Read Cold Eye of Heaven, The for Free Online Page B

muddling around inside it: shop counters, roundabouts and now – for fuck sake – the Berlin Wall. He sees the woman from the shop standing looking at him, the youngfella behind her, gloves flapping from his wrists as he plunges his hand in and out of a bag of popcorn.
    â€˜Are you alright there, love?’ the woman asks.
    â€˜I’ve an awful headache,’ he says, ‘sudden like.’
    â€˜Do you want me to phone someone for you?’ she says.
    â€˜Who?’ Farley asks.
    â€˜Well, I don’t know – a relative, a neighbour maybe.’ He can see by her face she’s beginning to regret that she stopped at all. The youngfella, munching on the popcorn, staring up like he’s at the pictures.
    â€˜Ah no. I’ll be grand. It’s going now anyway. Just came on sudden and now – that’s it, gone.’
    â€˜Ah, it’s this bloody weather. What you should do now, is go into the pub over there and get yourself a nice hot whiskey – put a bit of heat into you.’
    â€˜I don’t drink whiskey. Not any more. I drink two pints a week – would you believe that? On Friday, usually. The same thing this years and years. In fact, I didn’t drink at all for a long time – bar the odd breakout.’
    â€˜Well, a cup of tea then,’ she says.
    â€˜I will,’ he agrees, because he knows she only wants to leave some sort of a solution behind her. ‘I’ve a few things to do first but then, a cup of tea.’
    â€˜Well, if you’re sure you’re—’
    â€˜The roundabout’s gone,’ he says.
    â€˜What? O yea, that’s gone this good while.’
    â€˜O yea, yea, of course I
know
that. I just saying like. And the pub’s different.’
    â€˜That’s right. They done it all up.’
    â€˜They did yea. Nowhere for the men to stand though on Sunday after Mass.’
    â€˜Ah no, that day is gone. Do you remember? Droves of them with their tongues hangin out.’
    â€˜Yes!’ Farley smiles. ‘The Berlin Wall, we used call it. Where they used to stand. The Berlin Wall – that’s right! That’s right.’
    She gives a little laugh. ‘Me mother used go mad.’
    â€˜â€œMay I never lack the dignity” as a friend of mine always said,’ Farley says. ‘He thought it was a shameful thing to do – I suppose.’
    She nods her head a few times at him. ‘Well, I better be gettin this fella home.’
    â€˜Ah yea, a grand little fella there, eatin his… Eatin his… His…’
    She begins to walk off, dragging the boy behind her.
    Farley calls after her, ‘Excuse me, you wouldn’t know where I’d get a new sole?’
    â€˜A new…?’
    â€˜For me shoe.’
    â€˜O, for your
shoe
,’ she laughs. ‘Town I’d say would be your best bet.’
    â€˜Thomas Street?’
    â€˜O yea, Thomas Street should do it.’
    â€˜Right. Thanks so. Good luck to you now.’
    Farley watches her walk to the corner, the youngfella straining at the end of her arm to look back at him. He’d love to give him the two fingers, but he’d be afraid she might catch him. His eyes again; the halo of lights. He waits for it to subside. Better now. A bit on the weak side but nothing to worry about. He’d just slipped back into a past moment there for a while. And now he’s back. Popcorn. That was the word he was after.
    *
    There’s no answer from the priest’s house. He thinks he can hear someone moving around in there and so presses the bell again, this time adding a double bang from the door knocker for good measure. Then he peers through the ridged glass panels on the side of the hall door. Inside the priest’s coat is hanging on a rack, the housekeeper’s red anorak beside it, her welly boots on a mat on the floor. On a long shelf by the wall a few letters and holy Joe pamphlets. There’s