Excerpt
Martin Daly ran down Brogue Lane so fast he was bouncing off the walls and scattering everyone in his path. He spun left into The Mall and crashed through the front door of Lally’s pub, skidded into the middle of the floor and spun around several times until he spotted his pal Sweaty Muldoon.
Muldoon’s face stretched in surprise and he leapt to his feet. ‘There you are. About time too. Will I be getting the pints so? Sean, two pints there, good man yourself.’
‘No, no, no.’ Martin flapped his arms like a tall skinny windmill. ‘We have to go. C’mon, we have to get out of here. Now!’
‘But I’m after ordering the pints,’ Muldoon argued. ‘What is wrong with you?’
‘No,’ Martin shouted. ‘We haven’t got time. C’mon, we have to go now.’
‘Why?’
Martin whimpered and his wild eyes glared at everyone in the bar who were watching him with a mixture of concern and amusement.
‘Martin,’ Muldoon asked again. ‘What the feck is wrong with you? I’m after ordering the pints so sit down and tell me what happened. Is it your da? What did he do to you?’
‘It was horrible,’ Martin whined even more now. ‘Horrible altogether. I … they made me do it. It wasn’t my fault. Now the guards will be looking for me.’ He ran at Muldoon and grabbed his arm. ‘The feckin guards will be out looking for me now. They’ll be after me and we have to get out of here. We have to …’
Muldoon stepped back so sharply he staggered into the table behind him sending the enormous young farmer’s drink flying out of his hand into the lap of an equally big man on the other table. There was a chorus of curses and a crash of chairs flying backwards as the men jumped up and looked around at the damage.
And in a heartbeat they focused on Martin Daly and his pal Muldoon and they bared their teeth and rounded their shoulders. But as they lumbered forward Sean Lally came flying out from behind the counter and got between them, his arms out like the referee in a wrestling ring.
‘What the hell is all this roaring and screaming about? Martin Daly, you’ll have to buy the lads another drink and be thankful I don’t charge you for the damage to the furniture. So come on,’ He held out his hand and clicked his fingers. ‘Give me the money.’
‘No,’ Martin pushed the hand away. ‘I can’t.’
‘What?’ Sean and the two farmers moved closer.
‘I haven’t got any money,’ Martin insisted, patting his pockets.
‘Oh don’t give me that bullshit,’ Sean sneered. ‘Tis Thursday. You normally rob your poor auld da on a Thursday after he collects his wages. So hand it …’
‘I do not,’ Martin snarled, but the indignation in his voice wasn’t convincing enough to sooth Sean Lally or the two brooding farmers.
Sean clicked his fingers again and Martin flinched. ‘Well, I … he didn’t get paid today,’ he groaned. ‘He was … he didn’t go to the office today. He …’
Then Martin let out a howl and bolted for the door so fast no one could react quickly enough to stop him.
Sweaty Muldoon was just as surprised and his eyes widened in shock as he realised they were all turning in his direction now with menace on their faces. He swallowed hard, glanced at the swinging front door then bolted after his pal.