The pub was packed and he was in full flight. What they call a two-fisted drinker and he drank in a similar fashion. A big man, six feet two inches, near 240 pounds and a lot of it was muscle. He kept his head shaved to the skull and it all added to his bull appearance. But startlingly blue eyes, a broken nose and full mouth. He was dressed in a white tracksuit and of course, the Doc Martens, polished to a frenzied spit. I met him in prison, he’d been in and out of Pentonville more times than the postman. I’d been convicted of GBH… which was OK… if they wanted to call it grievous bodily harm, I wasn’t arguing the toss. A mugger had hopped on my back down in Waterloo and I’d tried to kill the fucker. In fact, I was sure I had done as I gave it my best shot. I hadn’t done good in the nick, I couldn’t get the rhythm… and would you want to. In fights all the time, I could learn the words but I couldn’t catch the melody. That’s when I met the Doc and he showed me the score. Why a huge Irishman became my solution is one of those odd events that defy analysis. Our friendship continued in the straight world and we went into business together.
He’d taken advantage of the Open University to attain his ‘O’ Levels and went all the way through to take a B.A. in Literature. It demonstrated, he said, not so much how smart he was as the length of time he’d been inside. I reckoned if anyone knew the MacNeice dude, it was him. Our business brought in a lotta cash but fuck, he needed it. The man loved to spend.
This evening, he’d thrown an impromptu party in our local as his team had bought a new player. Fuck knows, they needed to. What he’d done was put a grand behind the bar and ya-hoo, it was open season… party time. He’d once said to me, ‘They don’t trust an educated Irishman, it’s like an uppity nigger.’
I said, ‘As maybe! But they get downright paranoid with a flash one even more. Do you have to be so blatant with the cash? I mean I’ve heard of conspicuous consumption but this is friggin’ rubbin’ their noses in it.’
‘Ah Cooper, me oul segotia, you worry too much. You can’t take it with you.’
‘Yeah, but you’re hell bent on letting every other bastard take it with him.’
‘You’re a miserable sod, why are the English so cautious?’
‘’Cos we have to deal with you flamin’ paddies is why. We’ll have to pull another job sooner than planned.’
I caught his eye, signalled the corner booth, our office of sorts. Wading through the crowd, he was pumping hands, yelling hello, home is the fuckin’ hero. His face was awash in sweat and his eyes alight. Threw an arm round me, asked, ‘How’s it cutting, yah worry guts?’
‘Sit down Doc, I need to talk.’
‘Uh-uh, you got a girl in trouble?’
‘Just listen OK, can you fuckin’ do that, take five minutes off from the hearty hail-fuck-well-met, can you.’
It lashed him, his eyes lost their light a moment, as if a candle had been blown out, I said, ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that but I need your undivided.’
He sat down, took out a hankie, with his team colours, mopped his face, said, ‘Oh you meant it alright. But sometimes I’m afraid if I stop, I’ll never get motoring again, I keep bein’ afraid I’ll miss something. Anyway, fire away.’
I gave him a rundown on the day, covered near all. He looked into my face, asked, ‘Did you give her one?’
‘What?’
‘Did you ride her?’
‘Good Lord, why don’t you just come right out and ask me… why beat about the bush?’
‘Sounds like you beat around the old bush. So… did you do the business, give her a rub of the relic.’
‘Em… in a manner of speaking.’
He gave a huge laugh, threw back his head and went with it. Ever see or hear Dyan Cannon laugh? Yeah… the whole shebang, light on a dark street, like that.
‘Aw Jaysus Coop, you’ll kill me. The English are a race apart, what d’ya do, talk dirty to her.’
‘OK… OK… so… we had intercourse.’
‘Intercourse, what…? By the Lord Harry did ye study first… what goes where… after you dear… no, no… I insist… put it where you desire. No wonder ye like
‘You’re a big help Doc.’
‘And lifted the pistol did she, the heathen bitch… bit careless were you?’
‘Hey, she slipped me a Mickey Finn.’
‘And you slipped her… OK… sorry.’
‘Have you heard of MacNeice then?’
Doc had done the English piss-take in a haughty law-di-daw. Now he switched to what I’d heard him call his West-Brit accent.
‘I come from an island, Ireland, a nation built upon violence and morose vendettas. My diehard countrymen like drayhorses, drag their ruin behind them, shooting straight in the cause of crooked thinking. Their greed is sugared with pretence of public spirit, from all of which I am an exile.’
I didn’t know was this Doc or MacNeice till he said, ‘He was like me, said,
“In short we must keep moving
to keep pace
or else drop into limbo
the dead place.”’
I threw up my hands.
‘What the fuck is this, everyone’s doing recitations, did I miss something. Who is this fuck.’
‘Take it easy Coop, I also do Yeats… how about a nice bit of Browning?’
‘Fuck off.’
‘’Course you crowd adore Rupert Brooke, all that romantic dying and heroism with a hint of buggery:
“And some corner of a foreign field
shall be forever England”
Yeah, well he got his wish, they bloody buried him in it. Let’s get a drink, I’m parched.’
Back to the bar and ordered double Scotches. Got on the other side of them, I said, ‘What should I do?’
‘Get shot of her.’
‘That’s it… for this I sat through poetry at eleven.’
‘Look Coop, we’re due to take that bank… wot… two weeks… we can’t afford complications, that woman isn’t a loose cannon, she’s a walking time bomb.’
‘Maybe we should postpone.’
He put down his drink, laid a big hand on my shoulder, said, ‘No can do old son, I need the cash.’
‘What else is new.’
‘Straight up… and you need to get that pistol back. Jaysus, all we need is for her to put a bullet in Bert.’
‘Bertr?’
‘Yeah, the fast food guy, if she’s as nutty as she sounds, she’ll go back. It’s what psychos do.’
Lisa, a barmaid, was collecting glasses. A friendly slip of a girl, I was always glad to see her. As she leant over, her breasts brushed my arm and she let the touch linger, her eyes locked on mine. Her perfume had a familiar scent… I asked, ‘What’s the fragrance?’
‘Poison.’
‘I don’t doubt it but what’s it called?’
‘That’s the name.’
It was what Cassie wore. Doc said, ‘She fancies you, that Lisa does.’
‘Leave it out.’
‘C’mon, get the cork outa yer ass. Bring her home, have a nice uncomplicated lass for once.’
‘Jeez, I haven’t the energy.’
‘Here, take this… it’s amyl nitrate, crunch that baby under yer nose, you’ll go like the clappers.’
‘The fuck’s going on. All day people feeding me poetry and dope or is that the other way round, dopes feeding me…’
‘Poetry, dope and rock ’n’ roll, like an Ian Dury song. Go on… go for it. Aren’t I yer doctor.’
‘You know I hate drugs.’
The sun through the bedroom window nudged me awake. I yawned, stretched, feeling
