project gardaí/governmental groove

chapter one

"no, stop the bloody cassette player and do your homework. i'm sick of listening to U2 or those dreadful other bands. why don't you listen to the radio? kieran- i'm speaking to you!"

kieran, lost in his thoughts, jolted upwards and looked at his mother. "but ma-ammmm.." he said grudgingly. "we don't have a telly, the radio talks complete bollocks.. there's no good music on. i-" she glared at him in response. "why can't you be more like aifric?" she continued. "she's boring, mam. like, why would i want to be that glenroe-watching, disco-going, fluffy-flan-hair- jesus, stop looking at me like that!"

"i'm not looking at you like that. be more kinder. and i told you to stop using the lord's name in vain. whatever will i do with you, kieran anthony mulcahy?"

the phone rang. "AIFRIC!" shouted ms mulcahy sharply. "mam, i'm doin' me hair!" yelled aifric from up the stairs in response. kieran frowned and headed towards the table where the phone was situated and picked up the electronic. "hiiiii girl, aifric here!" he drawled in a fake american accent. "ah g'way, kieran. you're so bloody annoying. where's aifric?"

kieran held the receiver away from his mouth. "it's mary," he whispered under his breath. "that girl who-"

"KIERAN!! GET AWAY FROM THE PHONE, YA LITTLE BOLLOX-"

aifric stormed down the stairs and grabbed the phone from her brother. "sorry mhuire, kieran's acting like a little maggot today. he won't turn his feckin' music off and it's driving mam insane. watch out, she'll be in st. brendan's next. aaaa-nyways.."

kieran glared at his sister as she talked on the phone excitedly. he didn't have a proper plan for today, unlike aifric and her schedule of meetings and dances. "eureka!" he snapped his fingers. he darted to the door and left the house abruptly, slamming the door loud enough for aifric to lift her head from the phone. "i'll call you back," she muttered in clear annoyance.

-

kieran walked amongst the crowds forming on ha'penny bridge. slipping on his headphones, he walked in pace with the beat of his walkman as he watched the water glisten like crystals in the sun. he finally stopped after reaching the street where his best friend lived.

before kieran reached the house, charlie was already outside, sitting on the doorstep. he smiled at his friend and motioned to the empty space beside him

"how'ya?" he asked when kieran turned off his walkman. "i'm.. uh, fine. agus tú feín?" he responded calmly. charlie's eyebrows furrowed as he glanced at kieran's face.

"everyone's looking at me funny today. even you! jesus, mary and joseph, what is on me?" kieran covered his face with his hands in shame as the other boy took out his notebook and scribbled a few notes down.

"ideas, ideas. you look like a choir boy. i disagree with the voice part though." charlie smiled again and shoved his shoulder playfully. "let's get to tomás' before he gets pissed. also, song recommendation of the day?"

"haven't chosen yet. shut up and let's actually leave. your doorstep is fecking uncomfortable." kieran stood up and glanced at the boy with a look of annoyance. "he's waiting on us."

"you planned this on the spur of the moment. he doesn't even know we're coming for christ's sake." charlie reluctantly stood up and followed kieran out of the garden.

they walked along the grey, cracked footpath with their steps in sync. they didn't speak for most of the journey. kieran kept his eyes ahead, staring at the red-bricked houses with colorful  flowers decorating their dull doorsteps. it was gardening season, and half of dublin city had their gardens kitted out like it was the chelsea flower show. charlie kept staring at the ground, disinterested in the sights he encountered on a daily basis.

they reached the final leg of the 20 minute journey, turning the corner to the three tall, mahogany coloured buildings right in front of them. a gang of children cycled past them, heading towards the local shop. kieran sighed before turning to look at his best friend. "it's your turn to get him."

charlie nervously took a step forward. lána saoirse, the most notorious housing estate in dublin. it was mostly known for the amount of travellers, "problem families" and magdalene women who occupied the flats. tomás' family was probably the most normal family in there. "a disgrace," his mother had said once when the two lads went to visit. "it was gorgeous when we first moved in but then it turned to- forgive my language- absolute rubbish."

he entered through the side door and took the stairs as the elevator wasn't an option anymore. the local children had messed around in it for so long that the council had given up on fixing it altogether. charlie's legs hurt badly by the time he reached the 5th floor.

he opened the door to the flat block and suddenly diarmuid, tomás' older brother, accidentally barged into him with a box of equipment.

"sorry, char!" diarmuid put down the box and patted charlie's shoulder. "i have to sell this stuff quickly. the pigs will slaughter me if i'm seen with this whole shabang-" he leaned over to pick up a small microphone. "my friend used to run a pirate radio station and lumbered me with all the feckin' equipment. bloody hell, it's heavy. hidin' this will be a task."

charlie smiled. "it's no problem. i can help ya if you want." "no, no, 'tis fine! thanks a lot though. i must be off. bye." diarmuid carried on with his journey, walking down the spiraling stairs steadily. the other boy continued, making his way to the open door of the o'sullivans.

ms o'sullivan was there, leaning against the frame of the door in her apron and turban, talking to a woman from two floors down. "janey, isn't it charlie! how are you? ah, i shouldn't bother ye, you look in a hurry. tomás is in his room." he nodded hastily and walked inside. she was right, tomás was there, stuffing his vinyl records into his briefcase.

"what are you doing?!" demanded charlie as he rushed in and grabbed one of the precious cases off him, scaring tomás who dropped the briefcase in fear. "you'll break them if you stuff them in higgledy-piggledy like that! you stupid eejit!"

"oh shut up, would you?" snapped tomás back. "i'm trying to hide them from diarmuid as that bastard keeps poking around my stuff to help his dotty illegal activities," he snatched the vinyl from the other lad's arm in anger. "now, maybe help me and not sit around on your arse doing nothing?"

"and watch you break them? no. hide them behind that useless bookshelf of yours. he won't check there. now hurry up, kieran's waiting outside and he's probably been mugged twice. you take ages."

charlie turned to the door, but kept his sharp gaze on tomás. "and cut your hair. you look like a hippie," he added. "it's like.. so 1980s. my dad had that haircut. it suited him unlike you." tomás stuck out his tongue in response and adjusted his glasses before slipping them behind the wooden structure, out of sight from the preying eyes of his elder brother.

"okay, let's go."

the boys left the flat and met kieran way further than their original waiting-point. he was standing near the gates to the block, holding a familiar box in his arms. he beamed at them. charlie and tomás exchanged looks.

"oh, kieran."