My gut was telling me Luke was gone and, now that it was too late, I still felt the panicky regret that I hadn’t gone to Justin’s lunch. A freefalling sense of loss whispered that I’d missed an opportunity to … what exactly?
Magic away the last six years?
Because that could never happen. The truth was that some things just couldn’t be fixed. My challenge was to live with that – and I could. The yearning that had been stirred up inside me would slowly eddy back down to the bottom, to where it had been living, and in time life would return to business as usual.
I was the first to arrive at the Abbot’s Quarter. A couple of minutes later, Dennis and Ella piled in.
‘There she is again!’ Dennis was in great form. ‘You missed a top-notch bricfásta!’
Frowning, I focused – Mother of God, the utter state of him! Just how many more days did he need before he noticed that his clothes were absolutely filthy? Obviously, at home, his wife did everything for him.
Not that Ella seemed to mind Dennis’s manky threads. With her good arm she gave him a playful shove, both trying to claim the second-best chair. Ella and her ilk survived by being lovely to everyone, even those who hadn’t changed their underpants in six days. She could have been literally choking from the stench from Dennis and she’d never admit it.
‘Wow.’ Ella had noticed my new trainers. ‘Your kicks slap!’
They did slap! Mostly white but with leopard-print stars and a trim at the front. I opened my mouth to enthuse with Ella – and caught myself just in time. Jesus, I was off my game.
With a small, silent incline of my head, I smiled with just one side of my mouth. Over the years, the feedback had been that this odd smile was quite terrifying. When you consider the hours of practice I put into it, it was gratifying to hear.
Poor Ella, though. Compliments and praise were how she bonded. When people wouldn’t play that game, it left her with nowhere to go.
Here came Giles, lanky and debonair. He was displeased when he saw Ella with Dennis. Dear God, you can take the coke out of the womanizer …
‘… and next thing,’ Dennis read out, ‘Your man sits up in the coffin and says, “Whose lipstick am I wearing?”！’
The Abbot’s Quarter erupted with hilarity. We were being treated to Dennis’s life story and it was a rip-roaring romp – story after hilarious story. Alcohol got an occasional mention but only ever as a necessary ingredient of ‘a great night out’。
I’d seen this a lot – an alcoholic taking ownership of their drinking by hiding it in plain sight, with dramatic, entertaining accounts of wild sprees. It sounded as if he was admitting he had a problem, but in reality it was just one big deflection. Any shame that Dennis felt – and there was bound to be plenty – was buried beneath an almost impervious shell of distracting anecdotes.
He seemed to own half the town he hailed from – proprietor of a pub, a chipper, a taxi company and a small undertaker’s. The taxi company （which was just himself and his brother, Patch, sharing the one car） operated from the same premises as the undertaker’s, which led to some ‘hilarious’ mix-ups.
‘Jez, I’ve just thought of another one!’ Dennis abandoned his written script. ‘My Near Death Experience! Picture the scene … The afters of a funeral. Now, I’m a man who loves a funeral, there’s nothing as nice as a funeral ham sandwich …’
I could certainly visualize it: Dennis pressing the flesh amongst the mourners while mentally totting up how much was being spent at the open bar in his pub. Like Chalkie, Dennis was burdened with great likeability. It meant that people enabled his drinking, made excuses for him, covered up his gaffes and couldn’t bear to confront him.
Dennis was actually on his feet now, acting out various people from his anecdote. I’d let him finish this one and then he wasn’t getting any more airtime until his brother Patch came in on Wednesday morning and blew the lid off things.
‘… I was clinically dead! For four minutes, can you credit it? I knew I was on the hospital table but I saw the corridor of white light. So I sez, “Have ye an open bar in heaven?”’
Ella snorted with laughter.
‘I was deadly in earnest.’ Dennis’s curls bobbed. ‘If there was an open bar, I’d keep going towards the light. But a voice sez, “No bar. Heaven is dry.” So I sez, “Good luck! I’ll see ye again. And back I came!”’
When the laughing quietened, Ella declared, ‘You could get a job as a stand-up!’