Little Boy Lost by Shane Dunphy

Author:Shane Dunphy
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141938004
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2009-10-07T04:00:00+00:00

20

Three months passed. My life began to fall into a pattern: I would get up early and go for a run, have breakfast and then drive the ten miles to Drumlin. I was still living on the money from my gigging, so I didn’t diminish the amount I was doing, but I did cap the number at five per week. If I was not out playing, I spent my evenings reading, writing or watching old movies. Glen was constantly referring to some movie or other, and despite the fact that I considered myself something of a film expert, his knowledge left me standing. Through his informed ramblings, I educated myself.

Lonnie started to come to Drumlin in the afternoons. Despite the fact that he was not half as frightened of the world as Aisling had suggested to us, nor nearly as aggressive (or rude) as he wanted to make out, he admitted begrudgingly that it took him the entire morning to pluck up the courage to come in to the unit. Despite our rocky beginnings, I found I liked him very much, and his acerbic wit and determination not to ever be seen as anything less than a full person endeared him to me even further.

Yet there was a pain and a sadness behind the gruff façade that I sensed from time to time. Even when he was joking, or being purposely obtuse about something, I knew this was a defence mechanism. Very quickly, we all learned that his method of interacting was to adopt a role with each of us. Tristan he referred to as the ‘Captain’ – any request was met with a salute and a ‘Sir, yes, sir!’ Tristan went to great pains to inform him that he had in fact been a gunnery sergeant during his time in the military, but to Lonnie, he was always the captain.

Ricki he called the ‘little lady’, and he always behaved in a ridiculously chivalrous manner towards her, opening doors, standing whenever she entered the room, bowing low, complimenting her at every turn. Ricki, for her part, lapped it up. The two seemed to have an immediate understanding and rapport that was lovely to see.

He continued his adversarial attitude to me, but within a day or so I understood that it was now meant in fun. Lonnie grasped every opportunity to make fun of me or to get a dig in, and I made sure to strike back every bit as enthusiastically. He would stand on the table so everyone could see him, holding a guitar he had cut out of cardboard, a fake beard made of cotton wool stuck to his face, and pretend to be me, singing. I would ask him when he came in each afternoon if he had got dressed in the dark (he seemed to perversely choose the most bizarre combinations of colours and styles). But I also learned that he could be fiercely protective of those he cared about and this extended to me, too.

One day, Glen and I were discussing the old, British-made Amicus horror movies.

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