The New Policeman (8 page)

A light drizzle was falling as he walked up the street. He hoped it wouldn’t penetrate the fiddle case, because there was no question of getting back into the car. He wasn’t drunk, exactly, but even without any drink in him at all he wasn’t certain that he could be considered fit to drive. The car could stay where it was. He was off duty for the next two days and had no plans for going anywhere. And as for getting home, he didn’t need it for that, either.

TOMORROW MORNING

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17

It poured rain all morning. The goats stood in their shelter, looking gloomy and steadfastly refusing to go near the “haylage” they were offered.

“They can do without,” said Ciaran. “They’ll eat it if they get hungry enough.”

“They might,” said Helen. “And we might wind up having to buy more hay.”

J.J. fed the kids. They were getting big and rebellious now, standing on their hind legs to look over the bottom door of their shed and shoving J.J. around when he came in with their buckets of milk. It was high time to wean them and turn them out with the rest of the herd.

When he’d finished, J.J. took a shower and laid his books out on the kitchen table. There was a history
essay that should have been finished by the beginning of the summer holidays, more than three months ago now, and the teacher was getting apoplectic about it. He made a bit of progress between the comings and goings of the household, and Marian even sat for a while and helped him when she came in from her slumber party.

At midday his hurling coach rang. Marian was in the sitting room working on her script again and J.J. heard her pick up the extension, then put it down again. The coach told him that the match had been abandoned because of a waterlogged pitch. J.J. breathed a huge sigh of relief and returned to his books. A minute later the phone rang again.

“I’m not here,” said Helen, charging in with an armload of eggs. “I have to finish those cheeses off before they go blue on me.”

J.J. answered it. It was Jimmy.

“How’s it going, J.J.?” J.J. heard the background noise of the phone line alter as someone picked up the extension, but he was too flustered to notice whether they hung up or not.

“Good,” he said. “The match was rained off.”

“Sound,” said Jimmy. “You coming tonight, so?” J.J. was wrong footed. He had eventually gone to sleep without deciding what he was going to say. With
Helen standing at the sink behind him, washing the eggs, he couldn’t come out with a pack of lies. But if he said no, Jimmy might never speak to him again. He needed time but, as always, he didn’t have it.

“I suppose so,” was the best he could come up with. It didn’t sound convincing, but Jimmy heard what he wanted to hear.

“Good stuff,” he said. “You know what I was thinking? The bus doesn’t get back here until about two o’clock in the morning.”

“Oh,” said J.J. Maybe this was his way of getting off the hook? But Jimmy had a solution.

“You could stay at my place if you wanted to save dragging your parents out.”

J.J.’s heart sank. Jimmy was bending over backward to make up with him.

“Fair dues to you, Jimmy,” he said. “It’s a great idea.”

“See you, then,” said Jimmy. “Twenty past nine on the quay.”

J.J. put the phone down and stared at it.

“What’s a great idea?” said Helen.

“Nothing,” said J.J. He went into the sitting room, where Marian was lounging beside the fire, marking up her script with a red pen.

“Were you listening in on my phone call?”

“What phone call?”

“Were you?”

“Sod off, J.J. I’m busy.”

He went out, slamming the door behind him. What did it matter, anyway?

J.J. had to clear away the essay for lunch and before he had time to set it out again Phil and his girlfriend, Carol, arrived to help get the barn ready for the céilí.

J.J. went out with them, and Helen and Ciaran joined them a few minutes later. Carol worked in a pub in Ballyvaughan and got all the soft drinks and crisps at wholesale prices. There was no charge to get into the céilí, on an old point of Liddy principle, but the dance classes on the other Saturdays made more than was needed to cover the cost of drinks and snacks.

The rain had stopped and the sky was clear again. It wasn’t cold, but Ciaran lit the stove anyway. The barn was an old building, and even in the best of weather it always needed a bit of help to dry out.

“Have you met our new policeman?” said Phil.

“No,” said Helen.

“I didn’t know we had one,” said J.J.

“Some character,” said Phil.

“Haven’t you seen him?” said Carol to Helen. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Is he?” said Phil gloomily. “I was afraid he might be.”

“He certainly is,” said Carol. “He should be in the movies, that one.”

“Some fiddle player, too,” said Phil.

“He plays the fiddle?” said Helen.

“That’s all we need in Kinvara,” said Ciaran. “Another fiddle player. You can’t spit round here without hitting one.”

“Ah, you should hear him, though,” said Phil. “He was in Green’s last night. Beautiful, beautiful music.”

“In Green’s? A guard?”

“And he dances,” said Carol. She was a dancer herself, and a good one; one of the regulars at the Liddy céilís. “You should see him, Helen. Light as a feather.”

“You’re having us on,” said Ciaran.

“No, I swear it,” said Phil. “It’s true. He busted us on Thursday and played with us all night on Friday.”

Helen laughed. “Sounds like my kind of guard. Better get him up here.”

“I never thought of that,” said Phil. “I should have asked him. I wonder, would he come?”

“Do you know where he lives?” said J.J.

“No,” said Phil. “I could ask around, though. Someone’s sure to know.”

They went off; two people with a mission. Ciaran went back to his study, Helen to the cheese room, and J.J. took out his books again.

But he couldn’t work. He had to think of something to say to Jimmy. He couldn’t just stand him up.

An idea came to him. It was so simple that he couldn’t understand why it had taken so long to arrive. It would involve doing one of those jobs that were on the long finger, but if he left the history essay until tomorrow…

LAST NIGHT’S FUN

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PART TWO

1

An hour later his puncture was fixed and he was just swinging up onto the saddle of his bike when he was spotted by Helen.

“J.J.!”

For a moment he pretended that he hadn’t heard, but he couldn’t hold out. He swung the bike round and skidded to a halt in front of her.

“Where you going?” she asked him.

“Just nipping down to see Jimmy.”

“What about?”

“Nothing in particular.”

Helen looked at her watch and J.J., in a reflex action, looked at his own. It was a fancy new one that he’d gotten for his birthday, with five different time zones and a calculator. It said four thirty.

“You’ll be back for dinner?”

“’Course I will. There’s loads of time.” J.J. began to move off again, but Helen called him back.

“Why don’t you do me a favor and drop that cheese in to Anne Korff on your way?”

It wasn’t on his way at all. Anne Korff lived in Doorus, about four miles southwest of the village. J.J. was about to point this out to Helen when he remembered her birthday wish. If it saved her time, he would do it. And the extra time on the road would give him a better chance to work out exactly what he was going to say to Jimmy.

But, oddly enough, he hadn’t even gotten as far as the end of the drive before he knew. He would tell Jimmy the truth. With a bit of luck they would be able to get away from the thirty-two-inch television in Jimmy’s sitting room and find somewhere quiet to talk. Then J.J. would level with him. Man-to-man stuff. “Look, Jimmy. It’s like this. I want to go clubbing, I really do. But I want to play music more. It’s in my blood. I was born to play, you know…?”

If there was time he might go on to tell Jimmy why; let him in on some of the Liddy history. Not all of it, maybe. Not the bit about Helen’s father and the
fiddle. The rest, though. Then it would be up to Jimmy. If he really valued the friendship, he would understand. If he didn’t, there wasn’t much J.J. could do about it.

A new bank of dark clouds was rolling in from the west, but it was still dry. The bike was fast. It had had a puncture since the spring and now, flying along the autumn-colored lanes, J.J. found it hard to believe that he’d been without it for the whole summer for the sake of an hour’s work or less. Perhaps that was part of the trick of dealing with this time deficit? Get the priorities right. If he’d had the bike during the summer he could have saved time for himself and for his parents. Maybe Helen’s birthday present wouldn’t turn out to be such a tall order after all. Ciaran had always taught him that anything was possible if you just managed to think about it in the right way.

He crossed the main road at the top end of the village and hurtled down through Croshua toward Doorus and the sea. The bike was a delight. Oxygen was pulsing through J.J.’s brain. He felt great.

Anne Korff was in her vegetable garden at the back of the house. She heard Lottie barking and came round to the front, cradling a bunch of carrots, two parsnips, and a dozen potatoes in her arms. J.J. offered her the cheese.

“You came down with it?” she said. “Ah, J.J., that was good of you. You shouldn’t have.”

“No problem.” J.J. could see that Anne had no room in her hands to take the cheese. He opened the door for her, and she preceded him into the house.

“Would you believe that this is supposed to be my lunch?” she said. “Time these days. It just goes by like crazy.”

She dumped the vegetables in the sink and rinsed her hands under the tap. J.J. put the cheese on top of her fridge.

“Be seeing you,” he said, making for the door.

But Anne called him back. “Wait now. While you’re here I have something to give you.”

“No, no,” said J.J. “There’s no need.”

“Not for bringing the cheese,” said Anne. “I was thinking of you when I found it.” She dried her hands on her jeans. “Now. Where is it?”

She began to rummage through the drawers and cupboards. J.J. fidgeted beside the door.

“What are you up to these days anyway?” she said.

“Oh, same old same old,” said J.J. “School, hurling, music.”

“A boy of many talents,” said Anne. “Where the hell is that CD? I saw it a few days ago. Some
where…” She moved to a different cupboard on the other side of the room. “Such a lot of junk. I need to sort myself out. There just isn’t any time…”

“No,” said J.J. “Any idea where I can buy some?”

Anne laughed. “I wish I knew. People use that expression so easily, don’t you think? Buying time. It can’t be done.”

“Ah, it can, though,” said J.J.

“Yes?” said Anne. “You know how?”

“Not yet. But I will.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. That’s what my mum wants for her birthday, and I plan to get it for her. Where there’s a will there’s a way.”

Anne stopped rummaging and looked at J.J. Her face was thoughtful. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely. One hundred percent. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

“No, it’s just…” Anne stopped herself. “Ach! It’s too crazy.”

“What’s too crazy?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking that sometimes a person with so much determination can find a way to solve a problem that no one else can solve.”

“What do you mean?” said J.J.

Anne began poking in the cupboard again, but J.J. could tell that her attention wasn’t where her fingers were. “You’ve got an idea, haven’t you?” he said. “I wish you’d tell me.”

She sighed and closed the door of the cupboard. She gave him that thoughtful look again, as if she were appraising him.

“I have run out of ideas,” she said. “That’s the problem. I know where the time is going, but I don’t know how to stop it. The situation is very serious, J.J. Much more serious than anyone realizes.”