stage, as the cigarette smoke swirled in clouds around him. Frank, the bar owner, immediately jumped to his feet and rushed behind the bar, pushing through the groups of men huddled in the darkness around tables, playing cards, dominoes or talking in whispers.
“Get them whatever they want. It’s on the house.” Frank shouted at Richard the barman.
There was a steady background hum of talking. To the right of the bar there was a television showing the Chester horse races. At the table closest to the television, two men compared betting tickets.
“Another beaten docket Sammy P?” shouted Cedric across the bar. Sammy P smiled back, waving his ticket in the air, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Richard scurried to Cedric seated beside the billiard table in an enclosed booth. “What are you having? Frank says it’s on the house.”
“Let’s have three pints of the black stuff and three whiskey chasers.”
Richard wiped the table with a damp cloth and hurried back to the bar. He piled the drinks onto a small circular tray and breathing heavily moved quickly towards the booth. As he approached Cedric’s table Richard’s feet seemed to tie themselves in knots and he lurched forward – the tray leaving his hand and causing a wall of black liquid to cascade on top of Cedric and William.
The bar filled with silence. All eyes were on the small booth, waiting for someone to break the silence.
Richard took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry.”
Cedric mopped his face with a handkerchief. Cedric looked at Richard who trembled in front of him, shoulders bent over, wringing his hands.
“I’m really sorry.”
Frank had dropped to his hunkers behind the bar, looking over the top, with his hands over his ears.
Cedric coughed, looked at William and then Peter. William nodded. “We’ll have the same round again. This time throw a towel in if you don’t mind.”
Richard sighed. “I’ll get you that right away.” Minutes later he carefully balanced the three pints and whiskey on the small circular tin tray.
“How long did it take you to finish the job last night?’” asked William knocking back a whiskey.
“I took my time. No need to rush these things if you want to do a quality job,” Cedric smirked.
“What are you talking about?” Peter asked. “He didn’t look as though he was long for this world when you took him to the lock up.”
“Well, there you go. Out of the goodness of my heart, you might say that I let him live a little longer. Oh by the way – well done Peter. I forgot to offer you my congratulations. You’re no longer a Mammy’s boy. You’re in it now with us. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Cedric slapped Peter across the head.
“Put a notch in your guitar to remember your first one. You’ll never forget it. You can be proud of yourself,” William quipped.
Peter wiped away the beads of sweat, rolling through his strawberry blonde sideburns.
“I didn’t do anything.”
He breathed heavily. His legs splayed open, the neck of his rugby shirt showed thick curly red hair. He rubbed his right hand over the matted curls, pushing to one side the pint of Guinness in front of him. He scratched a scab on his left hand. Cedric leaned forward and stared into Peter’s eyes.
“Try telling that to the Police. I don’t think it will hold up inthe Crumlin Road Courthouse, do you? You’re the intelligent one in the family after all.”
Peter felt his stomach and throat constricting, his breathing getting shallower, his eyes narrowing. He struggled to get the words out. “You might be in there yourself soon watching the paint flake off the walls.”
“Boys, boys, let’s not start fighting. Let’s stay focused.” William signalled to the barman. “Same again.”
“Not for me.” Peter pushed his almost full pint across the table.
• • •
On the afternoon of the Tuesday 3rd January while Michael McGuckin played bowls in Ardoyne Hall. Tom, Rose and Lily were at home.
“Get them whatever they want. It’s on the house.” Frank shouted at Richard the barman.
There was a steady background hum of talking. To the right of the bar there was a television showing the Chester horse races. At the table closest to the television, two men compared betting tickets.
“Another beaten docket Sammy P?” shouted Cedric across the bar. Sammy P smiled back, waving his ticket in the air, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Richard scurried to Cedric seated beside the billiard table in an enclosed booth. “What are you having? Frank says it’s on the house.”
“Let’s have three pints of the black stuff and three whiskey chasers.”
Richard wiped the table with a damp cloth and hurried back to the bar. He piled the drinks onto a small circular tray and breathing heavily moved quickly towards the booth. As he approached Cedric’s table Richard’s feet seemed to tie themselves in knots and he lurched forward – the tray leaving his hand and causing a wall of black liquid to cascade on top of Cedric and William.
The bar filled with silence. All eyes were on the small booth, waiting for someone to break the silence.
Richard took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry.”
Cedric mopped his face with a handkerchief. Cedric looked at Richard who trembled in front of him, shoulders bent over, wringing his hands.
“I’m really sorry.”
Frank had dropped to his hunkers behind the bar, looking over the top, with his hands over his ears.
Cedric coughed, looked at William and then Peter. William nodded. “We’ll have the same round again. This time throw a towel in if you don’t mind.”
Richard sighed. “I’ll get you that right away.” Minutes later he carefully balanced the three pints and whiskey on the small circular tin tray.
“How long did it take you to finish the job last night?’” asked William knocking back a whiskey.
“I took my time. No need to rush these things if you want to do a quality job,” Cedric smirked.
“What are you talking about?” Peter asked. “He didn’t look as though he was long for this world when you took him to the lock up.”
“Well, there you go. Out of the goodness of my heart, you might say that I let him live a little longer. Oh by the way – well done Peter. I forgot to offer you my congratulations. You’re no longer a Mammy’s boy. You’re in it now with us. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Cedric slapped Peter across the head.
“Put a notch in your guitar to remember your first one. You’ll never forget it. You can be proud of yourself,” William quipped.
Peter wiped away the beads of sweat, rolling through his strawberry blonde sideburns.
“I didn’t do anything.”
He breathed heavily. His legs splayed open, the neck of his rugby shirt showed thick curly red hair. He rubbed his right hand over the matted curls, pushing to one side the pint of Guinness in front of him. He scratched a scab on his left hand. Cedric leaned forward and stared into Peter’s eyes.
“Try telling that to the Police. I don’t think it will hold up inthe Crumlin Road Courthouse, do you? You’re the intelligent one in the family after all.”
Peter felt his stomach and throat constricting, his breathing getting shallower, his eyes narrowing. He struggled to get the words out. “You might be in there yourself soon watching the paint flake off the walls.”
“Boys, boys, let’s not start fighting. Let’s stay focused.” William signalled to the barman. “Same again.”
“Not for me.” Peter pushed his almost full pint across the table.
• • •
On the afternoon of the Tuesday 3rd January while Michael McGuckin played bowls in Ardoyne Hall. Tom, Rose and Lily were at home.
Similar Books
