Creature of the Night (3 page)

But I wasn't prepared for what was out there with me. I
stepped right into that wind that had been bashing
around the house and it took my breath away and nearly
knocked me off my feet. It was like my own rage, moved
out from me into the world and destroying everything it
came up against. It was like running into Mick when you
weren't expecting it.

Everything that could move was moving. The trees,
the bushes, the gutters, the phone and electric wires. You
didn't get storms like that in Dublin. The wind was
always broken up by the buildings and you only got hit
by the little sharp bits that were left.

I ran for the hayshed, but it was groaning and
shuddering like it was dying and I didn't trust it to stay
standing. I ducked into one of the little sheds. The wind
came in after me, banging off the walls and blowing into
my face, but I managed to get a fag lit in the corner and
just then that was the most important thing. I sucked at
the smoke and felt the nicotine rush like an anaesthetic
to my brain. Two more drags and the red fury dropped
away. Two more and I could think again.

I was surprised that I didn't run straight for the
Skoda and I was glad I didn't. My ma would have heard
me go and called the cops, and I wouldn't have got
twenty minutes down the road before they caught me. I
needed to keep a clear head. You were useless for any
kind of job if you lost the run of yourself. Me and my
mates were good like that. We got off our heads after
we'd had our kicks, never before.

I smoked the fag down to the filter and stubbed
it out against the wall, then I stepped back out into
the storm. Now that I was calmer I felt different
about it. I began to smell things. Wet earth, battered
leaves and grass, something else, like rotting wood,
and every now and then a whiff of smoke from our
chimney.

And then I realized it was something outside of me
with a life of its own. This thing that was happening was
nothing to do with me. It didn't even know I was alive.

Out there in the darkness was a huge wild world that
didn't care about cars and handbags and mobile phones.

It was the first time in my life I'd seen it, but the weirdest
thing was I had this feeling that I'd always known
it was there, and that I'd been looking for it all my
life. Working the streets, driving cars too fast, all
those things were somehow about trying to find this
wild darkness that was crashing through the world all
around me.

For a few minutes I forgot all about myself and my
troubles. I was afraid but excited, pulled right out of my
own life by this bigger, stronger one. Then, suddenly, the
excitement went out of it and I was just lost and alone,
and I didn't even really know who or where I was. So
when my ma's voice came through, roaring my name in
the darkness, I didn't pretend I hadn't heard her. I
fingered the key in my pocket and went back into the
house.

I lay awake, listening to the storm and waiting till I was
sure my ma and Dennis were asleep. I was still in my
jeans and jumper, ready to step into my shoes and jacket
and go.

I wished I had more money. I thought twenty euro
would get the Skoda to Dublin, as long as it had enough
petrol in it to get me to the nearest all-night garage. But
what if twenty wasn't enough? I didn't really know what
petrol cost. I'd never bought any. When we drove a car
and it ran out we just burned it where it was.

I thought about all the money I'd robbed over the
years. Most days we just got enough to get out of our
heads, but once in a while we got lucky. I remembered a
wallet bulging with fifties, and everyone's eyes out on
stalks looking at them. And a woman's bag one time
with a fat envelope inside with DEPOSIT written on it.
That was when I bought my first Xbox and the flash
trainers and the DVD player for the flat. My ma knew
something was up and didn't let me out for weeks after
it. It felt like weeks, anyway.

I could do with some of that now. If I had another
fifty, even another twenty, I'd feel a lot happier. I thought
about my ma's purse but I'd tried that once too often and
now she always slept with it under her pillow.

Something was grinding against the wall above the
window. A gutter or something, rubbing in its clamp. No
fear of going to sleep with that racket. I was tired
though, and I knew I had to stay sharp if I wanted my
plan to work.

I listened to the house. There was no sound from
my ma's room but I didn't think she was asleep yet. Not
properly, anyway. Over the years I got an instinct about
that. This wasn't the first time I'd sneaked out in the
night. I'd had plenty of practice. Most times I was back
in bed and asleep before daylight and she never knew I'd
been gone.

Downstairs the dog barked, just once. It was a
funny bark with a little yawny growl at the end, more
like a welcome than a warning. Then I heard the bed
springs creak next door and my ma, in a sleepy voice:
'Where you going?'

'Toilet,' Dennis said. 'Jimjam bunny woke me up.'

'Good boy,' my ma said. 'Good Jimjam bunny.'

I swore under my breath and turned over and
pushed my face in the pillow. The landing light was
always on because my ma was afraid of the dark, and I
heard Dennis treading carefully down the squeaky stairs
and then the click of the kitchen light switch. Then
nothing. I was waiting for the sound of the bathroom
door but instead Dennis said something, too quietly for
me to hear, and then he was running back up the stairs.

'Mammy!' he said. 'I seen a little woman! Come
and see!'

'What little woman?' She was mumbling, all
drowsy, the way she always did when she'd taken a
sleeping pill. I wished he'd shut up before he got her
wide awake again.

'She was looking through the doggy door,' Dennis
said. 'I seen her little face.'

'Did you?' my ma said. 'Was she a fairy?'

'She was little,' Dennis said. 'Little like me. But old.
Older than you.'

Those words gave me a cold shock. I could see
Dennis imagining fairies. But old ones?

'Come and see!' he was saying.

'Tomorrow,' my ma said. 'She's gone now. We'll
look tomorrow.'

Dennis knew better than to argue, and I heard him
climbing back into bed.

I sighed and began waiting all over again. The wind
attacked the roof slates, sending clattery waves from one
side of the house to the other. The grinding thing kept on
grinding. Then my ma said: 'Dennis?'

'What?'

'Did you go to the toilet?'

Dennis said, 'Oh,' then it started again, the little
footsteps outside my door, the squeaky stairs . . .

And then, I don't know how it happened, it was
suddenly broad daylight.

I couldn't believe I'd let myself go to sleep. Once
before I'd done it and I missed a good night out with the
lads, but this was worse. What if PJ moved the car today?
What if I'd blown my chance to get away in the Skoda?

I jumped up, as if I could grab the night before it got
too far away and get back inside it. I sat on the edge of
the bed, trying to rewind time and have another go at
getting it right, but in the end I had to live with it. I'd
screwed up.

Dennis was always up early. Usually he got himself
some milk and biscuits and watched DVDs until my ma
got up. She didn't get up before eleven and then she was
always cranky. In Dublin I used to get out of the house
before she got up. Some days I went to school. Some
days I didn't. It depended on my mood and the weather,
and what the others were doing.

But that day my ma was already up, and she was
delighted with herself.

'We've had our breakfast,' she said. 'Will I put you
on a rasher?'

I looked at the clock. It was half nine. On a Sunday.

'If you want,' I said.

She put on the kettle and opened the fridge. I
stepped outside to see if my car was still there.

It was. The storm had passed over and the sky was
cloudy but bright, like the sun wasn't far away. I looked
around at the countryside, remembering how the wind
had excited me last night, how it had made me forget
myself for a while. But there was nothing interesting in
it now. It wasn't even proper green, when you looked at
it. It was kind of jaded, like every blade of grass had
brown edges.

'We're going to mass,' my ma said when I went
back in. 'I phoned PJ. It starts at eleven.'

'Mass?' I said. 'Since when did you go to mass?'

'I used always go,' she said. 'When you were small.
And now we're starting a new life so we ought to go.'

'Well I'm not starting a new life,' I said. 'And I'm
not going to mass.'

'Come on, Bobby,' she said. 'It's a good way to meet
the neighbours.'

'We've met the neighbours,' I said, 'and they're all
head-bangers.'

'They are not,' my ma said. 'And anyway, there are
loads of other people in the village. You'll get to meet
people your own age.'

'I won't,' I said. 'I'm not going.'

'Well you are,' she said. 'And that's that.'

'Just try and make me,' I said. I was already thinking
about what I would do when she was gone. I was
thinking it might be another chance to escape.

'Please, Bobby,' she said. 'Just for me?'

I put a tea bag in a cup and poured water on it from
the kettle. She wouldn't be gone long enough. Two hours
max. It would take me four to get to Dublin. More if the
traffic was heavy.

Dennis came and stood beside me.

'I seen a little woman,' he said. 'Just there.' He
pointed to the dog flap. 'Peeping in, she was.'

'You're a head-banger too,' I said to him.

My ma fired the packet of rashers at me. It hit me
in the neck.

'You can do your own fecking breakfast,' she said.

She went into the hot press that opened off the
bathroom and dragged out an ironing board, and set it
up in the middle of the kitchen, so I had to reach over
it to put the rashers on the pan. She plugged in the iron
and went upstairs, and came down again with one of my
school shirts and a little grey suit.

I remembered the suit, and I remembered the time
when I used to wear it. Like my ma said, she used to go
to mass a lot, and I used to go with her. She would dress
me in that suit and call me her smart little man. It was
after we moved out from her ma's place and set up on
our own. There was one time we used to go to mass
nearly every day. Then I started school and after that I
only went on Sundays.

When I grew out of that suit I got a blue one with
pinstripes. How long ago was that, then? I remember we
kept going for a while after Dennis was born, because I
remember him crying in church when he was a tiny
babby and my ma trying to shut him up. I don't
remember his da ever coming with us, though. He used
to stay at home in bed. And then he left, and after that
my ma didn't go to mass any more.

I wonder if that was why she stopped going,
because Paul left her. I never thought about it at the time.
But I know that my ma changed after that, and she
started using the sleeping pills and staying in bed half the
day, and being cranky all the time, instead of just some
of the time.

Maybe she was one of those people who needed a
regular dose of religion. Maybe she really could start
a new life down here, and start being happy again.

The grey suit smelled musty when she ironed it. I
reached across her for one of Mrs Dooley's eggs. Why
should I care, anyway, whether my ma was happy there
or not? I wasn't going to be there to see it.

Half an hour later we had another fight. My ma said she
wasn't going if I didn't go with her, and I said I couldn't
care less and she marched upstairs and put the grey suit
in the wardrobe and sat in the sitting room with her
arms crossed. After about five minutes of that she got
out of the armchair and called me all the names under
the sun, and then she phoned Maura, and I went out for
a fag.

When I came back in she had Dennis kitted out in
the suit and she was scrubbing his hands and face with a
dishrag. I remembered that, too, from when I was small.
It hurt. But Dennis was too smart to complain, and too
scared. My ma was in a foul temper. She always was
when she couldn't make me do what she wanted.

When she went out the door she said to me, 'You'll
go to hell.'

She said it like she wished it would happen. I
watched her walk down the road, dragging Dennis by
the arm. She hadn't gone more than a hundred metres
before a car pulled up and offered her a lift. There was
a couple in it, and two kids in the back. They weren't
the Dooleys. I don't know who they were. Maybe everyone
was like that around here. Like PJ with the rent.
Trusting.

Too bad I wasn't staying.

As soon as the car had disappeared round the bend I
started working on my new plan. I couldn't leave for
Dublin while my ma was at mass, but I could still make
good use of the time.

I unlocked the Skoda, got in, put the key in the
ignition and said a little prayer. I don't know who or
what I said it to, but it worked. The starter motor
groaned then gave a big heave. There wasn't much life in
it but there was just enough, and the engine started. I
turned it straight off.

'You little beauty!' I said, patting the dash. Before I
took out the key I checked the petrol gauge. It was
nearly half full. More good luck.

I got out and looked around. There wasn't a soul to
be seen except for myself. For a moment I almost
panicked. I'd never been on my own like that before. I'd
never been anywhere when there wasn't any people. But
the nerves went away and suddenly it felt great. No one
was around so no one could see me.

I unlocked the boot and found the spare wheel under
the floor covering. There was a jack and a bag of tools
parked inside the wheel hub but I had no idea how to use
them. I'd never really used any kind of tools before. I knew
how to break things, but not how to fix them.

I dragged everything out and closed the boot, then
looked around again. Cows grazed and swished their
tails. Bees buzzed. I wondered what everyone did here
when they weren't going to mass. They must all be bored
out of their brains. I could hear a car in the distance and
I went round the side of the house and waited till it
passed along the road and out of sight. Four more times
during the wheel change I had to do that, but apart from
that I wasn't disturbed at all.

I made things difficult for myself, I know that now.
But I knew no better, not then. When I finally figured out
how the jack worked I put it in the wrong place and the
car fell off it twice. When I got it in the right place it
worked like a dream and the wheel rose up off the
ground like it was floating. I thought I had it made then,
but with the wheel in the air and turning freely it was
next to impossible to loosen the wheel nuts.

But I didn't rage and swear like I usually did when
things went wrong. Instead I just got interested. People
changed wheels all the time. I'd even heard of women
doing it. So I looked at the wheel and thought about it
and eventually I found a solution. It wasn't the right one,
but it worked. I brought a breeze block from out by the
sheds and chocked the wheel with it. Once it was
stopped from turning I was able to get the nuts moving
and they came off easily. One, two, three, four, five. I
weighted them like treasure in my hand. I loved the feel
of them, heavier than they looked. And the way they
were shaped, tapering to nose their way through the hub
and screw up snug and tight. I sat on the ground and
looked at them for a while, and then I realized that anyone
coming along the road could see the Skoda up on its
jack, so I dragged over a couple of potted bushes to hide
the wheel from the road.

I pulled off the flat and put the nuts inside the rim
so I wouldn't lose them. I looked at the greasy plate
underneath it with the bolts sticking out, and then I
looked further in, at the rods and cables feeding in from
the innards of the car. It was amazing.

I remembered the first time I drove a car. We'd
nicked one in Drumcondra, a flash new Audi, and
Beetle was driving. He was heading for the ring road to
give it a proper burn, but Fluke told him to stop and
let me have a go.

'Birthday present,' he said.

I was twelve years old and thrilled that my cousin
had remembered.

Beetle moved over and I got behind the wheel. I was
all for roaring off with squealing tyres like Mick always
did, but I kept stalling it and the other three were falling
around the place laughing. In the end I just chugged
quietly through the back streets until a taxi driver passed
us and looked at us a bit too long and hard, and then
Fluke took over and we flew out of the place, burning
rubber.

But after that I got loads of driving, and I got good
at it. As good as any of the others. One time we got
reported and the garda helicopter tracked us down. It
was brilliant. It chased us along the main road, then I
nipped down a side street and turned off the headlights
and weaved through the rat runs until we shook it
off, and then we ditched the car and ran.

Even Fluke was impressed by that. He said I'd
passed my test at last. But in all those mad night-time
drives I never once stopped to think about the nuts and
bolts. A car was like an Xbox inside out. You pressed
pedals and buttons and turned the wheel and that was it.
It went.

I lay down under the Skoda but there wasn't much
to see. More dirty wires and bars going into the front
wheels. The mud-spattered floor. I got out and slid the
spare wheel on to its bolts, put the nuts back, tightened
them up, pushed on the hub cap. Everything fitted like it
was supposed to. The jack let the car down gently.

It was ready to go. I stood back and admired it. I
had four tyres with air in them, and I done it all myself.