the meat.’
Rigger knew that the ‘someone’ must have been Nasey, but he said nothing. ‘And your own job, Nasey?’
‘Is still there. Mr Malone sometimes sympathises with me on the fact that you ran away. He even told me that you might be better off out of Dublin.’
‘I see.’
‘And maybe he’s right, Rigger.’
‘Thank you again, Nasey. And about my mam?’
‘She’s still in a bit of shock, you know. She had been so looking forward to you getting back from that school, counting the days, in fact. She had such plans for you, and now it’s all over.’
‘Ah no, it’s not all over. Not for ever, it’s not. I can come back now that the others are off the streets, can’t I?’
‘No, Rigger, those fellows have friends. They’re in a gang. I wouldn’t advise you coming back here for a good while.’
‘But I can’t stay here for ever,’ Rigger wailed.
‘You have to stay for a fair bit more,’ Nasey warned.
‘I miss my mam writing to me like she did up in the school.’
‘I wouldn’t say she’s up to writing to you. Not yet, anyway. You could always write to her yourself, of course,’ Nasey said.
‘I could, I suppose . . .’
‘Good, good.’ Nasey was gone.
Maybe Miss Queenie would help him write to his mother.
She was indeed a great help, telling him things that might interest Nuala: how this garage had been sold, the O’Haras’ new houses – which were going to make them millionaires – had now lost all their value and were like white elephants with no buyers. Father Johnson had a new curate who was doing most of the work in the parish.
Rigger didn’t know whether his mother found any of this interesting as she never wrote back.
‘Why do you think she doesn’t write back to me?’ he asked Miss Queenie.
The old lady had no idea. Her pale blue eyes were troubled and sad on his behalf as she stroked Gloria on her knee. It was strange, she said, Nuala had been so proud of him and even sent pictures of his christening and his First Communion. Maybe Chicky would know.
Nervously he asked Chicky, who said crisply that he must have an over-sunny view of life if he believed that his mother had got over everything.
‘It wasn’t easy for her to ring me in the middle of the night. We hadn’t seen each other for twenty years, and she had to tell me that I was the only person on earth who could help her. She can’t have liked doing that. I would have hated it.’
‘Yes, I know, but could you tell her I’ve changed?’ he begged.
‘I have told her.’
‘And why doesn’t she write back to me, then?’
‘Because she thinks it’s all her fault. She doesn’t really want to get involved with you again. I’m sorry to be so hard, but you did ask.’
‘Yes, I did.’ He was very shaken.
By now Rigger had actually become interested in this whole mad plan to turn the old house into a smart guest house. The rough work and clearing of the ground had all been done; it was time for rebuilding. Real contractors would be brought in on the job. He looked on in amazement as the plans for bathrooms and central heating were laid out on the kitchen table as Gloria batted them from one side to the other. He knew there were meetings with bankers and insurance brokers, that designers were planned in the future.
He was unprepared for Chicky to change his terms of employment.
‘You’ve been here six months and you’ve been a great help, Rigger,’ she said one evening when Miss Queenie had gone to bed. He was very pleased with the compliment. There hadn’t been many of those coming his way. Rigger waited to hear what would come next.
‘When the builders move in properly in a few weeks, I’ll need help to get Miss Queenie to and from Dr Dai’s and the health clinic. Can you drive?’
‘Yes, I can drive,’ Rigger said.
‘But do you have a licence? Did you do a driving test or anything?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Rigger admitted.
‘So that’s the first thing you must do –
Rigger knew that the ‘someone’ must have been Nasey, but he said nothing. ‘And your own job, Nasey?’
‘Is still there. Mr Malone sometimes sympathises with me on the fact that you ran away. He even told me that you might be better off out of Dublin.’
‘I see.’
‘And maybe he’s right, Rigger.’
‘Thank you again, Nasey. And about my mam?’
‘She’s still in a bit of shock, you know. She had been so looking forward to you getting back from that school, counting the days, in fact. She had such plans for you, and now it’s all over.’
‘Ah no, it’s not all over. Not for ever, it’s not. I can come back now that the others are off the streets, can’t I?’
‘No, Rigger, those fellows have friends. They’re in a gang. I wouldn’t advise you coming back here for a good while.’
‘But I can’t stay here for ever,’ Rigger wailed.
‘You have to stay for a fair bit more,’ Nasey warned.
‘I miss my mam writing to me like she did up in the school.’
‘I wouldn’t say she’s up to writing to you. Not yet, anyway. You could always write to her yourself, of course,’ Nasey said.
‘I could, I suppose . . .’
‘Good, good.’ Nasey was gone.
Maybe Miss Queenie would help him write to his mother.
She was indeed a great help, telling him things that might interest Nuala: how this garage had been sold, the O’Haras’ new houses – which were going to make them millionaires – had now lost all their value and were like white elephants with no buyers. Father Johnson had a new curate who was doing most of the work in the parish.
Rigger didn’t know whether his mother found any of this interesting as she never wrote back.
‘Why do you think she doesn’t write back to me?’ he asked Miss Queenie.
The old lady had no idea. Her pale blue eyes were troubled and sad on his behalf as she stroked Gloria on her knee. It was strange, she said, Nuala had been so proud of him and even sent pictures of his christening and his First Communion. Maybe Chicky would know.
Nervously he asked Chicky, who said crisply that he must have an over-sunny view of life if he believed that his mother had got over everything.
‘It wasn’t easy for her to ring me in the middle of the night. We hadn’t seen each other for twenty years, and she had to tell me that I was the only person on earth who could help her. She can’t have liked doing that. I would have hated it.’
‘Yes, I know, but could you tell her I’ve changed?’ he begged.
‘I have told her.’
‘And why doesn’t she write back to me, then?’
‘Because she thinks it’s all her fault. She doesn’t really want to get involved with you again. I’m sorry to be so hard, but you did ask.’
‘Yes, I did.’ He was very shaken.
By now Rigger had actually become interested in this whole mad plan to turn the old house into a smart guest house. The rough work and clearing of the ground had all been done; it was time for rebuilding. Real contractors would be brought in on the job. He looked on in amazement as the plans for bathrooms and central heating were laid out on the kitchen table as Gloria batted them from one side to the other. He knew there were meetings with bankers and insurance brokers, that designers were planned in the future.
He was unprepared for Chicky to change his terms of employment.
‘You’ve been here six months and you’ve been a great help, Rigger,’ she said one evening when Miss Queenie had gone to bed. He was very pleased with the compliment. There hadn’t been many of those coming his way. Rigger waited to hear what would come next.
‘When the builders move in properly in a few weeks, I’ll need help to get Miss Queenie to and from Dr Dai’s and the health clinic. Can you drive?’
‘Yes, I can drive,’ Rigger said.
‘But do you have a licence? Did you do a driving test or anything?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Rigger admitted.
‘So that’s the first thing you must do –
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