Star Dancer (9 page)

At his heels, Anto cried, ‘I’ll drive! I’ll drive! Let’s go!’

In his excitement, Ger didn’t pay much attention to what kind of car it was. It was just clean and gleaming and had no dents in it. An Enemy car.

‘I know how to start it without a key,’ Anto bragged as he slid into the driver’s seat and began fumbling under the dashboard. ‘Get in, you lot, and I’ll take you for the spin of your lives.’

As ger clambered in beside him, he had a strange feeling. The car looked familiar. Too familiar.

Then he knew. It was the O’Gormans’ car. And they were about to go joyriding in it!

‘
NOT THIS CAR
!’ Ger yelled, grabbing for Anto’s hands.

The other boy tried to fight him off. ‘Here, what’re you at? I told you I could start this yoke. Lemme go!’

But Ger caught hold of Anto’s wrists and hung on grimly, trying to pull him across the seat and out of the car. The other boys set up a clamour, uncertain what was wrong.

‘Ger!’

Even over the confusion, Ger heard Suzanne’s voice. He tried to twist around and look for her without letting go of Anto. The other boy took advantage of the moment to squirm free, however, and gave Ger a violent shove.

‘You bleedin’ eejit!’ he shouted at Ger.

Ger scrambled out of the car. The other boys, with the exception of Anto, followed his example. They took one look at the girl running towards them, waving her arms, and then they legged it, dashing off before she got there.

Anto was getting out of the car himself by that time, red in the face and very angry. He looked from Ger to the girl as she came up to them.

‘What’s going on, Ger?’ Suzanne wanted to know.

Anto said, ‘This your car?’

‘It is my car. My parents’ car,’ Suzanne said. ‘What were you doing in it?’

Anto took to his heels with no further attempt at conversation. Ger was left alone, to face Suzanne.

He wanted to run like the others, but somehow he couldn’t.

‘What’re you doing here?’ he asked Suzanne, dumbfounded by her unexpected appearance.

‘What were they doing in our car?’ Suzanne replied, equally astonished.

‘They’re, ah, mates of mine,’ Ger began, digging one toe into the dirt as he tried to think of a good answer. But none came.

Suzanne narrowed her eyes. ‘Were they trying to steal our car?’

‘No way! Just go for a spin, maybe. But we would’ve brought it back,’ Ger said hastily. ‘I mean, we weren’t going to steal anything. Not steal. I mean, I wasn’t …’ He ran out of words.

He and Suzanne were standing looking at each other when Mr O’Gorman came up to them.

‘I see Suzanne found you,’ he greeted Ger.

Ger was painfully embarrassed. He couldn’t answer.

Suzanne’s father looked from one to the other. He could tell something was very wrong. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked his daughter.

‘While I was waiting for you, I saw Ger and ran after him. I must’ve left the car door open. He and some of his friends came round another way and saw the car open and got in. Playing, I s’pose. When I came up they all ran off. Except for Ger,’ she added.

What she said was true, as far as it went. But to Ger’s own great surprise he heard himself saying, ‘We were going to try and take the car joyriding, Mr O’Gorman. Then I realised it was your car and ….’

‘And tried to stop the others,’ Suzanne joined in. ‘I saw that. You pulled that other boy out from behind the steering wheel.’

Ger wished the ground would open up and swallow him. ‘Yeah,’ he said in a husky whisper.

‘Well, thank you for that,’ Mr O’Gorman told him. ‘But don’t you know it’s a serious offence to take someone else’s car and go joyriding?’

Ger lowered his head. ‘I s’pose so,’ he said in a voice so low they could hardly hear him.

Mr O’Gorman looked at his daughter. ‘What do you think, Suzanne? Do you still want to ask Ger to come back to work at the stables?’

Ger looked up, startled. ‘You wanted me to come back? But I thought … after what I did …’

‘You didn’t do anything so awful, not really. You just didn’t know any better. And Star Dancer’s fine, really he is. He got over his colic completely, Ger. You would’ve known that if you hadn’t gone off the way you did. No one was mad at you, we thought you’d stay and keep working and … and …’

‘You did?’ Ger could hardly believe his ears. Then he remembered. ‘Bet you don’t want me now, though. Not after this.’

‘Suzanne?’ said Mr O’Gorman.

Suzanne was quiet for a moment. Then she said, ‘I think Star Dancer would like Ger to have another chance, Daddy. He misses him. He looks for him every morning.’

Mr O’Gorman was looking at his daughter with a smile in his eyes, though not on his lips. ‘You’re very like your mother, you know,’ he remarked. ‘Right so, Suzanne. If you want this lad to have another chance, I’ll agree with you. But Ger, there mustn’t be anything else like this, do you understand? You’ve to behave yourself from now on. Promise me that, and I’ll put in a word for
you with Brendan Walsh.’

Ger’s mouth fell open. ‘Serious? You will?’

‘Say thank you,’ Suzanne hissed at him.

Her father put his hand atop her head. ‘Don’t thank me, lad. Thank your friend Suzanne here. And don’t disappoint us.’

‘I won’t,’ Ger agreed with his whole heart.

He went back out to Stepaside with Suzanne and her father, hardly daring to believe his good fortune. Mr O’Gorman was going to ask Brendan to take him back, maybe even let him work the rest of the day. It seemed unreal.

Suzanne was very relieved. The day seemed unreal to her, too. She sank down into her seat and relaxed, and very soon the warmth of the day and the motion of the car put her to sleep, as it so often did.

With Suzanne sleeping peacefully between them, Mr O’Gorman began asking Ger questions about himself and his family. ‘I think we need to know more about you, don’t you agree?’ he told the boy.

The answers didn’t come easily, but for once Ger tried to be honest. Suzanne’s father recognised the effort. He listened without comment as Ger, haltingly, explained about his father away in prison, and the way his mother had taken to the drink. And his brothers and sisters, who did not want to come home any more.

‘It’s a hard life for you, lad,’ the man said when Ger had finished.

Ger stuck out his jaw. ‘I can take care of myself.’

‘You’re how old? Truth, now.’

‘Thirteen.’

‘Indeed. You shouldn’t have to take care of yourself at that age,
Ger.’

‘I don’t mind.’ Ger was uncomfortable. He had revealed too much. But he wasn’t used to someone being so nice to him. Turning away, he stared silently out the window as the city slipped past and became greener, grassier, leafier.

Brendan Walsh was reluctant to take Ger back, but both Mr O’Gorman and Suzanne argued for the boy and at last he gave in. He gave Ger a stern lecture, though.

‘You have to be a responsible person if you’re going to be around these stables, Ger. And that means responsible in every way, do you understand me? I have to be able to trust you. Horses are living creatures and they’re easily hurt. They are also valuable. I have to know you understand and respect that.’

‘Yes sir,’ Ger said with a nod.

‘If you make any honest mistakes – and you may, because it takes a long time to learn – then I want you to stay here and own up to them.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Fair enough. Now, the first thing you must do is give me your telephone number at home.’

Ger almost told a lie. Then he caught himself and said, ‘We’re not on the phone.’

It was great to be back. Even before he began working again, he ran to Dancer’s loose box to tell the horse, ‘I’m back!’ then he threw himself into his chores like a starving man attacking a plate of food.

When at last he stopped to get a drink of water, Suzanne appeared at his elbow. ‘Is that true, Ger? About your dad in prison, and your mum taking to drink?’

‘How’d you know about that?’

‘I heard you in the car.’

‘But you were asleep.’

‘I don’t sleep very deeply in the car, I always hear what’s going on. It’s just that sometimes I think I’m dreaming it myself. Did I dream that about your parents, Ger?’

‘No. It’s true,’ Ger said sadly. ‘My da got arrested with a crowd of his mates raiding an off-licence. Wasn’t the first time, either. He’s put away for a long time.’

‘Oh Ger, I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t have to feel sorry for me!’ Ger said harshly.

‘I … no, of course not. I mean … uh, do you still have that magic stone, Ger?’

‘I do, of course. Right here in my pocket.’

‘Could I borrow it tomorrow? I’m going to start jumping again, on Dancer.’

For a moment, Ger thought of admitting he’d made up the story about the stone, that it was all a big fat lie. Then he saw the eager, hopeful look on Suzanne’s face and changed his mind. She wanted to believe and there was no harm in it. Keep your gob shut, he told himself. Haven’t you done enough blabbing anyway, going on about your da and your mam?

He wondered if Mr O’Gorman would tell the others at the stables. Suzanne wouldn’t, but her father might. Then they’d start watching him, expecting him to go bad like his father, the way people did in his neighbourhood.

He hated the idea. It had been great at the stables because no one knew anything about who he was or where he came from.

‘Does it bother you, Suzanne O?’ he had to ask. ‘About my oul’
fella being in jail, I mean?’

‘It’s too bad,’ she replied, ‘but I can’t say it bothers me. I mean, if it doesn’t bother you.’

Ger gave an elaborate shrug. ‘I don’t give a toss what he does. He never cared very much about us.’

‘And your mother?’

‘Well. She just likes a drop, that’s all. There’s lots of people like that.’

Mr O’Gorman was not taking it so lightly, however. As he told his wife, ‘We found Ger Casey with a gang of young gurriers about to steal my car and go joyriding. I’m not certain Suzanne should be spending any time around him, Phyllis.’

‘But you told me he stopped them.’

‘He did, because he discovered it was our car. Otherwise he’d probably have gone with them without a shred of conscience.’

‘Perhaps. But perhaps not. Don’t blame the boy for things he hasn’t done, Declan.’

‘You’re right,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘Still, I mean to keep an eye on him. Quietly. I won’t upset the lad. Just for Suzanne’s sake, since she likes him and they seem to work well together with the horses.’

He said much the same thing to Brendan Walsh and to Anne Fitzpatrick. They all agreed Ger should have a chance to prove himself.

‘It’s like training a colt with a lot of spirit,’ Brendan said. ‘You expect him to buck and play up for a while, you just have to keep showing him the right way. Give him a smart smack across the rump when he’s bold, then be gentle again and make him want to do right.’

Anne nodded, ‘Horses thrive on a healthy mixture of affection and discipline. Children do too. But …’

Indeed. There was a But. They all felt it, though no one said it aloud. They would wait and see what sort of person Ger Casey would make of himself.

With Star Dancer fully recovered from his colic, Suzanne went back to preparing for the junior event in August. Each morning, Ger gave her the magic stone to put in her pocket. Each evening, she dutifully returned it to him. After a while she stopped thinking about the stone as actually keeping her safe. She just wasn’t afraid any more. Carrying the stone was a habit.

Star Dancer felt the confidence in Suzanne. She was having a good time, so he had a good time. As they cantered towards a fence or a ditch or a wall and he knew she wanted him to jump it, he did his best to please her. His reward was a loving pat on the neck and a soft word of praise.

Ger resumed his own riding lessons. When he could, he watched Suzanne’s lessons and tried to learn from them too. But he couldn’t always spare the time. Brendan kept him very busy. No matter how much work he did, it seemed there was always something still waiting to be done.

One day Brendan said, ‘Do you think you could drive a tractor, lad? I need someone to handle the manure spreader in the upper pasture.’

Ger’s eyes shone. ‘Drive? Of course I can!’

‘Have you ever driven anything before?’

Ger thought of the car they had almost taken. ‘No sir,’ he said honestly.

‘Then I’ll show you with the tractor. You’ll be a big help to
me.’

Ger was delighted with himself. Driving a tractor, he soon discovered, was harder than it looked, but he followed Brendan’s instructions and soon was allowed to take the big red tractor almost anywhere on stable property. He couldn’t go out on the road though.

‘Not until you’re older and have a proper licence,’ Brendan told him.

The bus ride home at night was almost the best part. Then he had nothing to do but sit and dream he was mounted on Star Dancer. Sometimes he imagined himself driving the tractor, but mostly it was riding Star Dancer.

He always got home too soon.

Home wasn’t so good. Donal was away more than ever. Mrs Casey was trying not to drink, but the emptiness of the flat was more than she could bear.

Ger knew when she was drinking. Even if she wasn’t ‘sick’ he could check the vodka bottles. If she was sober he didn’t mind giving her some of his pay to buy food. But when she was drinking he learned not to tell her that Brendan had paid him. Then he just put the money away in his hiding place, and when Mrs Casey said she needed money he pretended not to have any.

‘What about the Social Welfare?’ he would ask innocently. ‘Didn’t you just collect that?’

‘Sure that goes nowhere.’

The Social Welfare payment was small, Ger knew, but it was enough to buy groceries – if the money wasn’t spent on drink.

Once he said, ‘You can’t let a horse run loose on the road, Mam, just because it wants to. It could get hurt. I can’t give you
my money to buy drink with, because drink is bad for you.’

‘I don’t buy drink!’ his mother cried angrily. ‘What’re you saying!’

Ger stared at her. He didn’t want to think his mother would lie to him. That hurt.

While he was mucking out Dancer’s loose box the next day, he told the horse in a whisper about his mother’s lie. He talked to Dancer a lot. Dancer always seemed to listen, and Ger felt better afterward.

‘Are you telling him secrets?’ Suzanne asked from outside the box. Her voice startled Ger.

‘I…ah…’

‘It’s okay, I tell him secrets too. I bet Dancer knows more secrets than anybody.’

‘But he never tells,’ Ger pointed out.

‘He wouldn’t even if he could. He’s our friend.’

‘Suzanne O…did you ever tell anybody? About my old fella, I mean?’