|
Smuggling - taken from 'Echoes of another Time'
By Hazel McIntyre
Seated beside Jane on the bus on a bright July morning, going on her
annual outing to Derry, I could barely contain my excitement. Since
Jane asked me to go with her, I had anticipated every bump of the
way with mounting glee. "I picked a good day for it. I think
it's going to be a scorcher," Jane said, with a broad smile of
pleasure. When the bus pulled in by the roadside to pick up two more
passengers Jane hastily tucked her feet with the old worn shoes on
them under the seat. “I don't want anybody to see these old shoes
or they will think I'm down and out. I can't wait to get the new ones,
and chuck these in the Foyle.
Them customs men are only a dammed torture," she grumbled,
as the bus trundled off again.
When we finally arrived in Derry the sun was high in the sky, and
the temperature climbing with it. By the time we reached the top
of Shipquay Street, great beads of sweat had broke out on Jane's
forehead. In the shoe-shop she took an age to decide on which pair
of shoes to buy. When she finally made her choice, she said to the
assistant, “don't bother with the box, for I'll be wearing
them now. The dammed customs you see."
Finally, with the old shoes in a brown paper bag, we set off down
towards the Foyle. "There goes the relics of oul’ decency,"
she said, as they hit the water with a splash. Then, picking up
a piece of mud from the ground with her hankie, she smeared it over
the new shoes. " There, that should fool them," she said,
with a nod of satisfaction.
As the day wore on Jane's purchases mounted. She couldn't resist
the wool coat in the sale, “I'll never get a bargain like that
again. And won't I be glad of it on a winter's day.” Neither
could she resist buying the heavy woollen jumper for Johnny; or
the warm cardigan.
“Now, we will go up to the city cafe for something to eat,
and we can put these clothes on and get rid of the paper bags,"
she announced at last. While in the cafe I felt sick and sweaty.
Later in the ladies toilet I happened to glance at myself in the
mirror, and saw the angry looking red spots on my face and neck.
When I showed them to Jane, and she had scrutinised them thoroughly,
she said, "Chicken pox. Aye I'm sure that's chicken pox."
When we left the cafe, Jane was dressed in Johnnie's woollen jumper,
and on top, her new woollen coat, with numerous smaller items concealed
on her person, while I wore the big woollen cardigan with smaller
items of underwear stuffed underneath. With the afternoon sun beating
down we finally reached the bus stop, exhausted and perspiring.
Tension was mounting as the bus neared the custom post. "Just
act casual. We have nothing to declare," she whispered as the
customs officer climbed into the bus. I could feel the sweat break
out on my brow, and the chicken pox itch like they were on fire,
while I watched his beady eyes scrutinise the passengers. When he
reached our seat he came to a halt. "It's hardly a day for
wearing a woollen coat Madam," he commented, as he looked us
up and down. Looking up at him, Jane gave him an innocent smile,
before she said, " Aye, it has turned out to be a right day
after all. But when I left this morning, there was a wind that would
skin a fairy." Then his eyes settled on me. As he looked me
up and down, I couldn't help thinking what a picture I must have
looked, with my red spots, sweaty face, and the big woollen cardigan
puffed out at the chest with Jane's new knickers. His next words
proved that I was right to fear the worst. "Would you both
mind following me into the office?"
“Oh, I can't think what for. But all right," Jane said.
As I followed her down the isle of the bus, I could feel my mouth
dry up, my legs shake, and in that moment I wished with all my heart
that I was back home.
Inside the customs office Jane babbled on about the change in the
weather since we set off in the morning, giving the customs man
few opportunities to get a word in. Then grabbing me by the shoulder,
she pushed me gently towards him. " Look at this poor wee girl.
She's been hot and feverish all day, and now she's come out in these
funny spots." Then leaning towards him she whispered, “I
think it could be the small pox. Do you think you would be able
to recognise the spots?" He instantly jerked backwards, a look
of fear in his eyes. I could feel my face blaze with humiliation
as his hostile eyes met mine. "Go on get back on the bus. I'll
be watching for you again," he said angrily.
When the bus was well out of sight Jane shed the coat and jumper,
and I the big cardigan and the knickers from under my blouse with
relief. "I don't think he believed that I had small pox. I
felt worse than a leper."
“Ah, Well, God moves in mysterious ways. Because if you hadn't
sprouted them spots, we could have lost all," she said with
a mischievous grin.
Back
|
