An Early Wake (22 page)

M
aura opened the pub before Mick and Niall finished in the back; there were already customers waiting in the rain outside the door. She spent the first hour or so reporting on the excitement of the night before, as some people left and more replaced them. She tried to stick to the facts, knowing that the story would grow through many retellings, and who knew how much it would be changed along the way? She feared that by the fifth version they’d have her facing down an entire gang from Cork armed with machine guns. At least that version might bring more people into Sullivan’s, if only out of curiosity.

It was close to one when she realized with a pang of guilt that she hadn’t seen Billy yet. She turned to Rose. “Can you cover for a bit? I’m going to check on Billy.”

“No problem—you go on, then,” Rose said, already smiling at the next customer.

Maura grabbed her raincoat, slung it on, and dashed up the sidewalk to Billy’s rooms at the other end of the building, mentally kicking herself for not checking in on him earlier. She knocked on his door and for a long moment heard no sound from inside. She found she was holding her breath, picturing the worst, until finally she could hear movement inside, a slow shuffling of feet, and Billy pulled open the door.

“Good mornin’, Maura! What brings yeh all this way on this wet day?”

“I was worried about you, after last night. Can I come in?”

Billy stepped back and opened the door wider. “Please. Don’t mind the mess—me servant hasn’t been by today.”

Maura realized that she’d never been inside Billy’s rooms. She owned the building now, but she’d inherited Billy along with it and hadn’t wanted to invade his privacy. He’d had some rent-free handshake agreement with Old Mick, and she hadn’t had any reason to change that. She wasn’t about to start demanding rent from him now. In fact, she had no idea how he got by financially—maybe there was a pension or something. But she didn’t think she could or should ask. She stepped in and pulled off her coat and, finding there was a peg waiting for it by the door, hung it up.

“Can I fix yeh a pot of tea?” Billy offered.

She didn’t need any tea, but she didn’t want to offend Billy by turning him down; this was the first time he’d ever had a chance to offer her his hospitality. “Sure, fine. Need any help?”

“Nah, I know me way around. Please, have a seat.”

Maura sat down in a sprung armchair and watched as he made his slow way to the other end of the room, where she saw a small sink and a stove that was as old as the one at her cottage. There was a steaming kettle sitting on the back of it, so all Billy had to do was fill the metal teapot with water and add some teabags.

“Sorry, there’s not milk, but there’s sugar,” he said, and he rummaged about and found a pair of mismatched mugs.

“That’s fine.” Maura waited while he assembled the tea things, making more slow trips back and forth across the room. When he was done, he dropped heavily onto a sagging couch that might once have been blue but was now a greasy gray.

Billy looked very pleased with himself. “I can’t recall the last time I entertained a lady here. Oh, I forgot the biscuits. If I have any.”

“Please don’t get up, Billy! I don’t need any biscuits. I only came by to make sure you were all right after last night. And to thank you for what you did.”

“Ah, go on wit’ yeh! You and Mick would have handled it fine if I hadn’t stuck my nose in.”

“Maybe. But it was very brave of you to try to help. You could have been hurt.”

“Thanks fer worryin’, but I’m tougher than I look. Have you had any word from the gardaí?”

“About what they’re going to do with Donal Maguire? No, not yet. I don’t know how this arrest business works, or if they have enough evidence to charge him with Aidan’s death. It may be that he was only trying to scare Aidan and Aidan’s heart gave out, so I don’t know if that means it’s just assault or what. Or if we’ll have to give evidence of anything,” she ended dubiously.

“The gardaí’ll sort it out. How’s yer tea?”

“It’s fine.”
If you like drinking furniture polish.
It was incredibly strong stuff. Maybe that was what had kept Billy going to past eighty. “Niall’s back, and he wants to hold a wake for Aidan Saturday. Is that a good idea?”

“And why wouldn’t it be?” Billy replied. “The man played here at the prime of his life, and he played his last session here. I’ve no doubt the others will want to come as well.”

“The musicians, you mean?”

“The same. They’ll want to honor their own and say their farewells to him. Even if they hadn’t seen him in years. Do yeh not want to do it?”

“I’m happy to do it. I’m just still trying to understand it, how people know when and where to come.”

“Why don’t you call it magic and leave it there?”

“Might as well.” Maura drained her cup and managed not to make a face. “Will you be down later? You sure you’re all right? Nothing broken?”

“A few bruises, no more. Now, me cane may never be the same. But I’ll want to hear the craic, and I’ll wager there’ll be plenty of it today.”

Maura stood up. “It’s already busy, so I’d better get back. I’ll see you later. And thanks again, Billy. I mean it.” She slid into her coat, pulled up the hood, and went out the door. The rain hadn’t slowed.

When she dashed through the door to Sullivan’s, she found Sean sitting at the bar talking with Mick. His face lit up when he saw her.

“Maura, I’ve been tellin’ Mick here what’s to be done with yer intruder Maguire.”

“Did you arrest him?” Maura asked, shaking off her coat and hanging it up.

“You might remember my telling you that there’s nothin’ so simple as that. We can’t arrest the man without a warrant, and we must petition Dublin to obtain such a warrant. It’ll take a bit to sort out. But no worries—he won’t get off,” Sean said. “And we’ve sent the money that we found to the Cork lab for testing, to see if there’s drug residue. If there is, likely the Cork gardaí will be looking into it, along with taking a hard look at Maguire.”

“I guess so. That means there’s nothing we need to do?” Maura asked. “I mean, given all the charges you collected, do you need anything more from me?”

“I think not. The man won’t be troublin’ you anymore, and I wanted to let you know meself, is all. Oh, Mick here is after tellin’ me that you’ll be wakin’ Aidan Crowley here come Saturday.”

“That’s what Niall wants to do. Do we need to give the gardaí official notice or anything?”

“I’ll pass the word around, but you should be fine with it. I’ll come by if I have the time off.”

“As a garda or as a music lover?” Maura smiled at him.

“Just fer meself, if I can. I’ve been a fan of Niall’s since I was in school.”

“So we’ll see you then.”

For a moment Maura wondered if Sean wanted to say something more, and she felt a spurt of panic. She wasn’t ready to say anything of a personal nature to Sean, at least not before she’d had time to talk with Mick, and certainly not in front of Mick and a crowd of local men. She was relieved when Sean decided not to add anything, and he merely raised a hand to her as he dashed out through the rain to his car. She waved back as he pulled away.

Then she turned to Mick. “Billy’s fine, and he’ll be along later. Did you and Niall get things worked out? Where is he, by the way?”

“He’s gone off with Tim. They’ll be back.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think so,” Mick said. “I have to say, I admire the man—not the public one in all those posters on young girls’ walls, but the one we’ve seen here. I think he’d like to help Tim, even if he’s not his father.”

“That’s nice of him. It’s good to meet a real musician who’s also a decent human being. By the way, Billy thinks the wake is a good idea too. So now we can expect a crowd of people to mysteriously show up on Saturday?”

“More or less. Listen, I need to show you something in back.”

Maura took a quick look around, but Jimmy and Rose seemed to have serving the crowd well in hand. She followed Mick to the back room. “What is it?”

“It’s not about the room here, although I think there are some rotten boards on the stage that I ought to see to before someone falls through. It’s more that I, uh, thought we left some business unfinished last night.”

Maura could not believe that Mick had voluntarily brought this up. Had Bridget put him up to it? Maura still wasn’t sure what she wanted to say.

“I’m not sure we even started any business, Mick.”
No, that isn’t really true.
Maura hesitated, gathering her courage, before speaking again. “Look, you should have figured out by now that I’m not a girly girl. I don’t know how to play those kinds of games. I’ve always found it a lot easier just to be honest, even though I know that puts some people off. Probably a
lot
of people, since I don’t have many friends. So if I’ve got it right, you’re asking if I’m involved with anybody who might be more than a friend, and the answer is no. Not even Sean. I mean, I like Sean, and he seems to like me. But we’ve had one-half of one date, and that’s as far as it’s gone. So you’re saying that you, uh . . . ?” She
really
wasn’t comfortable with conversations like this—which was why she tried to avoid them. She couldn’t even come up with a good term for . . . whatever.

But Mick seemed to understand. “Mebbe,” he replied, then he flashed a smile.

Maura couldn’t hold back her sarcasm. “Well, thanks a lot—that clears things up just fine. If this was some other century, you’d be asking my father for permission to court me, but there’s only me to ask. Am I right?”

“Kinda,” he said, still smiling.

Maura stared at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing. “Damn, I wish Ireland came with an instruction manual. Half the time I have no idea what people are saying, and I’m not talking about the accent. Okay, sure, I’ll take your application under consideration. Will that do?”

“Fer now. We’d best get back,” Mick said.

“Everything shipshape in here for this wake thing?”

“It is. We need to talk about orderin’ more supplies.”

“We can do that out front.” When Maura walked into the front room, both Rose and Jimmy followed her with their eyes. Maura slid behind the bar, and Rose leaned toward her. “Everythin’ all right?” she asked in a low voice.

“Fine. Honestly. Wait—do I look like things aren’t all right?”

Rose shook her head. “No more than usual.”

Great. Maybe she should spend more time in front of a mirror: did she always look ready to bite someone’s head off?

A couple of hours later, Niall and Tim came in, looking very pleased with themselves and talking a mile a minute. Tim looked much more cheerful than he had the last time she’d seen him. He came over and dropped onto an empty bar stool. “Hey, Rose, wait ’til yeh hear what we’ve been plannin’!”

Niall was lucky to find a second stool, a few over. He greeted Maura. “All plans subject to yer approval, of course.”

Maura smiled. “Don’t worry—everybody’s looking forward to this Saturday, now that the rest of it’s been cleared up. You talked to the gardaí?”

“I did. We’re all square. And I think I cheered up young Tim. He’s a bright lad, and he has a real feelin’ for the music. I’d be proud to be his father, but we’ve worked it out that I was in England at the time in question.” He leaned farther over the bar and lowered his voice. “But I’ll talk to me brother—he’s out of the music business now, but we were tight back then, and sad to say, there were girls who thought that getting close to him was near as good as me, if you know what I mean. But I don’t want to get Tim’s hopes up.”

“I understand, and it’s very kind of you. Will you keep in touch with him?”

“I will. And with you, if you want to bring the old place back.”

“You know, I think I might, and I’d appreciate your help. Unless this old building collapses with your crowd on Saturday.”

“No worries. It’s lasted this long, and it’s got strong bones. You’ll see.”

F
riday proved to be an ordinary day without any of the disruptions that had plagued Sullivan’s over the past week. Business remained strong: there were still curious local people wanting to know what had happened and what was going to happen. They’d come in for a pint, and maybe stay for a second one. More than that, Maura couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was a new undercurrent of excitement in the place. Because of the wake? And the music it would bring?

As soon as the pub opened on Saturday the music makers started arriving. Maura directed them to the back room and kept the door to that space closed while they tuned up. The patrons had started arriving as soon as Sullivan’s opened, staking out a table or a stool and watching the arrivals eagerly, nudging one another and identifying them one by one. And they kept ordering pints. It was going to be a good day.

Niall arrived just after noon, with Tim in tow. Tim looked like an eager puppy following his master, but Niall didn’t seem to mind. Rose smiled and waved at both of them from behind the bar, and then the two men disappeared into the back room.

“Tim seems excited,” Maura commented to Rose, between pulling pints.

“And well he should be! He’s followin’ his dream,” Rose retorted.

“You mean Niall?”

“Nah, the music, of course. Niall’s a part of all that, but there’s a lot more to it.”

“You’re okay with Tim leaving?” Maura asked softly.

“Sure, and why wouldn’t I be? He’s a city boy, and I always knew he was goin’ back to Dublin at the end of it all. You’ve no call to worry about me.”

But Maura did anyway. “Rose, sometimes I think you have an old head on your shoulders.”
Like me,
Maura realized. She’d never had the time or the patience for teenage angst and romantic drooling over unattainable boys. Mostly she’d kept her head down and kept on working—just like Rose was doing. With a small sigh Maura turned to the next patron. “What can I get you?”

Jimmy was schmoozing the crowd, spending more time talking than actually distributing drinks, but that was normal for him. Mick was in the back room, helping with the physical setup for the bands. He’d found time to repair the stage so no one would put a foot through it, and he’d checked out the old wiring more thoroughly—it wouldn’t do to have the power go out in the middle of the session, and Maura had no idea who to call to fix it, and no faith that anyone would show up late on a Saturday night to make it right. Unless, of course, they were a big fan of Niall Cronin’s.

Niall was kind enough to come out now and then and mingle with the local people—which now included a surprising number of women. Well, maybe not so surprising: Niall was still an attractive man, and he’d aged gracefully since his heyday. Maura found it was kind of fun to watch the women in the room jockeying for position, which happened every time he emerged and asked for another pint or six for his friends in the back. On one of those trips Maura leaned forward to say, “You do know you’re giving the ladies here a thrill.”

He smiled. “Of course I do, and I won’t let them down.” He scanned the room while waiting for the pints to settle. “Looks like yer doin’ a good business today.”

“Thanks to you and your pals, I am,” Maura said, “and I’m grateful. And we’ve a long night ahead of us—again, because of you. Do you know, I think people around here will be talking about this day for a long time.”

“Old Mick helped me get my start, and I owe him fer that. I’m sure he’s watchin’ all the fun down here.”

“I’ll believe it,” Maura replied and passed him his pints.

Old Billy came in at midday, and the crowd parted respectfully as he made his slow way to his accustomed seat—and then swarmed back around him; or at least, those did who wanted to hear the tale of his bravery from him directly. Billy held court like a king, and the admiring circle around him didn’t dwindle, as new people kept arriving. When there was a break in the crowd Maura smiled across the room at him, and he smiled back.

She almost panicked when she realized how full the house was getting; she tried to envision either Mick or Jimmy turning people away from the door and almost laughed out loud. The crowd was polite but they were also determined, and no doubt they’d brush off either of the men if they stood in the way. But as the afternoon wore on, Maura realized that the crowd seemed to have an organic life of its own: the space never got too packed. There were never more than a few people standing outside waiting, and they weren’t impatient about it. Thank goodness the weather had cleared since the day before. Some people left, and others replaced them, but somehow it all achieved a balance. Maura hoped that balance would last the night.

Darkness came early, despite the fine weather—or maybe it was all the bodies blocking the light from the windows that made it seem dark.

“I’ve never seen such a crush,” Rose said, awed. “You’ll let me stay, won’t you? Fer the music?”

“Of course. This may be historic, for all I know,” Maura said, wondering how she’d find any time to listen herself. She’d promised herself that she’d give it a chance, at least.

Mick made one of his periodic forays into the front room. “Everything set?” Maura asked.

“As ever it’ll be. Nervous?”

“I don’t know. Should I be?”

“I don’t know what you’ve seen in Boston, but here there’s a kind of respect for the performers. There’ll be no brawls, and if anyone gets out of hand, the others will show him the door. They’re here for the music.”

“When will things start?”

“They start when they start. Nine, maybe? Are you ready for it?”

“I hope so,” Maura said fervently, pulling yet another batch of pints. She’d lost count of the total a few hours earlier and thanked the stars that Mick had laid in an extra supply of barrels in the basement.

Just past nine she sensed a change in the mood of the crowd in front, a sort of electric surge, and realized that someone—Mick?—had opened the doors to the back room and people were flowing that direction. From the back came the sounds of a few last tune-ups on the various instruments.

Rose edged closer to her. “Here we go. Are you excited?”

“I think I am,” Maura told her, and she realized it was true. Whatever songs or styles were played that night, the energy of the crowd was undeniable. Even after all these years, the people here cared about that motley bunch of musicians. And then someone struck a chord and the back room erupted with cheers.

The next time Maura looked at the clock, it was nearly midnight, and the music was still going strong. An hour or more earlier Sean Murphy had come in out of uniform, and they’d exchanged a few words.

“You’re off duty, Sean?” Maura had asked loudly as he edged his way up to the bar.

He grinned. “What gave me away? Was it the denims?”

“That, and you don’t look so serious. Pint?”

“Please.” He looked around him. “Quite the lively crowd yeh have here.”

“Don’t you dare think of taking anyone into custody! This is nothing short of a miracle.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. “I told you, I’m a great fan of Niall’s. Has he been on?”

“More than once, and he’s still there. Go on in,” Maura said, sliding a full pint toward him.

“I’ll do that,” Sean replied, tossing a few euros on the counter before wading into the crowd once more.

At midnight Jimmy came around the bar. “Why don’t you go on back and have a listen?”

“Are we good for staying open?”

“It’s taken care of,” Jimmy said vaguely, and Maura didn’t feel like questioning him. After all, there was a garda on the premises, and he would know if there was anything amiss, wouldn’t he?

“Then I’ll take you up on that offer. Holler if you need help,” Maura told him, but he’d already turned away and was serving someone else. Actually, she decided as she stepped out from behind the bar, the majority of the people had moved themselves into the back room, and in the front the mood was a bit quieter—Jimmy could certainly handle it. She wove her way toward the back, smiling at those who greeted her along the way.

When she stepped into the back room it was like jumping into a storm. The group on the stage was going full steam, and the sound of guitar, drums, fiddle, concertina, and whatever bounced off the walls and washed back again. She’d never been in the room when the music was live, and it was an almost physical thing, and overwhelming—and that was with the wall-to-wall bodies absorbing at least part of it. She looked up to see that the balconies were packed as well, and she was glad Mick had checked their stability. Although if anyone fell over the rail, they’d land on people, not the hard floor.

Actually, looking around she realized that it was not a rowdy or belligerent crowd: people looked happy. She waved at Rose on the far side of the room, standing next to Tim, whose eyes were gleaming as he bounced to the beat. Sean stood a few feet away from them, but there was no way Maura could cross the room at the moment. The performers segued from one song to another, swapping out one or another player seamlessly. Every now and then they’d pause for a drink before picking up where they’d left off. Maura recognized a bit of a tune now and then, but most of the music was unfamiliar. Still, there was a constant thread running through many of the songs—a hint of the old sounds that even she recognized as coming from traditional music, a style that she had been told went back centuries. No one would identify this lot as anything but Irish.

Niall led many of the songs, although he stepped back to let some of his colleagues have their moment as soloists. He caught sight of her and gave her a smile, without breaking stride, and she smiled back.

She nudged her way to a corner and leaned against the wall, listening. She could feel some of the bass notes reverberating through the wall of the old building, almost as though there was a beating heart in it. The performers were glistening with sweat, and Maura realized how hot the room was; she looked up to see that the upper door wasn’t open. Might as well open it now, for ventilation. She wasn’t worried about crashers this late, and what did it matter? Everybody was having a good time.

It took her five minutes to wriggle her way to the staircase and up the stairs, where quite a few people had taken seats. Once on the balcony, she had to fight her way to the back door, but nobody took offense when she stepped on a toe or elbowed someone accidentally; they were all too busy watching the stage below. Only when she reached the door did she realize that Mick had stationed himself up near it at the back of the balcony. He too looked completely absorbed by the music—and as happy as she’d ever seen him.

“Trying to keep the riffraff out?” she yelled into his ear.

“What?” he yelled back.

“Are you guarding the door?”

“No, I was trying to keep out of the way. You want it open?”

“Yes—it’s about ninety degrees down there. Fahrenheit, I mean. We could use the air.”

“No problem.” Mick reached past her and unlocked the door, and she slid outside, glad for a momentary rush of cooler air—and the muting of the music. Mick followed her out. “What do yeh think?”

“It’s amazing. Niall is really something—you can see why he made it big. But everyone is working together—it’s not all about him. I think I finally get it.”

“The music, you mean?”

“Yeah. It’s wonderful.”

They’d been leaning against the outside wall, cooling down, so Maura wasn’t prepared when Mick swung around to face her—and then kissed her. Not a tentative peck, but a full-on, full-out kiss. She froze for a fraction of a moment, and then she found she was kissing him back.
Maura, what the hell do you think you’re doing?
She didn’t care, because it felt like part of the music and the excitement. Maybe she’d regret it in the morning, but right now it felt right.

Before things went too far, though, she pulled back to look up at him. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

“Sober as a judge. Why? Are you hoping I’ll forget this?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll let you know tomorrow. We should go back in.”

“Right so. The boys should be wrapping up soon enough, I think. Hold on”—he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear—“that’s better. You go on in; I’ll follow in a minute.”

Maura turned and went back inside, hoping her cheeks weren’t flaming red, or if they were, that people would think it was the heat and the music. No one seemed to be paying her the slightest bit of attention—except Sean Murphy, who was watching her from across the room below. Had he seen Mick follow her out? Did it matter? She wasn’t sure.

As Mick had predicted, the song ended and Niall stepped forward. “It’s been grand to play fer you all tonight, I think we all agree.” Cheers from the crowd. “But this is also our way of saying good-bye to Aidan Crowley, who most of us up here on this stage knew. He and I started out together a long time ago, and I’m sorry we didn’t keep on the same path. But this room here was where he played his last session, and I want you all to raise yer glasses in his memory.”

The audience quieted, and a forest of glasses went high. Then Niall stepped back, and the group began one more song, this one slower and without amps. Maura didn’t know the lyrics, but the boys sang it with care, and she could pick out some of the words. Mick came up behind her and leaned to whisper in her ear, “It’s ‘The Parting Glass.’ Good choice.”