Scottish music in New York. Only Irish.'
'Really? I am surprised. But never mind, it's much the same. We taught them everything they know. Where can we hear some?'
Dinnie knew of a bar on 14th and Ninth where there were regular sessions, but he had no enthusiasm for the
journey. Heather nagged him.
'It's all very well you burbling on about jigs and reels,' said Dinnie crossly. 'But how am I to enjoy listening to music when I am going to be evicted tomorrow? No thanks to you.'
Heather frowned.
'Let me get this straight, Dinnie, because I am not sure that I quite understand it. You have to give that man money every week to live here. You have failed to do this for five weeks. Consequently he has told you to leave. Am I right so far?'
'Dead on.'
'So,' continued Heather, 'all that is required is for you to get a bundle of these dollar things and give it to the man.
Then everything will be all right.'
'Yes, you dumb fairy, but I don't have any of these dollar things.'
'What about when you went to the cycle courier place? Didn't you earn enough to pay the rent?'
Dinnie snorted.
'I didn't earn enough to buy a pizza.'
'Would a pizza do instead of the rent?'
Dinnie clutched his brow.
'Please leave me alone. I can't stand any fairy stupidity right now.'
Heather took out her sword and posed briefly in front of the mirror. She made a minor adjustment to her kilt, and smiled.
'Well, as you will realise by now, there is no limit to the ingenuity and resourcefulness of a thistle fairy. Take me to hear the music and I will find money for the rent.'
Heather still did not fully understand why you had to pay dollars to live in a dirty room — a very strange business it seemed to her — but she was willing to help.
Heather enjoyed herself at the session. She sneered only occasionally at the human musicians, who were really very skilful, as they sat round a table at one end of the bar, wreathed in cigarette smoke. It was delightful to hear the pipes, whistles, violins, mandolins, banjos and bodrans, and she stamped her bare feet on the table in time to the jigs and reels. Though she and Morag were bent on radicalising Scottish fairy music, she was still fond of tradition.
When the musicians played some hornpipes, 'The Boys of Bluehiir and 'Harvest Home', young and old Irish
descendants and expatriates left their Guinness and Jamesons to get up and dance in formation.
file:///Users/lisa/Downloads/Martin%20Millar%20-%20The%20Good%20Fairies%20of%20New%20York.html
Page 24 of 99
Martin Millar - The Good Fairies of New York.html
6/5/11 2:11 PM
'I'm touched,' said Heather, watching them go round.
'Why?'
'Because they're thinking of home.'
Italian fairies are friends with the wind, and skilful at riding on its back.
Three of them rode now on the breeze over Houston Street, just north of their home in Little Italy. They studied the streets to the north, and waited.
'There,' said the youngest, and pointed. 'There she is. Sitting on the shoulder of that large round person.'
Dinnie was trudging down Broadway with his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. He was depressed, humiliated and
angry.
'I'm sorry,' said Heather, for the twentieth time. Dinnie ignored her. He also ignored the beggars, lovers and partygoers who walked beside them in the dark.
'It was a brave attempt,' continued the fairy. 'It was worth trying. Next time will be better.'
Dinnie said that there was not going to be a next time. There would not have been a first time if Heather had not blackmailed him into playing by threatening to make herself visible to the whole audience and create a scene.
After a few whiskies she had decided it would be a very good thing if Dinnie showed off his new skill at the
fiddle, but it had been a complete disaster. Fingers stiffened by nerves, he had scraped and scratched his way through two strathspeys in the most amateurish way imaginable, all the time surrounded by experienced musicians who did not know whether to grin or
'Really? I am surprised. But never mind, it's much the same. We taught them everything they know. Where can we hear some?'
Dinnie knew of a bar on 14th and Ninth where there were regular sessions, but he had no enthusiasm for the
journey. Heather nagged him.
'It's all very well you burbling on about jigs and reels,' said Dinnie crossly. 'But how am I to enjoy listening to music when I am going to be evicted tomorrow? No thanks to you.'
Heather frowned.
'Let me get this straight, Dinnie, because I am not sure that I quite understand it. You have to give that man money every week to live here. You have failed to do this for five weeks. Consequently he has told you to leave. Am I right so far?'
'Dead on.'
'So,' continued Heather, 'all that is required is for you to get a bundle of these dollar things and give it to the man.
Then everything will be all right.'
'Yes, you dumb fairy, but I don't have any of these dollar things.'
'What about when you went to the cycle courier place? Didn't you earn enough to pay the rent?'
Dinnie snorted.
'I didn't earn enough to buy a pizza.'
'Would a pizza do instead of the rent?'
Dinnie clutched his brow.
'Please leave me alone. I can't stand any fairy stupidity right now.'
Heather took out her sword and posed briefly in front of the mirror. She made a minor adjustment to her kilt, and smiled.
'Well, as you will realise by now, there is no limit to the ingenuity and resourcefulness of a thistle fairy. Take me to hear the music and I will find money for the rent.'
Heather still did not fully understand why you had to pay dollars to live in a dirty room — a very strange business it seemed to her — but she was willing to help.
Heather enjoyed herself at the session. She sneered only occasionally at the human musicians, who were really very skilful, as they sat round a table at one end of the bar, wreathed in cigarette smoke. It was delightful to hear the pipes, whistles, violins, mandolins, banjos and bodrans, and she stamped her bare feet on the table in time to the jigs and reels. Though she and Morag were bent on radicalising Scottish fairy music, she was still fond of tradition.
When the musicians played some hornpipes, 'The Boys of Bluehiir and 'Harvest Home', young and old Irish
descendants and expatriates left their Guinness and Jamesons to get up and dance in formation.
file:///Users/lisa/Downloads/Martin%20Millar%20-%20The%20Good%20Fairies%20of%20New%20York.html
Page 24 of 99
Martin Millar - The Good Fairies of New York.html
6/5/11 2:11 PM
'I'm touched,' said Heather, watching them go round.
'Why?'
'Because they're thinking of home.'
Italian fairies are friends with the wind, and skilful at riding on its back.
Three of them rode now on the breeze over Houston Street, just north of their home in Little Italy. They studied the streets to the north, and waited.
'There,' said the youngest, and pointed. 'There she is. Sitting on the shoulder of that large round person.'
Dinnie was trudging down Broadway with his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. He was depressed, humiliated and
angry.
'I'm sorry,' said Heather, for the twentieth time. Dinnie ignored her. He also ignored the beggars, lovers and partygoers who walked beside them in the dark.
'It was a brave attempt,' continued the fairy. 'It was worth trying. Next time will be better.'
Dinnie said that there was not going to be a next time. There would not have been a first time if Heather had not blackmailed him into playing by threatening to make herself visible to the whole audience and create a scene.
After a few whiskies she had decided it would be a very good thing if Dinnie showed off his new skill at the
fiddle, but it had been a complete disaster. Fingers stiffened by nerves, he had scraped and scratched his way through two strathspeys in the most amateurish way imaginable, all the time surrounded by experienced musicians who did not know whether to grin or
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