BY NED EGAN
Part 13
Silence now hung heavy between father and daughter – Mikey isn’t sure what Molly’ll do if he ‘rushes’ her. He’s no fool, and is well aware that discretion is advisable when you’re up front – at the ‘business end’ – of a weapon. Especially if it’s a shotgun – and at close range.
He didn’t know what to say. Talk wasn’t on Molly’s mind, either. Quietly, then, without a change in her expression – and as if reading his thoughts – she raised the Four Ten. Ever so slowly: calmly: deliberately. She then paced out, with measured tread, fifteen steps towards him. The barrels were now further elevated, at snail’s pace, until they were centred on the frame of Mikey Connolly. Not a tremor or a quiver affected those dark muzzles. He watched, stunned. Connolly wasn’t by any means a cowardly fellow. But, even in the pale ghostly light cast by the Milky Way, he noticed how huge those twin barrels had suddenly become…
We’re all {almost} sure Molly wouldn’t dream of a ‘goodbye’ shot. But – Mikey Connolly wasn’t. He’d heard the flat crack of the Four Ten earlier {the one that smashed Paudhaun’s scian out of his paw} – then a few howls. He {rightly} assumed that ‘dowry boy’ had got on the wrong end of some hot lead. For all he knew, the P was dead meat. But what he was very sure of was that a cartridge was ‘up the spout’ of the choke barrel. At this range, she couldn’t miss. He’d realised when he saw how Molly handled the gun – that she’d done it before tonight. ‘How the hell had she learned to use it? What bowsie gave her that bloody know-how? Guns are for men! Women’s place is in the kitchen! Lotsa things wrong here…’
He’d also suddenly remembered the hatred on this girls face in the kitchen, when the Dacent had lifted his jamjar and candle lantern up along her body, ogling her flowering beauty. It was the first time he’d seen cold rage on her features – and it shook him. He thought he’d known her – like he knew her mother. But this young one was a tougher nut altogether.
She was now like a stranger. A dangerous stranger. He realised how little he’d learned about her, in the fifteen years of their lives together: what meagre store of credit he’d built up: how sparse a barren field of happy memories he could call on – or talk about: how very frighteningly few bargaining chips he held…
One other thing he now also knew: the reason why she’d always side-lined confrontation with him. It wasn’t fear that had caused her to avoid rows: it’d been her intention to hide the iron that was at her inner core. Like all clever people – daughter wasn’t going to let him know her strength. Cute. Smart. She had him. Only what she ever wanted known – was let known. Like right now…
No, he wasn’t at all sure that she wouldn’t ‘pull’ on him. Although Molly couldn’t properly see it in the gloom, his features had turned shade a pasty, waxy – and his body gave a few tiny trembles. This had never happened to him before. And still she held the gun on him, staying completely and frighteningly still. Silent…
Now he’s getting a bit desperate: ‘Would a prayer to his long-departed wife work?’ Naw – even Mikey Connolly hadn’t neck enough to try that one.
‘Then, what about a shout to Little Miss Snobby – who’s still patting and muttering, codding-on with that invisible dog?’
Hah: that’d be the only joke of the night…
‘Bloomin’ hell! What to do?’ The Mollers wasn’t saying a word. He watched her. She watched him watching her. Her gaze was hardly warm or loving. Maybe it was time for some kind of change? He knew things couldn’t continue as is – danger always increases with tension. For the first time since his wedding, Mikey Connolly felt the ground had shifted violently under him: his bully-boy role was gone. No matter what happened now, he was a loser. Could it be that ‘humiliation – or elimination’ – was now his lot? Yep – that’s about the size of it, Mikey.
So, he tried one last trick: “Daughter{?!} – do you know that what you’re doing is against every known law in the land? Don’t you know that if you dounce me with that Four Ten – you’ll be in all the trouble in the world? Apart from the Mortal Sin of it!!” The gun was silently elevated a few degrees. Expertly. Steadily. Then, for the first time this hard night – in the agelessly long few minutes they’ve been staring each other out – she addresses him: “Oh – we’re into ‘sins’ now, are we – good father?” ‘Oh, cutting! The way she speaks to me!’ “Would you like then, perchance, to meet a priest – very shortly?” ‘Cripes – gulp – why didn’t I keep me big mouth shut?’ You ask me ‘if I know the law,’ etc. Well, let me tell you one little thing of interest about the word ‘know,’ Mikey boy: if this gun goes off – you’ll be the only one who won’t know about it…”
Then that chilly voice, again. “Reflect on your position. I’ve reflected on mine: quite seriously. You’re not running the show anymore. If you bring doom on yourself, it’ll be for nothing. And Babsie and I will swear blind we heard a shot, and came running up here to find the Dacent Boy had dounced you. So, I’d get clean away with it – the Dacent’d be locked up forever – probably stretched. Which would be sad – for him. And you’d be up in the graveyard. No more drinking and gambling for you then, Mr Connolly. I’d get the farm, I’d sell it, and Babs and myself’d be out of this area in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. And before the maggots’d even taken the first chaw at you. I’d go to Confession later on – in a far distant parish – and tell the tale. Well, part of it, anyway. And that’d be the end of the whole affair.”
Silence again. Shocked silence. ‘Worms!? Me? Janey Mack! What a way for a daughter to talk! Disgraceful! The Dacent – stretched! And this “Mikey boy” stuff! The cheeky rip! Anyway – aren’t I her father?’ Well, thinking about it, he’d been present at her creation. But not much since…
‘Jay – she’s got it all figured! Can I have been that bad, that she’d riddle me? The two of ‘em are tough out! Still, the way she puts it – and she’s not wrong – a ‘rush’ would make me the biggest loser. Why didn’t I see this quare ruck coming? We’re only standing here a few minutes – swapped just a few words – and I’ve found out things I had no earthly notion of. Who’d have thought my quiet young wan would ‘up stakes and turn tables’ like this? Cripes – ‘tis only about ten minutes since I left the house – and the world’s turned upside down, inside out – completely baugh-ways. Come to think of it, my wedding day had been mighty. ‘Herself’ was a lovely girl – I thought an odd time that I’d not treated her too well. If she’d hung on a few years more, maybe things would have improved. But she was too easy-going. If she’d reared up on me, I’d probably have took it easier with th’oul gamblin’ and the drink. But there I go again – blaming someone else! Maybe this little pair of hard chaws have a few reasons for making a run for it…
To be continued….
Disclaimer
The opinions, beliefs and viewpoints expressed by the author do not reflect the opinions, beliefs and viewpoints of The Kilkenny Observer.
