Leo’s music teacher, Mrs Gordon, says that Leo has a genuine gift for music and I’m thinking that I need this like Ranelagh needs more launderettes with performance spaces.
I’m there, “What do you mean by that statement?”
She goes, “He plays like no eight-year-old I’ve ever–”
I’m like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa – what instrument are we talking here?” and I genuinely mean it.
Sorcha is standing at the island with a boning knife in one hand and an espresso in the other, grinning at us like a serial killer
The old dear goes, ‘I don’t want my vital work on the campaign Move Funderland to the Northside to die with me’
‘I remember Past Ross thinking, you need to stort being nicer to Future Ross. He’s a genuinely good bloke’
‘Sorcha, I’m wondering is climate justice maybe a bit above Santa’s pay grade?’
She goes, “Er, the violin?” and she says it in a way that makes me feel like a bad father. “You didn’t know that your son played the violin?”
I’m there, “Of course I knew he played the violin!”
Which I didn’t. I knew that Sorcha’s old pair were paying for them to attend the Royal Irish Academy of Music on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings, but I had zero interest in what they actually did there.
Mrs Gordon goes, “I would love to include him in the school orchestra this year.”
I’m there, “Well, that’s a real pity because I don’t want him being port of any orchestra? I don’t want him being port of anything that distracts his attention from his rugby.”
She’s clearly a bit of a last-word freak, because she goes, “Mr O’Carroll-Kelly, Leo has found something he’s really good at–”
I’m there, “So what’s the point in doing it then? Where’s the challenge? He’s shit at rugby – so at least that requires a bit of hord work.”
There’s no arguing with my logic and she knows it. She stares at me silently. She’s clearly never met a father like me before. Speaking of which, that’s when my phone suddenly rings and when I check the screen it ends up being my old man.
I’m there, “I’m going to need to take this,” and I step away from her and outside to the cor pork, where I answer it.
“Kicker!” the dude goes. “How are the boys getting on at this new Protestant school of theirs?”
I’m there, “Fine – except the music teacher just cornered me and said that Leo had a genuine gift for music.”
“A genuine gift? Where the hell did that come from?”
“I’ve no idea. I’m bloody furious, though.”
“I’m not surprised. I mean, how’s it going to affect his rugby?”
“That was obviously my first thought?”
“It’s every parent’s worst nightmare.”
“Well, I blame Sorcha’s old man. He brings them to lessons.”
A bell rings, then a few seconds later, children stort spilling out of the school
“What instrument does the boy play?” the old man goes. “Not that it’s relevant, of course.”
I’m there, “I think she said it was the violin. The red mist descended and I couldn’t hear her properly.”
Actually, a lot of things are storting to make sense, including the violin case he carries around with him like a Chicago gangster from, I don’t know, olden times.
The old man goes, “Ross, you need to nip this in the bud.”
I’m there, “I realise that – but how?”
“Do you remember when you were 10 years old, Kicker – the famous Italia ‘90 was on and the entire country went soccer mad?”
“Not really, no.”
“Of course you don’t! Because I saw to it that you didn’t experience a minute of it! Do you remember what I did?”
“You had the electricity cut off for the entire month.”
“I had the electricity cut off for the entire month! Absolutely correct!”
“You think I should do the same? Wait a minute, you don’t plug a violin in – or do you?”
“I’m just saying that something similarly drastic is called for in this case. You’ll think of something.”
Amid the crowds of kids, I spot my three. I’m there, “I have to go,” and I hang up.
The boys throw their stuff into the boot, then they get into the cor.
Before I even stort the engine, I go, “How did you get on today?”
Brian’s there, “We learned all about–”
I’m like, “I don’t give a monkey’s what you learned. Did you play rugby?”
“I did,” Brian goes, “and so did Johnny.”
I’m there, “And how did you get on?”
Brian shrugs. He’s like, “Just okay.”
I’m there, “What about you, Leo?” because I’m taking the softly-softly approach – for now.
He goes, “I don’t want to play rugby. I’m going to be in the orchestra. Mrs Gordon said I have a genuine gift.”
I’m there, “The violin, is it?”
“She said I play like no eight-year-old she’s ever met before.”
I’m there, “That’s great news!” through gritted teeth. “Great, great news! But are you not worried that it might distract you from your rugby?”
He goes, “I don’t want to play rugby this year. I much prefer music to rugby.”
I don’t react. I somehow manage to keep my cool. But 20 minutes later, we pull up outside the gaff. I let the three of them out of the cor and they run into the house, leaving me to bring their bags inside. I pop the boot and the first thing I see is Leo’s little violin case. And I remember my old man’s words – “something similarly drastic”.
I put the thing down on the ground and I stamp on it. The wooden case splits and I hear the strings play a sort of bum note.
“Leo!” I shout. “You won’t believe what’s happened!”
I stamp on it again – except horder this time? – and I can see that the, I don’t know, neck of the violin has snapped, along with the strings.
I’m like, “Leo, it was a freak accident!” and I show the thing the sole of my right Dube three more times, making absolute shit of it.
A second or two later, Leo comes running out of the house.
I’m there, “I don’t know what happened, Leo. I was taking it out of the boot and I somehow dropped it. What the fock are these things made out of? That’s a debate for another day. It’s kindling for the fire now.”
But Leo doesn’t burst into tears like I expect him to? Instead, he smiles and goes, “Daddy, look what Granddad Lalor bought me!” and he holds up – I shit you not – a brand-new violin. “He said when I play for the first time in the National Concert Hall, he’s going to be in the front row!”
I look up and I see Sorcha’s old man standing on the doorstep. He goes, “I’m just doing what I can to encourage the boy. I’m told he has a genuine gift for music.”
