The Old Jest (16 page)

‘I hope I haven't wasted your afternoon?' she said.

‘I wouldn't say it has been wasted.' He smiled at her.

The driver got down from his platform and twitched at the rope that held the trolley in place. There were more sparks.

‘Isn't it amazing,' she said. ‘All those sparks that keep us rushing along. Wouldn't you like to drive a tram?'

‘No. I'd prefer a train. I'd find all those same old streets depressing, and the crowds, and stopping all the time to let people on and off. An express train. Tearing through the countryside frightening the cows.'

‘It shows how little you know about the country if you think that cows are frightened of trains. They don't mind them at all.'

‘Well just tearing through the countryside, then, blowing my whistle, leaving everything else behind.'

The tram, rested, began to sway forward again along the narrow street.

‘I don't suppose we'll ever meet again.' He spoke suddenly, his voice low.

‘You never know.'

He took off his cap and looked inside it for a moment, as if the words he wanted to say were written in there.

‘That's always one of the troubles with life. People get thrown about a lot. Here, there and everywhere. I'd like to meet you again.' He put the cap back on his head and looked at her. ‘I don't mean tomorrow. Not now, in a while, when …'

‘When what?'

‘When we know a little more. When …' He made a gesture with his hands.

‘Yes. I'd like to as well.'

‘Really?'

‘Really.'

He smiled.

‘Then it will happen, so it will. Remember that.'

He took his cap off again and with a sudden gesture threw it over the side of the tram. It fell to the ground and blew into the gutter, avoiding the wheels of a bicycle.

‘I hated it,' said Joe. ‘Absolutely hated it.' He took her hand and held it.

‘What'll your mother say?' She was laughing as she spoke.

‘She'll give me one all right with her fist and then she'll go out and buy me another. She thinks I'll die of cold or consumption or something if I go around with a bare head.'

‘She sounds a bit like Aunt Mary. You must be a real trial to her.'

‘Yeah, I expect so. She hates to think I might end up like my father. She's a good woman though.'

‘I'm sure she is.'

‘So when I come up to you one day and say hello, Nancy, you'll remember me, won't you?'

‘The boy, whatshisname, who threw his cap out of the tram. What is his name?'

‘Anything. Just remember me.'

‘Yes. I will.' She crossed her heart with her right forefinger. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.'

He looked surprised. ‘You say that too?'

‘Everyone says that,' she said with conviction.

‘I've often thought I'd like to go to college. Get a bit of education into myself. Learn a lot of long words so I could dazzle people in the years to come.'

‘You could just buy a dictionary.'

‘You know … Nancy.' He squeezed her fingers. ‘I'd like to write … that's what I'd really like to do … but I'm afrid of making a bloody eejit of myself.'

‘I'd like to write too … but I'm afraid I'll never find anything to write about.'

‘I've never met anyone else who wanted to write.'

‘No more have I. Potential writers are thin on the ground. Particularly where I come from.'

They looked at each other, amazed.

‘I have this sort of notebook where I write things down. A diary. Not exactly. I put things down so I won't forget. Forgetting is so easy.'

‘Will you put down about me?'

She blushed.

‘Well, it's a thought diary rather than a happenings diary. I'm getting a little fed up with it.'

‘Just make a note of my name. I'd like to think of it written there in your book.'

She smiled.

‘I remember when I was about ten I thought this boy was marvellous and I used to write his name on bits of paper, over and over again, and then tear them up and throw them in the fire. Did you ever do that sort of silly thing?'

‘What was his name?'

She thought for a moment.

‘Do you know, I honestly don't remember. I only met him once at tea with some friends.'

She burst out laughing.

‘Isn't that silly? And I really thought he was the most wonderful boy in the world. I thought about him for months. Had great dreams.'

‘You just make sure you write my name down and don't throw it in the fire.'

‘We're nearly there,' she said abruptly.

‘Yes.'

Neither of them spoke for a long time. He looked abstractedly at the passing houses and kept squeezing away at her fingers.

‘What does your mother think about you being … well … you know … mixed up …?'

He looked shocked.

‘God, I couldn't tell her a thing like that! She'd have a fit!' He grinned. ‘I'll tell her when it's over. When we've won. I've a brother in the army. He fought through the war. He's a sergeant now. He tried to persuade me to join up when he was home on leave a couple of months ago. He said I'd like the life. He's a decent enough skin.'

‘What did you say?'

‘I said nothing on earth would persuade me to take the King's shilling and my mother said better the King's shilling than nobody's shilling at all. That's Declan. My sister's called Madge and she works in Clery's. I'm the youngest. The bad one.'

‘Now I know.'

‘Yes. Now you know.'

The tram stopped and the conductor rattled on his bell to tell everyone to get off.

‘Dalkey,' he shouted. ‘Dalkey.' He jumped down and began to transfer the trolley arm from one end of the tram to the other.

Nancy and Joe were the only passengers left on top. They went down the stairs. The driver was standing on his platform reading a newspaper.

‘Do you know the way to the station?' Joe asked her, as they stepped down on to the road.

She nodded.

‘I'll go back on this tram, so … if you're all right.'

‘Of course I'm all right. It's been … I'm grand.'

He took hold of her arm just above the elbow. His fingers were able to stretch right round it. He pulled her very close to him.

‘Will you be seeing him?'

She nodded.

‘Well tell him … not today, don't go today …'

‘Tell him?'

‘That Broy says he must move on. He thinks it would be best.'

‘Br …'

He squeezed her arm to prevent her from saying the name.

‘Ow!'

‘Just say that to him.'

He let go of her and took a step towards the tram. He turned back and looked at her. She was rubbing her arm.

‘Did I hurt you?'

‘Not really.'

‘Nancy is a pretty name. I'll see you again Nancy. Mind yourself.'

‘And you.'

‘I will. I'll turn up again, remember.'

‘Like a bad penny.'

‘Yeah. What's my name?'

‘Joe Mulhare.'

‘Say it again.'

‘Joe Mulhare.'

‘I'll see you, Nancy.'

He stepped up on to the platform. They stood looking at each other; she wished she had something to give him. She lifted her hand to her forehead in a salute.

‘Au revoir.'

‘Nancy,' was all he said, and ran up the winding stairs.

Harry was on the train. Aware of the possibility, she had been on the lookout for him as the train slowly moved into the station. Wispy fingers of steam grasped at the descending passengers' feet as the doors banged open. She saw him sitting in the corner of a first-class carriage, his head bent slightly towards a folded copy of the
Irish Times
. His city hat was sitting neatly on his knee. She climbed quickly into the third-class carriage next door, relieved that she hadn't been seen. When they arrived, she waited until he had got down from his carriage, his hat now firmly planted on his head, and had walked some way down the platform, before she got out herself. She watched him begin to climb the steep steps of the metal bridge that crossed the line. His long legs climbed quickly from step to step. Mrs Bradley from the hotel puffed behind him with a wicker basket over her arm. The engine driver let loose a great ball of steam that rose and hid the centre of the bridge. Harry disappeared into the cloud. Doors slammed. The porter walked along the platform securing the handles. The guard blew his whistle. The green flag waved; with a jerk and the usual rattling the train moved forward. Nancy ran up the steps and over the bridge. It trembled under her feet. The carriages slid away, running smoothly now. The smoke drifted back into the station and up into the evening sky. Harry was waiting for her at the door out into the road.

‘Nancy.'

‘Oh, hello there.'

She swung the bag with the library books in it with bravado.

‘What on earth were you up to this afternoon?'

The sun was sideways and warm on their faces. A cool breeze blew from the sea. She watched the train gathering speed along the track curving towards the point. The sun glittered in the windows.

‘I wasn't up to anything.'

‘That chap you were with, who was he?'

Nancy didn't answer.

‘He looked a terrible little tyke.'

Nancy swung the bag.

‘Nancy?'

‘Oh, I just met him in the library. He was changing books for his mother. We just happened to be going in the same direction. That sort of thing happens, you know.'

‘He didn't look like someone whose mother would be getting books from the library. He didn't look as if his mother would be able to read. Where were you going on the tram?'

‘I like trams,' she said truthfully.

‘That's not an answer to my question.'

She didn't say anything. The train had almost reached the point. Mushrooms of smoke drifted back towards them.

‘It's really none of your business,' she said at last.

‘I think perhaps I should have a word with Mary.'

‘That's your business, I suppose. Interfering with my life. Why don't you do something with your own life instead of bothering with mine. Chuff chuff up to town in the morning, chuff chuff down in the evening, selling blooming stocks and shares or whatever it is you do in the middle. Where does all that get you?'

‘It's a damn good job. One of the better jobs. You don't realise how lucky I was to get into the firm. I mean to say, after the war there were hundreds of chaps like me looking for work. I didn't even have the advantage of a couple of years at the university. I went slap into the army straight from school. If my father hadn't known Peter Jordan, I might be looking for a job yet.'

‘I'm sure Mr Casey would find you something good in the property development line.'

‘You are a little bitch, Nancy.'

‘Oooooh!'

‘I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.'

‘Of course you did, and you're probably right.'

She bent down and took off her good shoes and dropped them in the bag with the books.

‘I can't bear them another second. They're agony.'

She pulled up her skirt and unfastened her stockings and peeled them off. His face was very angry. His eyes watched her movements to begin with and then shifted to the high green hedge on their right. She rolled the stockings together and put them in her pocket.

‘That's better.'

‘I want a decent life. That's all. A decent normal life. You haven't the faintest idea what life is about.'

‘Aspirations and things like that.'

‘All you seem to want is trouble. And if there isn't any trouble you'll make it. When you grow up, you'll see what I mean. You'll realise. You'll settle down.'

She sighed.

‘Anyway we've got off the point. Who was the little tyke?'

‘I've told you, he isn't a tyke …'

She turned and walked slowly away from him down the road. The ground was warm still, and gritty under her feet.

‘Why don't you take off that silly hat?'

He followed her, banging the
Irish Times
crossly against his right leg as he walked.

‘His mother is bedridden … temporarily … you understand. He had to fetch her …' She turned round to face him, her ingenuous blue eyes gazing straight into his face. She continued to walk, unfalteringly, backwards, ‘… books. You can't after all languish in bed with nothing to read. They live in Monkstown, just by the tower, overlooking the sea. He left her lying looking out of the window. Don't be too long, dear, she said, as he left the room. Come straight home. We went on the tram together. I went on to Dalkey and got the train from there. He paid my fare. Wasn't that nice of him? Yes, he got her
Hamlet
…'

‘
Hamlet?'

‘Oh, other things too. Emmm …
Great Expectations
…'

‘All right. All right. You'll fall down if you go on walking backwards like that.'

They had reached the gates. Nancy stopped.

‘She'd just had her appendix out.'

‘He didn't look the right sort. I hope …'

‘Oh no, we didn't arrange to meet again or anything like that. We just said goodbye.' She giggled. ‘I said thanks for paying my fare. Here we are.'

‘Yes.'

She moved towards him.

‘Is that all right, what I told you?'

‘I suppose so.'

She smiled at him. She longed to touch his face with the tips of her fingers and feel his warm smooth flesh, but she didn't dare. She smiled even harder at him. At last he smiled back.

‘You'll come up and have a drink? Aunt Mary'll be raging if you don't.'

‘You are so exasperating.'

She took his arm and they walked up the avenue in silence.