Knuckles Up

Submitted into Contest #203 in response to: Write about two friends getting into a fist fight.... view prompt

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Sad Friendship Fiction

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

Everybody knew about it. Well almost everybody. As the months passed 

and icy patches became lush and green there was a stillness in the air. 

However, only the 'inner circle' were privy to what was happening.  

Men spoke in hushed tones clasping hands tightly as wads of cash passed from one to the other.

"That'll do now, Paddy. I'll look after ye."

"Not a word to herself mind."

- - - - - -

The village was a small bustling community. It consisted of a large halting site where families stayed for a time before moving on to visit people in other places A Management Board ran the place and as long as rules were adhered to things ran smoothly.

There were also housing schemes, where large extended families could live together as part of the settled community.

These were based on the size of a family and if they had any special needs.

Several shops providing almost all essential goods were scattered throughout the town. A liberal number of pubs, a church, a school, a post office, and a doctor's surgery catered for both travelers and settled people.

Like every other place on earth, some folk didn't get on with others, but for the most part, it was a sleepy Village in the heart of the Irish countryside.

-- - - - -

Maggie Doyle, a long-time member of the settled community had her suspicions. Although nothing was said within earshot as she served behind The Horseshoe Bar, there was an air of secrecy among the men.

"What's happening, Paddy?" she asked one of her regular customers as she pulled his pint.

"Nothing that I know of, Maggie, mo chroi," he told her.

She shook her head. "I'm not as green as I'm Irish," she said. "I know the men are plotting and planning something. I wonder who should be minding their backs?"

- - - - - - -

Sheila Ward stood at the window of the small duplex apartment shared with her husband and two children. Her parents and four siblings occupied the rest of the dwelling. She absentmindedly ran her hand over her swollen belly as she watched the halting site on the green opposite them.

"Someone's on the move," she told her mammy, who was drinking tea at the kitchen table.

"Do you know who it is?"

Sheila shook her head. "Maybe Da or Johnny will know when they get home."

"If they're sober enough to talk," Vera said with a roll of her eyes.

"I've to have a scan tomorrow, Mam. Will you watch the girls after school if Johnny comes with me?"

"You don't have to ask, love," her mammy said. "Wouldn't a little boy be a blessing?"

Sheila watched the teenage lads

 outside. They were gathered together in a circle passing cans of beer and God knows what else from one to the other.

"Or a curse," she said with a shiver.

- - - - - 

The pub was almost empty by 10 pm and 

although Maggie was happy to be able to put her feet up, she couldn't help but wonder where the men had gone. There was still an hour and a half before closing time, and usually, they had to be shooed out long after that.

She was happy when she noticed her husband Mike at the door and began to pull his pint before he asked for it.

"God bless us, Mags. Have you killed them all?" he said looking at the empty room.

"There's something going on, Mike. Have you heard anything?"

"About what?"

Maggie rolled her eyes. "About something... anything. There's a lot of whispering behind the hand in here lately. Something is beginning to happen, and I don't think it's anything good."

- - - - - - - -

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Sheila said when Johnny staggered through the door. His lip was cut and one of his eyes was almost closed.

"I fell."

"On what? Someone's fist?"

"I'll go up and see what state your Da is in," Vera said. "Did he fall too?" she asked. Johnny shook his head.

Sheila went to the freezer and came back with a bag of frozen peas.

"Here! Put these on your lip...or your eye."

"Get off," he said pushing her away.

"You'll look a right stat with me at the hospital with me tomorrow."

"I can't go with ya."

"Why? Mam is minding the girls. I want you with me, Johnny. It's our baby not just mine."

"Well, I have a job on to pay for our baby. They don't come cheap. Ellie and Annie cost us an arm and a leg and now this one. I have to work."

Sheila sat at the table where her mam had been and tried to stem the tears. He went to the fridge and pulled out a can of cider.

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked

"I'm ok on the couch tonight."

"The big trailer moved out of the site today," she said. "Do you know who's gone or who's coming in?"

"Don't know and couldn't care less," he said snapping open his drink,

When Sheila awoke to get her daughters ready for school a new trailer already occupied the empty lot across the green.

- - - - - - -

Mike Doyle managed the Post Office, so although he wasn't in 'the clique' he usually knew what was going

 on in the village from overheard gossip in the benefits queue.

"Do you know who's moved back into the halting site?" he asked his wife Maggie while they were eating lunch.

"Tell me?"

"The Connors. Bridie was in the Post Office this morning picking up their checks. She said they've come back for a funeral."

"I wonder who's funeral?" Maggie said. "I've had a feeling in my gut something's being cooked up. Now I know for sure there's going to be trouble, especially if Pat Connors is involved. God only knows who else will be dragged down."

"Don't fret, Mags," Mike said touching her hand. "You don't know anything for certain."

"Mike! Since Pat Connors learned to crawl he's been nothing but trouble. He's had more brawls in his twenty years

 then most people have in one lifetime."

As much as he hoped his wife was wrong he was worried now too. "You be careful behind the bar," he told her. "Ask McCarthy to bring in a security guard or..."

"I'll be grand," Maggie said. "When the trouble starts it won't be near the pub."

- - - - - - - - - - -

Sheila Ward stepped from the bus and began to walk back to the village. The visit took longer than she expected. There were queues for everything. Now it was almost dinner time and she was exhausted. She knew her mammy would have fed Ellie and Annie and she hoped Johnny would be at home and sober so she could share her news with him.

She passed the halting site on her left and looked at the new trailer. A man standing at the open door doffed his cap and gave her a toothless grin. At that moment the sky darkened and Sheila heard the distant roll of thunder. All at once the clouds burst, and torrential rain poured down soaking her from head to toe. With one hand protectively covering her belly she hurried home as fast as she could

- - - - - - - - -

Maggie Doyle always took her two German Shephard dogs for a walk before she started her night shift at the pub. On her normal route around the outskirts of the village, she was surprised by the number of cars and vans waiting to turn off the main road into a lane that led to nothing more than an old abandoned cowshed. 

With the dogs safely home, she made her way to The Horseshoe to start work. The pub was packed to the rafters.

"What's going on?" she asked Deirdre who was busy pulling pints. "Is it a funeral?"

"I don't know, Maggie. But it's been like this since dinner hour. McCarthy has another fella coming in to help you tonight."

"Very few of these are our regulars," Maggie said. Glancing around she saw Pat Connors holding court in a small alcove and hoped this was the funeral Mike had mentioned. "I knew he'd be somewhere in the mix," she said nodding toward him.

"Yeah. The whole lot of them rolled in this morning. The women are busy in the trailers, but the men have been here as long as I have."

"God protects us," Maggie mumbled as she began serving pints of Guinness.

--- - - - - - - - - - -

"Get in here love," Vera cried when she saw her rain-soaked pregnant daughter struggling up the path. "Sit down and get your breath. Is everything alright with the bairn?"

Sheila nodded. "Has Johnny been home?"

"Himself, and your da, and a couple of the boys took off about an hour ago."

"Did they say where they were going?"

"Do they ever?"

- - - - - - - -

The scene was set and the old cowshed was buzzing. The organizers had been there since the crack of dawn making sure any chinks of light were covered with heavy-duty black plastic. 

Several men set about erecting the grossly substandard ring. They hammered sheets of plywood together and stretched a canvas over it. Posts got banged into the ground, one at each corner of the ring. Ropes were attached to encircle the square where the men would face each other. It stood barely 30cm off the ground and offered no bounce for a fallen man. There was no padding or protection of any kind.

Cars began to arrive and the fields surrounding the old cowshed resembled a busy mall on the last shopping day before Christmas.

Many Northern Irish and English registered cars were there. It seemed people had come from far and wide to watch the event.

 Some brought fold-up chairs and they all came armed with crates of beer and cider.

"Not long now, boys," one of the organizers called to the assembled masses. "Young Pat Connors is whetting his whistle at The Horseshoe and I'm sure Johnny Ward won't be far behind him."

- - - - - - - - - -

When The Connors family left the pub it was like a scene from the Pied Piper. Glasses were drained and smacked down onto the bar and Maggie watched the place empty.

"You might as well go, love," the other bartender told her. "Looks like it's going to be a quiet one."

"I'll not say no." Maggie grabbed her bag and set off. The rain had stopped and the night was mild. As she walked she noticed young Sheila Ward and her mammy standing at their front door.

"Nice night after the rain," she called.

"Was Johny or my da in the pub tonight," Sheila asked coming toward her.

"No. I Haven't seen sight nor sign of them two for a few weeks. See the Connors are back," Maggie said nodding toward the halting site. "Wonder what they're after?"

The women stood in silence for a minute then, a lightning bolt hit all three at once.

Sheila cried. "Oh, God no."

- - - - - - - - - - -

The men climbed into the rickety makeshift ring and stood in their corners. The noise was ear-splitting as their supporters roared for who they wanted to win. More importantly who they'd put their money on.

The organizer, a large man in a black and white striped shirt called both fighters to the center of the ring.

"I know you both have your scores to settle. This is a fistfight. No biting. No gouging. No kicking. Use your knuckles and may the best man win."

The first bell rang.

- - - - - - - -

Sheila Ward felt the unborn baby drop inside her womb. Maggie Doyle seeing the color leave the girl's face, reached out to steady her.

"It's a fistfight," Sheila whispered. "Johnny came home looking like he'd gone a few rounds already last night."

"I knew something was stirring," Maggie said smacking the palm of her hand against her forehead. "Why didn't I realize?"

"Mam. Call the Guards and watch the girls."

"Sheila, where are you going?" Vera cried.

"To try to stop a fight."

"I think I might know where they are," Maggie said remembering the traffic earlier that day. Grabbing the young woman's hand they set off into the darkness.

- - - - - - - - - -

The men circled each other, hatred shining in their eyes. Neither one knew exactly why they were expected to punch the seven bells out of each other, but the family feud had gone on long enough and apparently, it was down to Pat and Johnny to put an end to it.

Pat went straight for Johnny's busted lip and blood spurted at once. A cheer went up from the crowd.

"Bastard," Johnny said through clenched teeth, and his fist connected with Connor's eye followed by a cracking blow to his nose.

The onlookers went wild as both men became bloodied and bruised. Sweat poured as they savagely attacked each other, neither planning to stop any time soon.

-- - - - - - - - -

Maggie and Sheila found Mike in the kitchen and quickly explained what was going on.

"The Guards?" he asked and Sheila told him her mammy had called them.

"Please Mr. Doyle," she begged. "Will you take me there?"

"Jesus, girl. You're in no state to be going to such a gathering,"

"If you can't drive me, then I'll run,"

Maggie nodded and the three of them piled into the car.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The fight was in its twentieth minute and neither man was recognizable at that time. They staggered around the ring throwing punches some connecting viciously and some finding thin air. The punchdrunk fighters pummelled each other until Johnny lost his footing. His head made a sickening sound as it hit the floor. Pat dropped to his knees and

straddled him.

"Enough, enough," some of the onlookers roared. The referee rang the bell repeatedly. "Get off Pat, you'll kill him." Connors continued to reign blows down upon the unconscious man with no intention to stop until the door crashed open filling the room with icy air and a woman screamed:

"Stop! Sheila Ward raced to the front and threw herself over the broken body of her husband.

It didn't take long for the Gardai and Ambulance to arrive. The crowd was dispersed. Money and alcohol were seized and several arrests were made as the injured men were ferried to the hospital

-- --- -- - - - -- - -

Sheila Ward sat in a rocking chair nursing her newborn baby boy. She gazed out of the window and watched her daughters playing in the garden.

The council had rehomed them far from the halting site after what happened. She felt lucky because they housed her mammy and siblings within walking distance, figuring she'd need the help and support.

Her dad scarpered after the fight and nobody knew or cared where he went.  

The Connors trailer left quickly too. Pat had two black eyes a broken nose and a gummy grin, but he was able to leave with his family.

The Gardai pressed charges against the organizers rather than the fighters, which seemed fair.

She put the baby on her shoulder and began to rub his back. Johnny hadn't been lucky like Pat.

"Are ya alright, love," she asked. Her husband turned his head slowly against the padded headrest of his wheelchair and smiled. Drool slid from the corner of his mouth down his chin. Sheila's eyes pooled with tears as she stood and gently wiped him clean. "There ya go. Sure you'll be right as rain in no time."

"Right as rain," he mumbled sluggishly and closed his eyes.  

June 20, 2023 17:57

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