The Brothers' Lot - Kevin Holohan [71]
The L&N was a treasure trove of old comics, books, sweets that were probably illegal in a lot of the developed world, and, of course, loose cigarettes. The boys stood for a few moments waiting for the gloom to teach their eyes to see right. Ragged piles of comics and paperback books lined the walls. The glass counter was full of toffee bars and unnaturally colored boiled sweets. On the high shelves behind the counter there were faded boxes of breakfast cereals and washing powders no longer generally available.
As soon as his eyes adjusted, Finbar dived into the box of two-penny superhero comics. The L&N was one of the few places left where you could still rent comics. Of course, L&N deemed that the value of the comics depreciated greatly with each reading, so every comic you rented cost two pennies; on return L&N would give you back one.
While Scully rummaged through the war comics, Lynch slipped behind the counter and silently pulled open the drawer of Naughty Night Nurse Confessions and Tittler, with their promise of almost naked large-breasted women and stories about English women who had sex because they liked it. Had Lynch been aware of L&N’s special stash of Scandinavian “marital guides” in the back room, he would have been back late at night with a crowbar and a wheelbarrow.
“Scully, look at this ride,” he hissed, holding up an enormously breasted cover girl.
“Deadly,” cooed Scully.
Finbar barely caught a glance of full-color flesh before Lynch pocketed the magazine and grabbed another one.
“Get out from behind that counter before I come out there and split ye!” shouted L&N from the back room.
Casually Lynch put the Tittler in his jacket and ostentatiously stomped out from behind the counter. Scully had already picked out three pocket-sized war comics full of stealthy sentry knifings, intrepid allied heroes, and swift deaths of fiendish enemies. Finbar had two Dan Dares, one Commando, and one Superman that he had not read before.
“I’m taking these!” called out Scully, waving his fistful of fictional wartime fury in the direction of the back room. No answer was forthcoming. Calmly he walked to the curtain that separated the back from the rest of the shop. Finbar followed him with his comics in one hand and eight pennies in the other. There, hunched over a low table sitting on beer crates, were L&N and Taft, the English teacher from Southwell, immersed in a game of checkers.
“I’m taking these,” repeated Scully.
“I have four,” said Finbar.
Taft did not even seem to notice the intrusion and L&N barely glanced up. “Sixp’nce and eightp’nce,” he muttered, and held out his hand. He didn’t look as the boys dropped the coins into his palm. Instead he made his move and Taft pounced delightedly, capturing four pieces. The expression of maniacal glee on Taft’s face was enough to send the boys scurrying out onto the street.
“Fuckin’ weirdoes,” said Lynch.
“Fuckin’ madser, Taft,” laughed Scully.
“Who’s he?” asked Finbar.
“English teacher at Southwell. He’s mental,” said Scully a little fearfully. “Seen him at football game last time we played Southwell. He was wearing a top hat.” He had, in a perverse way, a certain respect for the lunatic unease Taft exuded.
From under his jacket Lynch produced the Tittler and handed it to Scully. He showed the Naughty Night Nurse Confessions to Finbar and said: “You can borrow this when I’m finished.”
“Right, yeah,” answered Finbar drily, promising himself that he would not ask for it if Lynch forgot.
26
Martin Mulvey, S.J., Diocesan Investigator, pedaled along the Howth Road with all his might. The driving wind whipped the sea spray against his face. “Blast!” he shouted, and stopped abruptly. He let his bicycle fall roughly against the pavement and strode back to retrieve his hat. He crumpled it up and stuffed it into the pocket of his plastic raincoat. “Damn and blast!” he cursed again as the first tiny drops of rain started to patter on his coat.
Furiously he mounted his bicycle and resumed pedaling into the wind.