Excerpt: 'The Dead Republic'

I knew it wasn't Bill before I opened the door.
I should have known. I did know.
--Where's your uniform? I asked her.
It was Maureen O'Hara standing there. And I wasn't surprised.
--Come in.
--Thank you.
She walked past me. Three good steps and she was in the centre of the room. She didn't look around and she didn't look uneasy.
--He's such a rude man, she said.
This was five days after I'd seen her on the boat.
--Ford? I said.
--Yes, she said. --Mister Ford.
She looked straight at me. She didn't smile.
--I have to warn you, she said. --Turn down Mister Ford and he's a demon.
--Grand.
--But he's right about one thing, she said. --You are the real thing, even at your age. A little Dublin gurrier.
--He sent you.
--He did not.
--Okay.
--I sent myself.
--Grand. Why?
--To meet you, she said.
--Why?
--I wanted to, she said. --And I thought I was going to, on The Araner. What part of Dublin are you from?

--All over, I said. --It's been a long time.
She was lovely, gorgeous -- the words weren't there to put her together.
--Yourself?
--Ranelagh, she said. --Originally.
I nodded.
--You remember it?
--Yeah, I said. --Sort of.
I'd been in the water under Ranelagh with my father and, later, I'd cycled and crept through Ranelagh, in the crooked line of duty. There'd been safe houses there, tucked in under the leafy respectability. I'd robbed books from good houses in Ranelagh, for my granny; I'd more than likely lifted books from this woman's house, right from off her mother's bedside table.
--I hate that boat, she said. --I'm not a natural sailor at all.
--I saw you in The Black Swan, I said. --You looked alright.
--That was all done in the studio, she said.--Nowhere near the sea. The water in the tank is only two feet deep. Did you likeThe Black Swan?
--No.
--Why not?
She stared at me.
--You were good in it, I said.
--Thank you.
The stare became something softer.
--He actually does like to write his scripts on the Araner, she said. --Away from everything. And he really was hoping to get working on your script. And --
--What?
--Well, she said. --He drinks. Very heavily. It's disgusting, as a matter of fact. But he only does it between pictures.
--With you?
--No, she said. --How dare you.
Her anger was quick and impressive, and she had it back in her bag before it got properly out.
--He has his cronies, she said. --You'll meet them.
--I've met some.
--Grand.
--I'm not one of them.
--No, she said. --No. He keeps you well away. He has too much respect for you. He wouldn't want you involved.

She didn't look like an actress reciting the lines she'd been told to learn and deliver.
--So anyway, she said. --He sails off for a few days, clears the head after all the shenanigans, and comes back ready for work. He's home tomorrow. Then we're off. Rio Grande is the name of the new one. I'm in it.
--I know.
--Good for you.
She wasn't at the end of Ford's hook. There was something about her that made that obvious. It wasn't the beauty, although it was that too. It was the thing that made her so completely beautiful, and familiar -- her independence, the strength in her eyes.
--Oh, she said. --There was me saying Mister Ford was rude and I didn't even tell you who I am yet.
--I know who you are.
--You don't, she said. --You know nothing about me. I'm Maureen FitzSimons.
--Grand.
--I'm Maureen FitzSimons of Churchtown Road and you're Henry Smart of all over.
--That's it.
--But we're both from Dublin and that's the main thing.
--Ah now, I said. --You're just being sentimental.
--And that's another thing I want to warn you about, she said. --I left before the war, twelve years ago now, and I'm desperately sentimental about the place. But no one --
She leaned forward, just a bit.
--No one is as sentimental as the Irishman who was never there in the first place.
--Ford.
--Mister Ford, she said. --Yes.
--Why is that a warning? I asked her.
--Well, she said. --He told me you won't read the story.
--The Quiet Man.
--Yes, she said. --You should.
--Why should I?
--I think you should know what's happening. I love the story. Mister Ford loves the story. Duke loves it.
No mention of Henry Fonda. I said nothing.
--We all love it, she said. --It's a love story, you know.

I nodded.
--And he wants to make it yours, she said. --And that's fine. It's easily done. He told me there was a lady in your life.
I nodded.
--Mary Kate, she said.
And I nodded.
--Was she lovely?
--Yeah, I said. --She was.
--And you know I'm going to play her?
--So he said.
--And how's that?
--Grand.
--I'm a tough Irishwoman.
--You're starting to sound like him, I told her.
She laughed. I could feel it flow past me.
--But, she said, and the laugh left her face, --he'll give in, you know.
--What?
--He'll give in to the sentimentality.
--What d'you mean?
--He wants to blend the two stories. The Quiet Man and yours. But The Quiet Man will win.
--How do you know this?
--I just do, she said. --I've been in this town long enough to know a thing or two. He's desperate to make it. He has been desperate, oh God -- for ever. He asked me years ago. To play her. Long before he ever laid eyes on you.
Something heavy dropped through me. I waited a second before I spoke.
--What's going on?
--Nothing, she said. --Nothing sinister at all. It's just --
She looked away, for the first time.
--I wanted to warn you.
She looked at me again.
--I met a few of those quiet men, she said. --At home. Some of Daddy's friends. Never a word out of them about the things they did and saw.
I said nothing now myself.
--I've been away a long time, she said. --But I love Ireland all the more because of that. I admire the men who did what they had to do. And you were one of them.You and Mary Kate.

Her face was so big then, so enormous and bright -- I thought she was going to fall back on the bed.
--That woman, she said. --I really want to play her. Be her. I want to fight for Ireland.
She stayed on her feet and looked at me -- right into me.
--That's why I'm here, she said. --You have to fight for Mary Kate.
--Why?
--Your Mary Kate isn't in The Quiet Man, she said. --There's a good woman in it but she's no Mary Kate.
She moved to the window. She stood against the blind.
--Mister Ford is a genius, she said. --And he wants to do right by you. Don't doubt that, please. He'll bring the two stories together. But he'll come under the pressure to drop your side of it. Too violent, too real, too blessed tragic. But I want to be the woman in your story. A woman who fights. The love of your life. And that uniform -- holy God.
She laughed.
--There's never been a woman like her, she said. --Never, ever. We'd be making bloody history.
--Grand.
--He's on our side, Mister Smart. But you'll have to fight.

From The Dead Republic by Roddy Doyle. Copyright 2010 by Roddy Doyle. Reprinted by arrangement with Viking, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

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