Traveller Wedding

3

  My sister Josey lived in a council house across the green and had such a beautifully tiled and cupboarded rectangle of a kitchen with such an unblemished wooden tabletop that I always thought it looked like a showroom. For fifteen minutes I had been talkin about Michael like it didn't bother me while she stared at me with raised eyebrows. Occasionally sneerin very slightly or shakin her head. Askin three times if we would marry. Josey had blonde, frizzy, shoulder-length hair and similar, feverish looks to my own. Havin said that, she was eight years older and did look sort of compromised by life. Silk bathrobe on, neglected Marlboro Light in upright hand, she subsequently began tellin me a story about Christopher-Angel's work in the ten minutes before I left.

  'Mairead!' she suddenly roared. 'Don't bring other people's names into the conversation!'

  My blonde, curvy, fifteen year old niece Mairead was standin halfway down the hall in a yellow Nike tracksuit and legwarmers - complainin on the phone to a young friend of hers and startin to refer to third parties. That is something that can be very dangerous in our community. You wouldn't know what trouble you might cause. Still, when Mairead didn't respond and her mother stubbed her cigarette, marched into the hall and began shoutin at her I was slightly taken aback. It seemed over the top, because at that point I didn't know the background.

  'Leave me alone will ya?!' Mairead shrieked, slammed down the phone and stormed upstairs.

  To my complete shock, Josey charged after her daughter in a caped-crusadin flash and literally reefed her downstairs by the hair.

  Immediately, I intervened.

  'Hang on!' I yelled. 'What the hell are you fightin about?'

  They were both breathing melodramatically.

  'She knows,' Josey seethed.

  'I don't fuckin know,' Mairead scowled. 'She's gone round de bend.'

  'Don't use that language in here,' Josey pointed at her sharply.

  'She's mad!' Mairead shrieked again. 'I don't want to be fuckin near her!'

  'Out the door so,' I said pragmatically and flicked the catch. 'You two are bad as each other?'

  'Fine,' Josey moaned. 'Don't let her out of your bloody sight, though, Christine.'

  It wasn't the first time they had been split up. Yet I was surprised all over again when my sister suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Mairead's phone from her hand.

  'Gimme my phone!' Mairead immediately roared, like she couldn't believe her mother's nerve.

  'No?' Josey disappeared back into the kitchen. 'Watch her, Christine.'

  'Get out that door,' I whispered to my niece.

  The grey surfaces of the estate where many of my relatives live were clean and still that dusk.

  Before goin to my trailer we headed for the main road and the Texaco garage because Mairead wanted a pack of Johnny Blues. In the evenin air I sensed benevolent conspiracy, like before the curtain was raised for one of those plays we used to do in school. I sensed it from the people outside their council houses, Jimmy and Christopher who were settin something on fire near their cart and even the insulated cars tumblin by as we waited to cross.

  'What's goin on?' I asked Mairead, though she didn't answer immediately.

  The petrol station never pulled up its main shutter or opened the doors, no matter what time or date - yet their little hatch never closed.

  'Nothing,' Mairead finally sighed while waitin for the Tunisian man to get her cigarettes. 'She needs to get checked out.'

  'Don't say that,' I whispered forcefully. 'She's your mother!'

  'She's crazy.'

  Mine was an actual caravan, as opposed to a trailer or shed. Still called it a trailer though. Very simple. Just a bedroom and livingroom. I had a proper sink and fridge and all that. Some couches built into the walls. Orange tones everywhere. It was a little dull-lookin after years of neglect to be honest. In the bedroom, a sea blue blanket hung by my window which I sometimes clipped up as a curtain and there was a red candle on my bedside table.

  I noticed my bed wasn't made and started straightenin it for Mairead.

  'N-no,' she exhaled in the bedroom doorway and pointed behind herself with a cigarette. 'I'll sleep on the couch out here!'

  I puffed a pillow, eyeballed her with a grin.

  'I'm afraid to sleep in here, Auntie Chrissie,' she said with a straight face. 'It's too dark.'

  'You're good!' I winked and unfurled my turquoise duvet. 'Wish you'd just tell me what's goin on love. Anyway, I'll sleep out there because I'll be up late.'

  I had only said goodnight, stepped back into the livingroom and closed the bedroom door when Michael stepped into the caravan.

  My first instinct was to laugh because the last time we had been alone in a caravan together it had changed the course of my life. We never would have been alone up the dump years ago either. Things hadn't changed much since then, yet these days the whole camp was probably hopin for the opposite - that we would shut the door behind us and redeem ourselves. Of course, there was my niece to consider.

  Traveller girls always take care not to be alone with men other than their husbands, brothers, fathers or sons. Because if our reputation is tarnished, that's it. We're considered dirty. No man will ever want us.

  'Mairead's here,' I therefore snapped. 'Go away or you'll ruin her life too.'

  'I'm twice her age,' he scowled.

  I sighed.

  'Don't have anywhere to stay,' he brandished a nagan-shaped paper bag. 'Thought we could get locked.'

  As he stepped inside, pretended to glance around the caravan and eventually collapsed on the couch I organised two glasses. Excitement and despair chasin each other within me. The way he was lookin around and that comment about Mairead bein too young for him didn't sit right. Was he definitely a settled person or what?

  I placed glasses on the table, pulled closed the front door and rubbed my hands together for old warmth. Slowly and somewhat nervously sat down beside him. Brought my knees up to my chin, sniffed the vodka he had poured and told him about Mairead and her mother fightin. Was able to get a much closer look at him than I had that first day.

  'How's the game comin along?' I asked, unable to get comfortable on my own couch.

  'They think a weddin is the best idea,' he sighed.

  'What else did you suggest?' I asked doubtfully.

  'Well,' he looked at me. 'I'd love to make it about the lads racin their horses. But that's not very excitin to my bosses. Plenty of games about that already. They're tryin to be original.'

  'The wedding's not original,' I blinked.

  'It is original,' he nodded. 'It's just-'

  'The weddin part is original but the violence-'

  'Well,' he shrugged at the floor. 'Eighty percent of games in the shops are violent, Christine.'

  His eyes seemed fixed in a reluctant direction.

  'Thing is,' he said. 'They're goin to make the game. The likes of me and you won't stop them. One way or another it'll be on the shelves by Christmas.'

  'You said that you could influence-'

  'I'm there,' he looked at me. 'I'm in the room. So I'm tryin to improve it. You might be able to help me.'

  'I can help ya by tellin ya not to make it about a weddin,' I said. 'It's unrealistic.'

  'Really?' he took another sip.

  'Well, it's not good for travellers,' I shrugged. 'Put it that way.'

  'The lads told me half the weddins are bloody,' he smiled.

  'That's not true,' I said. 'It's not the point anyway. You're gonna... take that one thing and use it to represent us?'

  I took a deep breath. Havin spent half my life workin in voluntary organisations and havin such debates with travellers and settled travellers and settled people - whomever - I would probably have been happy livin out the rest of my days without ever discussin such things again. I didn't like what it did to my tone of voice. Yet dealin with Michael I had no such restraint. This was the man who had ruined my life.

  'I'm a fuckin traveller Christine,' he reminded me.

/>   I looked at him for a moment and realised a couple of things. Firstly, he was in pain. Sure, it was hidden and probably complicated, but he was not a peaceful person by any stretch of the imagination. Not with eyes like that. Secondly, all his years away had allowed him forget how prejudiced the settled community was towards us. How could he make a game about a traveller weddin - full of violence - if he didn't think we were troublemakers. It was such a settled person's perspective.

  'If you want a fuckin minstrel talk to Rosie or even Lucius,' I dumped my glass on the table and waved my hand dismissively.

  He smiled.

  'It's like you've forgotten how hard things are for the kids,' I pulled my sleeves over my hands. 'You not remember those stories your granny used to tell us?'

  'Yeah,' he said, almost wistfully - glancin momentarily at the way I had covered up.

  A lot of people thought the Irish were obsessed with God, but they weren't. They were obsessed with land. That was one of the reasons us travellers were looked down on. Because we didn't own land. At least that's what Michael's granny said.

  'Not sure you do remember,' I shook my head slowly.

  'I do Christine,' he lifted the paper bag and poured more vodka into his glass. 'You don't forget what your granny tells ya.'

  'No,' I said. 'But after sixteen years I'd say you feel a bit different.'

  'You're still angry with me,' he said gently as he screwed the cap back on the bottle. 'Aren't you?'

  'Well,' I shrugged. 'Very little has fuckin changed here, Michael.'

  'Why do you stay?' he sighed. 'Anyway, that's not true. It's gettin better.'

  'Shite!' I said. 'They have no fuckin problem acceptin we have a right to exist, so long as we don't come near them. Almost all of them are the same. Fuckin prejudiced. People who would never say a thing against someone of a different colour - but they have no problem discriminatin against us.'

  He was silent.

  'I'm talkin about how I feel,' my chest rose and fell. 'Very little has changed in me. Don't want to be part of that world.'

  'Right,' he sighed.

  'We're still refused service in pubs,' I started countin on my fingers. 'Still told to leave shops and hairdressers. Denied bookins in hotels. My cousins Amy and Siobhain and Claire - an absolutely beautiful bunch of girls - were refused into a shop in Liffey Valley! They were publicly humiliated by the security staff, Michael. Actually escorted out of the shoppin centre!'

  Rain started hittin the roof. God, I loved that sound. Like a gold rush on iceskates.

  Michael smiled too.

  'That's why I'll never move across the grass,' I sighed. 'Just love hearin that.'

  'Are you not bein a bit tough on me?' he asked. 'I did grow up here.'

  'It doesn't matter,' I fingered his ribs and smiled. 'You've renounced your membership of the travellin community.'

  'Bullshit,' he scowled.

  'Do you use the name McDonagh?' I asked.

  He hesitated.

  'You don't,' I smiled.

  He closed his eyes.

  'I don't get you,' I laughed. 'Just stop them from makin the game badly if you care. Why come back?'

  Michael opened his eyes slowly.

  'What do you actually want?' I asked.

  He looked at me slowly.

  'I dunno,' he sighed.

  I sighed myself and tried to relax.

  The window over the sink was an oblong of dim light and through rain you could just about make out ivy on the wall and a load of dumped roof insulation lain against it. The glow of the downpour was bowed at by cups hangin on a holder that stood over one gas ring when I wasn't cookin. My slim Febreeze can, plastic bottle of bleach and empty 2 litre bottle of diet coke stood like soldiers over the grey plastic basin. All believers in the blue warmth of the perfect shower outside. You were within the rain when you lived in a trailer. Divorced from it after movin into a house.

  'No,' Michael whispered. 'You don't forget when people think you're animals and beasts. Remember my gran's caravan bein towed? Or Desiree Cullen's trailer bein lifted into the air. Her fuckin home, belongins way up in the fuckin sky! All them guards standin around. Fuckin cunts.'

  He sparked up a Johnny Blue as I thought of the thousands of court proceedins intended to move us on, without so much as a thought of where we would go.

  All the stones thrown at us over the years. Bein described as a national problem. A nuisance to farmers. Claims that our horses spread foot and mouth! They actually viewed us as a threat to tourism for a while. Do you know that? The powers that be reckoned if we were seen around town durin holiday seasons that foreign visitors would return home to England and America and talk about it.

  Knowin damn well they didn't like us, it was only a matter of comin up with a reason. All those summons. Fines by the sanitary man. We were causin havoc, they said. Pandemonium. A menace to social order. Infestin. Breedin! Claimin they were kind and charitable toward us, but that we didn't appreciate the generosity.

  The bedroom door opened gently and we both blinked as Mairead stuck her head out.

  'Can I get a glass of water?' she asked.

  'Quickly,' I said. 'This is Michael.'

  'Hiya,' she nodded and shimmied to the sink.

  'Hiya,' he said.

  She filled a glass and drank it while starin out at the rain.

  All three of us were silent and I thought Mairead looked like a ghost.

  'Can I borrow your phone?' she suddenly asked and glanced in my direction.

  'No credit love,' I sighed - really wantin her to go back to my room.

  She moved her eyes from me to Michael.

  'Sure,' Michael said, produced his mobile and tossed it.

  'Thanks,' she nearly caught the Nokia. 'I'll bring it back in a minute.'

  With that she disappeared into my bedroom and shut the door.

  For a moment we didn't say anything - just let the rain comment on everything from our discussion, to the hour, to Mairead.

  Naturally, the weather was commentin on our history before long. We were alone in the middle of the night once more. Like the past had become turned around.

  'Are you ready to be kissed?' Michael asked.

  I shrugged meekly as he put his glass on the table and leant toward me.

  'Everyone thinks we're tyin the knot,' I sighed.

  He closed his mouth around the edge of mine and began kissin me properly.

  It felt good.

  Didn't last more than a few minutes, though - because I felt so guilty about Mairead bein next door.

  He went outside to take a piss while I checked on her.

  'Michael!' I screamed out my bedroom window. 'She's done a runner!'

  God as my witness, I don't know how she eased through such a small hole.

  My blue curtain blanket was actually folded on the bed.

  Michael's phone on my little table.

  Immediately, we legged over to the garage in the rain. She almost certainly would have passed by there. There weren't a lot of other directions she could have gone.

  The Tunisian fella behind the glass remembered myself and Mairead from when she bought smokes.

  'Oh, the blonde one I seen you with tonight about ten?' he said. 'Yes, I seen her - she walked down dat way toward VIP Feetness.'

  'Where's she going?' Michael looked at me.

  'Aaeeeaaaahh,' Josey started moanin like crazy the moment we appeared at her door, roarin for her husband to come downstairs. 'Christopher-Angel! Mairead's gone! She's gone! She's after runnin away.'

  'What do you mean?' I asked, confused.

  'She's run away with Gull!' Josey wailed like a banshee cat.

  'Gull?' I asked.

  'They're a couple, Christine!' she moaned as Christopher-Angel appeared. 'She knows I know.'

  In his black moustache and black pyjamas which seemed to showcase his crucifix and hairy chest, Christopher-Angel collapsed onto the bottom stair - because Gull was Mairead's firs
t cousin and our sister Steph's sixteen year old son.

  We all have a problem with first cousins gettin married in this community. It's not okay. Second cousins, grand. Not first cousins. Yet occasionally we get stuck with it because the kids run away together and there is absolutely nothing anyone can do. It's like I said before - no other fella will touch you after you've been alone with a boy for fifteen minutes, let alone run off with him for a few days.

  There was a lot of sobbin, stiff drinkin, mobile phonecallin and cursin at the long, wooden kitchen table before the sun rose - at which point the four of us marched over to Gull's mother and father who were expectin us. Gull's father Jason, our brother-in-law, had already checked Gull's shed and lo and behold money was missin and we all just knew they were gone. That was it. The two of them were gone, y'know, so it was obvious they were gone together.

  'You and Michael were involved?' Jason asked me. 'Were ya?'

  'That's not true Jason,' Michael raised a finger with sixteen years of lethargy.

  'I swear to God,' I shook my head as tears returned. 'On my nieces and nephews. We would never have knowingly let this happen! I was talkin to Michael, Jason. She was so quiet climbin out that window. Like a fuckin ninja.'

  Obviously she had texted Gull from my bed. That was how we messed up. Givin her a phone. Gull probably picked her up on the corner by VIP Fitness. Shite! I wouldn't have minded if they had done it on their own time. This way I had to take the blame.

  There was excitement in the camp that mornin, because the moment a young couple disappears is the moment we all accept they're gettin married.

  'Shotgun weddin!' cackled Rosie.

  'That's it,' Nelly's Francie nodded.

  'Be happy for them,' Ruari said through his voice prosthesis. 'They're old people now.'

  That's how it goes in our world. Literally. It's like John Wayne in The Quiet Man. You sit up one side of the cart. I'll sit on the other. No hands touchin. No patty fingers.

  When they returned Gull and Mairead would continue sleepin together. That was okay. You were allowed to share a trailer after you ran away.

  Nobody heard from them for a few days, but we obviously knew they were okay because they were together. We wondered if they were actually goin to a priest and tryin to get it over with, or just chillin. Finally, Gull's mother texted him and he texted her back. The followin day he drove slowly back into the camp with his irreversible bride in the passenger seat, her hair like Medusa and lookin very smug altogether. A banquet of petrol station junk food, followed by round the clock B&B copulation no doubt.

  I was jealous - in case you don't know.

  A slow ceremony of noddin among the men and tears among the women followed and by that evenin a weddin date of April 4th had been set - Mairead's sixteenth birthday.

  There were twelve of us kids and none of us went for our first cousins. So when Gull and Mairead ran away it was a shock. There was consternation. In fact, we still couldn't be sure the priest would even marry them. He might say they were too closely related or something. It was awful when priests reacted that way. It was so hard to find the right person to marry and when you did, hellish bein told no. But if the priest wouldn't agree to it, what could you do except find another priest and hope he took a different view? Goin up the north was good that way.

  Second cousins, no problem. We often married them. In the old days it was all matchmakin, see. These days most of the children choose their own partner. I still like to know who it is. Like to know who they're pickin even if I'm too smart to get involved. Just want it to work, I suppose. We want our girls married young so they don't get into trouble. So that nothing goes wrong for them. Y'know? I prefer when it's at least a distant relative because that way you know what you're gettin. You also know that when times are tough, it can't all fall apart because everyone is part of the same family anyway. Besides, people who are related have more nature for each other. They're less likely to smack each other around. I don't say unlikely. Just less likely. Family counts for so much in our community. It really does. These are my people. Those belongin to me. My own.

  There are certain travellers who we just don't marry, of course, because we don't mix with them. Unfortunately, if you go back far enough you often find there is some connection. We're all connected! Marriages to settled people can work, too. Though a lot of the time they don't. Look at what happened to Michael. He got engaged to a settled girl and now he was back again, sayin it was over. Many of us would be against that kind of thing. I remember a nephew of mine was goin to marry a settled girl once and my brother actually went and told the girl's parents he was already married! That was the end of that.

  I have to be honest. Otherwise what's the point of writin this book? Although none of us married first cousins, our mother and father actually were first cousins. It's true. Gull and Mairead was actually just history repeatin itself because precisely the same thing happened when our mother jumped over the budget with our father forty three years earlier. The budget was the bag of tools for tinsmithing. Jumpin over it was all you had to do.