I
can hear him now. Feckin’ Publicans have bought enough cars out of
my money. I have the lump now, a nice whack of money, and I’m
holding on to it.
But
to his credit he did change. Began to look after the house, paint it
and repairs and the like, and to be fair he even gave me a a bit more
money.
He
put in his time catching songbirds, and making small cages and
perches and gettin' food bowls and water bowls, and seeds for them.
I
enjoyed their singing in the evening. What will I do with them now?
They can't be let out into the wild, they are not able for that any
more. Maybe Donie will take them. I'll ask him, when he comes up to
the house.
The
only thing was, Jonnie wouldn't give up the coffin-nails, even though
I nagged him about cancer and lung disease. I even stooped smoking
myself and asked him to do it as well, at the same time.
Then
now: at a time when the roles should have been reversing, when he was
due to pay back his debts and look after me a bit, he went back to
being selfish, he went over the bridge.
That’s
what they call death in this town: goin’ over The Bridge to the
Graveyard.
He
always said. 'Over the Bridge, it's the graveyard, but people are
dyin' to get into it.'
The
pub was not elaborate, it was a dingy dark place: a country pub. Not
a happy cheerful place: a place for drowning sorrows, fuelled by low
incomes and welfare payments. An old man's refuge. It had to be that
way since few young people would forsake the bright, music filled
lounge bars for dismal.
The
O'Connors are sitting around a rickety round single pedestal beer
ringed and otherwise stained table: the origins of the dirty patina
long forgotten.
"Get
some drinks. Get hot whiskeys, I’m freezin’. "
"Jees
Miki. That bloody graveyard gives people their deaths."
"What
killed him in the end? Was it the breathing of was he just gummed up
in the veins? Kate, you were keepin' and eye on him. Any clues."
"He
was bet that’s all. Bet up. Worn out. You could play the drums on
his thighs. What I want to know. What’s to be done with Peggy? I’m
not sure she can look after herself there in the house."
"
Leave it for a while. See how it goes."
"Kate,
Peggy's bet in the legs. The feet are crippled with the arthritis."
"Wait
for a while. We can’t have them saying we fecked her out: into The
Home."
"Hey!
Shut up, keep it down. Here she is now. Who’s that talking to her?
Who is it? Do anyone of you know? Is it some of the other nieces and
nephews? John Joe sidle over and keep an eye on them."
"Sidle
yerself, Miki, or better still have Keyhole Kate go over and snoop.
She's good at that, not minding her own business."
"Drunk."
"Noser,
Busy Body."
"Shutup,
quiet! I'll go."
Mikie,
approached his cousins, smiling, hand outstretched offering
condolences, and platitudes. "He was a great Uncle, will be
badly missed...."
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