The Gamal Page 4

  —Yeah.

  —OK, then. Good. That’s good. I’m happy with the way things are going Charlie. I have to say, I’m happy with your progress. Well done. How do you feel about it? Do you think you’re making progress?

  —Yeah.

  This writer fella that Dr Quinn thought was great used loads of the LY words too. He used them generously and superfluously and copiously, all these fucking LY words. As he walked hurriedly to the bus stop, as he decided decisively not to get that bus which had arrived punctually, but to stroll happily and lazily over to the shopping centre indifferently and look around, as resignedly, he crossed the road, carefully, deciding to do nothing much for another hour as he waited patiently and lovingly for the next bus to come punctually or belatedly, it made no difference to him. Him being me. I just read some of this star pupil of Dr Quinn’s fancy writing over at the shopping centre and then I threw it in the bin.

  Talk To Ourselves

  My cousin married a Frenchwoman. She loves the Irish but she says we talk to ourselves.

  School

  I found school hard at first. Rules drove me mad. Mad.

  Objective

  Adj. 1. free of bias; free of any bias or prejudice caused by personal feelings 2. based on facts; based on facts rather than thoughts or opinions 3. philos.; existing independently of the individual mind or perception [14thC. From medieval Latin objuctum ‘thing presented (to the sight)’, ultimately from Latin obicere ‘to present, throw against’, from jacere ‘to throw’.]

  Only humans could come up with a word like that. I mean for fuck sake. Objective. By bollicks. Who did they think they were kidding like? Themselves maybe.

  Dictionary

  I read the dictionary now. I meant to say that. Only book I ever read. Big thick ancient one we have at home. Only book I ever held in my hand that didn’t have some fucking agenda. My book doesn’t have one either. And words are better than music anyhow. You know where you are with words. Words don’t take you over.

  Book

  I just looked at a book. I counted the words on one page and multiplied that number by the number on the last page. The answer was one hundred and twelve thousand, five hundred and sixty. And that wasn’t even a big thick book. I haven’t a hope of writing that much but I’ll do as much as I can. I might take more photographs. I could fill a lot of the pages with photographs. Would you mind? Could show you exactly where stuff happened, like I did with where the body was found. I only have eleven thousand, one hundred and eleven words done at the moment. Long way to go. But I haven’t really started telling my story yet so that’s OK.

  But the main problem is that I keep remembering things in the wrong order. Dr Quinn tells me yesterday after reading the bit I’ve done that I must write the story in the order that it happened. But my brain isn’t in charge of what it remembers and when it decides to remember it. I told him I can’t help remembering some bits sometimes. I think I can remember everything exactly right but just not in the right order. Like thinking about Sinéad sleeping.

  I watched her sleeping. All was on was the telly in the room. Different coloured lights dancing around her face. Looked different and beautiful all the time. Dunno if you ever looked at the sea in the changing sky but it looked nothing like Sinéad asleep in front of the telly but my eyes liked looking at the vision just the same. Dinky was asleep on the couch. Snoozie was on the floor. I’ll tell you who they are another time. But Sinéad was cradled in the arms of James, whose chest rose Sinéad softly with every breath. Snoozie with his big dopey head would start snoring every few minutes so I’d have to walk over and give him a light kick. He’d groan and turn his head.

  I wondered what Sinéad was dreaming about. James maybe. But I hoped that maybe I made some appearance in there too. It’s not that unlikely you know, no matter what people say. She was fond of me you know. Fair enough, I’m not sure what she really thought of me but I know it was a hell of a lot more than anyone had ever thought of me before or since. She knew I wasn’t the gamallogue I let on to be. And she trusted me. Told me things she never even told James. ‘You’re a dark horse Charlie,’ she’d say to me. ‘But your secret is safe with me.’ There was one of them children’s shrink lads long ago reckoned I was definitely on the autistic spectrum, cos I wouldn’t look at the big stupid eejit for long enough when he was talking to me. Anyhow, had a staring match with her one time so I did. With Sinéad. I won. She was useless.

  See I shouldn’t have remembered all that now cos that’s near the end of my story or maybe the middle but not near the start. I should be remembering the first time I met Sinéad so that’s what I’ll do.

  Court Transcripts

  I haven’t wrote a word in a very long time and Dr Quinn is cross with me cos he says I’m not interacting with people. As if I ever did. And I missed two appointments cos I went for a walk around the hospital instead. Seen people crying down near the intensive care unit. A young father was in an accident. Anyhow Dr Quinn wants me to write again and I don’t want to but he said I won’t get better if I don’t face up to the things that happened.

  Sometimes you don’t want to think about some stuff. So you’ll talk about anything else. I’m like that sometimes. I’m afraid of telling you what happens cos I still can’t believe it myself and I don’t want it to be true. Like when the stuff was on the papers. Makes it real to me. Cos I’m still kinda waiting to wake up and for it all to be a bad blah. I don’t want to write it cos I’m afraid and I don’t know what of. There’s nothing else to be afraid of at this stage only myself and you can’t be going around the place afraid of yourself. Can you? Anyhow I’ve lost my way so I’m just going to shut up and tell you what happened. Been trying to put it off long enough. Am I getting a bit giddy? Did you ever want to laugh at bad news? Someone dead and you laugh. No I’ll shut up. I’ll go out for one smoke and I’ll continue with the story proper when I come back in. I’m sick of my own thoughts at this stage. Smoking is probably the only thing I was ever good at. When I come back I’ll tell you about the first time ever I met Sinéad proper.

  Sorry I never did go back to it actually that time last week. Was at Dr Quinn today again and he went mad altogether and says I must get on with the story cos he says I’m getting stuck. Today, for the first time I actually told him what I was really thinking about and he got annoyed with me.

  —Just the child was on the news.

  —What child?

  —The one that died.

  —How?

  —Like . . . out walking with his father and his sister. And he goes out near a cliff-top and his father goes to him to stay back and the child all showoffy turns around and walks backwards and he smiling and the father warning him and doesn’t the sod go from under him and the ladeen falls to his death.

  —I heard about the child that fell to his death. An eight-year-old in Sligo. But that’s all we know. That’s all they said on the news Charlie. That’s a little while back now Charlie.

  —Mother and father were on about it. Was an article in the paper about what happened. He was doing the fool and the sod gave way under him and his father watched the shock on the ladeen’s face and he disappearing down.

  —Charlie. Why are you thinking about this?

  —It’s just what I was thinking about when you asked me.

  —But what use is it? I’m sorry. What I mean to say is . . . everybody could get consumed thinking about these things all the time. We could all be thinking about these things all the time.

  —So what?

  —So what? But we don’t. That’s the point. We don’t think about these things too much.

  —So what?

  —What use would be served Charlie? If everyone thought about that? It’s pointless Charlie. Do you realise that? It gets us nowhere.

  —So what?

  —It’s not healthy.

  —So what?

  —We must accept that bad things happen and move on.

  —OK, I said.

&
nbsp; But he wasn’t one bit OK with me saying OK.

  —It doesn’t serve you thinking about that boy falling to his death.

  —I’m not.

  —But you were.

  —I wasn’t.

  —You told me you were.

  —I was only thinking about the split second.

  —What?

  —Like one sec is all.

  —What?

  —Split second. Just when like . . . he realised . . . regret like . . . and the unfairness like . . . and the father and the daughter watching . . . fucking pity like . . . couldn’t help him then . . . split second . . . unfairness isn’t it? . . . and regret . . . and pity . . . perfect like . . .

  —What?

  —Like. Perfect.

  —Perfect?

  —Like picture like.

  —What?

  —Just like . . . perfect split second if you could see it only. With the cliff and the rocks and the sea and the faces.

  —What?

  —That’s the truth isn’t it? Pulls the rug from under you. Or the earth. Out from under all of us and all our shit. Pure mean, isn’t it?

  —Charlie I’m going to be harsh with you now. This rambling and these kinds of thoughts have got you . . . if you just stick to the task Charlie. You were progressing so well before. The task is to write your story and process it. Weekly. Next week you need to have moved on in your story. You need to explain how you met Sinéad. Say who she was properly. Do the same with James. You’re avoiding it. Then you must talk about the other people in the story. We call those secondary characters.

  I said I wanted another shrink and he told me I’d have to go to Dublin and I said fine and he said enough. Then he goes out and he comes back in with a big box full of papers.

  —Charlie I think these will help you face up to things more successfully at an emotional level.

  He said it would make me introduce my characters properly because if I’ve to use the transcripts I can’t run away from talking about them any longer. It’ll get me to face things, he says. His own brother is some big shot lawyer in Dublin and he got them for him.

  He started reading one of the court transcripts. The evidence of someone in the trial it was. And I remembered it cos I was there that day so I joined in from my memory. He stopped and read silently and I saying the words on the page cos I could remember what was said. He was kinda stunned.

  —Quite astonishing actually. Quite astonishing.

  He said I’ve the equivalent of a photographic memory for audio information. He asked me was I the same with music I heard. I said yeah.

  —Quite extra-ordinary.

  He said he’d do a bit of research on it, but he was sure this talent of mine was quite rare. Quite rare indeed Charlie. But anyhow the transcripts are handy for the bits I wasn’t there for.

  Dr Quinn can talk and talk so it’s OK going to see him really most of the time. I just agree with whatever shit he’s saying and that keeps him from upsetting the mother and father saying to them I’m not making progress or that I didn’t turn up to the appointment. So now I have to read some of these pages to keep him away from the mother and father.

  You see, I was a witness in a court case once in the Central Criminal Court in Dublin. The case went on for nearly four weeks.

  So I’m to show ye some of the pages that matter to my story. The pages all look the same. There’s a number on every line so you couldn’t change anything after it was written. There’s twenty-five lines on every page. I’m going to see if Dr Quinn can scan the pages for me. But I won’t see him until next Tuesday so I’ll come back to this shit next week.

  It’s next week now and Dr Quinn said he’ll get his secretary to scan them in. I won’t see him until next Tuesday again so bye until next week.

  It’s next week and I got the scans. This is what they look like.

  Dr Quinn’s secretary made a bit of a bollicks of the scanning. I think she’s too old to work the scanner. That’s what it looked like. They’re the wrong size and there’s tonnes of them so I’ll type out the important bits. It’ll give me words to fill up the book with anyhow. Some parts of the story are rotten so the transcripts can tell them parts.

  Anyhow the court wasn’t like on telly inside but it was on the outside with the big old stone building with fifty steps leading up to it and the big stone pillars. But inside it looked all new and modern. Our courtroom was only about the size of a tennis court. Another thing that was like telly was the judge cos he was an old fella with a big fat face. But he talked like Irish people which wasn’t like the telly. He was up highest all on his own. Up behind him on the wall was a bronze plaque with a harp on it and Éire written under it. Éire is Irish for Ireland. The harp is a symbol of Ireland. Used to be on all the coins before we got European money called euros. When someone tossed a coin they said head or harp. They still say it. Actually the harp is still on the euro coins, I just checked. It’s the heads that are different. No heads any more. Just a little map of Europe instead of someone’s head. Maybe soon we’ll be saying map or harp instead of head or harp. Guinness use the harp sign too but it’s facing the other way cos drunks are on the wrong side of the law.

  Anyhow beneath the judge then there were two people who had computers in front of them. A man who was the registrar of the court. And his helper. A nice-looking young woman. Then at the next level down there was the lawyers. The lawyers had the silly wigs on and all. Grey curly wigs with two rats’ tails hanging down the back in the middle. They had black gowns on as well. One crowd of lawyers on the left side, the others on the right. They had two rows of seats. Then there was four rows of seats behind them. But there was a three-foot wall down the middle of this section. The accused was to the left side surrounded by eight guards. On the right side then you had the victim’s family. There were a few guards with them too but only a few. Some journalists were in that section as well. Then behind that section was the public and the rest of the journalists. And a few guards. Nice easy job for the guards when they’re in a court case isn’t it? At least when they’re not giving evidence.

  The jury then have their own section. They’re at the same height level as the registrar and his helper but the jury were over at the side. Up at the front of the courtroom at the right-hand side in two rows of six. Eight women, four men. I was thinking of saying what they looked like and all that but it would be boring. They were all ages and one woman used to put her finger through a tissue and pick her nose making it look like she was only wiping it. She was old enough too. And scrawny. One of the men was about forty and had long greasy hair tied back in a ponytail with streaks of grey in it and I’d say the court case wasn’t keeping him from much of a job. I could describe a few more but it just isn’t interesting is it? Maybe the woman who was always looking up at the skylight and biting her fingernails but no, not really that interesting.

  They’d have only seen the left side of the judge’s face. Didn’t matter anyhow, was exact same as his right side. Fat and pink and old. And they only saw the side of the lawyers’ faces too, except if the lawyers were talking to them. But whatever witness was in the stand they’d have been facing the jury. So the jury would see all of the witnesses’ faces. So the lawyers were talking to a witness who was never facing them. The witnesses had to turn their heads to the side to look at them. Sometimes that made them seem snotty even if they weren’t. Like they couldn’t be bothered listening to the lawyer or something or like they were bored of him. I didn’t say him or her cos all the lawyers that were asking questions or talking in the court were hims.

  Anyhow the court case wasn’t for a long time. Just be knowing that the court case is talking about stuff that happened a few years ago.

  Anyhow so back to Sinéad and I meeting her first. Dr Quinn says to me to use the first bit of my evidence. That would introduce her for me and get me started. He showed me how to make the writing look like typewriter writing and all. Seen a picture of his family when I went
around to see his computer and he showing me how to change the look of the type. He has a wife and two daughters around twenty. They all looked fierce tanned and happy and their teeth were fierce white.

  My Evidence

  —Charlie, do you believe in God?

  —Yeah.

  —Do you know what being under oath is?

  —Yeah.

  —Could you tell me what it means?

  —Yeah.

  —Will you tell me now then, please?

  —Yeah. It means God is watching and you have to tell the truth.

  —OK. That’ll do. Thank you Charlie. OK, swear him in now then please.

  —Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, as God is your witness?

  —Yeah.

  —Say, ‘I do’, Charlie.

  —I do.

  —OK, proceed. Be seated, Charlie. You can sit down now, Charlie.

  —Charlie.

  —Ha?

  —Were you friendly with Sinéad?

  —Yeah.

  —When did you start to be friendly with her?

  —When I was small long ago.

  —Were you in primary school? In school in Ballyronan, is it?

  —Yeah.

  —Do you remember how you became friendly with her?

  —Yeah.