wondered whether he had said the wrong thing. There was something edgy about Jonathan, and Eddie had been in the same sort of mood earlier.
“Em, he just mentioned that he was off to Belfast to pick up his girlfriend?”
Jonathan did a double take.
“His girlfriend? Are you sure it was our Eddie?”
“Of course I’m sure. He was telling me all about San Francisco, about coming home for your birthday and your mother’s terrible news with the big C. Then he said he was off to Belfast to pick up his girlfriend. Funny, that, eh?” Gerry tittered to himself and wiped the shiny counter with a damp cloth. “I always got the impression that young Ed preferred the boys.”
Jonathan paid for the drinks and nodded in acknowledgement to Gerry the know-it-all-and-the-price-of-it barman. He must have got it wrong. Eddie was here today on his way to Belfast? To pick up a woman? Belfast wasn’t exactly around the corner. Eddie wasn’t exactly straight. This was strange and Jonathan couldn’t wait to find out what was going on.
He made his way over to Christian, who was now seated back at the table, full of energy, following his nicotine fix and drumming his fingers in anticipation of another pint.
“It’s so great to be off work for eight whole weeks,” said Christian, eyeing up the drinks. “A teacher’s life is for me. And you can set that pint down in front of me whenever you’re ready. My mouth is as dry as the Sahara.”
“Christian. There’s something really weird going on here.”
“My God, I was just trying to be more positive. A bit of fresh air around my lungs mixed with a bit of nicotine has given me a new lease of life. I thought you’d be delighted.”
“I’m not talking about you. It’s Eddie.”
Christian could normally read Jonathan’s facial expressions like a book. Better than a book, sometimes, despite both of them being English teachers at the same high school. This time, however, he was baffled. He didn’t know whether to expect good news or bad news, such was the confusion on Jonathan’s face.
“What about Eddie? I was talking to him yesterday and he seemed fine to me. Bronzed, blond and still walking like a girl. What’s up?”
“According to Gerry, he’s gone to Belfast to pick up his, wait for it…girlfriend?”
Christian spurted a mouthful of Guinness around himself in shock.
“Jesus Jonathan, as if Eddie has a woman! He’s as gay as a maypole!”
Jonathan sipped his pint and then licked the creamy white froth from his upper lip. Christian was right. None of it added up. He’d have to phone Eddie and find out what he was playing at.
“Maybe it’s just a friend. A female friend, as opposed to a girlfriend, eh?” he said hopefully.
“I suppose. Most of his friends are fag hags,” agreed Christian. “It’s probably some American chick who wants to use his visit over here as an excuse for a free holiday. It almost happened to me when I first came home from Australia. You think you’re escaping from the place and the next minute everyone and their granny wants to follow you here to trace imaginary Irish roots that probably went down with the Titanic.”
Jonathan nodded. That sounded likely enough. But it was hardly good timing for an influx of extras around the Eastwood kitchen table, though.
“Nah, I’d doubt it. Eddie’s way too gutted over Mum’s bad news. If he’d invited a guest from the States, he would have cancelled once he heard Mum’s news. I’m sure Gerry’s made a mistake.”
“Probably.”
They supped their pints in a comfortable silence. The subject was closed. Jonathan tried desperately to think of a soccer conundrum to throw Christian’s way. It was the perfect conversation stirrer after the third pint. Then he remembered his bet.
“So, any word from Anna, then?”
Christian sat his glass down on the table and raised an eyebrow.
“Very funny. She wouldn’t even have arrived yet, you smart-ass. So much for trying to take my mind off her. It did work for a while. Good one with the Eddie story. I fell for it hook, line and sinker. Eddie with a girlfriend. As if!”
“No, no, I was serious about that. It’s what Gerry told me. I swear.”
“Gerry’s a liar. He makes up stories to make his life sound more exotic than it really is. He once told me that this place used to be a secret brothel in the seventies and that’s where he met his ex-wife. I mean, a brothel in Donegal? Gerry with a wife? Now if you believe that, you’d believe anything,” said Christian with a smug grin.
Jonathan squinted and looked at his friend for a second. Then he leaned forward and whispered.
“That was true, actually. Da told me that a few weeks before he died. Gerry’s wife was a Spanish prostitute and he met her here in 1977. They have a daughter too.”
“Swear!”
Jonathan held up his hand. “On my life.”
Christian stared back at him in disbelief. Gerry had a wife? And this place used to be an illegal whorehouse? He didn’t think he could handle any more excitement in one day.
“Cheers,” said Jonathan with a smile, raising his glass. “To Gerry, the liar, who seems to tell the truth after all?”
Christian shook his head. This was turning into an eventful day. If every day was to be like this, the six months till Anna came home would go by in a flash.
“And to that old dark horse, Eddie,” he said, clinking his pint with his friend’s. “Cheers to the bold Eddie who, despite all the rumours and all his absolutely fabulous ways, has gone and bagged himself a woman!”
Girls Rush In Where Women Fear to Tread
“So how do you find modern day Killshannon compared to the bright lights of California, Eddie?” roared Daisy over the drone of the car’s vibrating engine. Eddie had insisted on getting his money’s worth from the hire company by pushing the convertible car roof back at every given opportunity, even in gale-force winds. “Is it much different to before?”
“Much the same, I’d say,” he shouted back. “Not as smelly, though, thank goodness.”
“It’s the weather! Wait till it warms up a bit and we’ll all be holding our noses again.”
Daisy pressed the button to put the roof back on. There was a time and a place to pose in a convertible, and now wasn’t it. Her hair resembled a garden hedge and her nipples were almost touching the dashboard with the cold. The car was so small that her knees were almost at her ears, and not in a good way.
“Not that I go back to Killshannon so often now,” she said, thankful for a bit of warm air around her face from the car heater. “Nothing to do with the smell of fish, though.”
“Why don’t you?” asked Eddie. “Doesn’t your mum make you? I know mine would if I lived anywhere in this country.”
Daisy fell silent and Eddie waffled on quickly.
“Jonathan thinks he’s doing well having escaped to Donegal Town, but he still has to show his face at least once a week, and always turns up for Mass and Sunday dinner, hangover or no hangover.”
Daisy turned up the radio when she heard the sounds of Snow Patrol’s latest song. Plus, she didn’t want to hear about Jonathan. Not yet.
“Mum comes to stay with me quite a lot in Belfast,”