Everybody, except Chrissy and Miss Smith. Even Chrissy’s
pal Irene succumbed in the end. Irene thought she could change
Neil, just like Miss Smith. But she was wrong. No one could change
Neil. Chrissy wondered if the teacher had known that all the girls
fancied Neil.
‘Still as
tight-arsed as ever?’ Neil was asking.
‘Aye.’
He laughed and
nodded at her to sit down on the sloping couch. Then he went
through to the kitchen that led off the living room and brought
back two glasses.
‘Vodka?’ he
said.
‘And
orange?’
‘Get
fucked!’
‘Not by you,’
Chrissy said firmly.
Neil laughed
again and unbuttoned his shirt and Chrissy saw the weals on his
neck. His hand followed her eyes and he rubbed at the healing
skin.
‘Fucking old
queer,’ he said sitting down beside her. Somewhere below them the
left leg of the couch slid nearer the floor. ‘Funny eh?’ he said.
‘I used to be the one doing the shagging.’ He threw back the glass
and let the clear liquid slide down his throat.
Chrissy waited
until he finished then said, ‘I need to speak to you, about
Patrick.’
Neil looked at
her curiously. ‘You mean your brother. The big one with the
brains?’
Chrissy
nodded.
Neil got up and
went back into the kitchen and came out with his glass filled
again.
‘Lucky night,’
he said, toasting her. ‘Better than that Buckfast piss anyway.’
He sat down
again and pulled out a cigarette packet and offered her one. She
shook her head.
‘Always were a
good wee Fenian lassie.’
‘You were an
altar boy,’ Chrissy reminded him.
‘Aye.’ Neil
blew smoke at the ceiling. ‘It was Father Riley that taught me all
I needed to know in that wee back room of his,’ he laughed again,
bitterly this time and looked at Chrissy to see if he had shocked
her.
Chrissy was
past being shocked. She hadn’t been allowed in the back room of the
chapel with or without Father Riley. It seemed being a good wee
Catholic girl had had its blessings after all.
‘Somebody’s
blackmailing Patrick,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘He’s gay.’
‘Fucking stupid
word,’ Neil said. ‘None of the ones I meet are any fun. Just queer.
So what do you want me to do?’
‘I want to know
who it is.’
‘And you think
I can find out, being in the business myself, you mean?’
Chrissy didn’t
know how to answer that one so she kept her mouth shut. Neil looked
at her shrewdly.
‘Got any
money?’ he asked.
She took out
the hundred she’d taken from the cashline machine.
‘A
picture?’
He took
Patrick’s picture from her and the money and then leaned back on
the tipping couch and took a long draw at the cigarette.
‘It’s not a
crime to be gay, you know.’
She gave him a
look that said it all.
‘Oh I see, once
a Catholic always a Catholic. Eh, Chrissy?’
‘I don’t care
about all that. It’s his job at the Catholic school. If the Marist
brothers found out about this, he would have to leave and my dad
and my brothers... they hate that sort of thing. If my dad finds
out Patrick’s gay, he’ll ban him from the house and my mum wouldn’t
get to see him.’
‘Happy
families, eh? Did you bring the note?’
She took the
note from her pocket and handed it over.
He read it and
whistled.
‘Patrick hasn’t
seen it,’ she said. ‘It came to the house and my mother opened it.
I told her it was just somebody jealous of Patrick.’
‘Your big
brother’s running with the wrong people, Chrissy. He wants to get a
nice steady boyfriend.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Okay. If I get
you a name what are you going to do then?’
She shook her
head because she didn’t know. All she wanted at the moment was a
name. That was enough.
Neil looked at
his watch, then got up and went to the door. ‘You’d better go now,
unless you’ve changed your mind about that shag.’
Chrissy handed
him the lab phone number.
‘I know where
you work,’ Neil said, stuffing the bit of paper in his pocket.
‘I’ve seen you from the
pal Irene succumbed in the end. Irene thought she could change
Neil, just like Miss Smith. But she was wrong. No one could change
Neil. Chrissy wondered if the teacher had known that all the girls
fancied Neil.
‘Still as
tight-arsed as ever?’ Neil was asking.
‘Aye.’
He laughed and
nodded at her to sit down on the sloping couch. Then he went
through to the kitchen that led off the living room and brought
back two glasses.
‘Vodka?’ he
said.
‘And
orange?’
‘Get
fucked!’
‘Not by you,’
Chrissy said firmly.
Neil laughed
again and unbuttoned his shirt and Chrissy saw the weals on his
neck. His hand followed her eyes and he rubbed at the healing
skin.
‘Fucking old
queer,’ he said sitting down beside her. Somewhere below them the
left leg of the couch slid nearer the floor. ‘Funny eh?’ he said.
‘I used to be the one doing the shagging.’ He threw back the glass
and let the clear liquid slide down his throat.
Chrissy waited
until he finished then said, ‘I need to speak to you, about
Patrick.’
Neil looked at
her curiously. ‘You mean your brother. The big one with the
brains?’
Chrissy
nodded.
Neil got up and
went back into the kitchen and came out with his glass filled
again.
‘Lucky night,’
he said, toasting her. ‘Better than that Buckfast piss anyway.’
He sat down
again and pulled out a cigarette packet and offered her one. She
shook her head.
‘Always were a
good wee Fenian lassie.’
‘You were an
altar boy,’ Chrissy reminded him.
‘Aye.’ Neil
blew smoke at the ceiling. ‘It was Father Riley that taught me all
I needed to know in that wee back room of his,’ he laughed again,
bitterly this time and looked at Chrissy to see if he had shocked
her.
Chrissy was
past being shocked. She hadn’t been allowed in the back room of the
chapel with or without Father Riley. It seemed being a good wee
Catholic girl had had its blessings after all.
‘Somebody’s
blackmailing Patrick,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘He’s gay.’
‘Fucking stupid
word,’ Neil said. ‘None of the ones I meet are any fun. Just queer.
So what do you want me to do?’
‘I want to know
who it is.’
‘And you think
I can find out, being in the business myself, you mean?’
Chrissy didn’t
know how to answer that one so she kept her mouth shut. Neil looked
at her shrewdly.
‘Got any
money?’ he asked.
She took out
the hundred she’d taken from the cashline machine.
‘A
picture?’
He took
Patrick’s picture from her and the money and then leaned back on
the tipping couch and took a long draw at the cigarette.
‘It’s not a
crime to be gay, you know.’
She gave him a
look that said it all.
‘Oh I see, once
a Catholic always a Catholic. Eh, Chrissy?’
‘I don’t care
about all that. It’s his job at the Catholic school. If the Marist
brothers found out about this, he would have to leave and my dad
and my brothers... they hate that sort of thing. If my dad finds
out Patrick’s gay, he’ll ban him from the house and my mum wouldn’t
get to see him.’
‘Happy
families, eh? Did you bring the note?’
She took the
note from her pocket and handed it over.
He read it and
whistled.
‘Patrick hasn’t
seen it,’ she said. ‘It came to the house and my mother opened it.
I told her it was just somebody jealous of Patrick.’
‘Your big
brother’s running with the wrong people, Chrissy. He wants to get a
nice steady boyfriend.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Okay. If I get
you a name what are you going to do then?’
She shook her
head because she didn’t know. All she wanted at the moment was a
name. That was enough.
Neil looked at
his watch, then got up and went to the door. ‘You’d better go now,
unless you’ve changed your mind about that shag.’
Chrissy handed
him the lab phone number.
‘I know where
you work,’ Neil said, stuffing the bit of paper in his pocket.
‘I’ve seen you from the
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