Diarium (Noo Yoik ) Part 1 "Running Uphill"

Between Nethertown and The Lane of Stones the  small white cottage shifted softly in the baking August heat.  Peggy Ellard walked out her back door and blinked. The shirts and sheets were starched by sun and salt into stiff shapes on the blue line.  She pulled them off their pegs in a sudden burst of impatience. She had barely slept and was up for first mass to drop the boys to the Island for the bus to Croke Park. All night she had been tossing and turning beside her sweating snoring husband.  Peg got up early to make a start on the packed lunch. With the young lad  gone down for a sleep wearing only his nappy, she should have had time out for an hour or so but everywhere she could see things to be done. She had stood at the door watching the hot child settle  under the breeze from the electric fan, his damp curls blowing up off the top of his head like a question mark. He was a ringer for his Da, they all were.   Now back at the line under the constant wheeesh and shush of the sea she folded the warm clothes into the basket at her feet by bending them in two, cracking them.  The bushes beside her were alive with the sound of bees and above her head seagulls wheeled and swooped . She would boil a few crabs later when it had cooled a bit. The sound of a bicycle clicking came across the flat fields.  Philly Redmond on her way to the shop for whatever she had run out of today.  Philly was a hairdresser who worked from home, cutting damp heads of men and boys and perming women on a chair beside the aga,with the dogs running in and out.  She skidded to a halt on the gravel outside and balanced herself with one thin brown hand on the white pillar. 

“Marra Peg, that hate would wreck ya , eh ? she smiled.

“Indeed it would , it sure would” said Peg.

“Did you ever hear the bates of them last night. It was fierce altogether down with us.” Philly rooted in the back pocket of her stretch jeans and extricated a crumpled pack of Major and lit one. The smell of the match and the burst of smoke seemed nice to Peg. She sniffed it in. 

“I never closed me eyes, Phil. The tumpety tump of that music and the cars and vans flying up and down the road at all hours . Its gone a bit quieter down there now though eh ?” she asked.

“Quiet?  Hah. Sure they’re  as full as a tinkers caravan beyond there now. Wait till they come to. There’ll be more of the same later, mind . I’ll be getting scuttered meself after I do Mrs Vaughan . I may even get a belt of the baldy fella after it ! Although I’m sure you dont want to be reminded.” She exhaled a plume of smoke and nodded at Pegs stomach stretching to bursting  through the faded smock.

“No stir ?” she enquired .

“Divil a bit . I’m rightly fed up with it now . Ten days and counting, please God.”

Philly was a hard woman from up the country who had been tamed by a big ugly quiet man who had taken none of her nonsense and ignored her refusals of marriage till he wore her down. She walked the rocks at low tide collecting cuttle fish and limpets and raised a brood of big ugly children who ignored her too. She permed and smoked and laughed at her life and the small stony farm where the red geraniums grew like weeds around the back door.  Her skin was like mahogony from sun and wind and cigarettes. She went  ballroom dancing in Harneys of Ballyedmond and drank till she could drink no more. She gave  her wild children a large bottle of TK lemonade and  packets of pub crisps and ten pence each for the pool table while she sang “ Its 4 in the morning and once more the dawning woke up the wanting in me”.Now she glanced at Peg and wondered again at this young womans patience. Only in her late twenties and already like a placid old woman. She had heard all over the village about how she came from  Tacumshane, the youngest and only girl from a big well got  family of  stoic blonde farmers with pooks of land and how she had taken the fancy of the wildest of the Ellard  men . Her Ma was reputed to have beaten her up and down the lane when she heard of her gallivanting. To no avail apparently as here she was on baby number four and had made a hard bed for herself. Ellard himself drove a tractor with a hitch to drag caravans on and off sites and spent his day trucking up and down the roads whistling at the Dublin girls in their shorts who clutched each other and screamed “Jesus, I’m scarleh for him”.  Like all serial philanderers he would have run a mile if anyone put it up to him and contented himself with bragging about imaginary conquests in bars late at night and had earned himself the moniker of The Liar Ellard. 

“Can I get you anything in the Island, Peg?”

“Ah, do you know I was just thinking I’d give the child an ice cream when he wakes. A block of ripple and a few wafers, maybe. Wait I’ll get you the money.”

She began to waddle off but Philly was already standing on the pedals cycling up the hill.

“Money my arse” she called over her shoulder. “There’s no hitch on a hearse”.

Peg wandered back around the side of the house. The heat was crucifying now. A trickle of sweat ran down her back as she dragged a kitchen chair into the only shade and sat gingerly . She rested her hands on the swollen hardness of her stomach and stared blankly at the view of uninterrupted green . The tops of the grass were scorched and there was not a sound now as the sun climbed and baked all below. In the distance Peg thought she saw a flash of bright orange and as suddenly it was gone.  It felt hot enough  to fry an egg on the path and she felt her eyes grow heavy and close.

She had no idea of how long she slept and woke stiff and hot with her head burning. The sun had moved . She stood up holding her back like an old woman and limped stiffly into the house to check on the child. It was not like her to sleep like that. She sighed with relief when she saw him still fast lying on his back and stood in the breeze of the fan lifting her dress to feel the coolness on her back and legs.  She heard footsteps on the gravel and expecting Philly and the ice-cream walked down the hall to the front door. She opened it with a smile and saw instead a stranger. The woman was burnt. From the top of her scalp to her feet it looked like. She spoke thickly.

“Sorry to disturb you but could I use your phone?”

Peg was taken aback and stood staring in the heat. She gathered herself together and said “I’m sorry, we have no phone”.

The woman looked ready to faint.

 She swayed at the door and Peg said “Will you come in a minute” and opened the door wide. The woman stepped in and Peg smelt perfume and hay and smoke all in one burst.  The stranger followed her down the hall and stood looking around the tidy white kitchen wide eyed. She pointed at the tap and Peg went quickly to the press to get a glass but when she turned saw the woman drinking greedily from the unwashed minstrel mug her husband  had drunk his tea from . Her head was thrown back and with one arm she held on to the tap as if to hold herself up. She drained and re –filled the mug 3 times and then dragged her hand across her face and belched.

“Christ, excuse me – I’m in tatters” she apologised.

Peg offered her a chair and the woman sank into it gratefully and let her head drop between her knees. Now that she could,  Peg stared at her. Her wild curls upside down were matted and stuck all over with straw and her burnt feet were bleeding. She had dropped espadrilles beside the chair and their once  pastel ribbons were black . Her scalp was as red as a rose and her bright orange halter neck top was torn and ragged. It struck Peg then that this was the flash of orange she had seen earlier, and she wondered  how could this woman have been so far off the road, down the meandering  endless lanes that led only to the sea.

As the clock ticked through the silence and the thick heat she heard the child stirring. The woman lifted her head and listened too . Although loth to leave the stranger unattended, Peg’s maternal instinct was strong and she excused herself and hurried down the hall and scooped up the warm child, covering his legs with the cot sheet. When she walked back in the woman was sitting exactly as she had left her and appeared to be asleep. She was at a loss to know what to do. She coughed and the baby ceased crying to look too . The woman started and sat up slowly and wiped her face with the material of her long skirt.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you but I need to make a call and get the hell out of here” she said looking at Peg with bloodshot eyes .

“I’ve a neighbour calling in here any minute and she has the phone in at home for work, she can call for you , a hackney is it ? Where do you need to go ?” –

“Town” said the woman . “I need to get to town”.

“Well our local lads are gone driving mini buses to the match but I’m sure the man in the Harbour could come over for you , it will take a half hour or so .”

Peg was standing with feet wide apart and the baby balanced on the crook of her hip and she was rocking as she always did when she held him. His wide blue eyes stared at the stranger. 

“Whats your name”? said Peg.

“Katy, .......... and yours ?

Before Peg could answer the woman leaned over and soundlessly vomited on the floor. A pool of liquid and froth covered her feet and spread slowly towards Peg and the child. Peg stepped back as Katy heaved again and another rush of clear liquid followed. She placed the child in the high chair and buckled him in as she tried to cover her embarassment with talk.

“Sure, it could happen to a bishop, better out than in. Eh ? That’ll be the water, maybe you’ve a touch of heatstroke or something , we’ll have you sorted in no time.”

She took an old towel used for mopping off the hook on the back door and threw it across the pool of liquid.  Katy stared at her and began to apologise but still more came.  At that moment Peg could hear the latch of the back gate and the sound of the bike on the gravel and blessed Philly . Knocking as she opened the door, Philly stood and surveyed  the kitchen .

“In the name of Jasus” .

Philly took in the scene at a glance. Holding ice cream wrapped in newspaper in one hand and a cigarette in the other she advanced to the edge of the towel and arched an eyebrow at her friend.

“Whats happening Peg?” –

“This lady is lost and needs a hackney home, ............ to town. Isn’t that right Katy?”

Katy nodded miserably. She looked small and vulnerable and white in the face. Philly had seen her fair share of drunks, and had been on many a bender herself but there was more to this. This Katy woman seemed out of it and sat watching their talk like she was at a tennis match. Having thrust the block into Pegs hands she began to quickly clean the floor by dragging the towel around with her foot in figures of eight.

“Give us a mop and bucket there will you” – she said to Peg and when she had gone to the shed spoke with one eye closed against the smoke from the fag between her teeth -

“Where in the name of God have you been ?”

“I was at the Rally at the Point and I drank a little too much and got lost” .............. she tailed off.

Peg came in with the galvanised bucket and and mop and despite her protests watched helplessly as Philly set to throwing the sopping towel out the door and washing the tiles. Between them they decided to ring the hackney man in the Harbour and Peg looked up the number in the faded local phone book while Katy sat mute watching. She handed the scrap of paper with the number on it to Philly.

“Right so, I’ll head off and ring him. God only knows where he is but maybe you could lie down for a bit and then you’ll be as right as rain, eh ?”

Katy nodded and thanked her. At the door Philly said – “I won’t be long and I’ll come straight back up ok?”

“Thanks Phil, you’re very good” said Peg biting her lip. She was not sure what to do with this woman now and already wished the taxi was pulling away from the house with its strange passenger. A creature of habit this had thrown her completely out of her routine. She invited Katy to lie down in her oldest sons room and covered her with his blanket and watched for a moment as she curled up and closed her eyes. In the kitchen she put the almost melted ice cream in the freezer , and started to mash poppies for the childs dinner while keeping her eyes on the road for the return of her friend.

                                                                        *

Nine miles away Johnny Hendrick sat in his black Mercedes with the door open listening to the commentator at the match. It was a few minutes to half time and there was a rumbling in his belly. He folded the Independant, and drove up the road to his Mothers house for the dinner, idly rubbing the scratches the wild bitch had given him. He had never seen a set up like it . There must be thousands of them over there. It didn’t matter if he got no fare the live long day as he would be up the walls tonight. He eased his fat body out of the hot car in the yard and stretched and farted. He combed his greasy hair while aiming a kick at the collie that had slunk  around the corner of the house fawning for attention .

“Get OUT of it, ya cur!” he shouted and walked into the kitchen.

Mrs Hendrick wearing her housecoat over her print dress lifted the plate of bacon and cabbage from the top of a saucepan of boiling water and laid it before him. Johnny sat with his back to the wall under the sacred heart lamp and began to load the potato with butter and salt.

                                                                                       *

Katy cried hot salty tears into the childs pillow. If only she could get it straight in her head. She looked around the boyish room with its toys and the wallpaper patterned with trains and boats and tried to remember. She and Suzy had been having a great night, possibly the best night ever. There had been wild excitement in town and among her friends about the rally and she had been wearing “Atomkraft – Nein Danke”on the lapel of her jacket for months. The bus had picked them up on the quay and they had sang protest songs and passed bottles around on the way out. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the thousands of people camping and singing, the bands, the cooking, the stalls selling beads, the Hare Krishna in their robes chanting and offering the hungry their snacks.  At sometime in the night, she had lost Suzy to a biker and laughing she had joined yet another group where like the butterfly she was she mingled in, taking pulls of the pipe they shared and drinking whatever was handed to her.  It had all been such fun at the time. Now she could smell him on her and leaned over the side of the bed to be sick again.    

                                                                                        *

“Howya Mrs Hendrick , is Johnny around ?” said Philly when the phone was answered .

“He’s having the bit of dinner now but wait till I get the pen” she replied.

                                                                                         *

Peg and Philly sipped their tepid tea whispering at the table and waited for the sound of the car on the stones.