Chapter Ten

Father Kane called for the last dance as the young people were still enjoying the evening, without trace of weariness or of being tired.

“Last drinks,” called Harry McKenzie with the authority of his position in charge of the bar. He hadn’t wanted to dance, but he was annoyed nevertheless that he had never been asked, and when after a little while and his confidence had become a little more sure, everyone had made some excuse or other as to why they were ‘Otherwise engaged’ when he offered himself gratuitously .

Charlie and Rachael only had eyes for each other and Willie stared sadly at the floor as Wattie approached.

“Saw ye dancin’ wi yer brother’s wee bit o’ stuff,” he said breezily and Willie looked up in anger.

“She’s no’ a wee bit o’ stuff . . . an’ she’s no’ oor Charlie’s girlfriend,” he snapped.

Wattie looked confused and touched his glasses nervously. He never liked to see Willie in an angry mood. He glanced across the room to where Charlie and Rachael were still dancing, although everyone else had left the floor.

Well, they look like they are havin’ a nice time together. See where he’s got his hands?”

Willie turned away sharply.

“Ye canna judge a book by its covers, Wattie, ya stupid sod,” he said philosophically and looked importantly to a large, yellow balloon that hung precariously over his head. Somehow he knew it was going to burst Maybe his anger compelled it to do so as he waited expectantly for a few seconds. It burst as he had anticipated and Wattie jumped.

“I didn’a think that thing would burst Willie. Did you?”

“Everything bursts in time, Wattie. Just give it time, that’s all.”

Wattie was amazed at his friend’s deep thinking as he sniffed and did the necessary with his nose on his sleeve.

***

“Well Have you had a nice evening, lads?” Father Kane was standing near Wattie as he spoke. The boys spun round.

“Yes Father,” they answered in chorus.

“That was a very nice wee girl I saw you dancing with at the last dance there, Wattie. I don’t think I’ve seen her at Mass lately. Is she a Catholic?”

Willie looked from the priest to Wattie and back again in surprise. He scoured the room to see who the priest could have meant, but he couldn’t see anyone ... except Rachael.

“I’m not sure, Father but you’re right. She is a nice wee girl, isn’t she?”

Wattie remarked as Father Kane raised his left eyebrow and strolled casually towards the door where the EXIT sign was illuminated in green.

“What nice wee lassie was that Wattie?” Willie demanded to know when the priest had left them and Wattie looked shy.

“That one ...that one over there, see?” Wattie pointed to a corner near the door and Willie stared at the young girl in question. He hadn’t seen her all evening, even if she had ‘danced the night away’with his friend.

“Did ye buy her chips, Wattie?” he asked mischievously.

“Yes, of course I did and she liked them too,”

Willie watched the skirt of Fr. Kane’s cassock slip round the door as he left the dance floor and he smiled.

“Oh! God, Wattie. You’ll have to go to confession now, won’t ye?”

Wattie stood covered in confusion as Moira McKenzie came swishing out from the cloakroom and marched past Willie without saying a word.

“Goodnight Moira,” he called out, thinking it best to take the initiative, but Moira only glowered at him and narrowed her eyes.

“Goodnight, William Blair,” she barked and tightened her already thin lips in her usual manner and William Blair knew that a chapter in his life had just come to a brief end.

He was about to leave the hall when a voice called out to him.

“Would you like to walk me home, Willie?”

Willie went pale as he looked at the speaker, but before he could answer, Rita Watts came to his rescue, interrupting the conversation.

“I think my James should walk you home dear ... After all, he did have the last dance with you, didn’t he?”

Rita grimaced and stared at Willie as Wattie wiped his nose and waited in gleeful anticipation.

“No thanks,” the girl retorted, “I’ll walk home on my own.”

Rita Watts stood back in dismay and her face fell.

“Cheeky wee bissam and after you buyin’ her chips too, Jamsie.” she said as she turned to Willie, but he had shot into the toilet to avoid any further confrontation.

He met Charlie coming out as he went in. His brother was adjusting his flies.

“Nice night, wasn’t it, Willie?” Charlie commented cheerfully and started to whistle.

“No’ bad,” came Willie’s reply, with great effort . . .

“See you when I get home, wee brother and don’t wait up for me I think I might be quite late.”

Willie stepped in front of Charlie, angrily.

“Are you takin’ Rachael home then ... are you Charlie?”

There was a rasping sound as Charlie pulled the roller towel down in the machine on the wall.

“What’s it to you if I do or if I don’t?” he asked, ignoring Willie as he turned to admire himself in the mirror, taking a comb from his inside pocket. “Do ye think she fancies me, Willie ... Do ye?”

Charlie turned away from the mirror and looked into Willie’s face as he spoke, replacing his comb, carefully into his pocket. He knew he was annoying his younger brother and he knew how Willie felt about Rachael by the look in his eyes. He knew Willie well . . . and he stuck his thumb in the air as he left the toilet.

“Go do your pee-pees Sonny and bugger off home. You’re Mammy will be waitin’ for ye.”

***

Willie lay awake for a long time before Charlie came creeping into the bedroom and he pretended to be asleep as his brother undressed, but as Charlie pulled the toilet chain, he came to life ...and the bed creaked ...

“Are you awake, Willie?” Charlie whispered into the darkness.

“No,” came the answer and Charlie giggled, but there was a long silence before Willie turned around in bed to face his brother as he snuggled into the warm, cosy mattress.

“Do ye love her, Charlie?” he asked wearily but Charlie did not answer.

“Charlie ... do you love her ... he asked a second time with a pronounced emphasis in his voice.

Charlie turned towards him. Their faces just inches apart.

“I could come, just lookin’ at her,” he said and Willie bashed the pillow and tried to get back to sleep. I hate you, Charlie Blair, he thought but he knew he could never ever say those dreadful words to his older and only brother.