Stop that! she laughed. Youre always making fun of me.
I always used to make fun of the girls I fancied in school, he said, winking.
You flirting with my wife again? said Joe, coming up beside them. Im pushing forty here, Ray thirty-year-old charmers worry me. Ray was the same height as Anna, but looked shorter because he was so broad. His dark eyebrows and constantly furrowed brow could make him look either incredibly sensitive or just plain stupid. He was neither.
The doors are great, said Joe, running his hand over the wood.
Dont. Ill get a swelled head, said Ray. OK, now howre we going to get these down? Wheres this back-up of yours, Anna?
Ill get Hugh.
Anna disappeared to drag Hugh away from his tea and tabloids. Between the four of them, they hefted the doors to the lighthouse and secured them onto their hinges. Anna bolted them shut.
Wow, she said. I am thrilled. I am so grateful.
Ray raised an eyebrow.
Not that grateful, pal, said Joe, putting a firm hand on his shoulder.
To be honest, said Ray, Im hanging out for the models wholl be draping themselves over me for the photo shoot. Ill be the bit of rough. Might wear an Aran jumper and tuck my jeans into my boots for the occasion.
Anything else you need? asked Hugh.
No, no, thanks for your help, she said.
Im off, too, said Ray. If those doors get unhinged at all, youll know where they get it from.
Anna didnt understand. Joe laughed. She turned to him, taking his hand.
Let me show you my nightmare. She unlocked the new doors and led him up the winding staircase. They reached the service room and climbed the sloping ladder to the lantern house.
Look at this, said Anna, hooking the tip of her finger under one of the cracks in the wall. Doesnt move.
Paint stripper? said Joe.
Not a chance, she said. Its taken years for it to get that way. And because of the temperature in here, it... she moved her hands in and out.
Got bigger? Smaller? said Joe.
No, no, the metal...
Oh, expanded and contracted.
Yes, she said. So I dont know what to do.
I could get some of the guys, scrape it off.
They both shook their heads.
Well think of something, said Joe. Do you have to do this part? I mean, the thing doesnt work anyway, he said, looking at the old mercury pedestal, and wont the shoot be really from the outside? She knew he was half serious.
Im not even going to answer that, she said. And besides, he didnt know her plan.
Shaun dropped his bag on the floor of the small Portakabin he had seen lowered earlier that day onto the concrete at the side of the soccer pitch.
What the hell kind of locker room is this? he said.
Can you see a locker in here anywhere? said Robert, looking around the empty room. He liked to tease his friend. Its called a changing room, Lucky. We change our clothes in here. Even when we think our balls will be frozen off.
Shaun discovered early on that teasing was called slagging in Ireland and if you werent getting slagged, there was something wrong.
Out of the way, said one of the boys, pushing past him. The rest of the team, miserable in shorts and T-shirts, ran towards the blinding floodlights. The pitch was bald, hard and unseasonably cold. Running in head-to-toe black Nike along the sideline was the coach, Richie Bates. He was twenty-five years old, six foot three and two-hundred-and-ten pounds, every inch of his body carefully toned into hard muscle. His neck was short and thick and the top of his head was Action-Man flat. Richie was a guard, short for garda, singular of gardai, the Irish police force. He worked with a sergeant out of the small sub-station in Mountcannon. After an hour of play, he was still running up and down, roaring.
Come on, lads! Move it! Move it!
Its freezing, said Robert, jogging after the ball.
If you run, youll warm up, said Richie. Robert rolled his eyes. He had just come on. Everyone around him had hot red faces and white breath. He was still ghostly pale, but knew the slightest effort would turn him to crimson and make his eyes stream. He was not a sportsman. He sweated too much, he breathed too heavily, his hair fell across his face, his legs were dark and hairy, thick and slow. But he could appreciate the irony. He was the sports writer for the school paper.
Shaun had the ball and was heading for goal. He stumbled and landed hard.
Get up, Lucchesi! said Richie instantly. Shaun breathed through the anger. Richie blew the whistle. Right, lads, thats it. Off you go. Well done. No-one responded.
Back in the changing room, Billy McMann, a short, skinny twelve-year-old, was hunched shivering in the corner trying to do up his fly, but his fingers were curled and numb from the cold. He caught Shauns eye and gave a weak smile. Shaun stepped over, quickly zipped up the boys fly and patted him on the head.
Thanks, said Billy, blushing.
Dont worry about it, said Shaun.
Jesus Christ, Billy! Cant even zip up your own pants? It was Richie, standing, laughing in the doorway.
Shaun stared at him. Give the kid a break.
Billy fumbled with his bag.
You need to toughen up, said Richie pointing at him.
Theres nothing wrong with him, said Shaun. His goddamn fingers were freezing.
Watch your mouth, Lucchesi, said Richie. Or we wont be calling you Lucky for much longer. His look challenged the rest of the room.
Youre not in uniform now, someone shouted from the back.
You watch yourself, Cunningham, said Richie. Or Ill be waiting outside that off-licence when youre picking up your next six pack. He left.
A few of the boys groaned. Then Robert said, Youre still a fag, Lucky. Everyone laughed.
Do you need a lift? Robert asked Shaun.
Nah, said Shaun. My dads coming.
He walked out of the school and stood by the gates, watching all the other parents come and go with their sons. Joe eventually pulled up in the Jeep.
Youre such a loser, said Shaun through the window. Ive been standing out here for, like, twenty minutes.
I was busy. Im trying to pack.
You forgot.
No, I didnt. Just get in, Shaun.
Whats your hierarchy of things to remember, Dad? Like on a scale of one to ten, where do I come in?
Here we go, said Joe.
Yeah, well, its a pain in the ass. You can remember everything for work, but
Drop it, snapped Joe.
Jeez, relax, would you? Im the one who got stood up here. Again.
I said drop it, said Joe, too loud. They drove the rest of the way in silence.
They were just in the door when the phone rang. Joe picked up.
Come back, all is forgiven, said Danny Markey.
Please stop calling me at this number, said Joe. I told you. Its over.
Yeah, yeah, I know the drill, said Danny. Its not me, its you.
They laughed. Shaun made a face at his fathers transformation.
So things that bad? asked Joe, ignoring Shaun.
Youve no idea, said Danny. Im with Aldos
Martinez or All Doze guaranteed to help you sleep or your money back. And if thats not enough, Im out last night, date with Maria, and my wife calls looking for me. And this rookie on the TS tells her Im finished hours ago. I go home telling her the hard night Ive had and she knees me in the downtown area. I swear to God. What happened to, Hes out on the road, Ill get him to call you. Im gonna rip the guys rookie head off next time I see him. Hes a retard. Clancy called to fuck with him, pretended he was some pimp looking for his girl Juanita Sophia Marguerita whatever and the guy leaves his desk to go check. I shit you not. Anyway, its like everywhere I look Im getting screwed.
Wish I was there to offer my support, said Joe.
Yeah, yeah, sure, said Danny. So how are those ugly Irish broads?
Theyre doing great, said Joe. Want me to pass on your regards?
Sure, said Danny. Ill come over, wrap myself round one of those wide backs.
Hey, Shaun isnt doing too badly with his Irish girl.
Yeah, but Ive seen the pictures. Katies an exception. Let me tell you, if he ever gets tired of her...
Youre a sick man, Danny. A sick man.
True, said Danny. Anyway, I was wondering if youre coming back for your birthday.
What are you, a girl?
Its a big deal. When Im old like you Ill want you to make a big deal over me.
I dont know what Im doing for my birthday, Danielle, but maybe we could have a sleepover
You sound like me. A guy tries to do the right thing...
Look, I dont know what Im doing for my birthday. But Im in New York tonight.
What?
Giulio is getting married tomorrow. Dont ask. I dont know if Ill make it into the city. Im only there a couple a days.
Call me. Ill come to the airport, meet you for a drink or something.
Sure. He saw Anna walk in. Danny, I gotta go catch a flight. Here maybe you should talk to my lovely lady wife about any birthday plans.
Hmmm, French accent...
Jesus Christ. No-one is safe.
Anna smiled and took the phone from Joe.
Bonjouuur, she said. Joe could hear Danny whooping.
The taxi driver guided the red saloon along the winding tree-lined road. One hour ago, he had picked up his first fare of the morning at Shannon airport. He had been talking ever since.
Thats what we need over here Rudy Giuliani. The guy cleans up a whole place like New York and our politicians cant clean their own backsides. He looked in the rear-view mirror. He got no response. He kept talking.
I ended up in Harlem once, you know. Only white guy there, I swear to God. And Im from Cork and in Cork, we call everyone boy. We say Hows it goin, boy? or Whatre you havin, boy? Well, I tell you one night in Harlem straightened me out fairly quickly. My mate, this big black guy, tells me, Someone will pull a gun on you here if you call them boy. So I started calling everyone man instead. Hey, man, hows it goin, man? Now Im back here and Im saying man and they all think Im nuts. He turned back to his passenger. He drove on. Right, he said after two quiet minutes, here we are. Will this do? They usually seem to have a few good deals.
This is great, said Duke Rawlins.
Brandon Motors stood on a winding back road, sloping down a field by a red-brick bungalow. New and used cars lined the grass, fluorescent green and pink price tags wedged behind their windscreen. The Car of the Week was mounted on a slanted wooden platform edged with green and gold bunting. The dealer stood beside it, nodding to the car and then to Duke. Duke shook his head.