Scrap CH TWO part 8

CH TWO 8
Danny can never arrive quietly at the house; there always has to be a dramatic flourish as he thrusts the door open expecting everyone to jump to attention. Today the room is empty and Davey Tuohy follows him indoors, placing his heavy holdall in the corner out of the way. They are both looking the worse for wear as if they have slept in their clothes for some time. They take off their boots and Danny sets about scraping mud from them as Davey wipes their jackets down with a wet cloth. Orla has heard their voices and comes in from the front room dragging the vacuum cleaner behind her. The men pause in their work and look round. ‘Hello Ma,’ smiles Danny, ‘this is Davey, and he’ll be staying for a bit if that’s okay.’ Ma looks dubiously at the dishevelled creature but mumbles some sort of consent before easing past them to put the kettle on. Ma’s first reaction to any situation is to make a cup of tea.
Orla sets two mugs of tea on the kitchen table and takes one each for herself and Rosa. ‘I’ll be in the front room if you want me,’ she says. Danny kicks the door shut behind her and returns to his task. ‘Why couldn’t Red have found a better spot than Effing Forest?’ Davey is trying his best to clean up his clothing but not making a very good job of it. ‘My best suit and it’s mired up to the knees in God knows what,’ he grumbles, ‘And I suppose it’s gonna be us expected to go and dig the stuff up again when the time comes.’ Danny frowns at his visitor, ‘keep your voice down,’ he warns, ‘get the worst off and we’ll take everything down to the launderette. They’ve got a dry clean machine we can use.’
Davey takes a draught of tea, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and asks if there’s any food in the house. Danny finishes scraping mud from his shoes, washes his hands and looks in the cupboards for something quick to eat. ‘Here, make a start on that,’ he says, lobbing a malt loaf in Davey’s direction. ‘Ta,’ says Davey, tearing open the packet and sinking his teeth into the loaf. It doesn’t take him long to finish the whole packet, washing it down with the last of his tea. ‘That’s better,’ he says, letting out a loud belch, ‘you not having anything?’ Danny says he will wait for dinner, which is bubbling away on the hob in a huge double handled pot. Irish stew: his favourite meal, will hit the spot when Orla serves up in an hour’s time.
The two men take turns in the bath and change into fresh clothing. Orla is dishing up the stew as they reappear, looking better than they did when they first arrived but still with a week’s stubble on their faces.
Danny bends down to kiss his wife on the cheek, a gesture which draws no enthusiasm from Rosa, who is sure he has been up to no good since leaving the house almost a week ago, leaving her in a state of anxiety every time a vehicle drives along the track leading to the yard. She has grown increasingly concerned that Danny is involved with some very unsavoury people.
Orla tries to make small talk but it is an uphill struggle and everyone is glad when the meal is finished. Orla and Rosa start on the washing up while the men set off for the launderette with their filthy clothes. ‘At least they don’t expect us to tackle that job,’ sighs Rosa, ‘God only knows where they’ve been to get into that state.’
The launderette is empty and Danny hurriedly stuffs the clothing into the big dry cleaning machine. He feeds in the required amount of coins and they relax as the process begins to eradicate any evidence of their trip to Epping Forest. ‘There’s an off-licence two doors along,’ says Danny, ‘go and get us some beers will you?’ He hands a few notes to Davey and he hurries out, eager to satisfy his need for alcohol. He returns with a half bottle of whisky and six cans of lager, which disappear down their throats in record time. ‘Do you think we can trust Red to keep quiet?’ Asks Davey, taking a sip from the whisky bottle. Danny takes it off him and replaces the lid before replying. ‘We have our orders and we carry them out,’ he says in a serious tone, ‘it’s too late to back out now so stay focused and not too much of this stuff, okay?’ He slips the bottle into his jacket pocket and Davey sits back in his seat, watching as the machine finishes its cycle.
They shake the clothes, fold them neatly and put them into a clean laundry bag. ‘Fantastic job these machines do,’ notes Danny, ‘nobody would ever know what a state they were in before.’ Two women arrive as they are leaving and Davey holds the door open for them. Danny hurries him out to the truck, not wishing to draw attention. It will be best if nobody remembers their visit to the cleaners.
‘You can give me a hand in the yard tomorrow,’ says Danny, ‘there’s a lot of catching up to do with me being away. Jason has picked the bones of the wreckers and just left the carcasses piled up by the crusher.’ Davey seems a little put out at being expected to do some work but he reckons it will be fun to operate the machines. ‘He doesn’t think much of you, does he, your brother-in-law?’ Danny gives him a sour look but makes no reply.
The eagle eyes of his passenger alert Danny to the sight of a police land rover which is parked half a mile ahead, partly concealed behind a hedge. Danny makes a quick detour to avoid being stopped; they can do without awkward questions from the boys in blue especially as they have both been drinking. ‘You need to have eyes everywhere these days,’ he notes.
Orla and Rosa are watching television when the men arrive. Jason is locked in his room with the radio on. Danny arouses further suspicion by offering to make coffee, which is accepted gratefully by the women of the house. The men add whisky to their cups but do not offer any to the women although both have a keen enough sense of smell to notice. The news comes on the screen and the men take the opportunity to strike up a conversation. There are pictures of the aftermath of another IRA bomb blast and interviews with injured victims. Rosa pretends to take no notice but she feels very uneasy, wondering if Jason’s suspicions are right.