The New Policeman by Kate Thompson Page A

beginning of the summer holidays, more than three months ago now, and the teacher was getting apoplectic about it. He made a bit of progress between the comings and goings of the household, and Marian even sat for a while and helped him when she came in from her slumber party.
    At midday his hurling coach rang. Marian was in the sitting room working on her script again and J.J. heard her pick up the extension, then put it down again. The coach told him that the match had been abandoned because of a waterlogged pitch. J.J. breathed a huge sigh of relief and returned to his books. A minute later the phone rang again.
    “I’m not here,” said Helen, charging in with an armload of eggs. “I have to finish those cheeses off before they go blue on me.”
    J.J. answered it. It was Jimmy.
    “How’s it going, J.J.?” J.J. heard the background noise of the phone line alter as someone picked up the extension, but he was too flustered to notice whether they hung up or not.
    “Good,” he said. “The match was rained off.”
    “Sound,” said Jimmy. “You coming tonight, so?” J.J. was wrong footed. He had eventually gone to sleep without deciding what he was going to say. WithHelen standing at the sink behind him, washing the eggs, he couldn’t come out with a pack of lies. But if he said no, Jimmy might never speak to him again. He needed time but, as always, he didn’t have it.
    “I suppose so,” was the best he could come up with. It didn’t sound convincing, but Jimmy heard what he wanted to hear.
    “Good stuff,” he said. “You know what I was thinking? The bus doesn’t get back here until about two o’clock in the morning.”
    “Oh,” said J.J. Maybe this was his way of getting off the hook? But Jimmy had a solution.
    “You could stay at my place if you wanted to save dragging your parents out.”
    J.J.’s heart sank. Jimmy was bending over backward to make up with him.
    “Fair dues to you, Jimmy,” he said. “It’s a great idea.”
    “See you, then,” said Jimmy. “Twenty past nine on the quay.”
    J.J. put the phone down and stared at it.
    “What’s a great idea?” said Helen.
    “Nothing,” said J.J. He went into the sitting room, where Marian was lounging beside the fire, marking up her script with a red pen.

    “Were you listening in on my phone call?”
    “What phone call?”
    “Were you?”
    “Sod off, J.J. I’m busy.”
    He went out, slamming the door behind him. What did it matter, anyway?
     
    J.J. had to clear away the essay for lunch and before he had time to set it out again Phil and his girlfriend, Carol, arrived to help get the barn ready for the céilí.
    J.J. went out with them, and Helen and Ciaran joined them a few minutes later. Carol worked in a pub in Ballyvaughan and got all the soft drinks and crisps at wholesale prices. There was no charge to get into the céilí, on an old point of Liddy principle, but the dance classes on the other Saturdays made more than was needed to cover the cost of drinks and snacks.
    The rain had stopped and the sky was clear again. It wasn’t cold, but Ciaran lit the stove anyway. The barn was an old building, and even in the best of weather it always needed a bit of help to dry out.
    “Have you met our new policeman?” said Phil.
    “No,” said Helen.
    “I didn’t know we had one,” said J.J.

    “Some character,” said Phil.
    “Haven’t you seen him?” said Carol to Helen. “He’s gorgeous.”
    “Is he?” said Phil gloomily. “I was afraid he might be.”
    “He certainly is,” said Carol. “He should be in the movies, that one.”
    “Some fiddle player, too,” said Phil.
    “He plays the fiddle?” said Helen.
    “That’s all we need in Kinvara,” said Ciaran. “Another fiddle player. You can’t spit round here without hitting one.”
    “Ah, you should hear him, though,” said Phil. “He was in Green’s last night. Beautiful, beautiful music.”
    “In Green’s? A guard?”
    “And he dances,” said Carol.