At Swim, Two Boys - Jamie O'Neill [104]
“No strings,” Doyler repeated in a tone that would admonish himself more than MacMurrough.
MacMurrough’s hand patted his bum. “Not that a little feel would go astray.”
His face washed and his mind made up, Doyler could laugh. “Mary and Joseph, but you’re the heathenest case I did ever meet.”
A Man Of Moderate Means Finds True
Economy In A Suit!
A Suit Will Give A Man Ease, Spirit, Confidence!
A Suit Will Make A Man Know His Worth!
The boy read the notices as they passed down the aisle. He snorted and MacMurrough said, “Just think what an overcoat would achieve.”
It took the name of Ballygihen House to get decent ministration and MacMurrough was happy to give it. The mask in charge became a face with a welcome. Man and boy he had served the MacMurroughs of Ballygihen. “And let me see, you must be . . . ?”
“Nephew,” said MacMurrough.
“The nephew,” he repeated. “Over from England if I do not mistake. I hope now and you’re enjoying your stay with us?”
The tone was familiar, a custom of the Irish servantry which at times MacMurrough found charming. Today, however, it was crack service he required and he rapped on a glass-topped case. “Is there anyone in charge who can see to me? My friend here needs a suit.”
“I was thinking the very same thought myself,” said the man.
He could feel Doyler flustering beside him. The Irish assurance with which he’d entered the store leaked away under the sidelong stares. MacMurrough sighed. “Can’t you just find us something? We have a meeting this afternoon with my nephew’s solicitor.”
“The young gentleman’s solicitor, no less. Well sir, you have come to the appropriate shop. A suit bought at Lee’s of Kingstown will give ease, spirit, confidence to any man or youth that wears it. Matthew! Matthew!” he called. “Where are these fellows when you need them? Always on the gallivant, what? On the gay galoot, I don’t doubt it. Matthew, will you show the young gentleman to the fitting-room and take his measurements for him. Have you given any thought to the cloth you’d be thinking of? Tweed, we have found, is a rough hard-wearing fabric and will often show to the best in difficult weathers.”
“He’s not going ratting. We want something smart.”
“No, I like tweed,” piped Doyler.
“The young gentleman has a mind his own. Let you go with Matthew till he gets the measure of you, and Mr. MacMurrough and myself will decide what is proper.”
Doyler hung behind, looking doubtful. Though he didn’t feel like it, MacMurrough winked and nodded for him to follow the boy. “Where may I sit?”
“Take the weight off your legs, please do, Mr. MacMurrough. Is it Anthony now it is?”
“Do I know you?”
“Not at all. Though I have served the MacMurroughs, man and gorsoon, these forty years, I wouldn’t doubt it. Over from London. Your aunt will be mighty glad to have you on her hands. Is it for the recuperation you have come? I dare say it is never the local sights that has you brought this way out from Piccadilly.”
It seeped into MacMurrough like the grease off his tongue. Newspaper reports, of course. And one had begun to forget. Had begun to imagine nobody would care. Aunt Eva, damned seductrix. He smoked while the walker extolled his cloths, slipping his head between the rails of ready-mades and his palter inside his patter. Terrible shortage of young men this season. Due to the war, he wouldn’t doubt it. The trouble in finding a willing boy. No sooner found than he was off to enlist. One had to take them as one found them these days. Had he noticed a similar shortage in England? Of clerks, he meant.
There was more to it than newspapers. Something stickier in his ointment. “He’ll need shoes too.”
“Boots or shoes? Will we settle for high-lows? That way they may be serviceable to the young gentleman after his meeting with the solicitor.”
MacMurrough waved a hand. “And a shirt. Tie,