The Healing (13 page)

The rain had stopped now and Billy was singing a song about going to the zoo, making stupid animal noises and using his free arm to do impressions. Sometimes he nudged him in the ribs with his elbow as if encouraging him to join in. There was something bad between Billy and his father, but he did not know what it was or why it should be so. He remembered the old man saying that he had hoped Billy would be his helpmate but now it was not to be. He did not understand what the old man meant by a helpmate but he supposed it was something like the way he had helped his father on the farm. He listened to Billy making animal noises and wondered if anything bad would ever have come between him and his father, but he found it hard to imagine any future beyond that summer night, and as his thoughts began to circle round that moment, he too made animal noises inside his head and watched the world pass outside the car.

At first Belfast had seemed very big to him but he
saw now that it was a place with only a small number of faces which were repeated again and again. He didn't know where they were now, but gradually he became aware from the words and colours sprayed across walls that they had entered territory which was dangerous for them. He sank lower into the seat and suddenly he was aware that Billy had stopped singing. Despite the gloom he had pushed the sun visor down and then in the silence there was a distinct clicking noise as he locked the driver's door and told him to do the same. They had turned off a main road and were moving quite slowly through the tight network of backstreets, Billy driving now with both hands on the wheel and his eyes darting from house to house, scanning each passing face. It was as if he was looking for something or someone, but the car kept moving and when another car came towards them he turned his head away until it had passed. At some houses young children sat on doorsteps or chalked on the pavements and behind them open living-room doors revealed the foot of stairs and the flickering shadows of television sets. On one street corner a group of four men huddled in a little circle and some of them turned to scrutinize the approaching car, their eyes narrow with concentration. He heard Billy swear softly and then saw him suddenly raise a hand in an elaborate gesture of greeting. One of the group responded instinctively but they continued to stare at the car for a few seconds before returning to their conversation. As the car moved forward a little quicker Billy glanced repeatedly into his rear-view mirror until they turned into a new street and the men were left behind.

He hoped Billy would drive to safety but instead they
stopped on the edge of waste ground, the car's engine still running. Some boys were playing handball against a gable wall, while others were throwing stones at an old paint tin, their direct hits making it jump and jerk. A small girl rode by, close to the front of the car, the wheels of her bicycle a fluorescent pink. Billy was studying a row of houses, identical except for the colour of their front doors. Occasionally one of the doors opened and someone went in or out but there was little else to be seen. A dog sniffed round the edge of a rain-filled pothole and two boys wheeled a tyre almost as big as themselves to some unknown destination.

‘There's nothing to worry about, Samuel. We're going in a minute – I just have to check out a couple of wee things, that's all.'

He leaned forward and switched on the radio, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm to the music but occasionally his eyes still furtively checked the mirror.

‘Don't forget, now – we went to the zoo to see the animals. But we won't be telling lies either because there's more animals living here than there are in Bellevue, only these ones are breeding faster.'

Smiling at his own joke he gave a final glance towards the row of houses, put the car into gear and as they drove away the feeling of danger receded street by street. Billy wound his window down and propped his elbow on the ledge again, and now when he looked in the mirror it was only to study his reflection. Eventually the car took them back to parts of the city he recognized and he sat up straighter in his seat and watched Billy drive.

‘Some day, kid, we'll get you a set of wheels and I'll teach you to drive. Something that goes a bit faster than a tractor. Then you can drive me around.'

They passed narrow streets where the houses on opposite sides were linked by lines of bunting and the kerbstones were painted in the same colours. Billy turned the radio louder and bounced on the seat as if he was sitting on a horse. Once, as a joke, he took his hand off the wheel for a second and covered his eyes, but it wasn't frightening because he felt safe with Billy and he knew they were not going to crash.

‘Thirsty work, kid. Time for you and me to have a drink before I take you home.'

They parked in a side street outside what Billy called ‘the club' – a building without windows or a name, faced only with grey plaster. There was a small camera above the metal door and an intercom into which Billy spoke before a buzzer sounded and he pushed the door open. A doorman greeted Billy with a smile and a pat on the back and when they entered the crowded lounge he was surprised by how plush and comfortable everything looked, despite the smell of smoke and alcohol. There were fruit machines ranged along one wall and a couple of blue-baized pool tables. To the side of the bar was a wide television screen and above it pictures of the Queen and football teams. On a side wall hung some sort of memorial plaque with a Latin inscription. Everyone in the club seemed to know Billy and he joked with them and took playful sips out of their drinks. He watched Billy as he approached a table in a corner of the room where half a dozen men sat in some sort of discussion that seemed to separate them from the
people around them. He saw Billy point to him but could not hear what was said, and then he was called over to the table and introduced by Billy as his ‘mate'. Some of the men shook his hand. One of them had tattoos completely covering his arms and called him ‘big lad'. An orange juice and a packet of crisps arrived from the bar for him and he was given a seat at the table. The men were older than Billy and when he started to talk about where he had just been, one of them stopped him sharply, his speech studded with swear words. Billy reddened and said something about it being safe to talk in front of the boy but the man shook his head and stopped any further discussion. A waiter came and cleared the accumulated debris of bottles and glasses, examining them carefully to check that they were empty before he placed them quickly and neatly on his tray.

‘Jackie, give the kid a game of pool,' said the man who had sworn at Billy, ‘and get him another drink or something.'

The man who stood up was the one with the tattoos on his arms and as he led the way to the pool table he walked with a limp. They went to a table where two youths were playing and Jackie leaned across the table, lifted the cue ball and smiled at the two players. Without any words being exchanged, they placed their cues on the table and walked away. Another glass of orange arrived from the bar and they played two games of pool, but he knew that Jackie was missing shots deliberately and over-praising him when he managed to pocket a ball. Once when he fluked a shot, his opponent turned to him with wide eyes and mock amazement.

‘Big lad, you're a bit of a Hurricane Higgins. What's
in that orange juice you're drinking? I'll have to start drinking it and give up the beer.'

As the man bent down to play his shot Samuel could see part of a spider's web tattoo appear at the top of his chest while across one set of knuckles were the blue letters which spelt HATE and across the other, the word LOVE.

‘You're a bit of a hustler, kid. I'm not playing you for a fiver. Hey, boss, cat got your tongue?'

He looked around for Billy, but he was part now of the tightly knit group in the corner and the only sounds he could hear were the click of the pool balls and the clink of glasses. Their table sat like a little island and none of the tide of activity which filled the rest of the club seemed to flow round it.

‘You're just friggin' right, son. It's the best way nowadays. See no evil, speak no evil – that's the safest way to be. Look at me – my mouth's what got me this,' he said, pointing to his leg with the pool cue.

Then he put the cue under his arm like a crutch and hopped round the table doing an impersonation of Long John Silver. When he had finished his performance they started to play another game but Billy arrived and said it was time to go. The man with the tattoos pretended he was relieved.

‘Aye, take him home, Billy. The kid's a hustler, never gave me a look-in. Whipped the pants off me.'

He leaned once more on his pretend crutch and winked at Billy and as they left the club other people shouted goodbye and raised their glasses. The doorman got off his stool and opened the door for them, offering a tip
for a horse which he described as a ‘dead cert', but Billy just laughed and led the way back to where the car was parked.

‘Geordie wouldn't know a dead cert if it ran him over,' he said as he started the car's engine.

As he watched Billy smiling he smiled too, and in that shared moment he felt that some of Billy's strength had started to reach out and touch him. He leaned back in the passenger's seat and thought that if only he could carefully plant his steps in Billy's firm footprints he might be able one day to stand where he now stood. Like a game he used to play with his father on the beach – echoing his steps, with legs stretched wide and stiff like compasses to match his stride, leaving no trail of his own as he followed the predetermined path. With a tiny tremor of pride he remembered, too, the way the men had shaken his hand and he realized for the first time that through his father's death he had become someone important – someone people felt sorry for. As the car cruised the empty roads he wondered how long it would last, but as they got closer to home his calculations of self-pity were replaced by the sharp sting of shame.

He followed at a safe distance, sheltering in shop doorways when they stopped. The crowded city centre afforded him protection from discovery and he was able to stay close enough to the boy and his mother to catch every expression which crossed their faces. The very sight of the boy gave him pleasure, reassured his insecurities and confirmed his future course. He watched them as they studied a window display, oblivious to his presence. She was pointing out things to him and he was nodding his head in response, but he knew that for the boy the objects were meaningless things, the worthless debris which misguided people spent their lives accumulating, only to realize too late that they brought nothing but misery. He loved the boy more each day and gave constant thanks for the gift of his coming. He had waited a long time, longer than he could bear to remember, and there had been times when despair had almost destroyed his faith, but now the moment had almost come. He felt the full force of its inevitability as their two lives converged towards it and it filled him with expectancy.

He glanced around him, looked into the faces streaming past him and in every face he saw the signs of the sickness, but no longer did his spirit feel crushed by sorrow because he knew that soon each one of them could reach out and find healing if only they would look in faith. He never let himself think about what it would be like when the healing came because no matter how hard he tried it was beyond his imagination, the pictures he tried to create in his mind always blocked out by images of the present. But it was so very close now, closer than any of these people filling the city street would ever realize. The boy knew though. He could see the readiness in his face, read his anticipation in every movement of his body, and as he watched him he had to struggle to prevent himself from reaching out to him and gathering him in his arms. Separated from the boy he felt incomplete, vulnerable in his isolation and inadequacy.

He followed them into a large store, nervous when the flow of shoppers broke his eye contact, watching as the boy and his mother drifted apart, each pursuing their own interests. The boy was standing in front of banked rows of television sets and videos, most of the screens showing the same cartoons in a frenetic flicker of bright pinks and blues. Pop music was playing loudly in the background. The boy stood very still, his eyes seemingly locked to the wall of screens, his slight frame almost inconspicuous in the crowded store. Only his red hair stopped him from being lost in the hustling crowds. The electric glow of the television sets washed over his pale moon face, infusing it with a changing transfer of colour, only the red of his hair untouched and unaltered.

‘Hello, Mr Ellison, out doing a bit of shopping?'

As he spun round his arm knocked over some video tapes, clattering them to the floor. He watched as she knelt down to pick them up.

‘I hope I didn't startle you. The noise in these places is terrible. I don't know how the assistants can stick it all day.'

She was looking at him, waiting for some response, but he was still confused and could not think what to say. He helped her tidy the tapes back into their original position.

‘It's very warm too. I suppose it must be all the lights and equipment.'

‘It is very warm, Mrs Anderson.'

‘Shops have changed a lot since my day. You know, I hardly recognize the city centre. There's not many of the old stores left now, and everything seems to be geared to teenagers.'

He nodded his head vaguely as she spoke, unsure of what he was agreeing to.

‘Samuel's over there, watching something on television.'

She pointed in the boy's direction while he smiled at her and nodded again. He had to regain control of himself, give her no cause for suspicion. Soon enough she would understand, reap her own reward for the work her son was about to do.

He talked with her for a few minutes and then the conversation stumbled into silence. He could see that she was about to go, but suddenly she hesitated and turned to him again.