Gurriers (44 page)

On going through the front door, one was faced with a 25 foot long corridor, then a right turn with the door into the utility room to the left, beside which was the set of stairs leading up to the first level, the back of the building, containing – side by side - the kitchen and the living room, above the offices of the bookies, both sporting windows which looked out on the modest little garden, which was also Vinno’s property.

The stairs turned then to lead up to the front part of the apartment, the part over the actual bookies shop, containing two bedrooms looking out onto the street, the windowless bathroom (situated above the lower stairs and part of the corridor), and a small spare room that also had no windows.

The utility room doubled up as a garage and the corridor, a terrible waste of space by original design, was perfect for park
ing motorbikes. The utility room opened out into the back garden, perfect for long term project bikes. There were two there at the time of me moving in, but the number varied.

I was used to the shabbiness of the entrance, with black marks all over the walls and tyre marks on the ancient carpet (such marks didn’t strike me as shabby at all, they were just motorbike by-products) but the first impression to non-bikers like Eoin and Marie was a bad one. I only realised this when I saw their faces, as I opened the (tyre marked) front door.

“Hello! Welcome to my new home! Well, actually, this bit here is my bike’s new home hence the oil and tyre marks! Let me get those off you, Marie, maybe you could take the small one off Eoin and follow me up to my room.”

“You’re looking out on the main road. That’s cool,” Eoin remarked. He had gone straight to my room window as soon as he had dropped his share of my baggage on the floor.

“I’m sure it’ll be a lot noisier than your quiet cul de sac. It’s probably going to take a bit of getting used to.”

“Your room is bigger than the one in our house!” said Marie, peeking into the old built in wardrobe that had been thrown together to fill an alcove; obviously not by a craftsman of any sort.

“Come on down and meet my new landlord.”

We went downstairs and I introduced Eoin and Marie to Vinno.

“Vinno this is Eoin and Marie.”

“The lovely Marie! Delighted to meet you. I’m sorry that you had to fuck this lad out of your house for coming home drunk, fallin’ asleep and leavin’ wet furniture all over the place. Don’t be worryin’ though, I’ll have ‘im house trained in no time!”

“We’re actually sorry to see him go, and he never did anything like that!”

“Not that ye know anyway! D’ye want a beer… cup of tea, coffee? Harry’s leavin’ today an’ he still owes me a few hours of housework! Tea for the driver, Harry! Maybe a beer for the
lady? Vodka? Whiskey?” Vinno left the offer hang for a few moments, waiting for Marie or Eoin to answer, and then he spoke again. “Two teas, Harry and I’ll have every inch of floor surface spotless as well.” He directed the next question at the guests. “Does your car need a wash? It’s no problem, honestly! ’specially today, two skivvies at my mercy!”

I reddened slightly in sympathy for Marie, who didn’t really know how to handle Vinno’s joking.

“I’ll get the teas, Harry; I know how they like it!” I said, trying to make my former landlords at ease.

“And we’re sick of you doin’ snot rackets in our guests’ beverages!” Vinno had such a wonderful knack for obscenities that really made itself obvious when he was in the presence of non-obscene people. I couldn’t help myself when it came to joining the fun though.

“Nobody said to sit back down, Harry! You’ve got a car and a floor to get clean.”

“Yeah Harry!”

“Fuck yiz all!”

Marie seemed to relax in Vinno’s company during the course of the cup of tea, but Eoin received the “look” as soon as she had – on her own insistence – deposited her cup in the sink.

They departed shortly afterwards, complete with worried looks and sad waves from the car, as I waved and smiled from the doorway.

“Thanks for not skinning up while they were here, Vinno!” I said, as I dropped the skins onto the table in front of the chair I was about to occupy.

“I just sat here as always, lord of the manor, waitin’ for my minions to proclaim my greatness with gifts of narcotic bounty.”

“Does my lord have any plans for later?”

“Quiet one for me tonight, Shy Boy! Have me little angel comin’ over tomorrow instead of today so… Oh! Jaysus No! She is here today; she’s still locked in my room after we were playing prisons!”

“Vinno!”

“Anyway. You do your own thing, Shy Boy, I’ll be here reminiscin’ with me ole buddy Harry as he’s too drunk now to drive to Waterford an’ is prob’ly due a free nie here anyway! Tha’ rie, Harry?”

“Good thinking, Batman! I’ll drink to that! I’ll skin up as well. Skins after you please, Shy Boy.”

“No problem, my friend. Having no alternative arrangements myself, a civil evening in such excellent company as yourselves, Mr Guinness and Mr Narcotic would be most favourable if you don’t mind me joining in?”

“You live here, man, that means you must be cool! Of course we don’t mind!”

“Cheers!”

“Slainte!”

The doorbell rang again an hour later. Ray was the first to arrive, struggling with a courier bag full of cans of beer, shortly followed by Naoise with similar cargo. Then Shay with a bottle of vodka, followed by John, pillion–carrying Ten Al who had recently had his casts removed and still needed his crutch, but was in great form; being able to wear two shoes and skin up again.

A great session ensued. I was thoroughly delighted that some of the lads thought that the occasion of me moving into Vinno’s was worthy of a visit on a Saturday evening. Vinno made sure that everybody knew that it wasn’t going to be an all night session but that was no problem. A plan was rapidly hatched to push the bikes through to the back, stay here gargling until 11 and then get taxis into town and go clubbing. This prospect heightened the spirits even further and everybody was on top form.

I was laughing hardily with the last of them, as I bundled them into the taxi at half eleven, resisting their pleas to join them, and continued having the last drink with Vinno and Harry.

My first night in my new home was also the first in a long, long time that I smiled myself to sleep.

Things went from strength to strength living at Vinno’s. I settled in quickly and effortlessly and felt fully at home in no time. In Eoin and Marie’s I had always felt like an intruder of some sort, albeit welcome, that diverted their lives that little bit from the ones they had known before I burdened myself upon them. Here it was different; I was one tenant replacing another tenant - occupying a space that was intended to be occupied instead of squashing into a house that had been purchased by a couple for a couple.

I also realised almost immediately that living somewhere that she had never visited with me was like a weight off my shoulders; a weight that I hadn’t even realised was there. Overnight, through a combination of different accommodation, focusing intently on the job, therapeutic conversations with Tramp, having like-minded people around me at all times and an increased consumption of alcohol and drugs, my broken heart seemed to heal itself considerably. Things were definitely looking up for Four Sean! I was also making more money, corresponding to a lesser amount of black on my face at the end of each day as I got trapped less and less behind diesel spewing traffic by mas
tering the use of power available to me in the city. (The only experienced couriers with really black faces at the end of their working day should be the ones with smaller bikes.)

Every night Vinno would help me go through my signature sheets and plot the routes I had taken on my runs, highlighting places where I could have taken shortcuts, or where I should have done my drops in a different sequence to cut down on the mileage involved.

Also, Dundrum was on the high road south – a much busier run than Lucan, which was on the low road west; a veritable wasteland as far as the work was concerned with less industrial areas, a lot less offices (practically none by comparison) and generally lesser off population for having documents etc. sent quickly and expensively to their houses. The low road west meant fewer jobs on each run with more dead mileage, more zig-zagging and more bummers.

Starting in Dundrum meant more work coming into town every morning and more to take me home every evening, even though I was now in direct competition with the top dog. Luckily enough, Vinno preferred to have a relaxed start to the day and liked to be left drinking coffee and smoking until roughly half nine, if possible. Aidan was, of course, well aware of this and got me going first every day. Vinno also got home before me every evening - getting the juicy run out of town into Sandy-ford most of the time while I was either sent the Rathfarnham, Balinteer way or kept in town for cover or both. As time went on, this used to get on my nerves, up to the point that I actually mentioned it to Aidan but to no avail, though.

No matter how good I became at the job there would always be a hierarchy of preference and Vinno would always be higher up the pecking order than me. Aidan told me plain and straight to be thankful that Vinno was not an early starter and pointed out how much more I was making than I had been living in Lucan before telling me to fuck off and do my job. At least things worked out well for the bikes. If two bikes live end to end in a corridor the best possible configuration is for the last one in to be the first one out!

The move to Vinno’s brought so much change to my life that after only one week there I decided that it was time to experiment in something new – I was going to try ecstasy!

I had been intrigued by “pills” from the start, noticing the eruption of energy that happened shortly after the arrival of the drug on my very first night in the local, but heeded Vinno’s warning about not doing my first pill when I was drunk. I had always been drunk by the time the pills got to a session and had never got around to it, often paying for my drunken slumber in the early hours after a weekend session when the Duracell bunnies played pranks on the sleeping drunks, waking up with quick drying marker on my face or cigarette butts in my ears or up my nose. The bastards even super glued my ears to my head once, and I heard I would have lost an eyebrow had Vinno not intervened.

That weekend Vinno had Aoife - his little girl - with him on Saturday morning and afternoon which left him up for a mad one that night.

We arrived in the local late for a Saturday - almost ten o’clock -and the session was well under way by the time we got there. With the race and beach party sessions over and a lack of big organised sessions on that particular night, a much higher percentage than normal was going clubbing after the pub and it showed!

Walking into the pub was an inner surge of energy in itself. The track ‘ Jam and spoon’ was belting out at full volume, accompanied by even louder crowd noise of a packed pub, full of all sorts of euphoria inducing individuals, screaming and laughing and shouting snippets of exclamations of how fucking fantastic this was at each other.

I went straight to the bar while Vinno went straight up to see Mick. When I had finally made my way through the revellers, Mick gave me a big smile as I put Vinno’s pint on the table.

“You’re in for a good night tonight man! I wish I was doing me first pill tonie!

Don’ drink too much, smoke all ye wan’ to, drink lotsa wa’er, tha’s fuckin’ important; an’ relax. Yer heart is goin’ to be pumpin’ as if ye’re in a panic. Tha’ actually makes some people
worry themselves into a panic attack, bu’ if you’re cool abou’ i’ ye enjoy yer journey to the full. Jus’ do the one for tonie, rie? There ye go.” When he finished, he placed a pill a little thicker than a standard disprin gingerly on a dry spot on the table. I leaned forwards, straining to make out the shape of the indentation that ordained the face of it.

“These doves are the best things goin’ around a’ the moment, man. Tenner each to the boys, bu’ if anyone asks ye how much, it’s fifteen, Okay?”

“Is the first one not supposed to be a freebie?”

“Vinno has already claimed the honour of paying for your first pill, ye smart arsed little cunt!”

“Cheers Vinno.” I saluted him with my pint before taking a large swig out of it.

“Go easy with that!” The two of them shouted in unison.

As word spread that I was doing my first pill I became more and more the centre of attention to the partying populace of the pub. Everybody in the pub shook my hand at least once, often accompanied by pats on the shoulder and always by predictions of joyous euphoria.

I heard all of the advice that Mick had imparted upon me in many snippits from these well-wishers, some bits many times, but nodded patiently to each slice of wisdom as it was being proclaimed, thrilled that my situation was having such a positive effect on everybody.

I drank three slow pints in the hour and a half that we were there (Vinno had five), smoking consistently all the while. I had been instructed to wait until half way through my last pint to take my pill and to swallow it whole as opposed to chewing it into powder beforehand like the multi-poppers did. This was good news to me, troubled as I was by the scrunched-up faces of tasting something bitter that everybody made as they chewed E.