Twenty-Nine
In The Bottle is your typical Irish pub - dark panelled pine walls, a well-worn hardwood floor, bar running the length of it, shelves of whiskey and other liquor glittering in the dim light, the clink of glasses indicating that everyone is having a good time. There's a small stage to the side, with instruments waiting to be used. It's early in the evening. The pub is packed with people enjoying a pint. Some regard Josee Tabor suspiciously when she enters with Barnaby Grunt and the two children. Arthur O'Meirgen is already there, having a beer at the bar. After greeting his kids he returns to his argument with the bartender.
"Why did that woman just cross herself when she looked at me?" Josee whispers to Barnaby once they're seated.
"Because you're a witch, Josee Tabor," Darrick answers, overhearing her.
"It's your magic umbrella," Fin adds, chewing on the straw in her orange squash.
"I'm a witch?" Josee asks, alarmed. "Thank you Señor el-Dodo," she tells the umbrella. He greets her with a cold, black stare.
"Not only are you a witch, Josee Tabor, but you're a witch working for a man who doesn't have a drop of religion in him. He also happens to own the quarry that's destroying the sacred Angel Shrine on Mount Bluff." Barnaby smiles and raises a glass to the saint at the next table. She's still glaring at Josee while toying with the cross around her neck.
"What's The Angel Shrine?" Josee asks, accepting a rum and coke from the waitress.
"The Virgin Mary was seen on Mount Bluff a long time ago, so they put a shrine there. Every time Daddy blasts something, a piece of her falls off. Betty Breen and the Holy Rollers hate him for it," Darrick answers.
"Wonderful," Josee responds. "So why doesn't he stop blasting stone and do something else?"
Barnaby smirks. "Look around you, Josee Tabor. Half the men in this bar work at the quarry, including myself. Arthur O'Meirgen puts food on a lot of people's tables. Unfortunately, the rest of the town answers to Betty Breen. It creates some tension."
"Betty Breen has a lot to complain about, rightly so." Josee passes the children a sympathetic glance.
Barnaby's eyes widen as the door opens. "Look, here's tension now - Betty Breen with her croonies in tow. This oughta be good."
Betty Breen sweeps into the pub with some companions. They are a sullen bunch. Indeed they have a bone to pick that has nothing to do with the chicken wings being served up by the plateful. Betty Breen has the biggest bone to pick of all. Upon spotting her nemesis, Arthur O'Meirgen, she storms over to where he's leaning on the bar. The only sound in the pub is the click of her heels on the floor and Arthur's laughter. The bartender has just told him a joke. Nothing is funny to Bretty Breen, though, as she slams a piece of marble on the counter.
Arthur O'Meirgen is done laughing. Looking down, he stares at the stone quizzically. "What's this, Betty? A rock from outside?"
"Nooo," Betty Breen drawls. "It's a finger. A finger from The Angel Shrine. Patrick Monaghan was having a walk on Mount Bluff today and found it lying on the ground. Tell me, Arthur, what do you have to say for yourself."
Arthur drinks his beer before answering. His eyes are steady on his mother-in-law. Resting his glass on the counter, he smiles wryly. "Not much, Betty Breen, considering you've just given me the finger."
Some laugh, others gasp in shock. They are choosing sides. Betty is unimpressed with Arthur's joke. Picking up the finger, she waggles it at him. "Is everything funny to you, Arthur? I know you're a pagan, but that doesn't mean you can disrespect those who live by God's word and take comfort in visiting The Angel Shrine. At least what's left of her, thanks to you."
"You tell him, Betty!" someone yells in the background.
Arthur frowns. "For God's sake, Betty. It's Sunday night. I'm having a pint with my mates here. Can you leave it alone for once?"
"Leave it alone, Arthur? So tomorrow our blessed Angel Shrine can lose another finger when you start blasting again?" Mistrust is high in Betty's voice. "As the only minister in town I'm telling you that's not an option. We must settle this tonight. ...What say you, citizens of Lisreen? Who thinks it's time for Arthur O'Meirgen to shut down the quarry?"
Betty is greeted with cheers and jeers. "Save The Angel Shrine!" one woman shouts.
"Not if it means I'm out of a job!" a young man tosses in.
Soon everyone is offering up an opinion. Fuelled by drink, there is no shortage of dissenting feelings on the matter. People take sides, with the yeahs on the right of the bar and the nays to the left. Josee, Barnaby, Darrick, and Fin scuttle up onto the stage, ready to watch the ensuing fight. Already the yeahs and the nays are yelling and gesturing angrily at each other.
One step forward by a nay, a fella called Brian McCarthy, is all it takes for a devout yeah, Clodagh Walsh, to respond with her own tread a measure. It doesn't take long for their deliberate light of foot to erupt into a clatter of quick and bitter stepping on the hardwood floor. The two sides ebb and flow intensely, the vigour of their dance showing their dissenting opinions regarding the fate of the quarry.
Barnaby summons some of the lads onto the stage. Music is added to the fray, increasing the agitation of feet and minds. Josee helps Darrick and Fin onto the bar. They cheer on their father, who is well-matched against Betty Breen's heavy footedness. Josee tries to escape the clash but she is caught in the middle of things, pushed from side to side until she can't take it anymore.
"Enough!" she yells. Senor el-Dodo is raised in the air like a shotgun. He does a fine job mimicking the sound of one. The crowd and band fall silent and stare at Josee and her possessed umbrella. Not a foot stirs once they see Senor Fernendo el-Dodo's crowning feathers and vicious eyes.
"I agree with you, Josee Tabor. This cacophony of noise is jarring to my delicate sensibilities," he says.
"It speaks!" are the words muttered through the bar, mixed with: "The devil is among us. ...May the Saints preserves us"; then: "It's Josee Tabor, the Josee Tabor. ...Witch. ...Sorceress. ...Heathen!"
The umbrella is Josee's weapon. No one dares to go near her when she is maneuvering it so skillfully in the air.
"Perhaps we should take the children and leave," Señor el-Dodo suggests.
"No way," Josee answers. "They want a witch? I'll give them a witch. Anything to stop this arguing."
Someone raises their voice to quarrel. "You wanna fight?" Josee yells, umbrella in hand. The crowd is speechless as she levitates above them. This is her chance. Landing, she sings:
"War, huh, yeah
What is it good for
Absolutely nothing
War, huh, yeah
What is it good for…
Help me out, Barnaby!" she shouts to him on stage. "What is it good for," she sings again.
Barnaby is confused. Then, realizing he's expected to sing, he goes: "Absolutely nothing."
"Say it again, why'all," Josee sings to both sides. Barnaby joins her on the floor and together they go:
"War, huh, good god
What is it good for
Absolutely nothing, listen to me"
Upon finishing the song, some resist Josee's message. Arthur deals with them swiftly. "The girl's right. Enough fighting for tonight. We've all got the drink in us, and drink and arguing don't mix. You know what to do if you need to burn off steam. Come on, house rules."
"Arthur's right. House rules!" the bartender, Paddy O'Sullivan yells as he wipes down the bar. "Off to the wall of anger, you miserable lot, and take your bottles with you. I won't have you smashing up my place."
Josee and Barnaby grab the children to take them home. Outside the bar, Josee pauses to watch men and women alike walk to the side of the pub then take turns throwing empty bottles against the stone wall. Between them and the wall is a pit to catch the shattered glass. It's nearly full to the top.
"What on earth are they doing?" Josee asks.
"Paddy O'Sullivan got tired of us destroying the joint every time we had a row, so instead he makes us take our anger out on the wall," Barnaby answers. Picking up a spare beer bottle, he hurls it against the wall. Darrick and Fin do the same thing, laughing.
"It's a great release," Arthur O'Meirgen explains, launching a bottle of Bushmills against the stone. "Keeps me from ripping Betty Breen's sanctimonious head off her shoulders every time." Holding the children's hands, he leads them home.
"What a remarkable idea," Senor el-Dodo comments.
"Yeah. I could have used a wall of anger when I worked at Amazon," Josee responds, watching the bottles smash against it before staring thoughtfully into the pit of broken glass.
(With credit to Edwin Starr's War)