A shock to the system: A short story by Hugh Gallagher

Eddie Boyle was over 21 when he took his first drink.

He reckoned he had been missing out on something for weeks.

Every time he went to the Embassy ballroom on a Saturday night he noticed that his two friends, Charlie Morrison and Willie Carlin seemed to be having great fun.

He was very shy, painfully so.

They, on the other hand, chatted up every girl in sight.

They always seemed to manage to leave a girl home at the end of the night too.

When they invited him to come with them to Davy McDaid's pub one week he accepted.

The pub was at the corner of Lower Road and Great James' Street. It was called 'The 63'.

As soon as he opened the door Eddie noticed two things: the smell, and the sound of the owner's monotonous voice.

A strange aroma struck his nostrils and it wasn't pleasant. It was a mixture of stale beer and cigarette smoke reckoned Eddie.

Davy McDaid, the owner, was a small man who fussed over his regulars.

It was half past eight and there was no sign of Charlie and Willie.

The place was filled with old men in cloth caps mostly and Eddie felt overdressed.

He had on the three piece suit he had got from John Collier's on the never-never the week before. It was a light blue colour.

With it he wore a pink shirt which his sister had bought for his birthday. He edged forward to the bar.

“What'll it be, son?” asked the barman.

“Aah... I don't rightly know,” said Eddie, scratching his head. “A pint of beer, maybe! Aye, I'll have that!”

“What kind of beer,” laughed the barman. “Any particular brand?”

Eddie was embarrassed when he saw the other customers begin to stare at him. He felt like leaving but somehow blurted out, “The stuff he's drinking!” He pointed to the man on his right.

“Harp, ye mean...” said the bartender. “Fine! I like a man who knows his drink.” He looked knowingly at Eddie and chuckled.

When the pint had been poured and plonked down in front of him Eddie handed over a ten-bob note.

On receipt of the change he lifted the glass and turned to look for a seat.

All the tables had at least two men seated at them.

There was one space at the bar however and there was a spare stool. He decided to sit there.

For a long while he stared at the drink in front of him. The golden coloured liquid with the white frothy top looked inviting. Bubbles rose upwards and some seemed suspended in mid-air. Here goes, thought Eddie. He reached forward and took a huge gulp.

It tasted vile, nothing like he had imagined. He was contemplating going home again when Charlie Morrison tapped him on the shoulder.

“What about ye, kid,” he shouted.

Willie Carlin was beside him, grinning. “Are you here long, Eddie?” he asked.

“Naw... I mean, aye!” lied Eddie. “Sure this is my third,” he said, taking another slurp from the glass. It didn't taste so bad this time.

Willie looked at the barman. He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

He ordered two pints of stout. “When we've finished these we'll head upstairs!” he announced. “There's an auld piano up there. We can have a sing-song!”

The session was in full swing when Davy McDaid decided to make a speech.

“Enjoy yourselves now lads,” he whined. “But remember, no dirty songs and no party tunes. It's almost ten. Another couple of songs and that's it. I've my licence to think about.”

“Spoilsport!” shouted Charlie.

“Give us the Boston burglar,” shouted Willie. “I love that!”

The pianist asked him to start the song off. Willie didn't have to be asked twice. “I was born and reared in Boston... A place ye all know well... Brought up by...” he bellowed.

At chucking out time Eddie went to the toilet. His two pals watched him as he walked past them. They were puzzled.

“I thought he'd be fallin' over by now,” said Charlie. “Six pints, at least, he's had!”

“Aye... I'm surprised myself,” said Willie. “The night's young yet, mind ye!”

When they got outside 'The 63', Willie suggested they visit the sweet shop next door to get some spearmint flavoured chewing gum.

“It covers up the smell of the old drink,” he explained.

He and Charlie entered the shop. Eddie nodded but didn't speak. Instead of going in he sauntered off, on down Gt James' Street, hands firmly stuck in his trousers pockets.

He swayed from side to side, muttering to himself. He reached the bottom of the street before his two pals caught up with him. They grabbed him and sat him down on some steps.

“Fresh air, Charlie! I knew it,” declared Willie. “It's hit him!”

Eddie spoke up. “Come on. Let's get into the Embassy,” he protested. “I'm going to get off with your woman, Paula Mullan, the night.”

Willie and Charlie began whispering.

“They'll never let him in like that. He's bluttered. Ye'll have to walk him around the block a few times, Charlie!” said Willie.

“I will. What do you mean – I will. What about you sure!”

“Jane's waiting for me inside,” explained Willie. “She'll be raging mad as it is.”

“Aw, go on then! You're some friend,” shouted Charlie. “I'll take care of him.”

“Come on the City!” roared Eddie.

It was half a hour before the bouncers decided to admit Charlie and Eddie to the Embassy.

Eddie had sobered up considerably but was very argumentative.

When they reached the dance floor they met Willie. “Where's gorgeous Jane?” asked Charlie, already guessing what the answer would be.

“She's sick! Her mates told me.”

“Stood ye up, ye mean,” said Charlie. “Serves you right.”

“There's plenty more fish in the sea,” declared Eddie, slapping Willie's back.

“I'm away to ask wee Paula there for the next dance. It's a slow wan! She loves these.”

He staggered off in her direction. Paula sat with her friends on the chairs skirting the dance floor.

She was a brown haired girl from Creggan and wore thick make-up and a short striped dress.

Just before Eddie reached her the band struck up the next set.

A small stout man with a very short haircut and wearing dark glasses got there before him.

Paula skipped out to dance with him leaving Eddie standing fuming. Willie and Charlie saw what was happening.

“Never mind sure, Eddie!” shouted Charlie. “That guy's a Yank from the base. You're better off without the likes of that wan. Man mad her!”

Eddie paid no heed.

He turned around from staring. “I'm getting somebody to dance with me and then I'm going out there to knock his block off!” he said. “I love her!”

“God, naw!” sighed Willie. “This'll be good.”

Eddie walked along a line of girls asking for a dance.

Seeing the mood he was in most refused bluntly. The seventh girl however, took pity on him and accepted.

They arrived on the dance floor in time for the second of the three slow dances.

Eddie didn't waste much time in steering his partner nearer the Yank and Paula.

At the end of the second dance the two pairs were standing side by side. The band began playing Bridge over Troubled Waters. Eddie shouldered the Yank who stood back in amazement.

“Hey, man! What's your problem, guy!” he asked.

Eddie pulled the dark glasses from his nose, threw them on the shiny floor and proceeded to crunch them into little pieces with the heel of his pointy-toed shoes.

The Yank ignored him.

“You're a lout. A drunken lout,” shrieked Paul. She ran from the dance floor followed closely by the country girl. The American began to walk away.

“Now look what you've done!” shouted Eddie.

“Lighten up, Paddy,” drawled the stranger. “You sure are uptight, man!”

“Tight is it. I'll tight ye!” Eddie aimed a punch.

A blind man could have seen it coming but the American had his back turned.

The glancing blow struck the side of his face and he stumbled to the floor. Eddie fell on top of him, flailing about wildly. Charlie and Willie dragged him off.

“I'm wild sorry, mate!” said Charlie. “He's a wee bit drunk.”

“Drunk! Who's drunk?” slurred Eddie, clambering to his feet.

The Yank took to his heels.

Several seconds later Eddie chased after him. He was followed by Charlie. Willie stood his ground. “You're all wired up wrong,” he shouted.

“Let me in, guys!” roared the Yank. He was banging on the front door of the RUC barracks across the street from the ballroom.

Charlie Morrison couldn't believe what he saw. An American serviceman running away from a drunken Derry-man, he thought.

He turned to Eddie, who was raring to go after him. “Right, boy. That's it, Eddie!” he said. “This must be your lucky night. Let's get ye home, before the cops pay us a visit!”

It took two weeks for Eddie Boyle to live down his first night on the drink.

Paula Mullan wouldn't speak to him. Her father threatened to kick his head in the next day. His wife saved Eddie's bacon.

Eddie decided it would be wise to avoid the Embassy on his next outing.

Instead he went across the border into Muff in Donegal for the Friday night dance in Borderland. Willie and Charlie went too.

They felt guilty and decided to keep a close eye on him.

On the bus back to Derry they sat upstairs courting their girlfriends.

Eddie sat downstairs eating a pie and chips. As the bus moved off someone pushed in beside him. He continued eating.

“Do you want a chip?” he asked, glancing to the left.

“Yeah! Don't mind if I do, friend,” said his fellow passenger. “Say! Aren't you that guy...”

Eddie felt sick. It was the Yank and he had a black eye, turning yellow and red.

“Listen, hi! I'm sorry...”

“Call me Hank... Hank Brady,” said the American.

He reached across and took a handful of chips. When he had eaten them he offered Eddie a cigar, gave him a lighter and told him to keep it. It was the flip-top kind with an eagle stamped into the metal casing. It reeked of petrol.

“Thanks,” said Eddie, puffing on the fat cigar.

He took a fit of coughing. Hank slapped his back repeatedly.

The sight of his huge hands made Eddie worse. He could hardly speak and was glad when the bus came to its last stop.

He sat on in his seat waiting for Charlie and Willie to come downstairs.

Eddie followed at a distance behind them as they walked their girlfriends up Strand Road towards William Street.

On the way, Hank stepped from the shadows of a shop doorway and stood in front of Eddie.

God, I'm for it now, he thought, swallowing hard. Please God, don't let him kill me. I'm only 21.

“It's me again, pal,” said Hank.

He slowly reached inside the side pocket of his leather jacket.

He produced six pink tickets. “We're a holdin' a big dance out in our base next Sunday. Here's a few tickets for you and your buddies,” he drawled. “No hard feelings!” With that he grabbed hold of Eddie's hand and shook it warmly.

When he caught up with his friends Eddie was beaming from ear to ear. He handed out the tickets. “These are for the Yankee Base dance next Sunday night,” he explained. “Cheap booze and all!”

The others were delighted.

“Who are you taking, Eddie?” asked Charlie's girlfriend.

“Oh, I thought I'd ask wee Paula,” he said. “Do you think she'd come?”

“Are ye mad! You've a brass neck,” said Willie.

“It's the auld drink talking!” said Willie.

Eddie said nothing as he walked off on his own. He was making plans.