IRISH HONEYMOON

New Zealand Listener, Volume 37, Issue 944, 13 September 1957, Page 4

IRISH HONEYMOON

by

Walter

Brookes

HIS story ‘concerns one Jacko Brocklebank, of 23 The | Bishop’s te i Little Malfroy Street, S.W.3, @ much better address than S.W.1, according to John Betjeman in The Spectator, and there can be no arguing against that, for he is a poet of some standing, and if he said it in The Spec-tator-well ... Jacko, a rising young man in the wholesale grocery trade (he works in his firm’s office -in the City, and, as Betjeman also,said that the City-in this case E.C.3-was the only business address to have, you can see that Jacko was ‘worth listening to) told me the story himself in considerable detail when I was in London. I used to meet him at the London Chamber of Commerce where, as I said* before, I used to go from South Molton Street (W.1, you remember-as good an address as any in the world according to George Schwartz in The Sunday Times) on overseas trace matters, just as Jacko did. As we had to wait some time for these matters to be attended to we used to go off and have a cup of coffee together and discuss business. The story is about Jacko’s adventures on his honeymoon in Ireland, for he had married a very attractive Irish girl

named Nora, and they had gone over there. And as you will see that he got a very good address in Dublin, and I have a good address in Wellington, and as for the address of The Listener office-well, you *will realise that the story is absolutely reliable from start to finish as a description of Irish life and manners. % % * T begins when Jacko and Nora stepped out of Westland Row station into the streets of Dublin. "Will I take you to your hotel, Sir?" called a driver from the seat of his old horse cab. "I’m afraid we haven’t got a hotel yet," said Jacko. "If you haven’t got a hotel I couldn’t very well take you to it, and sorra a hotel you’ll find in Dublin today," replied the driver. They had come over to Nora’s native Dublin because she had insisted, even though they had not been able to arrange any accommodation, for it was Hofse Show week. Jacko was beginning to think he might find things a little trying, for he was a serious and efficient young man, and his first impressions of Dublin were not of seriousness and efficiency. But he was steadily keeping

in mind his boss’s commission to pick up a man or two for the packing department if he could-someone who would appreciate a job in London, for they found it hard to keep staff. "T don’t like having nowhere to go," he said. "Something will turn up, I’m sure it will," said Nora. Jacko usually felt cheerful at the sight of her curly hair and the sound of her laugh, but just now he was uneasy. Something unexpected did turn up, however, but it was not what he considered a pleasant surprise. Lunchtime had come and they had gone into a restaurant in O’Connell Street to eat and think. "Why, it’s Fiddler Brennan," cried Nora, looking at a waiter, evidently coming up from a basement stairway, as he rose from behind the counter like Venus from the sea, except that he was wearing a stained white coat matching the tablecloths in the room. Men's my ex-fiancé."’ Well. Jacko had not heard of Nore’s ex-fiancé before. and he surveved the

thin, dark young man, whose appearance was quite in contrast with his own blond chubbiness, He had to face it. Nor introduced them. "How do you do?" he said, standing up and letting his bowler hat and umbrella, which he had temporarily placed on his knee, fall to the floor. "It’s a lovely day." "Beside yesterday it is -it would want to be," said Fiddler, "And I’m glad to see you here, Jacko, though it’s a terrible place, Dublin." How Jacko wished Nora hadn’t mentioned Christian names. He had tried to shake off Jacko for years. "What's the braised steak like?" he asked Fiddler. "Oh, no good at all," said Fiddler. "Just old bits of meat stewed up and a bit of mush put round them. Left-overs from the whole week. You can have it if you want it, though," he added considerately. Jacko decided to play safe with poached eggs, and Nora agreed. "Why did you break off your engagement?" he asked her when Fidd-ler-well, that sounded just as ridiculous as Jacko-had gone to get their poached eggs. _ "We didn’t break it off," she said. "What? You don’t mean-that is, you-" But he was interrupted by the return of Fiddler with a large pot of tea. "You can amuse yourselves with that while the other’s getting ready," he said. "Would you be

over here for a holiday? Or perhaps on your honeymoon, of course." "Business and pleasure," said Jacko with an air of importance, thinking of his commission from his boss. After all, he was a businessman looking round for staff. He musn’t let the silly place get him down. "You'll have somewhere to stay, of course?" Fiddler went on. "But if you haven’t, which I don’t suppose you have, it being Show Week, unless you arranged it three months ago, and you couldn’t have done that for you weren't engaged then, let alone married, me having had a letter from Nora only two months back-yes, I’m coming. I'll be back in a minute-just be having a bit of tea, both of you." He had been called over to the counter to get their poached eggs. He returned and went on: "I was going to say, you could stay in the house where I am, right in Merrion Square, no less. There’s not many dwelling houses round there now, and this one has a lovely Toom vacant for the reason that the lodger left this morning and there’s not another coming for a fortnight. The landlady is away, but I'd fix it all up for you myself."

Poor Jacko. Such _ extraordinary atrangements, and in the same house as Nora’s ex-fiancé, to whom her engagement had not yet been broken off, whatever that meant. He began to see now why people laughed at the very mention _of the Irish, but he felt more dismayed than amused when Nora. cried; "Why, it would be the very thing!" "I can give you the key this minute," said Fiddler. "The lodger gave it to me when he was going, and you can give me a pound in advance. I’ll see that the landlady gets it, never fear about that. "And: now that that’s settled, would you like some bread and butter with your lunch? For I'll get you some if you want it." He went off downstairs again. Jacko was quite taken aback. He watched Fiddler disappear and appéar again with a plate of bread and butter in his hand. "Queer fish," he observed. Fiddler began a joking conversation with the girl behind the counter, periodically emphasising the humour of his remarks by thrusting the plate under her chin. Jacko, wanting to finish his meal and get away without any further reference to the room, began to get impatient, "Damn the fellow," he said, gazing disapprovingly at Fiddler, who hurried across. | "They hadh’t much bread and butter,’ he said. "But I managed to get this bit for you, It'll keep you going for a while. And now I'll give-you the bill. I tried to keep it down for you, but I can’t do much, as they keep a check on everything. You can give me the pound for the room, and here’s the key of the front door. And you'll find the front room on the first floor open." 2 * * POR a rising young businessman Jacko felt he was not holding his end up very well. He had not even asked what the rent was, And an even worse thought struck him on the way to Merrion Square. , "Perhaps we'll be arrested," he said to Nora, "for breaking and entering. Entering, at any rate." "I’m sure Fiddler knows the police," she replied, "He’ll get you out of it." "That’s not the point," he said irritably, "I don’t want to be got out

of anything. I’m sure the whole arrangement isn’t legal." However, he was tired, and the thought of some place in the shape of a home made him forget his scruples when they got to the house. They went in and up to the room Fiddler had told them about, Sure enough, it was open and empty, and all fresh and tidy, which they hadn’t expected. Jacko melted. "Well, I must say it’s handsome," he said, looking at the ceiling. "Real Irish Georgian." Nora didn’t know what he meant, but she was sure it was something important. She had married Jacko because she felt sure he was very important. The Irish were all right, but they weren’t a bit important. Not like Jacko and the English, "Well, we’re here," she said. "I told you something would turn up. We'll just go off and get our things from the station." But as they were going out the front door a voice called out from the back: "What are you doing coming into this house?" and an elderly woman in a bonnet and shawl appeared. "Er, we-" Jacko began, but Nora interrupted-she knew the language better. "We're not coming into this house, we're going out of it," "Well, you must have come into it first." "Fiddler said we could. We paid him a pound," said Nora. "T’ll tan the hide out of that Fiddler. More fools you for giving him a pound. Is it a room you're looking for?" "We're in it already," said Nora. -"Well, if you’re in it already you're no need to be worrying, for you can stay there for a fortnight. They’re all a bad lot that come here, and I suppose you’re no worse than the rest of them. And you'll. give me three pound ten, never mind what you gave Fiddler." "Fiddler says that if you’re the landlady you’re away," said Nora. "How could I be away when I came) back this morning? Give. me the rent for a week and away with you." * * * ORA and Jacko were taking it easy in their room about 10 o’clock that night when there was a knock. In answer

to their call Fiddler’s grave and elegant countenance appeared round the door, "IT have news that will sadden the hearts of youse," he said. Jacko had made up his mind to~be firm. when he next saw Fiddler. "You owe me a pound. We paid the week’s rent to the landlady." "The pound: was commission," said Fiddier stoutly. "But you said the landlady would get Fy "Sure, I meant that I would put it towards my own rent and give it to her that way. It was just a manner of speaking." Jacko gave in. He was beginning to realise that even a London man like himself could learn something about business from the Irish. "And what bad news have you?" asked Nora. "T was sacked this very day,’ said Fiddler, "Sacked from the job where I had served so faithfully since me last birthday. For carrying on, they said, the lying biackguards, for cafrying on with the girls and neglecting the customers. You wouldn’t say I had neglected you, would you now?" * Jacko was thinking hard. He suddenly saw a chance to show his generosity and magnanimity to Fiddler and at the same time enjoy a peaceful honeymoon. "Fiddler," he said, "how would you like a job in London?" "Why, it’s the dream of my heart," "Well, if you’ll go to the packing foreman. at the address I'll give you you'll get a job. But you'll have to hurry. You'll have to, go on the boat tomorrow." "Sure, of course I'll go tomorrow," said Fiddler. "And you can give me the commission on the room for next week now so as to save yourself the trouble in the gorning, and I’m glad to be able to do it for you with Show Week on and all. I suppose I'll be seeing a lot of you in London," "I'm afraid not," said Jacko hastily. "You see, the warehouse is a long way from the head office, and you’ll want to live near your work. Transport is very difficult." * x a "1T’S wonderful of you, Jacko," said Nora, after Fiddler had gone. "You must be terribly important. Giving people jobs."

"Oh, I’m always on the look out for staff," he said as casually as he could, for he did feel important-and relieved, too. "It'll be grand for Fiddler over there with his girl gone over already," said Nora. "But-but-I thought he was engaged to you. I mean-" "No, no. That was only when I was in Ireland. It didn’t apply to England. He got engaged to someone else when I left. That's what I meant when I said we never broke it off." Jacko suddenly realised how tired he felt after only one day in a foreign country. bd ok bad NATURALLY asked Jacko whether Fiddler did come over and get a job with his firm. "Yes, he did," he replied. "And he got on very well, too. He’s now foreman of a department in the warehouse, which is over on the South Bank, and he lives out that way, too-no harm, of course, it’s the best he can do at present. Oh, what’s more, he got married." It appeared, too, that Fiddler had gone all political, and was very much concerned about the suppression of hooliganism on the Border and a peacefully united Ireland taking a full place in the Commonwealth- matters in which Jacko hadn’t the slightest interest. He was more concerned with getting over to Ireland for his next holidays, for they had gone south after that first week, and the countryside-it just left Jacko speechless, he said, though I doubt if anyone else would have noticed much change in this respect. "I mean to say, old chap, look here," he would say. "But they tell me the West’s’ the place, and that’s where we're going next time." But going to Ireland for his holidays didn’t enter into Fiddler’s plans. He was too busy. "We don’t want to lose’ him, of course," said Jacko. "But I ‘know what he’s up to. It’s not a far step from wholesale grocery to catering, and with his past experience-well, I wish him luck." I can only add that these two young men were following exactly a pattern set by a large number of their fellowerorntryumen