Flight of the Shaman

With a loud popping sound the gas lamp went out, casting the room into a darkness broken only by the faint glimmer of the street lights. The images in the mirror dimmed and were shrouded by a thick mist.

  "Flamin' meters run out," said Paddy.

  "Uncle Paddy, what are they going to do to him?" asked Davey.

  "These boyos are playing for keeps lad. You sure you want to keep seeing it?" he held up a shilling and looked towards Davey for an answer.

  Davey didn't hesitate, he reached out and took hold of the coin.

  Paddy stared at him, "Yer an old head on young shoulders that's for sure and that's something that I can't figure, there's definitely something going on 'ere."

  "The White Lady told me the helmet was the key," said Davey, "did me dad tell you about her. Did he believe me?"

  "Hey lad, better leave yer old feller out of this, if 'e knew what was going on he'd have a coronary. I believe yer. After this little lot if you told me the Mersey was fit to drink I'd believe yer but there's a riddle to be solved here I just can't put me finger on it." He again stared hard at Davey and chewed the corner of his lip as he always did when thinking.

  "Should I put this in the meter Uncle Paddy?" asked Davey.

  "Yeah go on," he said not really paying attention he was so deep in thought.

  Davey made his way down the staircase and along the lobby to the gas-meter. It was not until he pushed the shilling into the slot that he realised that he could clearly see what he was doing, he lifted the helmet from his head, all around was instantly plunged into darkness.

  When he returned to the room Paddy was fumbling round on the dressing table for matches.

  "There they are Uncle Paddy," said Davey taking hold of the box.

  "How'd yer do that lad?" asked Paddy, "it's like the black hole of Calcutta in here."

  "It's the helmet," he said excitedly, "I can see in the dark with it."

  "Pass us it 'ere lad and give us a bit of light, I wanna check this thing out again."

  Davey struck a match near to the lamp. Because they had forgotten to turn off the gas it burst into light with a roar and a bang. He pulled his hand back quickly to avoid the emission of flame.

  "Nearly had me!" he said then halted in surprise when he saw Paddy staring into the mirror, on his head was the helmet. "Anything Uncle Paddy?"

  Paddy sat motionless, staring fixedly, determination set into his grim face. "Not a ruddy sausage, just some ugly old git staring at me wearing a stupid 'elmet."

  He threw the helmet onto the bed disappointedly.

  As Davey thought about what Paddy had said the words began to tickle him, his face spread into a grin, the grin became a stifled laugh. Paddy looked at him quizzically and realised what he had said. Davey could no longer contain himself but exploded into an almighty bellyache. Paddy followed a close second, for him it seemed the medicine he could not afford, for both it was a release from the game they were playing and the sights they had witnessed.

  They laughed until the tears ran down their cheeks, until each cried with the pain and Paddy went into a coughing fit.

  "Shush!" he said, "she'll 'ear us, Need anything Paddy ... Need anything Paddy," he mimicked.

  It brought fresh howls of laughter from the pair of them. The noise increased so that even the thick earmuffs and plugs of Mrs Murtagh could not drown out the sound, she sat up in bed and removed the protection from one of her ears, "Need anything Paddy!" she called in her high-pitched voice. Screams and yells of hysterical convulsions were returned to her. She smiled to herself, replaced the earplugs and lay back down listening to their loudest cries and yells with the first beam of happiness upon her face in as long as she could remember.

  "Well what yer waiting for? the 39 bus? Stick it on yer 'ead!"

  Davey watched himself in the mirror as he slowly lowered the helmet onto his head.