The Scrapper (6 page)

Eileen and Sparrow made their way down the aisle of the church towards the coffin. Eileen glanced around at the large gathering that had come to see old Eddie off. There was a great number of old and young boxers; Eileen had never seen such a large collection of battered ears and noses in one place.

‘Are these all boxers?’ she whispered to Sparrow.

‘Yeh. If you see a fella here with two ears he’s a fuckin’ sissy,’ Sparrow replied.

Eileen dug her elbow into Sparrow’s side. ‘Sparrow, watch your language in the church.’ But she giggled all the same.

There was to be no requiem mass, just a simple sending off and blessing of the coffin. Sparrow and Eileen took their places, about ten rows from the front of the church. The priest in full vestments stood at the head of the coffin facing the congregation. To one side was Eddie’s widow, dressed suitably in black and sniffling. On the other side stood
Eddie’s son, looking awkward. The priest genuflected at the altar and descended to the coffin, where an altar boy proffered a small brass bucket containing holy water on a tray. Beside the bucket was a brass rod with a sphere on the end of it. The priest dipped the sphere in the bucket and made the Sign of the Cross over the coffin with it. The blessed water landed silently on old Eddie’s coffin.

The priest then handed the sphere to Eddie’s son. The altar boy went to Eddie’s son’s side. Slightly puzzled, the son dipped the sphere in the bucket and made the Sign of the Cross, looking at the priest for approval. The priest nodded and smiled. He handed the rod back to the priest.

The priest turned to Eddie’s widow whose face was buried in her handkerchief. He tapped her gently on the shoulder and handed her the rod, while the altar boy moved to her side. She was completely puzzled. She looked at the rod, but didn’t take it from the priest. The priest offered it again, more forcefully. She took it. She stared at it for a moment or two. The priest straightened himself and joined his hands in front of his chest. Eddie’s widow held the sphere up to her lips and began to make a speech:

‘I’d like to thank you all for coming here today. Eddie was a good husband and will be very proud to see so many of his friends coming to his funeral!’ She held the rod and sphere as Tom Jones would hold a microphone.

The reaction of the congregation was mixed. Some were embarrassed, some laughed under their breath. Sparrow and Eileen grinned at each other, then to relieve the now-awkward silence Sparrow began to clap. Everybody joined in. The widow smiled. Puzzled at first, the priest then smiled and clapped along too. He put his hand over to
receive the rod back from the widow, but she held onto it. ‘Eh – thank you all very much!’ The widow now smiled a self-satisfied smile, completing her task with relish.

Moya Clancy was preparing a late breakfast for Kieran and the girls. Her two beautiful young daughters – Claire, seven, and Mary, four – sat at the breakfast table, their faces deep into their cereal bowls. Moya shuttled between the sink, the cooker and the fridge. She seemed agitated. It had taken three house-moves over the years of their marriage to find the home that Moya really liked. This was it. There was plenty of space for the children to play in. Good neighbours. And, most important of all, a first-class kitchen and large dining room for entertaining. Cooking and entertaining were two of Moya Clancy’s passions, something she had inherited from her mother and a talent that was essential for the wife of every ambitious policeman.

The children heard the footsteps of their father coming down the stairs. They looked at each other and smiled. Seconds later the kitchen door burst open and Kieran stepped in, singing.

‘Who put the bop in the bop do wah de bop?’ He stopped and waited, pointing at the children.

‘Who put the ram in the ram a lam a ding bam?’ the children sang back, and all three laughed.

‘Good morning, my princesses!’ Kieran greeted his ladies.

‘Good morning, father of the princesses,’ Claire replied formally as if reciting Shakespeare.

Kieran took his seat at the breakfast table and Moya placed a big fry of sausages, rashers and grilled tomatoes in front of him. As she poured out his tea she seemed distracted.

‘I do wish you’d stop this carry-on, Kieran. The children will have to learn that the table is for eating and not for fun and games. It’s difficult for me to teach them that if you arrive in here every morning like Jerry Lee Lewis!’ She put the teapot down and went back to the cooker.

‘You’re quite right, love, and I’m sorry,’ Kieran replied, then he winked at the children and they both winked back.

‘Wait a minute – how come you two aren’t at school?’ Kieran asked the girls.

‘It’s a Holy Day, Daddy. And after mass, Mum is taking us into town to see Santa Claus!’ Claire answered. Young Mary was looking at Claire all the time she spoke and as she said the name Santa Claus, Mary stiffened and squinted her eyes with excitement. Kieran laughed. Moya returned to the table with a cup of tea for herself and began to shoo the kids away.

‘Right, girls, come on, up you go, tidy your rooms and brush your teeth. Go on, off with you now, off you go!’

The children left their places, kissed their father and then charged up the stairs, shrieking with excitement.

Kieran began to eat. ‘They’re madly excited!’ he commented, eyeing Moya and knowing something was up. Moya confirmed this by simply staring at her mug and running her finger around the rim. ‘So, are you going to tell me what’s up?’ Kieran asked.

‘What do you mean?’ Moya said nonchalantly.

‘Moya, we’ve been having breakfast together now for years, and every time you run your finger around the rim of the cup, it means you have something on your mind. So what is it?’

Quickly Moya took her finger away, a little flustered. ‘Daddy rang this morning,’ she said flatly.

Kieran dropped his head and began to concentrate again on his breakfast. ‘Oh, I see. And what does the Commissioner have to say to his darling daughter today?’

Before Moya answered she took a packet of cigarettes out of her handbag and lit one. Kieran’s eyebrows rose – he had never seen Moya smoke in the morning. Moya took a drag from her cigarette and slowly blew out the smoke. Unconsciously, she began to run her finger around the rim of her mug again.

‘Daddy told me you applied for the Special Task Force again!’

Kieran didn’t look at her. ‘Did he now? And did he say what reason he’s going to give this time for turning me down?’

Moya shot a glance at Kieran. ‘He’s only trying to look after us, Kieran.’

‘Well, I don’t want to be looked after. I didn’t join the police force to spend my life escorting politicians to meetings. I want to be a policeman. A real fucking policeman!’

‘Mind your language, Kieran, the girls will hear you.’ Moya glanced at the door. Kieran stood up and went to put his plate in the sink. ‘Well, thank God someone hears me because you certainly don’t, Moya.’

He came back to join her at the table. ‘Let me be my own man, Moya.’ He seemed very agitated. ‘Look, Moya,’ he said, ‘I know your father means well, and I know you don’t want to have to worry. But I’ll tell you, love, if he blocks me this time I’ll … I’ll crack up!’ Kieran slumped down into his seat at the table and held his head in his hands.

There was silence between them now. Moya poured them both more tea. She took another drag from her cigarette. She didn’t look at Kieran.

‘I asked him to give it to you. Not to block it.’

Kieran closed his eyes. ‘You did? Oh thank you, love.’

‘Merry Christmas.’ Moya began to cry.

Kieran hugged her. ‘It’ll be all right, love. You’ll see, it’ll be all right.’

Old Eddie would have been proud of his funeral party. It was a very merry affair, as is the custom for funerals in Ireland. Eileen and her mother Dolly were standing talking to four other women. They were laughing and giggling. Obviously woman-talk. Taking a sip from her drink, Eileen glanced around the room to see where Sparrow was. He was standing over at the bar listening to the stories of two older boxers. The old fellow at Sparrow’s left was showing him a jab and a right-cross. Sparrow nodded dutifully. Eileen thought she felt something touch her behind, like something leaning against her bottom. Suddenly she was pinched. She spun around to see who the offender was. The
broad, burly, pugnacious-looking man gaping at her was Teddy Morgan. Eileen’s smile turned to a scowl. ‘Would you mind keeping your hands to yourself,’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘Now, now, Eileen, you know you want me,’ Teddy sneered back at her.

Dolly joined in the attack. ‘Leave her alone, yeh big bollix.’ Dolly Coffey did not mince her words.

Teddy slowly raised his arm and gently stroked Eileen’s cheek. ‘Still Mammy’s little girl, eh Eileen?’

Dolly wasn’t giving up. ‘Here, why don’t you bring in your brother and double your IQ to fuckin’ six!’ The other women laughed.

Teddy didn’t like being laughed at, and he turned his attention to Mrs Coffey. ‘Yeh have a big mouth, Missus,’ he said nastily.

The women around Dolly went quiet. But Dolly didn’t back off – in fact she leaned towards Teddy. ‘Big enough to bite yer fuckin’ head off.’

Suddenly Sparrow came over. He stood between Mrs Coffey, Eileen and Teddy. Although shorter by far than Teddy, he still squared up to him. When Sparrow spoke, his voice was quiet and even. ‘Have you a problem, Teddy?’

‘Don’t give me this macho shit, Sparrow. I might just take offence and break your fuckin’ neck!’

‘Then you better get the neck on its own, Teddy.’ Sparrow stared straight into Teddy’s eyes. Eileen wanted to take Sparrow by the hand and pull him away, but she knew better. Any sudden movement now might just be the spark that’d cause the explosion. The two men stood looking at each other. The entire pub had gone quiet. Bottles were
taken from the tables and held by people’s sides. Old boxers were ready to move into action if required. Teddy slowly glanced around the room and the expressions on all the faces told him he had no friends here. He backed down. ‘Just get the keys of the car, Sparrow. Simon wants the collecting done by four o’clock.’

Sparrow’s eyes didn’t leave Teddy and the pitch of his voice didn’t change. ‘I’ll follow you out.’

Teddy turned and sneered at Mrs Coffey and gave Eileen a suggestive wink as he left. The general conversation rose again.

Sparrow turned to Eileen. ‘See you at about half-five, love. Are you all right?’

‘I’m grand, Sparrow. You mind yourself, love!’

He kissed her softly and into her ear whispered, ‘I will – I’m sorry about last night, love.’ They smile at each other, and a simple wink from Eileen told Sparrow that he was forgiven for his suggestion that they might separate. Sparrow tossed the keys in the air and left the pub.

The black Jaguar was parked outside the video shop. Sparrow sat in the driver’s seat reading a newspaper. The street was decked out with Christmas lights and all the shops festooned with decorations. Sparrow was half-reading the newspaper and half-mulling over what he would get Eileen for Christmas. The two Morgan brothers came out of the video shop, laughing, and climbed into the back of the
Jaguar. Sparrow tucked his paper between the seats and started the car. He put on the left-hand indicator and pulled out into traffic, checking his rear-view mirror as he did. In the mirror he saw Teddy rip open an envelope and extract cash from it. Sparrow closed his eyes.

When Sparrow took the job as driver for Simon Williams he knew exactly what Simple Simon did for a living, and he knew exactly what he would be doing for Simple Simon – driving him here, driving him there, and driving Teddy and Bubbles wherever Simple Simon told them they had to be at any given time. He knew Simon Williams ran the drugs, prostitution and racketeering scenes in Snuggstown, but Sparrow absolved himself by continually telling himself, I only drive the car – just like the piano player who takes no responsibility for the singer’s performance. The truth was that Sparrow had never broken the law in his life and he had made it clear to Williams when he took the job that he was not getting involved in anything like that. And in the six years he had worked for Williams he had never been asked to do anything other than drive the car and mind his own business.

‘Right, that’s the last one!’ Teddy said as he tucked the money in his inside pocket. ‘We’ll pick the boss up from his mother-in-law’s, and then it’s home to Snuggstown.’ Teddy spoke to Sparrow’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. Sparrow simply nodded back.

Within fifteen minutes they had arrived at old Mrs Plunkett’s. She lived in a Dublin flat complex. As the Jaguar pulled into the courtyard of the tenement flats it looked decidedly out of place, yet nobody took a blind bit of notice of it. Sparrow applied the handbrake and honked the horn twice. Within moments a ground-floor door opened and a
man and a woman emerged. Dressed to kill in his tan cashmere crombie coat and brown trilby hat, Simon Williams made his way to the car. If Simon was the most feared man in Snuggstown, the person coming behind him was surely the most feared woman, Simon’s wife, Angie. Angie was a pretty woman, who wore too much make up. She had a reasonably good figure and wore expensive clothes, the best that money could buy. Whatever Angie wanted, Angie got. She had short blond hair and an even shorter fuse. Many’s the man who was found unconscious in an alley because he had upset Angie. And it didn’t take too much to upset Angie – a taxi driver simply looking at her the ‘wrong way’ could find himself a week later with a broken arm. Sparrow worried about Angie. He didn’t ever want to upset her. She reminded him of the kids at the end of his road who kept pitbull dogs; you were all right unless you upset them, but they would never tell you what it was that upset them. So Sparrow went out of his way not to talk to Angie and not to make eye-contact with her if he could help it.