Ken Bruen - Her Last Call to Louis MacNeice

He sat down, took out a hankie, with his team colours, mopped his face, said, ‘Oh you meant it alright. But sometimes I’m afraid if I stop, I’ll never get motoring again, I keep bein’ afraid I’ll miss something. Anyway, fire away.’

I gave him a rundown on the day, covered near all. He looked into my face, asked, ‘Did you give her one?’

‘What?’

‘Did you ride her?’

‘Good Lord, why don’t you just come right out and ask me… why beat about the bush?’

‘Sounds like you beat around the old bush. So… did you do the business, give her a rub of the relic.’

‘Em… in a manner of speaking.’

He gave a huge laugh, threw back his head and went with it. Ever see or hear Dyan Cannon laugh? Yeah… the whole shebang, light on a dark street, like that.

‘Aw Jaysus Coop, you’ll kill me. The English are a race apart, what d’ya do, talk dirty to her.’

‘OK… OK… so… we had intercourse.’

‘Intercourse, what…? By the Lord Harry did ye study first… what goes where… after you dear… no, no… I insist… put it where you desire. No wonder ye like Carry On pictures.’

‘You’re a big help Doc.’

‘And lifted the pistol did she, the heathen bitch… bit careless were you?’

‘Hey, she slipped me a Mickey Finn.’

‘And you slipped her… OK… sorry.’

‘Have you heard of MacNeice then?’

Doc had done the English piss-take in a haughty law-di-daw. Now he switched to what I’d heard him call his West-Brit accent.

‘I come from an island, Ireland, a nation built upon violence and morose vendettas. My diehard countrymen like drayhorses, drag their ruin behind them, shooting straight in the cause of crooked thinking. Their greed is sugared with pretence of public spirit, from all of which I am an exile.’

I didn’t know was this Doc or MacNeice till he said, ‘He was like me, said,

“In short we must keep moving

to keep pace

or else drop into limbo

the dead place.”’

I threw up my hands.

‘What the fuck is this, everyone’s doing recitations, did I miss something. Who is this fuck.’

‘Take it easy Coop, I also do Yeats… how about a nice bit of Browning?’

‘Fuck off.’

‘’Course you crowd adore Rupert Brooke, all that romantic dying and heroism with a hint of buggery:

“And some corner of a foreign field

shall be forever England”

Yeah, well he got his wish, they bloody buried him in it. Let’s get a drink, I’m parched.’

Back to the bar and ordered double Scotches. Got on the other side of them, I said, ‘What should I do?’

‘Get shot of her.’

‘That’s it… for this I sat through poetry at eleven.’

‘Look Coop, we’re due to take that bank… wot… two weeks… we can’t afford complications, that woman isn’t a loose cannon, she’s a walking time bomb.’

‘Maybe we should postpone.’

He put down his drink, laid a big hand on my shoulder, said, ‘No can do old son, I need the cash.’

‘What else is new.’

‘Straight up… and you need to get that pistol back. Jaysus, all we need is for her to put a bullet in Bert.’

‘Bertr?’

‘Yeah, the fast food guy, if she’s as nutty as she sounds, she’ll go back. It’s what psychos do.’

Lisa, a barmaid, was collecting glasses. A friendly slip of a girl, I was always glad to see her. As she leant over, her breasts brushed my arm and she let the touch linger, her eyes locked on mine. Her perfume had a familiar scent… I asked, ‘What’s the fragrance?’

‘Poison.’

‘I don’t doubt it but what’s it called?’

‘That’s the name.’

It was what Cassie wore. Doc said, ‘She fancies you, that Lisa does.’

‘Leave it out.’

‘C’mon, get the cork outa yer ass. Bring her home, have a nice uncomplicated lass for once.’

‘Jeez, I haven’t the energy.’

‘Here, take this… it’s amyl nitrate, crunch that baby under yer nose, you’ll go like the clappers.’

‘The fuck’s going on. All day people feeding me poetry and dope or is that the other way round, dopes feeding me…’

‘Poetry, dope and rock ’n’ roll, like an Ian Dury song. Go on… go for it. Aren’t I yer doctor.’

‘You know I hate drugs.’

The sun through the bedroom window nudged me awake. I yawned, stretched, feeling good. Lisa woke and gave me a lazy smile. The door crashed open and Cassie was framed there, wearing one of my best shirts, screamed, ‘Oh you bastard, how could you… in our marriage bed.’

Lisa’s eyes were wide, she whispered, ‘You’re married!’

Cassie lunged forward, tore the sheet off, leaving us bare-assed.

‘He didn’t tell you… ’cos you’re just another cheap whore… and young… the same age as our daughter.’

‘Daughter!’

I moved and Cassie levelled the pistol. ‘Do… and I’ll shoot your balls off.’

The barrel of the gun swung towards Lisa, she began to whimper.

Cassie said, ‘You stay away from my man, you hear me. You wanna suck on something, try this.’

And squeezed the trigger.

The bullet slammed into the headboard between us. Splinters of wood flying outwards. Lisa curled up in a ball, screaming. Now Cassie turned to me, asked, ‘Did you memorise the lines?’

‘What?’

‘Tut-tut… it’s the dunce’s cap for you, hot shot. Alas, I must bid adieu. What’s that shit you guys say here… tootle-pip… cheery-bye, whatever… later dude.’

She backed out and closed the door. I tried to put my arm round Lisa but she slapped it away, her crying got louder and full-blown hysteria got set. I pulled her round, slapped her face, measuring out the words.

‘Shut the fuck up.’

She did.

I threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, headed cautiously to the front room. On the coffee table, in a glass, was one fresh red rose. I sighed… ‘cute’. Made some scalding hot tea, laced it with sugar. The best remedy for shock, my hands were doing an Oirish jig… no, downright hornpipes. So, I got the brandy, poured some dollops in. As I held the bottle I thought… fuck… and took a swig. Hell to Henry, it burned like a sucker punch to the gut.

Took the tea to Lisa who was sobbing quietly. Forced the mug into her two hands.

She said, ‘Don’t want it.’

‘Drink the fuckin’ thing.’

‘You bastard, never said you were married.’

‘I’m not. She must have found the spare keys when she was here yesterday.’

And argh… could have bitten my tongue for adding yesterday. The fuck was wrong with me, I was a mine of information, mister extra detail.

‘Yesterday… you had her here YESTERDAY and then brought ME here last night?’

Before she could get into full shout, I snapped her off.

‘Leave it alone… OK… just drink the bloody tea.’

She took a sip, said, ‘It’s too sweet, don’t you have Sweetex.’

‘Hey… hey Lisa, cut me a bit o’ slack… alright?’

‘Are you going to call the Old Bill?’

‘No, I’m going to call the doctor.’

‘Don’t need the doctor.’

‘I sure as hell do.’

He came round in twenty minutes. Today he was wearing a bright green tracksuit that had the logo ‘Charlton’s Arms’, and white Doc Martens. I’d never seen them in white, asked, ‘I thought you only ever wore black ones.’

‘So… I can’t change. Is this what you called me for, to talk footwear?’

Lisa was in the shower, I was in tatters and told him the events. He gave a slow whistle.

‘A raven.’

‘What?’

‘Lunatic… she’s completely ape-shit.’

‘That’s your diagnosis, lucky I called you, else I wouldn’t have known.’