Jimmy laboured the pint of black. He sat, hunched over the stale glass, staring at the flat cream head. Maloney’s bar was dark with a low, smoke stained, wooden ceiling running front to back. Monday mornings never drew much of a crowd. It was near empty but for a few seasoned pursuers of ‘The Cure’.  Gay Byrne was pontificating from the crackling transistor radio tucked in beside the antique till.
He checked the green packet of ten Major on the bar again, still empty, he flung it along the counter. The thoughts of last night went around in his head. Moira had made it clear. They had been seeing each other for seven years.  “It was time to get off the pot” she’d said before taking the front door off its hinges.
Jimmy hadn’t held down a steady job since the factory closed two years earlier. He was thirty eight with no qualifications and less prospects. He’d left school at fifteen and drifted from one dead end job to the next. The factory, which processed fish brought in from the boats in Killybegs, had been the main employer in the area for thirty years. Jimmy’s fifteen years of doing as little as possible left him no more qualified than the day he started. When the factory closed, Jimmy felt entitled to draw the dole. ‘I’ve worked hard and paid my taxes’ he’d convinced himself. He sometimes helped out around the farm but there was no future on the small holding his older brother John had inherited when their father died a year earlier. After two years of signing on, Jimmy’s daily routine had been reduced to late mornings, early bars and forgotten nights.
“Hey, Jimmy lad, are you free for a few hours, I need a bit of help up above” Tom, the local undertaker always wore a dark suit, both shoulders dusted lightly in dandruff. The buttons on his shirt struggled, ready to pop under the strain of his heavy potted belly. He wore a flat cap, even now inside the bar, and sucked heavy on a Player’s Navy Cut.  “Frankie let me down, I’ll pay you a tenner for two hours”
“Give me a smoke before I go.” Jimmy unwrapped his old coat from the back of the bar stool. “Keep it warm for me Martin”
On the way to the graveyard, Jimmy stopped to pick up his wellington boots.
“Where are you off to?” John roared as he backed the tractor into the yard.
“I’m helping Tom” Jimmy shrugged, not wanting to catch John’s gaze, “as if it’s any of your business”.
“I could do with some help around here you know. That fence in the lower field needs mending. You could earn your keep for once” John roared half-hearted as he watched Jimmy disappear out the gate.
The dead lay in a scattered pattern in the graveyard behind the church. A few of the older headstones leaned back as if tired guarding over their dead, their inscriptions weather worn and fading like the memories of those below. Jimmy loved to visit the graveyard. He liked to read the inscriptions and imagine the lives of those who went before. One headstone had eight names engraved on it. Jimmy worried how he’d cope with his claustrophobia. His father, John or ‘Wee John’ as he was better known, who was buried on the top row last year, was now reunited with his people. He’d be sipping whiskey and singing ‘Danny Boy’ up above.
The ground, still hard from a long winter, resisted all attempts of Jimmy’s shovel to penetrate it beyond a few inches. He went at it with a pickaxe, which Tom kept for the occasion. The family plot had three listed on the granite headstone. Old Mrs Byrne, a grand-aunt of Moira’s, would have the ‘top bunk’
“Ok, you have that going now, I’ll leave you at it” Tom shouted at Jimmy, who was now almost two feet down without any help from him.  ‘This would be a hard earned tenner’ Jimmy thought.
It was a cold April morning, but the sun shining and his hard labour brought a layer of sweat out on his back as he dug. The graveyard lay in the shadow of Sliabh Liag, ‘a beautiful place to spend  the rest of your life, after you die,’ he thought as he removed his heavy jacket.
“Oh Jesus” Jimmy roared as a bony hand reached out from the ground below his feet. He stepped through a flaky wooden coffin lid as the ground give way beneath his boots causing the remains of a long dead occupant to lift upwards in a grabbing motion. He steadied himself and swallowed hard. He stood to one side and tucked the boned body back in it’s clay bed. On one hand he noticed a ring hanging loosely on a knuckled finger. Jimmy removed it to get a better look. It was a diamond ring glittering, happy to see sunlight for the first time in years. Jimmy popped his head above ground to re-read the inscription on the headstone.
‘DOHERTY
John, Died 4th Sep 1923. Age 59.
Wife Mary, Died 12th Dec 1953, Age 84.
Daughter Margaret, Died 3rd Oct 1923, Age 27.’
He didn’t remember any of them but sat wondering about their lives. ‘Had John and his daughter’s death been connected? Mary had lived another thirty years after both her husband and daughter. Why had Margaret died so young? Was it her he’d just shaken hands with?.
“Jimmy, hey Jimmy, all done?” There was a small path but Tom tramped on a number of graves to get to the plot Jimmy was working on. Jimmy, hearing Tom bellow, stuck the ring it in his pocket to get a better look later.  “Right, help me get this cover over, in case it rains later” Tom handed one end of the tarpaulin to Jimmy. “If it rains, you’ll have to ‘bail’ me out in the morning” Tom laughed, sucking hard on an untipped cigarette. “We don’t want to drown the poor woman.”
With a fresh ten pound note in his pocket, Jimmy headed for the bar.
“Ah, I‘ll just have one Martin, I have to head home to change before going up to the wake.” Jimmy sat on a wooden stool at the fireside looking at the mud drying on his boots. He enjoyed his pint, it was well earned, he felt. “Give us twenty Major, Martin” counting out 40p.
“Nixon’s in bother now” Martin turned up the radio to hear the headlines as he handed Jimmy back his change. “Aye, lies have a way of catching up with you” Jimmy put the two new pence change in the brown St Anthony poor box at the end of the counter.
The fire puffed heavy from the damp turf. Each time a customer came or went, the door closing caused a large plume to escape from the badly drawing chimney. When Moira entered the bar, she appeared in a grand puff of smoke. She was laden with shopping bags. Jimmy stood to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “Moira, will you have a drink?” pulling for the change in his pocket.
“No, I just wanted to check if you were coming up later” she said, looking down at his hand, the sparkle among the change had caught her eye. “What’s this?. Oh Jimmy, I can’t believe…” she picked the ring from his rapidly closing palm.
“N-no” Jimmy stammered. “That’s not what you think” before he could explain further, it was on her finger.  “It fits perfectly” she beamed, hand now outstretched to get a better look. “How did you know?” “N-no” Jimmy stammered again.  “What’s wrong?” Moira seeing the anxious look in his eye. “It IS for me?” she mocked. “You don’t have another woman on the go, do ya?” “Sure, who’d have you” she laughed, going back to admire the diamond ring.
“I just wanted to make it special when I asked” Jimmy said, now thinking fast on his slow, still mucky boots.  “You spend most of your day here. It’s about as special as it’ll get” Moira giggled, lost in her thoughts. “I’ll see you later Jimmy Byrne” planting a warm kiss on his lips, “I’m off to show this to Maureen. Her and Danny have a date set, maybe we can make it a double wedding” And with that she grabbed her shopping bags and danced out the door, leaving Jimmy standing in a smoke filled haze.
“Martin, give me a large whisky”
“Are congratulations in order?” Martin asked quietly as he slid that large glass of Jameson along the counter towards Jimmy. “Commiserations more like” Jimmy blurted as he downed the whisky in one gulp.
The wake house was busy when Jimmy arrived. Clumps of men stood about outside, smoking and catching up on the day. A couple of young men stood guard at the doorway, greeting visitors, receiving commiserations and directing traffic. “Down the hall, the room at the end, on the left”.
The front room, the settee now removed, was lined with people seated around the walls on hard chairs and stools borrowed from the local pubs. The large grandfather clock in the corner had been stopped and covered. Ladies scurried, elbow high in tea and sandwiches. “Are you sure you won’t have another cup?”
Jimmy moved to the room at the end of the hall. Mrs Byrne was laid out in all her finery. The bottom half of the coffin was layered with mass cards signed by the parish priest. Family photographs of her as a young woman, were displayed on a small table. Jimmy caught Moira from the side of his eye as he touched his lips and laid a kiss on the dead woman’s hands. Sorry for your loss Moira, she looks well, considering”
“Ah thanks Jimmy, come on, you finally made it up. I’ll get you a cup of tea” Moira took him by the hand. “Thanks for the work in the graveyard earlier, I should have said before. The family appreciate your help”.
They sat in the kitchen where family and neighbours helped out, brewing tea, buttering bread and washing cups. “Your brother John was up earlier, I told him our good news, he seemed annoyed” Moira tried to catch Jimmy’s eye.  “Are things any better between you two?”
“Ah, they’re fine Moira” Jimmy shifted in his seat. “What did he say when you told him?”
“He mumbled something about the farm” Moira said, “I didn’t want to fall out with him with people around here upset already”
“No problem, I’ll have a word with him later” Jimmy pulled her closer putting his hand on her thigh.
“Not here Jimmy” Moira smiled, pulling his hand away. “Follow me out to the byre, don’t make it too obvious”.
With marriage in the offing, Moira let her guard down and her skirt up. The smell of cowshit in the muggy dark shed did little to quell their passion. Moira pinned against the cobbled stone wall let out a muffled cry, “Jesus Jimmy, the dead have risen” They both laughed as they straightened themselves up. “Hold on Moira” pulling stray straw from her hair.
“Are you sure about this Jimmy?” Moira whispered, looking down at the ring. “Jesus, do I need to go again” Jimmy laughed as he put his warm hand inside her blouse. “C’mon, I’m being serious” Moira said pulling his hand away. “Up to yesterday, I couldn’t even get you to talk about settling down, now this, out of the blue”
“What happened your hand?” Moira said looking at his badly skinned knuckles. “Were you in a fight?” “It’s nothing” Jimmy pulled his hand away. “I scraped it digging the grave earlier”.
Moira kissed his hand. “Ah my poor baby” she smiled and lay her head on his shoulder.
The house was in darkness when Jimmy got home. He poured himself a nightcap at the kitchen table and mulled over the glass of late night whisky. A small mouse ran out from under the table, stopped, as if trapped by the shaft of light breaking in from the scullery. The mouse sat back and began cleaning it’s front paws. It looked up at Jimmy and finding no threat, continued to preen itself.  “Go on outta that” Jimmy shouted as he fired a heel of stale scone bread it’s way. The mouse barely moved. “Am I bloody invisible around here” he shouted at the little field mouse. having been spotted, the mouse hopped off and chewed on the breaded missile.
‘It’s none of John’s business what I do’ he thought to himself, ‘I’ll be out of his hair soon enough. John would probably never marry, but he had the farm, he had everything. Sure, he wants me to work, but for what? To build this up for him? He can feck off. There’s nothing left for me here, once I’m married’
Jimmy was about to turn in when there was a loud knock at the door. “What brings you up here at this time of night?” Jimmy stepped back in the porch as Sergeant O’Donnell moved to let himself in.
“Can I come in Jimmy?”
“Sure” Jimmy said, awkwardly stepping aside. “What’s up?”
“I had a word with John earlier, he was badly shook. He told me ye had a fight. Is that right?” “We, well..” Jimmy stammered, caught like a rabbit in car headlights.
“I’ll tell ye how it is Jimmy” Sergeant O’Donnell removed his flat hard hat. “I need you to come down to the barracks and tell me what happened. Ye left him with a quare black eye.”
“It was over nothing Frank” Jimmy grabbed his coat, “a silly row over nothing”
“We’ll see” the Sergeant let Jimmy out first then pulled the door hard behind him.
The barrack cell was quite. One lone soul lay sobering in the corner. Jimmy was left to stew for a couple of hours. There was no questioning, just time to cool off. “Tomorrow morning, I want you to gather your things.” Sergeant O’Donnell spoke through the small shutter in the cell door. “John wants you out.”
“Where will I go?” Jimmy’s voice had softened.
“Not my problem son, I’m sure you’ll land on your feet.” sliding the shutter closed. “Try and get some sleep. I’ll ask Moira to call early in the morning”
“No, please don’t” Jimmy banged on the cell door. “ I don’t want her here”.
Jimmy was let go at sunrise after a cup of sweet lukewarm tea. “Don’t cause any trouble now” the Sergeant said as he let him out the back door. “I don’t want to have to call to yours again”.
The town was empty. The long shadows cast from the early April sun draped the dusty cold street. The milkman was at the top of the town clanking bottles as he swapped the empties for full. This clatter provided a high pitched backing track to the caw cawing of a large murder of black beaky crows gathered for their early morning soiree. The crows pulled at the rubbish bin outside McGinley’s shop. Everything with a scrap of food was now strewn across the sidewalk. They hopped back from their pickings, not prepared to abandon them, as Jimmy trundled through. He walked up the street, looked up towards the church, stopped and came back. ‘Where am I going?’ he thought. He looked down the street and after a few moments walked toward the bridge. Lighting a cigarette, Jimmy peered over at the large swell in the river. It was the scene of an innocent youth. As kids they spent hours along the river bank, hopping from rock to flat rock, avoiding those covered in green slime. They stopped every now and then to skim slim stones. Whoever had the most hops before hitting the far bank won. They would climb the trees and, like river monkeys, hang from the branches reaching out and screeching “Me Tarzan!” over the water. He remembered falling in once. The river had been heavy after a Spring tide. He was pulled along by the heavy swell for about twenty feet before John grabbed him and dragged him, soaked to the bone, from the river. They laughed about it afterwards as they lay drying in the afternoon sun but never told their parents. He nearly drowned but it was still a fond memory. Jimmy loved that John was there for him, A big brother who got him out of many scrapes. ‘There’d be no one to pull him out today’ he thought as he climbed up on the parapet and sighed with the sense of loss this brought him.
“Have you seen Jimmy” Moira had called to the house after the funeral. “He never turned up today”.
“No, and you can tell him from me that he’s not welcome around here anymore” John grunted back, half closing the front door.
“What happened?” she said looking closer at his face. “Did he do that to you?”
“It doesn’t matter, it’s over now” John looked up, opening the door fully “You’re better off without him”.
“Where do you think he got that ring?” John said reaching out to lift her hand.
“What?” Moira looked down “what do you mean?”
“Look at the inscription on the inside” John nodded at her. “Go on”
“MCMXX, what does that mean?”
“It’s Roman numerals Moira, for the year 1920” John searched for some sort of realisation in her face. “it’s your grand-aunt Margaret’s ring”.
“Jesus, John, what the..” Moira stared in disbelief at the inscription. “How.. I don’t understand”
“He’s not my problem any more” John said, slowly closing the door.
‘Dear Moira’ the letter began.  ‘I’m sorry for what I put you through. I never meant to hurt you.  John has the farm. I have nothing to give. I have no home to share. I had choices in life and chose badly, apart from you. You were the best thing about me. You deserve better than a dead woman’s ring. It wasn’t even mine to give. I meant to leave it back but your eyes lit up when you seen it. That didn’t happen often around me.
Please forgive me.
Love Jimmy’
She had to read the letter a few times as the water left it smudged in places. “You idiot” Moira whispered under her breath. “How could you be so stupid?”
“In all the times together I’ve never asked for anything. I just wanted you”.
“How could you?” she whacked Jimmy on the leg.
“Please, Miss, don’t do that or I’ll have to ask you to leave” a young nurse snapped at Moira as she entered the ward.
“What’s your name?” Moira asked.
“Brenda”
“Have you been a nurse long?”
“Just five years now”
“Are you married?”
“No”
“I just got engaged” Moira looked back at the bed, “to this buck”
“Congratulations” Brenda said half hearted as she tucked the sheets around Jimmy’s legs.
“My grand-aunt Mary just died” Moira turned her head to look out the window. “she was a lovely woman.”
“Her only sister died young. She was only twenty seven. Died of a broken heart they said.”
“I’m sorry to hear that” the young nurse had now stopped to listen, “we have no cure for a broken heart around here”.
“Ah, it was a long time ago” Moira looked down at the ring. “Her man found himself on the wrong side in the war. He was caught and shot in Sean Gallagher’s old barn.” she nodded. “Ah, you wouldn’t know it, it’s just up the road from home. Worst of all” she paused, “they say he was shot by his own cousin.”
“Margaret was buried wearing her granny’s engagement ring.” she held her hand out “this ring”.
“How come you..?” Brenda held her hand to get a better look, “that is a beautiful ring”
“My grand aunt left me everything, the house, the farm, everything” Moira sighed “She said she always wanted to be married wearing this ring. I suppose I’d be getting it now if she had.” she straightened it on her finger. “Life has a funny way of working things out.”
“Now that I have all, this clown tries to do away with himself” Moira hit Jimmy’s leg again, “he couldn’t even do that right.” Jimmy lay flat on his back, one leg in a cast up in the air. “What?” he mumbled as he came around.
“Oh look” Moira laughed, “sleeping beauty has awoken.”
“John was here earlier. You slept right through his visit” she leaned over and raised her voice.
“It was lucky for you he was passing” she laughed, “and you there hanging by your boots upside down like a Christmas goose”
“Ah now, let him be.” Brenda continued about her work. “He’s had a tough time, I’m sure you love him behind it all.”
Moira smiled and winked up at the young nurse. “Time to get your lazy backside out of this bed me bucko” as she pulled at the sheets, “this girl thinks you’ve had a tough time.”
“It’s time we started again” Moira said, pulling her coat on, “this time things will be different, you won’t know what hit you.”