The Butcher Boy Page #6

He's a credit, Mr. Brady.

There was Da in his Al Capone coat.

"How are you, Father?

No, that's not whiskey in me pocket.

I know how to behave meself.

Sure, wasn't I in a home like this

with Alo all those years ago?"

The lovebirds, Francie.

Alo's right, you know.

Don't talk about Alo.

There was no rows those days.

No whiskey. Nothing.

The war was just over

and everyone was happy.

But Alo was only half right, Francie.

I met her three times in Bundoran...

and always in the boarding house

Over the Waves...

where there was music in the evening.

Shut up.

Shut up about it.

I'd just started a brass band at the time,

Francie, the time I met Eddie Calvert.

Sometimes you get to thinking, son,

about the old days...

where they're gone.

The pair of us,

like a couple of youngsters.

"You put your head in, Benny," she says.

Can you imagine me as Tarzan?

McGlone egging her on.

There was no whiskey then, son.

Only the sea and the waves.

We said the rosary on the rocks.

Us and the McGlones.

We said the rosary on the rocks.

I don't want to hear about the rosary

and the rocks.

It wasn't always like this, son.

You'll never know

how much I loved that woman.

"May the curse of Christ

light upon you, you b*tch."

"The day I took you out of that

hole of a shop in Derry...

was a bitter one for me."

I came here to see you, son.

If only you knew.

You have no son.

You put me in a home, like her.

What did I do?

What did I do?

I loved you like no father

ever loved a son, Francie.

It was hard for him to say it.

I could barely hear him.

It would have been better

if he drew out and hit me.

Well, Francis.

That was a nice surprise.

Sure, if you can't have a bit of a laugh,

what can you have?

- Isn't that right?

- That's right, Father.

You'll never believe this, Francie...

but my own mother had a bonnet

nearly the very same.

- Is that right?

- Yeah.

Yeah, it had ribbons too.

Francie?

Did your mother wear a bonnet?

No.

She only wore scarves.

Just scarves.

Well, she must have worn

a bonnet sometimes.

Are you sure she didn't wear one,

maybe at Christmas or Easter?

She must have.

No, she didn't wear bonnets, Father.

I always liked a bonnet.

A bonnet is nice.

I said, she didn't wear bonnets, Father.

Did she wear ribbons like this?

Little ribbons coming down here.

Francie...

I want you to tell me, now,

the worst thing you've ever done.

I did nothing bad.

Something so bad, so awful,

you wouldn't tell your own mother.

What did I do that's so bad?

You big bastard!

- I did nothing bad!

- Francie. No, no, no.

Christ! Listen, I did nothing bad!

May God forgive you.

Well, by Christ, you're the good one.

It's a pity you didn't cut

the todger off him entirely.

Them and their grass f***ing verges.

They're shitting themselves now

in case the newspapers hear about it.

Be cripes, Francie, there hasn't been

as much craic around here...

since Bull McQuade rode the goat.

- Now, Father, here we are.

- Get in the auto now, Father.

Take care, now.

A great man.

A wonderful man.

But we all have our problems

now and again.

The priesthood is a lonely lot, you know.

And there's not one of us that's perfect.

But Father Sullivan was a great man,

you know.

I heard the night he went in the mission,

I remember it well.

Surely he had us in stitches

laughing, you know.

Father?

Yes, Francie?

I want one of these custard creams.

You can, Francie. Take two.

They're small.

Take two. They're small.

Sure, a bit of a laugh now and then

is what most of us need, I suppose.

But Father Sullivan, now...

he'll be off to spend some time

with his sister in Dublin.

After a rest,

surely he'll be as right as rain again.

Father, these are grand custard creams.

Francie, there's something I want

to tell you now...

and, well, I don't want you

to breathe it to a soul.

Father Doyle was just saying last night

how well you're coming on, you know.

And, I suppose, really,

what I'm trying to say is that...

you know, if you keep this up...

I wouldn't be surprised

if you didn't have a little surprise...

at the end of the...

Oh, work away, yeah.

At the end of the week, really, you know.

Poor old Bubbles.

What he was really trying to say was:

"Francie, you can have the Francie-

Not-a-Bad-Bastard-Anymore diploma...

if you get out

and keep your mouth shut.

You're a fungus on the walls,

and we want them cleaned."

Isn't that right, Father Bubbles?

"It is, indeed."

You're a terror for the custard creams.

Off I went riding down

the fresh country road.

Yep, it was sure good to be back

in that town.

What are you doing here, mister?

That's our fountain.

Is it yours, is it?

Yes, we are in charge of it.

Me and Brandy.

- Okay. I won't touch it anymore.

- All right, then, mister.

We'll let you go this time.

It might be your fountain now.

But do you know

who it used to belong to?

No, who?

Me and Joe Purcell, that's who.

Well, youse don't own it now.

Who the hell does he think he is,

coming in here?

- Yeah, taking over our fountain.

- Let him get his own bloody fountain.

But what did they lock you

in the boiler house for?

The boiler house was just one thing, Joe.

It was just one thing.

But why did they lock you in there?

I know you're in a bit of a bad mood. It's

the thing with the goldfish, isn't it?

What goldfish?

"What goldfish?"

You're some man, Joe.

"What goldfish?"

The thing about the goldfish is

that it doesn't matter in the slightest.

- Just forget about it, okay?

- Okay.

Okay, now, the boiler house,

why did they lock me in there?

Well, Father Tiddley

and his bloody mickey, why else?

Imagine it, Joe,

a priest wanting you to wear bonnets.

I said, "No, Father. No bonnets.

Not until you fork out the chocolates."

Man, Joe, you should've seen

the face on him.

- I've got to go now.

- What?

I have essays to do.

Essays?

Whatever they are, well,

I guess I'll see you on Saturday, then.

Joe, you didn't believe me about Father

Tiddley and all that, now, did you?

Hey, that was some laugh,

making that up.

Imagine it, Joe,

a priest wanting to do the like of that.

Some hope, eh, Joe?

Some hope.

They loved me tonight, son.

And there was Da again...

playing that lovely trumpet.

When I heard him, it brought back Ma

and all the beautiful things...

like snowdrops and roses

and Flash bars...

and me and Joe by the lake.

As if goldfish and Nugents

had never been invented.

I'm sorry, son.

I'm sorry.

Da.

Da.

Leddy wants you to start tomorrow, son.

Okay.

- I can help you if you like, Mr. Leddy.

- Not now, son, you're grand.

You just clean up around

and leave this to me.

They don't like it

when you do that to them.

- What, son?

- Cut their throats.

No, indeed, they do not.

Not one bit.

Hello, ladies.

- Well, would you look at who's here.

- Francie, you're back.

- We think you were at the school.

- All over now, ladies.

- Francie Brady, back in action.

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