Over Your Shoulder

How far do you have to travel before you can become invisible? The
world might only be as big as a football in these times of same-day
delivery. I sat on the steps of my quiet shore on the South Western
coast of Ireland sipping instant coffee. My house waits patiently
behind whilst the Atlantic beats its childish fists in defiance before
me. I am at the end of my journey.

My stealthy rituals are at an end; only minor precautions remain. To
recount the absurdities and deals that brought me to this stormy
retreat would be to trawl the ocean that I watch every day with a
religious wonder. When I was a young man on the streets of Derry, this
remote headland was my retirement dream. But now, now that I have been
driven here, regret and maladie seem almost inevitable.

Occasionally I'll spot a solitary sea lion treading water out beyond
the shallows where the water turns black. The creature in return
watches me on the shore with presumably just as much curiosity and each
time I'll raise a glass of whatever I'm drinking in salute. The sea
lion lingers for a few seconds and then slips effortlessly under to no
doubt re-appear on someone else's beach.

Great efforts have been made by myself and on my behalf to conceal my
identity and whereabouts. Some mornings I awake and struggle with both
of those components even after four years. Am I like the cicada in the
eye of the hurricane waiting for the inevitable turbulence?

When the shadow fell over me my first instinct was to smell the air,
but the salty breeze carried any clues as to my visitor's identity. My
second was to fear.

"Please, please don't turn around." The voice was female and unfamiliar
to me. "I just want to talk to you. I think you know who I am."

"I do?" There was a sniffle and somehow this served to unnerve me
further.

"Please I told you, don't turn around." I scanned my memory for some
recognition of the voice but once again drew a blank. It was safer if I
withheld my judgement.
"You'll have to help me out here, I really can't?Who sent you?"

"Who sent me?" The disbelief in the woman's voice was palpable.

"Why would anyone need to send for me, after what you've done?"

I shook my head. "You're right. I was stupid to think that you would
never find me." I thought that perhaps some self-deprecation would
help.

"Did you think you could just walk away? What did you think we were?" I
had a fairly good idea what I was dealing with now.

"I'm?I was never entirely sure. My role was never that clear."
"You're role? You walked away and thought you could hide from us
because you felt that your role was unclear?"

"That wasn't the only reason, obviously."

"Obviously." A deep breath. "Why don't you start at the beginning, the
very beginning?"

The weather had been pleasant as promised all afternoon but as the day
slid into evening, the wind felt cooler and noticeably blustery. Large
cumulus clouds had appeared from behind me and the swell was beginning
to spit samples further up the beach as the tide began its slow
reversal. I remained in silence wondering where exactly to start. How
much did they know? How much more were they prepared to know?

"Shall I make it easier for you Frankie? Don't turn round!" The woman
shouted as I went to move. I hadn't heard that name in many years. It
sounded like they knew everything even the name I was born with. Frank
or Frankie Fellows had been what was known back then as a shill. I was
strictly small fry, conning tourists down in Dublin mainly but I always
kept my hand in, just on the off chance. What could there possibly be
about my life back then that had led to my being compromised now, or at
anytime come to that?

"Where did Frankie disappear to?"

"Where did I disappear to? Where did everyone go back then?"

"Spain?" She said quizzically.

"Exactly. I went to Japan."

"Japan? What the hell were you doing there?"

"Imports, exports, in and out of Hong Kong mainly. Nothing large scale
until 1980."

"You were there ten years?" The disbelief was there again in her
voice.
"It's a nice place, nice people, not so nice prisons mind. Have you
been given some bad information somewhere along the line?"

"You could say that Frankie." Why did she keep calling me that? I
continued.

"1991, the fuss seemed to have died down over here and I was someone
else anyway. I snuck home, had a pint or two, paid my respects to my
mother and left for the States next day."
"Which pub?"

"Does it matter?"

"Which pub Frankie?"

"I dunno, the, the King of Prussia I think." This time there was
silence from behind me. "What happened? Someone blow the shithole up
after I walked out?"

"No Frankie, the mess you left was bigger than any bomb."

"Now I haven't got a fecken clue what you're on about child."

"C'mon Frankie, stop playing games with me. What really made you
leave?"

"You wanna hear it? Really?"

"I think I'm strong enough Frankie."

"I was scared, real scared. That night, in the pub, it was like a
thousand eyes drilling through me back. I was sweating like a rapist,
not a very good one at that. I'd had may be six maybe seven whisky's
and then I saw him. It was over in an instant. I looked over as someone
came in, and then as I turned away, there he was sitting by the door
with a glass raised to me."

"Who?"

"Doyle. Billy fucken Doyle."

"You fucked this Billy Doyle over?"

"Eh? No, no, no. Billy called in and did favours for anyone who had one
spare. It's like that in Derry. If you're a wanted man you're wanted by
everyone."

"And so?"

"I wasn't gonna get outta that pub car park alive. You know Billy
Doyle?"

"Any reason I should?"

"Well put it this way, Billy's trademark conversation if you like,
includes words like blowtorch, pliers and no anaesthetic." I thought
about it for a while. "Christ, Billy didn't send you did he?"
"Don't be fucken stupid."

"You're right, he hasn't got the resolve. Anyways, I needed to be in
that pub like a cow needs to be in an abattoir. I knew all the bases
were loaded. My only option was to remain in the Prussian and make him
and his boys think I'd left."

"You're a bit of a coward aren't you Frankie?"

"You have no idea," I was shouting, "what I went through after?"
"After what? After what you did?" Her tone was sarcastic and I was no
closer to identifying her.

"Look I feel bad about it alright? What do you want me to say?"

"Sorry might be a reasonable start. You bastard Frankie, I can't
believe you."

There was another lengthy pause. I noticed that the sky had lost its
optimistic tone altogether and the beginnings of darkness were
heralded. "So you are in this pub with no means of escape."

"Yes. The fact that I'm quite pissed is not helping in the least. Part
of me is thinking, fuck it. It's all gonna end here, right now, just
make the most of your last night on earth, so I order another drink.
And there she is." I threw my hands up in the air. "Mary, Mary
something or other. I think she used to be one of my brother's
ex-girlfriends and it was pure coincidence that she was the landlady of
the pub. I was amazed that she hadn't clocked me already. The only
trouble with my only available plan was that I had to break my cover;
tell her my real name. Potentially I could be giving up everything
there and then with five little words. My name is Frankie
Fellows."

"And she helped you?"

"You could say that."

"And you never told another person who you really were?"

"No, not a soul."

"So Frankie, how do you think I know who you are?"

I turned sharply before she could tell me not to. Standing before me
was Mary, the landlady of the King of Prussia and holding her hand,
waiting patiently by her side was a small child.

"Frankie Fellows, I'd like you to meet your daughter Siobhan."

"Christ." I collapsed to my knees. "I thought you were here to kill
me." Mary had let go of the child's hand and was choking back the
tears. Her face was flush just as the night I had left her.

"Mummy, look." The child was pulling on her mother's sleeve and
pointing out to sea. I turned back. Out in the black water I espied
that the sea lion had returned and popped its whiskered face above the
water.