Dermot Bolger - Father’s Music

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From one of Ireland’s bestselling writers, a literary thriller set in London and Dublin.A combination of family fable and gripping thriller, ‘Father’s Music’ tells the story of Tracey, the troubled twenty-two-year-old daughter of an Englishwoman and a wandering musician from Donegal. She knows very little about her father, who returned to Ireland before Tracey was born, but when she is taken to Ireland by her lover, a Dublin businessman with underworld connections, Tracey at last feels she is coming home – to her father’s land.Caught up in Dublin low-life, tormented by memories of her dead mother and eager to follow up news of her father, Tracey finds her journey home to be a dangerous and extraordinary one…

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‘I suppose you’re going to tell me you just happen to live in some flash apartment around the corner’

‘I live in a boring suburb a long way from here and, besides, my wife wouldn’t fancy three of us in the bed. I’m sorry, I was thinking more along the lines of a cheap hotel.’

It seemed the ultimate black joke. For once a single man was chatting me up by pretending to be married. Maybe Luke was bisexual and hoped to rope Garth into the bargain. How many vodkas had I had? I started laughing out loud and he had to point out his wife before I realised with a curious chill that he was serious.

‘What does she think you’re doing talking to me?’

‘Selling wall tiles,’ Luke said. ‘That’s how I make my living. Should you want wall tiles I’m definitely your man. I said to her, “That girl with the black leather queen owns three dance clubs. I’m going to tout for business. Say what you like about dykes but they always have money to burn”’.

It wasn’t funny, but Christ how I laughed. I could see some women in his family glancing over. I held the gaze of one of them, a tough-looking black haired girl around nineteen, the only female who wasn’t blonde apart from Luke’s wife. She looked away self-consciously and when she looked back I winked. I drained my glass. Garth had another round set up. Luke watched me with that half-smile. I shifted his age to forty one and suddenly wondered what he looked like naked.

‘Why don’t you fuck off before I throw this drink over you,’ I said, deciding I’d had enough of him.

He momentarily fingered a wisp of my hair. ‘That would look much nicer dyed blonde,’ he said. ‘You’re young, you’re lucky, you’ve still got time for the fairytales men tell you. But I’m being straight. I’ve watched all night and I’ve decided I’d give five years of my life for one hour with you. See if you’re big enough for a gamble or still just a little girl. There’s a doorway beside the shops across the road. I can’t leave with you, but wait five minutes and I’ll be there.’

Then he was gone before I’d time to tell him what to do with himself. I tried to pay Garth for the drinks but he shook his head, distracted now, weighing hope against disbelief. I noticed the singer glance towards us, taking in Garth’s bowed head and I knew Garth would be sitting in that cafe. But I’d no idea if the singer had ever been there. There seemed no reason to trust a word Luke said.

I wondered if I had knowingly slept with a married man. There were occasions where signs pointed to conclusions I hadn’t wished to draw. The rotten cheating bastard, I thought, looking at him sitting beside the woman he claimed was his wife, while his family argued above the strains of that country-and-western din. His older brother was locked into a serious argument. But Luke ignored it, as if he’d withdrawn into a world of his own. I knew he was acutely aware of every movement I made.

Those Sunday night men had fed me whatever lies I needed to hear. Was Luke worse for telling the truth? His need seemed raw and uncompromising. Maybe it was the vodkas mixed with the dope and wine in Honor’s flat, but suddenly I found that exciting. Just once, what was to stop me doing something truly illicit, something I knew was wrong? Luke had given me the freedom of a role and now I began to play with it, almost seeing myself as that confident, hard-edged club owner. I stared at the black-haired girl in a predatory fashion. If I had been a man she would have blown me away but I sensed her blush instead, then stare back with sudden cold hatred.

That sobered me. I was tired of these games, I wasn’t going to be manipulated into feeling emotions that weren’t there. It was time to leave if I wanted to get a tube that wasn’t crammed with annoying drunks. That was why I was leaving alone I told myself, anything else was too bizarre. I sensed Luke watching. He was clever as well as manipulative. He knew I would say nothing to his wife which might put Garth in danger. A bar full of drunken Irishmen seemed the perfect place for a queer-bashing.

Yet it was his wife I kept watching. For no reason I hated her. Sitting there, plump and content with permed hair and hick clothes that were aeons out of fashion. She was in her late thirties but dressed like someone entering a glamorous granny contest. If Luke’s family began to swipe each other with switch-blades, she would simply lift her Pimms and chat away, oblivious to them. But my hatred had nothing to do with her personally, I was uneasy around all happily married couples. If I felt I would become like her, I’d have smashed that vodka glass in the ladies and slashed my wrists.

Screw her anyway, I thought. All my life I’d had that future hammered into me, but I wasn’t living by Gran’s rules any more. Why not fuck a married man under his family’s nose? That would be one for Roxy and Honor, although, even in my drunken state, I knew I’d never tell them. If Luke hadn’t attracted me I would never have let him talk for so long. His desire attracted me too, at odds with most men’s surface pretence. I wasn’t bound by vows I’d no intention of ever getting roped into. Besides, for all his talk, he wouldn’t dare. He wanted me here to eyeball. Once I stepped off this stool I would discover him to be all bull-shit, like most men.

I tapped Garth’s shoulder and he patted my arm. I didn’t look back. Eight vodkas or was it nine? Only when I hit the cold air did I count seriously again. The street was silent before closing time. It was three minutes’ walk to the tube. I made a mental note of danger points. But I didn’t go that way. Instead I stood in the doorway beside the shuttered shops and fixed my coat, then unbuttoned it again. One minute passed, maybe two. I was going nowhere with Luke but I was curious to see if he dared appear. If he did, I could slip away into the shadows.

Four minutes passed, I couldn’t believe I was still there. He hadn’t the balls. It was cold. I buttoned my coat again. I found I was excited. How many weeks was it since I’d slept with a man? The air smelt like there would be heavy rain soon. Five minutes turned into six, twice the time it would have taken to walk to the tube. I’d have to hurry now. Luke was just another manipulator, a cheat who ran scared. You could expect no better from the Irish. I remembered Gran repeating the phrase every time there was a bomb on the news. If she saw me now her worst fears would be confirmed, standing like a cheap tart waiting for an Irishman. When would I lose this hatred every time I thought of her, or was hatred a mechanism to keep guilt at bay? In thirteen months I’d never phoned. I should write but what could I say? I had decided to put my past behind me. At that moment I felt removed from everything, consumed by an old ache which I knew neither sex or drink could fill. I felt outside myself, watching this girl who was clearly drunk because she took forever to button her coat. Why had she spent a decade being addicted to crazy notions? I willed myself to move and finally I did so. But I had only walked a dozen paces when I felt Luke take my arm.

‘That’s the problem with you dykes,’ he said quietly. ‘Hard-nosed businesswomen always demanding attention now.’

This was when I stopped pretending. The role-playing, the danger of discovery, everything about this situation made me as horny as hell. It was no big deal for a man to feel this way, so why should I be different? I was glad the hotel was only three doors down. I might have felt cheap in reception, except that it felt too much like a game. The bed hadn’t been made up, but we didn’t get that far. We never even turned the light on. We did it once for Luke, standing up, with sweat on my neck turning cold against the damp wallpaper, and then a second time, more slowly for me, with him sitting on a hard chair. I liked that better, not having to look at him, just rocking back and forth on his knee as I tried to guess at the lives behind curtained windows across the street. I heard muffled calls for an encore at the Irish Centre. Luke withdrew hurriedly before he came and I heard him finish the business with his hand. Even with a condom he was a cautious man. I pulled my dress down between his knees and my buttocks, but it was so soaked with sweat that the sensation remained of naked flesh upon flesh.

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