Ken Bruen - Her Last Call to Louis MacNeice

‘Osteoporosis.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Brittle bone disease, ain’t it a bitch. Usually connected to the menopause but I had to get it early. I’ll be literally cracking up – they’ll hear me coming, and going.’

I didn’t know what to make of this. More lies? So I asked, ‘Can I get you something?’

‘Say what?’

‘Tea – a drink.’

‘Coffee’d be good. I had a little girl, back when I lived in New York City. Her name was Ariana. I loved her more than I thought I could bear. She filled me with joy and wonder and pain and oh God, with yearning. I had to leave her alone for a few hours one evening – it’s a long story why – when I got back, she was gone. I’ve never seen her since – that’s partly why I’m such a goddamn mess.’

I agreed about her being a bloody mess but felt maybe it wasn’t the time to mention it. Coffee, yeah, I was glad of the diversion. Made it hot and ball-bustin’ strong. Elephant blend, as a mate said. At first I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Reckoned the Yeltsin had finally kicked in but no – she was singing! In a low clear voice of nigh absolute purity. I dunno about beauty, fuck knows, where would I have learnt, I was raised with pigeons. But, I’d bet this was close. I didn’t know then but it was a song by Tricia Yearwood called ‘O Mexico’. It had a ring of loneliness, of longing that hit like a gut-shot. I felt as close to weeping as a hard-ass like me’s ever gonna come.

Then she stopped and the silence scalded my heart, muttered, ‘Get a friggin’ grip.’

I was wrung as tight as tension, not worth tuppence. If the filth had come callin’, I’d have put up my hand, shouted – ‘fair cop guv’. Carried out the coffee, no bizzies, Noble had scoffed the lot. She’d been crying, I wish I didn’t know that and she said, ‘Are you familiar with Thomas Merton?’

‘Not unless he’s a bookie.’

She quoted:

‘We must be true inside

true to ourselves

before we can know

a truth

that is outside us.’

I poured the coffee, asked, ‘How d’ya take it.’

‘Cream and sugar -

“But we make

ourselves true by

manifesting the truth

as we see it.”’

I handed her a mug, wondering if she’d finished. She had.

I took a sip, real good – fuck, I make great coffee.

‘So Cassie, where’s my gun… eh?’

‘I tossed it.’

‘You wot.’

‘I was scared – scared I’d eat the metal so, I walked over Waterloo Bridge and sank the sucker. Is that the one Ray Davies wrote about – I saw the Kinks once.’

‘And my money, I suppose you, dumped that too.’

‘Don’t be a horse’s ass, I spent it, you’ve mucho dinero.’

‘But not so mucho patience lady and your meter’s running high. Lemme see if I can get this across. You stole from me, broke in to my gaff, took a shot at me and generally ran fuckin’ liberties. Am I getting through to you Cassie. Our firm has been moving rag-ass trying to find you.’

‘I’ve been naughty!’

‘Naughty?’

‘I need spanking.’

‘Whoa – hold the phones lady.’

She was up, took my hand and put it on her breast, said, ‘Hold this.’

I pushed her away and her voice dropped to a whisper.

‘You don’t want me?’

‘Look Cassie, you’re a hot lady but this isn’t a real good time – OK.’

‘It’s because I lost my little girl, isn’t it. You’re punishing me.’

I stood up, ‘For heaven’s sake, I’m real sorry about that. I’m trying to be fair, I’m not going to hassle you about all the other crazy shit. Just leave now and we’ll let it be.’

‘I think I see her, you know, on the street and I chase after her – or on a bus – or…’

‘Jesus.’

‘But I have a good report that she’s in Agadir.’

‘Where?’

‘Morocco. Her father was from Kif.’

‘I thought that was Keith Richards’ nickname.’

‘It’s a village in the Blue Atlas Mountains, they specialize in hash. I know he now lives in Agadir, a P.I. says he’s ninety percent sure.’

‘A private investigator?’

‘Yes, I’ve had dozens of them. Will you come – will you come and help me get her back.’

‘I don’t believe this. You can’t just go down there on a vague report – can’t you get Interpol to check.’

Her voice rose, ‘Those pricks – do me a goddamn favour. But you’re different, you’d get her.’

‘I’m sorry, look it’s late…’

‘We could drive on down there, to Algeciras, I’d read MacNeice to you, I…’

‘Stop it! Just stop it all to hell. You need help, but not any kind I can provide.’

Now she dropped her arms, seemed to shrink.

I took her arm, moved her to the door, opened it and had to push her out. She stood outside, like little Orphan Annie, said, ‘You’ll come to Agadir, you just don’t know it yet but, I promise you that – on my little girl’s head.’

I closed the door, said, ‘Dream on lady.’

She stood outside the door and I could hear her say, ‘David – David, did you ever hear what Kafka said,

“No people sing with such

pure voices

as those who live in

deepest hell.”’

‘Indigent! I don’t friggin’ believe it. You’ve got to be bloody joking – c’mon!’ – Yelling at the very height of my lungs.

Doc took it all, well, almost, and replied, ‘Would I joke about that. It’s the term they use and a right vicious one.’

I couldn’t take it in – how could he be skint -

‘How can you be skint?’

‘Don’t get righteous with me Davy boy. The bloody house is mortgaged to the gills, those school fees – like murder – and the blackjack. It’s been a long run of shitty luck, I’m going to have to pack it in.’

‘Blackjack! You’ve been gambling – you’ve been wot? Why didn’t I know?’

He stood up, his boots gleaming in the light, ‘Why should you know. My bloody Missis didn’t know. Since when do I account to you fella?’

I was close to losing it, had to pull back. I could see a roof in Battersea, see my father’s eyes.

‘OK… OK Doc. Might I ask how you propose paying for the Taj Mahal or whatever bloody monument you’re building to Laura. Won’t Father what’s his bloody face be a tad surprised to hear you’re – indigent – or does he play blackjack too?’

‘Watch yer lip boy.’

‘Or wot Doc?’

He made the effort also to rein in. We’d never – ever – hit this place before.

‘Father Cleary doesn’t know, alright. Treesmead will pay for his project and get me out of the hole – it has to.’

He paused, then, ‘I went to see Meryl Streep in her action pic, River Wild and jeez, she was louder than the friggin’ rapids, so my head was opening. Could you then stop shouting at me now – OK.’

I didn’t even know I had been, said, ‘I wasn’t shouting – you went to the cinema without Laura.’

‘Would have been hard to bloody bring her.’

I went to make coffee, brewed up a storm, heard Doc say, ‘Tea for me, two sugars.’

Mutterin’ ‘Now he tells me’ I half mangled a tea bag into a cup, sloshed water on it, tepid water. Put the sugar in before extracting the bag and, worst crime of all, didn’t heat the cup. All petulant I grant you but it was that or reach for the new 12″, give it an early outing. Piled the lot on a tray that had Charles and Di’s wedding portrait. As he sipped the tea, he gave a grimace, asked, ‘Did you heat the cup?’

‘Always.’

‘Not yer best mate – no, not at all.’

‘Doc, why don’t I do this – I’ll move some of the repo money to help you out.’

He gave a sheepish grin, ‘Em… might be a slight problem.’