butted in, “You should go home an’ give me yer work… I’ll take care of it.”

Charlie didn’t even need to respond – he replied with a cold stare that kept Ray quiet until Vinno spoke again.

“Did ye go mad or were ye sensible?”

Charlie lowered his eyes like a kid that knew he’d been stupid. “Mad.”

“Nuff said. Anyone for tea?” Having quickly assessed there were no takers, Vinno made his way to the kitchen.

“Next away!” Aidan yelled from the hatch.

“’S’pose that’s me.” Ray seemed reluctant.

Vinno reappeared,having put the kettle on.

“Ye can si’ here an’ have yer lunch, man, I’m away now.”

“Nice one.”

“Next.” Aidan yelled again.

“Rie! I’m on me bleedin’ way!”

“Ge’ a fuckin’ move on!”

“Fuckin’ arsewipe!”

“What?”

“Keys to me bike…..I can’t find me keys.”

“They’re probly in yer kaks with yer brain!”

“Watch yer tongue!” Ray picked his bag up off the floor and put it on his lap. He opened the Velcro flap on the pouch with his left hand and wrangled his signature book from within with his right.

The deep thumping of a large single cylinder engine entering the yard made him jerk his head suddenly to see who it was. Upon recognition of the rider he hurriedly grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and scurried awkwardly to the hatch. His sudden movement had been dramatic enough to grab everyone’s attention and all eyes followed him in silent anticipation. They weren’t let down!

The door burst open angrily again. The courier’s voice was muffled in an anger animated struggle with helmet straps, but there was plenty of rage induced volume in the roar.

“You! Ye stinkin’ little piece of vermin shite! Wai’ til I ge’ me fuckin’ hands on tha’ fa’ fuckin’ neck, ye pox bottle ye!” As she screamed this abuse, she marched across the room while succeeding in tearing the helmet from her head. This was John’s “honey”, Dolores. I guessed that she was mid to late 30s, 5ft 11 and large, even allowing for the motorbike gear. This was definitely not the woman you would want stomping angrily across the room at you!

Ray dropped his belongings at the hatch and turned to face her, raising both hands defensively as she approached.

“Ah, now, Dolores…I was jus’ havin’ a laugh.”

“Here, hold this, Charlie. It’s not safe to have in me hands.” As she dropped her helmet into Charlie’s lap, she pulled the large gauntlet off her left hand. She then set about swinging the glove wildly in the direction of the loudly appealing Ray.

“Dolores…fuck off, Dolores….i’ was only a joke…aaaargh… tha’ go’ me in the eye, ye bitch.”

As she lashed out at the cowering Ray, she followed the rhythm of the swings with little pieces of justification as she aired her grievances loudly.

“Ten fuckin’ minutes...ten fuckin’ minutes...tryin to get i’ started...you little fuck ye...missed loadsa work.” She grabbed one of Ray’s arms with her left hand and swung him until his hand came away from the half of his head it had been covering then...wallop! A perfectly timed full arc swing landed perfectly on target causing a half scream, half yelp shriek from Ray and made everybody watching wince.

“Squeal like a pig, boy!” Charlie wasn’t shy about displaying his entertainment.

“Dolores, FUCK OFF!” Ray wrenched his arm free and jumped backwards with his fists up in front of him. “I’ll fuckin’ hit ye back if ye don’t back off now, ye fuckin’ man beast ye’! Get away!”

“You would too, wouldn’t ye...ye cowardly little fuck! C’mon then.”

She threw a kick at him that was too slow to ever make con
tact but, remembering that the foot was clad in a motorbike boot, it was by no means short on menace.

“Hi’ me fuckin’ back!” she taunted. She flung the glove with all of her might at Ray, who had dodged the kick by jumping backwards – putting some much needed distance between them. He had no problem deflecting the projectile with his left fist and was preparing himself for the onslaught that was bound to follow when Vinno took command of the situation.

“All right…all right...tha’s enough. Wha’d ‘e do, Dolores?”

“Turned me fuckin’ petrol off on Leeson Street yesterday, the little bollix.”

“I was only fuckin’ messin’!”

“I ran owa juice on Cuffe Street an’ thou’ I was fuckin’ broke down – go’ Aidan to give away two jobs I was on me way to collect an’ all, ye little shit!”

“Coulda been worse…I coulda put it on reserve an’ had ye run owa juice in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere like some bastard did on me las’ Christmas!”

“Ye coulda kep’ yer grubby little paws to yerself.”

“I was jus’ treatin’ ye like one o’ the lads, Dolores. We all have a laugh.”

“I caught the little bollix at me bike wi’ a ten spanner at me gear selector.” Charlie contributed.

“Tha’ woulda been good if I hada go’ away wi’ it. Imagine the look tha’ woulda been on yer face!”

Everybody chortled a little to themselves as the image of Charlie coming out of an office, jumping on his bike, starting it and then finding out he had no way of putting it into gear, lightened the atmosphere.

“He go’ me with the petrol trick as well, Dolores,” Naoise confessed. “Altho’ I sussed strai’ away, bein’ on me guard an all. Maybe you’ll be a bit more on your guard from now on?”

“One o’ the lads and all, honey.” Vinno stated, accentuating the silver lining in this whole cloudy occasion.

“Ye see, I really did ye a favour!”

“Don’ push it, bollicky!”

“So youse two ready to kiss an’ make up?”

“Kiss? After all tha’ grief, I’d want a fuckin’ blow job!”

“Okay, Sweety, let’s find a nice quite place and you can take out your little man and put it in my mouth. And I promise not to bite the fucker off!”

The fake innocence transforming into vicious menace in the second sentence had an instant effect on Ray. The smile was wiped off his face as his colour also drained suddenly. He froze in silence for a second: the very second that he should have been giving a reply of some sort to hide the terror invoked by the carefully induced image. I could see that he was beaten just a fraction of a second before he decided to flee. He scrambled to get his stuff together and had both arms in his jacket before he spoke.

“Have to take a rain-check on that one, baby. Got work to do!”

“Yah-hay, the Dolores!” Charlie announced the winner, but Ray wasn’t finished yet.

Moving quickly he put his book in his bag and his bag on his shoulder as he loudly added, “You take yourself a ticket sweetheart and your number will come up in good time. Bye all.”

“Adios Raymondo,” Vinno reciprocated the entrance I had seen Ray treat him with twice, as Ray grabbed the final helmet from the windowsill before departing.

I was laughing loudly with the others and so Aidan had to call me three times to get my attention. The third call gave me the first taste of the negative side of the man in power in this company.

“Four Sean, I’m glad you’ve been entertained but when I call ye’ it’s work on! Dat comes fuckin’ first. Get up here wi’ yer book!”

I’m sure my face went through exactly the same contortions as Ray’s had seconds earlier, but my scramble to get my book organised was slow and clumsy in comparison and by the time I got to the hatch, I had a head like a beetroot and was shaking like a leaf.

Maybe Aidan noticed my discomfort or maybe he had vented
all of his anger in that outburst but he was mercifully calm and collected as he despatched the two jobs to me.

“IT Solutions at 91 Fitzwilliam Square will give you one for Dalkey an’ Coca Cola Number 38 Lower Baggot Stree’ will give ye a Dun Laoghaire. Ye’ll be goin’ as soon as ye have dem two on board – tha’ Boo’erstown ye hav on ye is gettin’ very old. Make sure ye let me know if there’s any delays. Eleven, go ahead, Gizzard.”

I stayed at the hatch only long enough to finish frantically scribbling down the details of the jobs before packing the signature book into the bag and putting on my jacket. I allowed myself a second for a deep breath before the next challenge – putting on a bag and radio in front of experienced couriers.

Dolores had disappeared to the toilet and Vinno to the kitchen. With Naoise still eating and Charlie receding back into his sulk, the room appeared to have drifted into an eerie silence. Exactly what I didn’t need, no diversion whatsoever. Vinno came back with his tea just in time to see me measuredly lining up the radio strap prior to shoving my arm into it. I was delighted to catch the barest nod of approval from him to concur that I had it as he had shown me the previous day. Having been inspired by this, I shoved my arm in the looped end while using the radio to flick its end of the strap over my head to fall at the back of my neck, thus allowing the radio to sit accessibly over my left pec. It was the smoothest that this awkward manoeuvre had ever gone for me and – on a roll - I grabbed my bag strap with gusto and practically flung it over my head to land neatly on my left shoulder with the bag sitting on my right hip. I grabbed my helmet and quickly walked to the door where I felt duty bound to bid some sort of farewell to the others in the room. I turned to face the table from the door and gave a vague sort of “See yiz later” as I swung the door open. I was truly happy to unexpectedly get a response of some sort from all three and I was smiling briefly as I turned and exited the building. I was smiling briefly because the smile disappeared when I froze in horror at the door. In this job that appeared to be one challenge after the
next, I had just been suddenly hit with the full implications of the next challenge: rain.