The Story of Before (11 page)

‘Who’s a little angel then? Hahaha! Who’s the best little wittle baby boy?’ A fierce, ugly face leered in to my own, all red and green and black. The devil’s face.
My devil. My mask.

It was Shayne. He pulled the mask off his head and held it out to me. ‘Ye dropped it. I just wanted to give it back.’ He was trying hard not to laugh. I took the mask, shoved it
under the pram cover and went to push past him. I didn’t want to even look at him. But he’d wedged his foot under one of the pram wheels and it wouldn’t budge.

‘Ah, come on! I was only havin’ a laugh! And ye got your mask back, didn’t ye?’ Though I said nothing, my face showed him how I was feeling. ‘Jesus! Sorry! I
didn’t think ye’d be like that. I thought ye’d like a laugh after what O’Dea did.’

‘Get your foot out from under the wheel,’ I said. ‘I’d like to bring my brother home.’

‘Look, don’t mind O’Dea. He doesn’t know what he’s doin’ half the time.’

‘It was a horrible thing to do.’

‘I know. It was stupid! I told him not to do it. I should’ve stopped him but he . . . well . . . ye know what he’s like.’

I clenched my teeth and gripped the handle tighter. He was right up close to me and I could feel his hot breath on my face. I tried to walk but his foot was still under the wheel. He grabbed my
wrist, his fingers warm and dry on my skin. ‘Listen, thanks for givin’ me snake back that time. I never said, but I found it under me pillow. I kind of knew all along ye hadn’t
thrown it down Goggin’s jacks.’ He’d softened his voice and his words sort of whistled in my ear. ‘But I was wonderin’ if . . . ye know . . . ye had the tongue? I
mean, it’s missin’, and me uncle Joe’s comin’ tomorrow to do the fireworks and I don’t want him to go mental when he sees the snake. Cost him a fortune, so it did.
That’s what me ma says, anyways.’

I swallowed. If he thought I was going to let him have the tongue after what he’d just done, he thought wrong. I shook my head. ‘Never saw it. Not sure if it even had a
tongue.’

His grasp tightened slightly on my wrist. ‘It did. It definitely did. Ye’re tellin’ lies again. I know it.’

I heard a car coming around the corner and looked over my shoulder. ‘There’s my dad,’ I said. ‘Let me go.’ I tried to pull away.

‘If ye find it, ye better hand it over.’ He squeezed hard before releasing me then walked backwards a couple of steps so he could look into my face. His eyes had a kind of desperate
look in them but I stared past him and carried on quickly towards home.

Dad was climbing out of the car when I got to the gate.

‘At the shop, were you?’ he asked, leaning in to get his rolled up
Evening Press
from the dash.

‘Yeah.’ I said, and I coughed to get the shake out of my voice. ‘Getting you some HP. It’s shepherd’s pie tonight.’

He rubbed his hands together. ‘Best news I’ve had all day.’ He peeped in under the pram hood and tickled Kev under his chin. ‘And how’s the little fella? Did he
enjoy his jaunt to the shops?’

‘He’s . . . he’s fne,’ I said, blinking back tears. ‘Not a bother on him.’

My insides were hot and fiery when I thought about what David had done. The fright of it all was only hitting me now as Dad helped me into the hall with the pram. I had to keep telling myself to
calm down, that it was OK, that Kev hadn’t been hurt.

Mam put a mountain of shepherd’s pie in front of me but I couldn’t eat much, so Dad cheerfully scraped my leftovers onto his plate and dribbled them with a river of HP. Then Kev
started crying and I jumped up, offering to see to him. I picked him up and cuddled him close. He smelled of baby lotion and fresh air, and his warmth seeped into my chest. While I rocked him in my
arms and hummed softly in his hot little ear, I stared at the wall and wondered if the man underneath could tell I was upset. No one else had noticed so I must’ve hidden it well. But I
couldn’t help thinking he knew.

David O’Dea was nasty. And Shayne wasn’t much better after the way he scared me too. I didn’t know which of them I disliked more. But it angered me a lot that despite what
Shayne had done, I hadn’t hated the flow of his breath on my face. Or the grip of his fingers, tight around my wrist.

On Hallowe’en night, as soon as it was dark, the three of us went outside. Mel met up with the rest of the boys and Sandra skipped off with the twins. She’d made it
clear she didn’t want to be seen with me, mainly because I’d decided not to go overboard with the dressing up. I wore just the devil mask, my dark grey slacks and a black polo neck
jumper of Dad’s. She’d wanted me to wear a length of red ribbon for a tail but I said no. She said I looked stupid but I didn’t care. I preferred to go around by myself
anyway.

Bridie’s was the first house I went to. Despite my plaits dangling out from behind my mask, she had no idea who I was.

‘And who’s the little devil?’ she asked, genuinely puzzled. It was only when I asked her had she sliced the brack I’d help her make that she realized who I was.
‘Ruth! I’d never have guessed it was you!’ she said, getting all excited. She reached in to her hall table then thrust a plate of brack under my nose, making sure the biggest,
thickest slice was the nearest to me and giving me a big wink when I took it. I slid my mask up to the top of my head and bit into the brack, pretending to be completely surprised at finding the
ring buried in the middle. ‘Well, now! You’ll be married within the year!’ she laughed, flinging a whole net of monkey nuts into my bag along with a bunch of red grapes, a handful
of Iced Caramels and two large Jaffa oranges. I slipped the ring on my finger, squeezed it tight, and went on my way.

Out on the green, a throng was beginning to gather. Shayne was dancing around the unlit bonfire, wearing Liz’s fringed suede waistcoat, a pair of cowboy boots like the ones I’d seen
peeping out from under Liz’s bed, and a purple feather stuck behind his ear. David sat on the black leather armchair, dressed in his normal smart clothes, unconcerned at the scene around him.
He had one of Paddy’s offcuts on his knees and was using it as an imaginary keyboard, tapping his fingers across its surface, his hair falling over his eyes as he ‘played’. He
made a face over at me, acting as if my disguise had given him a fright, then he laughed really loud and stared at me for ages.

My plastic bag rustled as I walked, its contents banging against my knees. The inside of my mask became damp and warm as I breathed, and I kept having to push it to the top of my head so I
didn’t feel like I was going to suffocate. As I went along the path, I held out my hand to admire the emerald stone in the ring. I loved the way it flashed and glittered like a cat’s
eye in the moonlight. I was glad Bridie had made sure I got it. Sandra might demand the one from our own brack, but she could hardly make me hand over this one too. Bridie had been wrong about her
brack though; shop-bought tasted much better than homemade. I spat out the bite I’d taken and tossed the remainder of the slice over a wall.

When I called to David’s house, Mr O’Dea answered the door. He glanced up from the folded newspaper he was reading then stared at me when I asked him to ‘help the
Hallowe’en party’, as if he’d no idea what night it was. So I said it again, in case my voice had been a bit muffled coming from behind my mask. He scratched his head and called
for Mrs O’Dea, who came to the door carrying a brown speckled banana and four brazil nuts, which she dumped in the bottom of my bag without saying a word.

As I went from house to house, the crowd on the green continued to grow. More parents came and stood around chatting, stamping their feet against the cold. Some kids gathered in small groups,
heads bowed as they looked into each other’s bags, while others ran in and out of the trees and bushes, whooping and shrieking with excitement. I made my way over, satisfied now that
I’d done my bit to help the Hallowe’en party. The bonfire was sure to be lit soon and I didn’t want to miss the first burst of flame.

David was relaxing in the armchair now, his long legs fully stretched out and his hands behind his head. Shayne sat on the ground, picking through his bag. Every couple of seconds he looked up
from his task, throwing glances towards the entrance to the estate. He wasn’t the only one waiting for Uncle Joe. I was looking forward to his arrival too, almost more interested in seeing
him than his firework display.

As I walked closer to the crowd, Shayne caught sight of me then turned his head away. Sandra galloped up, plonked herself down beside him and helped herself to his stash of goodies. He said
something to her and they both laughed and she glanced over to make sure I was looking. Then there was a huge surge towards the bonfire as Paddy – self-appointed chief firelighter –
beamed and made a big show of taking a box of matches from the top pocket of his overcoat and sliding them open.

‘Stand back, now! Stand back!’ he shouted, getting down on his hunkers. He leaned in and stretched his arm through the gaps in the timber pile to the tepee-shaped bit in the middle.
After only a couple of seconds, the flame took hold and the bonfire was ablaze. A cheer went up and some of the adults started to clap. The dry wood hissed and popped as it burned, sending grey
smoke curling up through the night like straggly wisps of witch’s hair.

Shayne stood as close to the flames as the heat would allow. The light on his face showed up the faking lines of white paint that he’d daubed across each cheek. I wondered had he
deliberately chosen not to wear a mask, or had his homemade disguise been forced upon him because Liz wouldn’t give him the money to buy one. The glass beads on the fringes of his waistcoat
shone in the firelight, causing tiny sparks to dart out from his body with every breath that he took. A golden line edged each feature of his face: his snub nose, his pointed chin, his flickering
eyelashes, and his lips moving in and out as he sucked on a mouthful of sticky sweets.

As I watched him through my eyeholes, I thought about the snake tongue sitting on its cotton wool bed in my jewellery box and wondered was it bad to feel so good about having something that he
wanted. Then, with a sudden twist of his head, he caught me staring straight at him. My breath dampened the inside of my mask and made a whooshing noise that swam all around my head and I felt like
I was underwater, about to drown. I was glad he couldn’t see my face.

Half an hour went by and still there was no sign of Uncle Joe.

‘I don’t know, OK?’ Shayne shouted when Sandra asked again what time the fireworks were starting. He began to pace around the bonfire, picking monkey nuts from his bag and
flinging them into the flames. David still hadn’t left the leather armchair despite Mel and a few others trying to pitch him out of it so they could toss it onto the flames. Shayne went over
to him a couple of times and kicked at the base of the chair, mumbling under his breath and keeping an eye on the entrance to the estate.

Mam and Dad came onto the green, with Kev fast asleep in his pram, and before long, Geraldine and Nora arrived, closely followed by Mr Farrell – Clem – and the rest of the Farrells.
Even Mr and Mrs O’Dea ventured out, but they left their front door open and stood on the edge of the green. Mr O’Dea surveyed the crowd, one hand holding his pipe and the other tucked
into the front of his camel hair coat. After about five minutes, he turned towards home and Mrs O’Dea followed, her head down and her arms folded tight across her chest.

I began glancing up at Shayne’s face every time a car came into the estate, but his expression didn’t change. Not even when Uncle Keith drove by in his battered grey van with Liz in
the passenger seat. I thought they might stop, but they just sped down to the house and disappeared inside. Dad came over and stood close to me, rubbing his hands together. ‘Doesn’t
look like we’re going to get any fireworks,’ he said quietly.

‘No,’ I said, pulling my mask off. ‘Bonfire’s good though.’ I shook my bag of goodies in front of his face. ‘And I got loads of stuff for later.’

‘Great.’ He crouched down beside me. ‘Now . . . what would you say,’ he whispered, his eyes darting over to Mam, ‘if I was to . . . you know . . . stand in for
Uncle Joe?’

My skin prickled. ‘What do you mean?’

He rested his hands on his knees and looked into my face. ‘Come on! You must have some idea.’

I’d always thought Dad’s eyes were pure blue, but as I looked into them, I saw they were heavily flecked with green. It might’ve been the firelight, or the fact that it was
night-time, but whatever it was, it scared me that I’d never noticed before.

I looked over to the group of adults and watched how Clem stood behind Geraldine like a shadow, only moving when she moved, only smiling after she let out a snort of laughter.

‘You can’t guess then?’ Dad asked me.

I shook my head.

‘Well, then, let’s go and ask Kev, will we?’

‘What’s Kev got to do with it?’

He straightened up and led me over to the pram.

‘You’ll see.’

When we reached the group, Geraldine was going on about hospitals and how she was looking forward to having Farrell number seven in the next few weeks. Nora hung onto her every word, nodding and
smiling and trying to butt in each time Geraldine took a breath. But she lost vital seconds trying to remember what she was about to say, and Geraldine always got in before her, leaving Nora
waiting in hope, yet again, for the next available break in the conversation.

Dad bent down and took a brown paper package from the wire tray at the bottom of the pram. He gave it to me to hold.‘Go on! Open it up.’

I carefully undid the green string that had been wound around it many times and tightly knotted into a bow.

‘Now! What do you think of that?’ he asked, when the paper fell away.

In my hands was a small collection of fireworks. I’d never seen fireworks in real life before but I knew that’s what they were. They looked like the sticks of dynamite the Coyote
sometimes used when he tried to blow up the Roadrunner.

‘Uncle Con got them for us,’ Dad whispered. ‘Make sure you don’t tell anyone where they came from, though, or he might get into trouble.’