Flood (12 page)

“I won't interrupt anymore. Go on.”

“One bright moonlit night when Lord Fitzgerald was very young, he heard the sounds of the Sheehogue singing and dancing in the meadow…”

“I love the story of Lord Fitzgerald and the orphan girl.”

“Ah, don't we all?”

“Will ye hush and let us listen?”

ANDY WOKE IN THE NIGHT with the feeling there was someone in the room. He held his breath, listening. Scratching sounds coming from… where? Heart racing, he sat up and looked around quickly. The anti-cockroach light was still on and there was nobody in the room. Vinny's door was open, which meant he wasn't yet home. Andy listened. There it was again:
scratch-scratch
. He looked around. Nothing. Then
scratch-scratch
again; from the kitchen. He slid off the sofa, blanket about his shoulders, and tiptoed to the kitchen. An enormous gray rat had been sniffing something on the floor; when it saw Andy, it scurried away and disappeared behind the stove.

Another good reason for keeping a dog.

He couldn't sleep after that, wishing Vinny would come home, listening for the rat, his mind a kaleidoscope of colliding images and sounds: bet you never thought I'd end up in cold Halifax place of my birth living with Vinny and rats and cockroaches huh Mother where are you now and Clay do you still see Clay and can you see me here Mother with
Vinny my father your husband once and a dirty great rat in the kitchen, can you?

Vinny was up early the next morning, by ten o'clock, early for him. Andy hadn't heard him come in.

“There was a rat last night,” was the first thing Andy said to him. “In the kitchen.”

“A rat was it? Are you sure it wasn't a happypotamus?”

“It's not funny! I don't like rats near my bed.”

“There, there. I'll get a trap from Rooney and we'll be rid of him. Leave it to me.”

“A dog would keep the place free of rats, especially a terrier. And he wouldn't cost much to feed.”

“Terriers are lovely dogs. We had an Irish terrier one time I was working in Edenderry in the bog. He could run the legs off a hare, he was that quick. The rat was in the kitchen, you say? You should have called me.” He kissed the top of Andy's head. “I'll not let the rats get you, Andy darlin'. You're safe with me.” He gave Andy's shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “What do you say I make us a nice cup of tea?”

Vinny disappeared into the kitchen, and from the glassy clinks Andy knew it wasn't only a nice cup of tea that Vinny was making for himself.

He woke another night, or early morning, to the sounds of a fight. It was on his floor, at the back of the building somewhere. A woman screamed and a door slammed. This was followed by a man shouting and swearing. Next came violent door-pounding and more screaming.

He was scared.

Luckily, Vinny was home. He got up and sat beside Andy and stroked his head and sang a soothing lullaby about a drowsy grandmother falling asleep at a spinning wheel. Andy closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Five weeks.

For Andy, one dreary day was much like another. By now he was thoroughly fed up being alone with nothing to do. What a month ago had seemed glorious freedom was now gloomy captivity. So he asked his father one evening about school — he was never going to find any friends if he didn't go to school, he'd decided; looking through the wrong side of the iron railings wasn't good enough; he needed to play some soccer with a bunch of kids his own age.

“School is a grand idea,” Vinny said. “I should have thought of it myself. I will pay a call at the education office tomorrow morning, first thing, and see about school for you.”

But the next day came and went without anything being done.

Feeling desolate and lonely, dreading even one more day in dreary idleness, Andy resolved to find a school for himself. Friends and soccer were too important to leave to Vinny while he was busy looking for a job. Andy couldn't expect his father to find friends for him, too, so he picked out the school for himself, St. Dominic's, the one with the railings, a few blocks from the Mayo, an old gray building
that looked more like a fortress than a school. It was Catholic, which was fine. He was supposed to be Catholic anyway, though he and his mother hadn't gone to church much, especially after Clay entered their lives. He decided to enroll as a new student the next morning. If they asked him about his father, he would say Vinny was working and couldn't come, which wasn't exactly a lie.

In the afternoon he found his way to the dog pound and looked at the strays in their cages. There were only three dogs, two big miserable ones with runny eyes who showed no interest in him, and a smaller, lively one who jumped at the bars, barking with excitement.

The pound keeper was a self-important man, pale and plump, who wore a Hitler mustache and a black uniform and sat on a swivel chair in a tiny office reading the newspaper. Andy asked him if he could take the small brown dog with the floppy ears, but was told to return with his mother or father. The man didn't look up from his newspaper. “Can't hand an animal over to a juvenile, sorry.”

“But he wants me to take him,” said Andy. “See how excited he is.”

“Sorry.”

“Please,” said Andy. “I'll take good care of him, I promise.”

The man remained engrossed in his newspaper.

A wind started up and the swivel chair started spinning. The pound keeper yelled in fear as he clutched the arms of the chair. The chair toppled and threw him to the floor.

“I better go,” said Andy, hurrying out the door. “I'll be back, Brownie,” he yelled at the dog.

“I would have spun the creature into a black hole had you not stopped me,” said a Young One angrily.

“We
Sidhe
strive to be like the meadow grass,” instructed the Old One. “We bend with the force of the wind. You must learn patience.”

“Is that why you do nothing to rid us of the great ugly rat in the kitchen?” jeered the Young One. “Or is it because you are afraid?”

The Old One smiled. “As well as patience, we must learn that all creatures are the same: each has the right to live its life.”

“TODAY WE'RE HAVING BREAKFAST for a change,” Andy declared the next morning. “I took some money from your coat pocket and bought stuff for pancakes, okay? And a jar of maple syrup.”

Vinny still hadn't found a job, and the rat had appeared in the kitchen again last night. Andy hadn't mentioned it yet. Vinny had done nothing about the rat. He'd done nothing about the cockroaches either. Vinny sat drinking his nice cup of tea while Andy stirred his disappointments into the pancake batter.

“Breakfast is a grand idea,” agreed Vinny.

“Do you ever go to church on Sundays?” Andy asked him from the hot plate.

“Huh? Church is it? I do, the odd time. Good Friday, Easter. And Christmas,” he added.

“Which one? St. Dominic's?”

“That's the one.”

“Could we start going to church, Father? Together, I mean, Sunday mornings? Mom used to take me sometimes
when I was little. I liked it. Everyone was dressed in their best, and the girls and women had hats and gloves and rosary beads. We could take a prayer book and go early and always sit in the same pew and sing the hymns together. What do you say?” He poured batter into the hot pan.

“It would be grand altogether. Your mother could sing the hymns like a linnet when she was a girl. And at the ceilidh she'd sing 'Danny Boy' and have everyone crying.”

“I'm starting school today,” said Andy.

“School?” Vinny sounded surprised. “What school?”

“St. Dominic's. I can walk there in five minutes.” Andy put a pancake down in front of him.

“They didn't ask to see me?”

“I haven't been there yet. I'll just go to the school office and enroll as a new kid from Vancouver. If they ask, I'll tell them you're at work.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“This pancake looks lovely.” Vinny picked up his fork. “Education is the wonderful thing. I never had much of it myself, but I'm glad to see you taking my advice. School is a remarkable idea.”

Andy brought his own pancake, flipped a second pancake onto Vinny's plate, and sat opposite.

“I only want what's best for you, Andy.”

“I know that, Vinny. That's why I went to the pound yesterday. I found a dog I like. One that will keep the rats
away. Might be good for the cockroaches, too. And he'll be a great guard dog. He's only a pup; he's brown with floppy ears and big brown eyes. I called him Brownie and I could see his eyes light up; he liked his new name, I could tell. You'll love him, I know you will. But you have to come with me to sign the papers, okay? After I get home from school?”

“Andy, I've got to be straight with you. The dog will have to wait till I find a job, and that's all there is to it. Once I have a job, you will have all the time in the world to find a dog, I can't be straighter than that.”

Disappointment, like a fist in his face. “You don't want me to have a dog. You're just like my mother and Clay.” He knew he was whining but couldn't help himself.

“I promise you'll have a dog as soon as we're on our feet. Leave it to me.”

The disappointment turned to anger. “You're always making promises! The problem with you, Vinny, is you always break them. A promise to you is just a way of putting things off! You just don't
ever
get things done.”

Vinny said nothing, finishing only one of his pancakes, his face solemn.

Then, “You're the great little cook, Andy; that was lovely. And as far as getting things done… you're right.” His voice grew quiet. “I'm not much good as a father, am I?” He stared miserably down at the uneaten pancake.

When Andy saw the distress on his father's face, his anger fled as quickly as it had come. “Considering you're only a learner…” Andy was about to make a joke of it, but
stopped himself when he saw his father's despairing face, the slump of his shoulders, the sadness in his eyes.