‘I do,’ I said. ‘Yes.’
Joe was still smiling. I wanted to kill him. But he was dead already. Or half dead, or something.
She turned and looked in at Joe. His eyes were shut, but I hadn’t seen him close them. She looked around, to see if anyone was coming into the room. But it was just us. Me, her – and Joe.
‘It’s a bit creepy,’ she said. ‘You know. My first lover is dead.’
She shivered. She made herself shiver. Her glasses slid off her head, past her nose. She caught them and put them back up on her head.
‘It must be strange,’ I said.
‘A bit,’ she said. ‘But mostly just sad.’
I was afraid of the answer I was going to hear, but I had to ask the question.
‘Was he any good?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘God love him. He was done in five seconds.’
Joe’s eyes popped open, then closed.
‘I didn’t know what the fuss was all about for years,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I know what you mean.’
I had no idea why I said that. Did she think now that I had had sex with Joe as well? I had to say something else – quick.
‘Do you think it will rain?’ I asked.
No, I didn’t. I’m not that bad. Anyway, there is no point in asking that question in Ireland. The answer is always Yes.
‘I asked you up for a dance once,’ I said. ‘Do you remember?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Did you, really?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘But you said No.’
She put her hand to her head and slid her reading glasses down to her nose. She looked at me, over the glasses.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I didn’t.’
She put the glasses back up on her head.
‘Ah, well,’ she said.
I felt like she had seen right through my clothes. And right through my skin and flesh. Into the hollow place where my heart used to be, before it fell down through my body, onto the floor. I felt empty and old and fat but – do you know what? I didn’t really care. It was kind of nice. I was miserable, but kind of happy too.
I smiled at her.
She smiled back.
‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘My book club is on tonight.’
She looked in at Joe one more time. His eyes were closed. He was looking very dead.
‘Bye, Joe,’ she whispered.
‘What’s the book?’ I asked her.
‘What?’
‘The book club,’ I said. ‘What book did you read?’
‘I didn’t,’ she said. ‘I never read the book. I just go for the crack. A few drinks and a laugh.’
She stepped back from the coffin.
‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘Bye, Pat.’
She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. Did her tongue kind of lick my cheek?
I wasn’t sure. But I wanted to lick hers.
‘You went to Saint Joseph’s school,’ said Sandra. ‘You played for Barrytown United. You wore a blue shirt that you looked great in. With a little bit of chest hair sticking out. You used to hang around outside the shops. You blew smoke rings when we passed by. They were always perfect. They always looked like they were going to come down over our heads.’
She was looking right at me.
‘Your hair dropped over your eyes,’ she said. ‘I always wanted to push it back up. I wanted to put my fingers through your hair.’
She lifted her hand. She was going to put her hand – her fingers – on my head.
She stopped. Her hand dropped.
She smiled.
‘Take care of yourself,’ she said.
I watched her walk out of the room. Her heels clicked across the floor. My wife and son were in the house, my best friend was in a coffin beside me. But, still, I nearly called after her.
‘Do you want to go for a drink?’
I nearly did.
But I didn’t.
Then I did.
‘Do you want to go for a drink?’ I said. ‘Eh – some time.’
She stopped at the door and looked at me again. She stared at me for three long seconds.
‘I don’t think that would be wise,’ she said. ‘Do you?’
She lifted her hand and showed me her wedding ring.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t think it would be wise.’
I was loving this. It was the new me. It was the old me. I was Pat Dunne, the Sex Machine. Even my voice sounded different. It was deeper.
‘But,’ I said. ‘But do we always have to be wise, Donna?’
‘My name is Sandra,’ she said.
The old me would have given up. But I was Pat the Sex Machine.
I took my phone out of my pocket.
‘What’s your number?’ I said. ‘I’ll phone you in a few days.’
She looked at me, then started speaking.
‘0 – 8 – 7 – 6 – 2 – 3 – 3 –’
It was amazing. Sandra Nolan gave me her phone number.
No.
She didn’t.
I didn’t even ask her. I wanted to. I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.
She was gone. I heard the front door open, and close.
Joe was sitting up in the coffin.
‘Why didn’t you ask her?’ he said.
‘Oh, look,’ I said. ‘It’s Five Seconds Joe. Back from the dead. Are you able to read my thoughts as well?’
‘Why didn’t you ask her?’ he said again.
‘Can you read my thoughts?’ I asked him again.
‘No, I can’t,’ he said. ‘But I know that I wanted to ask her.’
‘Why didn’t you?’ I asked.
He patted the coffin.
‘I’m busy,’ he said. ‘I already have a gig.’
‘You only lasted five seconds,’ I said.
‘That was five more than you,’ he said. ‘Anyway, it was seven seconds. At least. She is still a fine thing, isn’t she?’
‘Sandra?’
‘Sandra.’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘She is.’
‘Oh, she is.’
‘Do the dead think about sex?’ I asked him.
‘That never stops,’ said Joe. ‘So, why didn’t you ask her to go for a drink?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I wanted to.’
I had not spoken like this in years. To anybody. Even myself. There was something about being with Joe. Alive or dead. Alive and dead. I felt I was a little bit dead myself. And free.
‘It’s not too late,’ he said.
‘It is,’ I said. ‘She’s gone.’
‘She’s a woman,’ said Joe. ‘It will take her ages to go.’
‘I heard the front door,’ I told him.
‘How do you know that was her?’ he said.
I ran out to the hall.
I didn’t run. But I walked very fast.
Chapter Fourteen
The hall was still the same. The same people – in the same places. The front door was still shut. Young Sam still stood beside it.
Mrs Webb blocked my way.
‘Is that Pat Dunne?’ she said.
I said nothing. I looked around. They looked back at me, waiting.
‘Is that Pat Dunne?’
‘How are you, Mrs Webb?’
‘You remember me.’
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s not so bad,’ she said.
‘I know.’
‘You get used to it.’
‘That’s right.’
‘We’ll meet again,’ she said.
‘We will.’
I had not seen her move, or shift. But I was able to get past her.
I went the rest of the way to the kitchen door. I stopped, and looked back. No one had moved. They were talking but I could hear no words.
I wanted to go back to Joe. I felt better with him. I felt more safe.
But I walked into the kitchen. It was still packed in there, and hot.
>
A tall, fat guy got out of my way.
And I saw Karen.
There was no sign of Sandra Nolan.
Or Sarah.
My wife.
Karen saw me.
I kept walking towards her.
‘He looks great,’ I said.
She stared at me.
I wished Sarah was with me now. She was better at this kind of thing.
Karen took both of my hands in hers.
‘Pat,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you came.’
‘You said that already –’ I said, and stopped.
She was upset. I saw that now. She was putting on a brave face. But she was in a bad way. She did not remember that we had already met.
‘I wish I had done this sooner,’ I said.
‘Ah, well,’ she said. ‘Joe said the same thing.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We were stupid.’
We hugged. I kissed the side of her face. A bit closer to her mouth this time. I left my lips there.
And I saw Gavin looking at me. He was still standing beside the fridge, with his can and his girl.
‘I’ll go in and see Joe,’ I told Karen.
I turned, and Sarah was right behind me. I nearly walked into her.
‘Sarah,’ I said.
‘All right?’ she asked.
‘I was just talking to Sandra,’ I said.
‘Who?’
‘I mean, Karen. I was just talking to Karen.’
‘So I see,’ said Sarah.
She kissed me on the cheek.
I saw now, Sandra Nolan was standing there.
‘Do you know Sandra?’ Sarah asked me.
What was going on?
‘No,’ I said.
‘Sandra used to live around here,’ said Sarah.
Sandra put her hand out.
‘Nice to meet you – is it Pat?’ she said.
‘That’s right,’ said Sarah. ‘Pat.’
‘I’m going to see Joe,’ I told Sarah.
I legged it, into the hall.
‘Is that Pat Dunne?’
‘How are you, Mrs Webb?’
‘You remember me.’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s not so bad.’
‘Spot on.’
‘You get used to it.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
‘We’ll meet again.’
‘Yeah.’
Chapter Fifteen
I slid into the front room. Joe was climbing back into the coffin.
‘Give me a hand here,’ he said.
He did not look so dead now. He looked like a middle-aged man trying to climb up onto a wall. But before I got to him, he lifted himself, and slid in.
He was face down in the coffin. He grunted, and turned. He looked up at me.
‘How did it go?’ he asked. ‘Was she there?’
‘Sandra Nolan?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Sandra Nolan.’
‘She was there,’ I said. ‘But it was strange.’
‘Was Karen there?’
‘Your wife?’
I felt my face burn.
‘Yes,’ said Joe. ‘My wife.’
‘She was with Sarah,’ I said.
He looked at me. Then he grunted, and sat up in the coffin.
‘What’s gone wrong with you?’ he asked.
‘What do you mean?’ I said. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Do you not even remember?’
‘Remember what?’
‘You,’ he said. ‘You used to be God’s gift to women.’
‘Was I?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘God, man. Is your memory gone?’
‘It must be,’ I said.
‘Think, for God’s sake. Think.’
It was like the word ‘Think’ opened up my head. I began to remember.
Chapter Sixteen
‘That was Black Sabbath,’ said Paddy the Night Wolf. ‘But NOW we’ll slow things DOWN. Here’s Lionel Richie, with Hello.’
‘Now is your chance,’ said Joe. ‘Go on.’
‘I hate this song,’ I said.
‘Never mind the song,’ said Joe. ‘Think of the bird.’
He pushed me again, in the back. I slid over the sweat and spilt Fanta and walked the rest of the way.
Sandra Nolan had her back to me.
I stopped.
I waited.
I heard Joe’s voice.
‘Go on!’
I tapped her shoulder.
She turned.
I felt the heat in my face. I tried to smile.
‘Do you want to dance?’ I asked.
She looked like she was going to say No. I could see it in her face.
But I didn’t give her the chance.
I don’t know how I did what I did next. It just seemed natural. There was no way I was going back across to Joe. He’d be waiting there, laughing at me.
I was calm. I was cool. I really was. But this was the first time I knew I could be like that. I could be that way whenever I wanted to be.
There was another girl standing beside Sandra Nolan.
‘Do you want to dance?’ I asked her.
I didn’t even look at her properly. I smiled, and I moved a little closer to her – just a little. I saw her nod her head. Her hair slid in front of her face. She flicked it back, and I saw that she was kind of lovely.
She put her hands on my shoulders. I put my hands on her waist. God, that was brilliant. And we went slowly round and round as Lionel Richie kept singing ‘Hello’ to the blind girl in the video. By the time Lionel said ‘Goodbye’, we were kissing. I didn’t even know her name.
I didn’t look over at Joe. I didn’t care about Joe.
George Michael started singing Careless Whisper.
The girl took her mouth away from my mouth.
‘I love this one,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s brilliant.’
I didn’t think it was brilliant at all. It was crap. But it didn’t matter. The mood was more important than the truth. I didn’t know how I knew that. But I did.
We kissed again. We pressed against each other. We nearly fell over.
‘Oops,’ she said.
We laughed into each other’s mouths.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked her.
‘Donna,’ she said. ‘What’s yours?’
George Michael gave up and Barry White, the man himself, filled the hall with his growl. Don’t GO changing.
‘I’m Barry,’ I told her.
‘Barry White?’
‘That’s me,’ I said.
She laughed.
‘You’re a bit mad,’ she said.
‘Thanks,’ I said.
‘I know your real name, anyway,’ she said. ‘You’re Pat Dunne.’
‘Only on my days off,’ I said.
She laughed.
‘It’s hot in here, isn’t it, Donna?’ I said.
‘Will we go outside?’
‘Good idea,’ I said.
We held hands and I led the way. I could see the steam and the cigarette smoke rushing to the open door.
We stepped outside.
Chapter Seventeen
Did I remember all that?
Had it really happened?
I took a deep breath. Joe was looking at me.
Yes, it had happened. I could feel it in my lungs. In the centre of my body. I had once been that boy, and I had walked out of the hall with a girl called Donna. We had walked into the night. We had walked behind a hut. The rest is private. But I will tell you one thing. It lasted longer than five seconds. Even seven.
I looked at Joe. He was lying back in his coffin, looking up at me.
‘Tell me if I’m wrong,’ I said.
‘Go on.’
‘I was asking Sandra Nolan up to dance. But I thought she was going to say No. So I asked her friend, Donna. And Sandra got so angry at Donna –’
‘A nice girl,’ said Joe.
‘A very nic
e girl,’ I said. ‘Sandra was so angry at Donna and at me. Because, really, she fancied me. She used to talk about me with Donna. But now Donna was kissing me. And Sandra was so angry, she looked around and she saw you. You got off with Sandra because she wanted to get off with me. She wanted to make me jealous. Am I right?’
Joe nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And it makes me want to die.’
‘You are dead, Joe.’
‘Well,’ said Joe. ‘You know what I mean. Watch out.’
He slid down into the coffin and shut his eyes.
Someone had walked into the room.
I didn’t look.
‘Doesn’t he look super?’ said the someone.
It was Sandra Nolan.
‘You’re back,’ I said.
I tried not to sound too happy.
Her hair was still up on her head and her reading glasses still sat on top. Her eyes were still blue and still lovely.
She smiled.
‘It’s Pat Dunne,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it?’
It took me a while to answer. What was going on?
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s me.’
And I thought I heard Joe laugh. I looked, but his eyes were shut.
‘You haven’t changed,’ she said.
I heard that laugh again. I wanted to lean into the coffin and hit him. I wanted to put my fist through him. It wasn’t funny. There was nothing funny about this.
‘You don’t know me,’ she said. ‘Do you?’
I looked at her carefully.
I didn’t understand what was going on. Was she flirting with me?
‘I give up,’ I said. ‘No, hang on –’
She laughed.
‘You’re Sandra Nolan,’ I said.
‘Well done,’ she said.
‘You have not changed a bit,’ I said.
‘Go on out of that,’ she said.
She put her hand to her hair.
‘I’m a mess,’ she said.
She looked down at Joe in the coffin.
‘He was your first ride,’ I told her.
She didn’t seem to hear me. She let her breath out slowly.
She looked at me.
‘He was my first ride,’ she said.
She nodded at Joe in the coffin.
‘That man there.’
Did she expect me to say something?
‘It’s sad,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it?’
I said nothing.
I looked, and Joe was smiling up at me, just like the last time. Exactly like the last time.
‘Behind the clubhouse,’ I said.
I was still looking at Joe.