Free The Hard Life by Flann O’Brien Page A

gravel outside and the handle of the door was turned.
    It was the brother. One glance was enough for me. His face was flushed and he lurched slightly. In his hand was a small cigar, a bit the worse for the heavy rain outside.
    –Good evening all, he said pleasantly enough. Good evening, Father Fahrt.
    He sat down in the centre and spread his wet legs towards the range.
    –I see we have got to cigars, Mr Collopy said.
    His mood was genial enough, thanks to the crock and his sword-play with Father Fahrt.
    –Yes, we have got to cigars, the brother replied jauntily, just as Father Fahrt has progressed to the pipe. Degeneracy is contagious.
    –And what important mission were we on tonight? Mr Collopy asked.
    –Well, since you ask me, it was important. Important for this house, and indeed this city, too. I have very bad news for you, Mr Collopy. For all, in fact. This day week––
    –What rodomondario is this you are giving us?
    –This day week, I am leaving you. I am going to London to make my fortune.
    –Well now! Is that a fact? Well the dear knows.
    –London, my lad? Father Fahrt said. Well, well. It’s a great place and there is opportunity there, but the English look for hard work. From the Irish, anyhow. I must give you a letter to some of our men over there. You have heard of Farm Street? But sometimes work is not so easy to get. You are not thinking of the coalmining, are you?
    Here the brother laughed, as if in genuine amusement.
    –No, Father, he said, unless you mean buying a mine and putting enormous royalties into the bank.
    –Well, what are you going to do? Mr Collopy asked sharply.
    –Well, what I’ve done so far is to take the lease of two rooms or offices in Tooley Street.
    –And in God’s name where is that?
    –It is fairly central and very near the Thames. And there are several railway stations within easy distance. I mean, suppose the police were after me?
    –The what? The police?
    Mr Collopy was not sure he had heard aright. The brother laughed again.
    –Yes, the police. They’d hardly think of watching all the stations. Even if they did, there is a very good chance that I could escape by water. After I get settled down, I will have my private barge moored in the river. They will never suspect a move like that. We important men must think of everything.
    –I think you are going off your head and it’s not the first time I thought that. What about money for your passage and your lodgings beyond? If you expect me—
    –Mr Collopy, you mustn’t embarrass me with such talk.
    –So far as I remember, Father Fahrt interposed, our people still run a shelter. Lay brothers are in charge and I believe the cost per night is next to nothing. I could give you a letter, of course.
    –Have you got money? Mr Collopy demanded.
    –I have, or I will have during the week.
    –Is it honest money? If there is any damned nonsense about swindling anybody or robbing shops or besting unfortunate simple people, I can tell you plump and plain that you will not have to go as far as London to make contact with the police. I would not think twice of calling them in myself, for if there is one thing that is abominable it is dishonesty. It is one of the worst inventions of Satan. I don’t want any curse brought on this house. You have heard of Mayor Lynch of Galway? Mark that. Mark that well.
    –You are uncharitable, Collopy, Father Fahrt said. Why assume bad things? Why meet the devil halfway?
    –I live in this house, Mr Collopy said irritably, and I have experience.
    –For all we know, this enterprising young man may yet bring great honour to this house.
    –Yes indeed.
    Mr Collopy’s tone had taken on a bitter edge.
    –I myself may also bring great honour to this house by achieving the great aim of my life. Then they’ll put a plaque on the wall outside and you will have women from all over the world coming on pilgrimages to see my humble house. By that time, of course, I’ll be above in Deans’s Grange