Novel Chp. 10

Chapter 10

The Ballad of Carmel and Pat: 2

After the first meeting outside Clerys, in O'Connell Street, it seemed to be a good place to meet in future – under the clock.

For the first few times, Patrick would go into the store to find the galoot who owed the money.

The form with selling advertising space is, the order is placed, in person at Clerys, then Patrick would take it to whichever newspaper the client wanted it placed, he would pay the newspaper the price of the advertisement then collect the money from the client. This was usually a simple process as people would pay up quickly.

When entering Clerys, Patrick would see him disappear and chase after him at a quick walking pace. He would ask various members of the staff, and the impression he received from them were negative.

Sometimes the fella just wasn't at work and then Patrick would ask if anybody knew where he lived, but hardly anybody knew him at all.

The relationship between Carmel and Patrick was developing slowly, he hadn't been to Dalkey, where she lived, and hadn't seen her mother since that first time.

Carmel laughed when he asked her how 'the nest of vipers' was.

“Who? She said.

“Who do you think?”

They would usually meet and go to Bewley's but this day he suggested McDaid's.

“I've never been in a pub” was the response from her.

“What? Never?”

“Never” she said.

“oh” and he was shocked “Did your father ever go to the pub?”

“Never – no”

He took her by the hand and they walked around to Grafton Street to McDaid's.

The hand holding was quite new in their relationship. Each time they went to Bewley's their hands would be close together but never touching. They were both aware of it, but neither would make that tiny move of a few inches.

As they walked along O'Connell Street, he would keep the hands at that distance, even when it was awkward. If someone would come between them, as they walked, he would make it back to her side without losing a stride.

One of the times he reached out and, as if by magic, their hands met.

When they got to McDaid's, Carmel was very nervous. She'd never been in such a place. The place was lovely and warm, which was a welcome feeling after the ice cold wind outside. The sun was out, of course which prompted her to leave her heavy coat at home, but as soon as she stepped outside, she had to pop back in and put her big coat on.

Patrick, as usual, was in his shirt sleeves as he treated the cold weather like he was on some kind of obstacle course.

Looking around, he saw his father, Joe, sitting in the corner by the big fire.

“Come and meet my father” he said.

Carmel looked around and saw a friendly looking old man in the corner with a full white beard who, as soon as he saw her, flashed a big smile. It really was a big pleasant and attractive smile, which showed his stained, but very strong teeth. He'd been a pipe smoker all his life and, in fact, took the pipe out of his mouth to give her that smile.

“How 'I' yeh?” said Patrick.

“I'm grand. Come and sit down and give us a look a yer mot.”

Of course Carmel had never heard the word mot before, especially referring to her but it was, and is, a common word in Dublin for a girl friend.

The other thing about her name was the pronunciation. In Dublin Carmel is pronounced with the first syllable rhyming with car and the second rhyming with Mull. Carmel pronounced it with the stress on the last syllable CarMEL - rhyming with TELL.

She was as forthright as her mother when meeting people, and put her hand out to Joe and said “How do you do?” and when their hands met she said “Carmel Wilde: pleased to meet you.”

“Hoh?” said Joe “Car . . . do you mean Carmel?”

“ . . er . . yes” she said.

“Carmel!! I like that: there's beauiful smell, when you meet Carmel.” pronouncing it her way.

Patrick was almost curling up with embarrassment, but Carmel laughed.

“What can I get you?” he asked Carmel.

“I don't really know” she said “a glass of red wine.”

They both looked at her.

“Jasus” said Joe “a glass of red biddy?”

Carmel didn't know how to react, at home it was quite normal to drink wine, which she had done with her meals from the age of twelve.

“Is that all right?” she said.

“Maybe you'd like a glass of Jameson's?”

“If it's a problem, yes.”

So Patrick went up to the bar for a couple of pints of Guinness and a Jameson's for Carmel.

“Sit down, love” he said “pull yourself up to the fire?”

Carmel sat down “I'm pleased to meet you, mister Callahan.”

“Ah, mister Callahan, my shite – call me Joe.”

“I will, Joe” she said, and stretched her hand out again.

He took her hand and kissed it. She was very impressed.

“Have you had a busy morning” she said.

“. .er . No, not really. I woke up at nine-o-clock and struggled out of . . . well what can we say: a night. . . no it wasn't a nightmare.”

“A bad dream?”

“That's right – a bad dream: I was back in the house where our cat died, and I came down the stairs, in the still of night, and when I looked through the window, in the moonlight I saw his tent. I didn't see him but knew somehow that it was his; the tent was the size of a small dogs' kennel and at the head of it were two or three large, very black crows; on each side of the tent three or four more and at the other end, another two or three others.

A Murder of Crows.

They seemed to be sniffing out the cat's tent as that's where I'd buried him; he was called Graymalkin.”

“From Macbeth? She said.

“That's it” he said “one of the witches has to go back to her cat” he quoted “I come, Graymalkin”

“Paddock calls” said Carmel.

“That's right” he said “Graymalkin is the witch that comes as a cat and the other witch is Paddock who comes as a toad.”

“I didn't know that bit” said Carmel.

“My one fear, when Graymalkin died, was that I might not bury him deep enough as I was nervous about the foxes and crows eating him.

So maybe that was somewhere in my subconscious as I looked through the window; I carefully went out into the garden, in my slippers and pyjamas and who would be at the far end of the tent?

Biddy; our tortoiseshell cat who died long ago and the mother of them all!”

Patrick arrived at the table and put the drinks down and joined them by the fire.

“Sláinte” said Joe, and they each took a drink.

Chapter 11