Read Online The Scrapper by Brendan O'Carroll - Free Book Online
Authors: Brendan O'Carroll
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that the table is for eating and not for fun and games. It’s difficult for me to teach them that if you arrive in here every morning like Jerry Lee Lewis!’ She put the teapot down and went back to the cooker.
‘You’re quite right, love, and I’m sorry,’ Kieran replied, then he winked at the children and they both winked back.
‘Wait a minute – how come you two aren’t at school?’ Kieran asked the girls.
‘It’s a Holy Day, Daddy. And after mass, Mum is taking us into town to see Santa Claus!’ Claire answered. Young Mary was looking at Claire all the time she spoke and as she said the name Santa Claus, Mary stiffened and squinted her eyes with excitement. Kieran laughed. Moya returned to the table with a cup of tea for herself and began to shoo the kids away.
‘Right, girls, come on, up you go, tidy your rooms and brush your teeth. Go on, off with you now, off you go!’
The children left their places, kissed their father and then charged up the stairs, shrieking with excitement.
Kieran began to eat. ‘They’re madly excited!’ he commented, eyeing Moya and knowing something was up. Moya confirmed this by simply staring at her mug and running her finger around the rim. ‘So, are you going to tell me what’s up?’ Kieran asked.
‘What do you mean?’ Moya said nonchalantly.
‘Moya, we’ve been having breakfast together now for years, and every time you run your finger around the rim of the cup, it means you have something on your mind. So what is it?’
Quickly Moya took her finger away, a little flustered. ‘Daddy rang this morning,’ she said flatly.
Kieran dropped his head and began to concentrate again on his breakfast. ‘Oh, I see. And what does the Commissioner have to say to his darling daughter today?’
Before Moya answered she took a packet of cigarettes out of her handbag and lit one. Kieran’s eyebrows rose – he had never seen Moya smoke in the morning. Moya took a drag from her cigarette and slowly blew out the smoke. Unconsciously, she began to run her finger around the rim of her mug again.
‘Daddy told me you applied for the Special Task Force again!’
Kieran didn’t look at her. ‘Did he now? And did he say what reason he’s going to give this time for turning me down?’
Moya shot a glance at Kieran. ‘He’s only trying to look after us, Kieran.’
‘Well, I don’t want to be looked after. I didn’t join the police force to spend my life escorting politicians to meetings. I want to be a policeman. A real fucking policeman!’
‘Mind your language, Kieran, the girls will hear you.’ Moya glanced at the door. Kieran stood up and went to put his plate in the sink. ‘Well, thank God someone hears me because you certainly don’t, Moya.’
He came back to join her at the table. ‘Let me be my own man, Moya.’ He seemed very agitated. ‘Look, Moya,’ he said, ‘I know your father means well, and I know you don’t want to have to worry. But I’ll tell you, love, if he blocks me this time I’ll … I’ll crack up!’ Kieran slumped down into his seat at the table and held his head in his hands.
There was silence between them now. Moya poured them both more tea. She took another drag from her cigarette. She didn’t look at Kieran.
‘I asked him to give it to you. Not to block it.’
Kieran closed his eyes. ‘You did? Oh thank you, love.’
‘Merry Christmas.’ Moya began to cry.
Kieran hugged her. ‘It’ll be all right, love. You’ll see, it’ll be all right.’
* * *
Kavanagh’s pub – near Glasnevin Cemetery, 1.20pm
Old Eddie would have been proud of his funeral party. It was a very merry affair, as is the custom for funerals in Ireland. Eileen and her mother Dolly were standing talking to four other women. They were laughing and giggling. Obviously woman-talk. Taking a sip from her drink, Eileen glanced around the room to see where Sparrow was. He was standing over at the bar listening to the stories of two older boxers. The
‘You’re quite right, love, and I’m sorry,’ Kieran replied, then he winked at the children and they both winked back.
‘Wait a minute – how come you two aren’t at school?’ Kieran asked the girls.
‘It’s a Holy Day, Daddy. And after mass, Mum is taking us into town to see Santa Claus!’ Claire answered. Young Mary was looking at Claire all the time she spoke and as she said the name Santa Claus, Mary stiffened and squinted her eyes with excitement. Kieran laughed. Moya returned to the table with a cup of tea for herself and began to shoo the kids away.
‘Right, girls, come on, up you go, tidy your rooms and brush your teeth. Go on, off with you now, off you go!’
The children left their places, kissed their father and then charged up the stairs, shrieking with excitement.
Kieran began to eat. ‘They’re madly excited!’ he commented, eyeing Moya and knowing something was up. Moya confirmed this by simply staring at her mug and running her finger around the rim. ‘So, are you going to tell me what’s up?’ Kieran asked.
‘What do you mean?’ Moya said nonchalantly.
‘Moya, we’ve been having breakfast together now for years, and every time you run your finger around the rim of the cup, it means you have something on your mind. So what is it?’
Quickly Moya took her finger away, a little flustered. ‘Daddy rang this morning,’ she said flatly.
Kieran dropped his head and began to concentrate again on his breakfast. ‘Oh, I see. And what does the Commissioner have to say to his darling daughter today?’
Before Moya answered she took a packet of cigarettes out of her handbag and lit one. Kieran’s eyebrows rose – he had never seen Moya smoke in the morning. Moya took a drag from her cigarette and slowly blew out the smoke. Unconsciously, she began to run her finger around the rim of her mug again.
‘Daddy told me you applied for the Special Task Force again!’
Kieran didn’t look at her. ‘Did he now? And did he say what reason he’s going to give this time for turning me down?’
Moya shot a glance at Kieran. ‘He’s only trying to look after us, Kieran.’
‘Well, I don’t want to be looked after. I didn’t join the police force to spend my life escorting politicians to meetings. I want to be a policeman. A real fucking policeman!’
‘Mind your language, Kieran, the girls will hear you.’ Moya glanced at the door. Kieran stood up and went to put his plate in the sink. ‘Well, thank God someone hears me because you certainly don’t, Moya.’
He came back to join her at the table. ‘Let me be my own man, Moya.’ He seemed very agitated. ‘Look, Moya,’ he said, ‘I know your father means well, and I know you don’t want to have to worry. But I’ll tell you, love, if he blocks me this time I’ll … I’ll crack up!’ Kieran slumped down into his seat at the table and held his head in his hands.
There was silence between them now. Moya poured them both more tea. She took another drag from her cigarette. She didn’t look at Kieran.
‘I asked him to give it to you. Not to block it.’
Kieran closed his eyes. ‘You did? Oh thank you, love.’
‘Merry Christmas.’ Moya began to cry.
Kieran hugged her. ‘It’ll be all right, love. You’ll see, it’ll be all right.’
* * *
Kavanagh’s pub – near Glasnevin Cemetery, 1.20pm
Old Eddie would have been proud of his funeral party. It was a very merry affair, as is the custom for funerals in Ireland. Eileen and her mother Dolly were standing talking to four other women. They were laughing and giggling. Obviously woman-talk. Taking a sip from her drink, Eileen glanced around the room to see where Sparrow was. He was standing over at the bar listening to the stories of two older boxers. The
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