As Arm and Dympna got closer, Arm copped the smell coming off the second man, the eye-wateringly ripe stench of dried-in adult piss, which explained why Hector was leaning back on the rear legs of his seat. Hector’s arms were folded across the shelf of his stomach and the wings of his nose were drawn narrow, a crinkle of supressed disgust edging his smile.
‘Ah, these here are the ones I was waiting for,’ he said, cutting off the old man, who twisted round in his seat to take in Arm and Dympna.
‘Your young fellas?’ the man croaked.
‘The ginner’s the nephew, and his friend used box for the county. Fine stumps of men.’
‘They’re alright,’ the man said without enthusiasm.
‘Are we interrupting?’ Dympna said.
‘Not at all, Mick here was just telling me a fascinating theory he has about Jaysus.’
‘Jaysus?’ Dympna said.
‘Our Lord and Saviour,’ the man said.
‘His theory,’ Hector elaborated when the man did not go on, ‘is that Jaysus had a twin. A brother, and when they nailed the first one to the cross and buried him in that cave, his followers robbed the body and had the other lad show up three days later, claiming he was Jaysus come back.’
The old man watched Arm and Dympna as Hector talked. One eye was gummed near shut. He was wearing mud-caked, laceless Reebok runners, no socks, plum tracksuit bottoms shiny with filth, and a mustard sports jacket over a faded WORLD CUP ‘94 T-shirt. In his hand he clutched a plastic shopping bag with what appeared to be a bunch of other plastic bags folded up inside it.
‘Alright,’ Dympna said cautiously, ‘sounds okay. Sounds a lot more plausible, like, than coming back from the dead.’
‘It does,’ the man said curtly. He pressed his knuckles into the table and gingerly raised himself from his seat.
‘Nice talking to you, always good to meet a man with a cast of a brain in his head, always good.’ He turned and the skunky hum of piss turned in the air and departed with him.
‘What the fuck was that about?’ Dympna said, coughing and clearing his throat and taking the seat the man had vacated. Arm dragged a seat over from the next table along.
‘That wretched old boy’s harmless,’ Hector said. ‘His ilk aren’t what I’m worried about.’
‘And what is the worry now, Heck?’ Dympna said.
‘Don’t be sighing like a man who’s already got to the end of what he thinks I’m about to say. This one,’ Hector nodded at Arm, ‘understands the virtue of keeping his trap shut and letting a man get to the end of his own sentences.’
‘You sounded put out on the phone, Heck, that’s all,’ Dympna said, interlinking his stubby fingers and again clearing his throat.
‘I heard—’ Hector began, hauling himself upright in his seat, which caused his stomach to well against the lip of the table, ‘about this fella. What’s his name?’
‘Fannigan,’ Dympna said.
‘Fannigan. What he did to the young one.’
Dympna’s tongue skittered between his teeth.
‘You heard about what he tried to do. She’s okay. We’re taking care of it. We have taken care of it, as a matter of fact.’
‘Have you now?’ Hector said.
‘Yes,’ Dympna said.
‘I care about my family. About my brother’s family. Me and Paudi both,’ Hector raised an inclusive palm towards Dympna, then put out the other hand, like Paudi was right there, sitting beside him.
Paudi was the scarier seeming of the uncles. He was thin and very tall, with a briar patch of grey-black hair and a torrentially unkempt Taliban beard. He had hard black eyes that put Arm in mind of the taxidermied foxes and stoats his own Uncle Fred kept in glass display cabinets behind the bar of his pub.
‘So do I,’ Dympna said.
‘She’s a child,’ Hector said, ‘a child. What have you done about it?’
Dympna was about to say something but Hector put the hand up. Stop.
‘It’s my business to sort,’ Dympna said, looking levelly at his uncle.
‘Is it now?’ Hector said. The crinkle crept back into his mouth corner.
Dympna shifted in his chair.
‘If you can’t handle it you should’ve called us in.’
‘It’s. Fucking. Handled,’ Dympna said.
‘Is it now?’ A derisive whicker escaped Hector’s nose. ‘I don’t know about that at all, and Paudi doesn’t know about that. And your father, God bless him, would never leave it end there, either. Retribution wouldn’t have even begun, as far as he’d be concerned.’
Dympna closed his eyes and opened them.
‘Believe me,’ he said. ‘Fannigan won’t step out of line in his life ever again.’
Hector was silent for a moment. He plucked at a cufflink, apparently considering Dympna’s assertion, then turned his eyes on Arm.
‘The muscle,’ he said, ‘young Armstrong. Tell me, Douglas. If what happened to that child happened to yours, would you leave the matter as is?’
Arm said nothing.
Dympna sighed. ‘We can’t be attracting attention, Heck. It’s dealt with.’
Hector rapped the table with his hand.
‘Just be glad, lad, we don’t hold you more accountable. Just be glad we consider you a fool rather than a coward.’
Arm could see Dympna was on the verge of going over. Blood flooded the plains of his face. He nipped his bottom lip with his teeth and breathed out hard.
‘And so what do you think you’re going to do?’
Hector pushed back his chair and stood up. He surveyed the room, and the other patrons made sure they were looking some other way. Satisfied those within earshot were at least feigning obliviousness, Heck smiled sadly and leaned down close.
‘What we shouldn’t have to, cos it should already be done.’
Arm
