AGAINST THE ODDS:AS THE doorbell ding-donged for the umpteenth time on Sunday, Vinny Fitzpatrick stretched his trotters and padded happily towards the hall.
About him, there was a contented hubbub in Mount Prospect Avenue as family and friends gathered for the twins’ first birthday. Many of the guests were half pickled already – Angie’s rum punch was going down a treat.
Vinny felt a sense of inner warmth that so many folk should drop in to say hello to Oisín – fair and plump just like his old man – and the raven-haired Aoife, who was the spit of her striking mother.
As he left the front room, he made a mental note to keep one or two guests at arm’s length later on should, as was likely, the festivities become frisky.
In one corner was Petra, the platinum blonde who worked in Fran’s launderette and loved football, firewater and, against the odds, fat bus drivers, in that order.
Petra had given Vinny the hug of an Anaconda on her arrival, pressing her voluptuous shape against him and whispering into his hairy ear: “I knew someday I would be with you in your house. You see, Vinny, dreams do come true.”
Vinny had dubbed her the Vixen of Vilnius since they first became entwined, in a literal sense, at the FAI Cup final two years ago, since which he’d had the devil of a job avoiding her amorous clutches.
If Petra was predictable; far more subtle was Jackie, a close friend of Angie since their school days in Santa Sabina. Jackie was a chameleon, capable of rudeness to Vinny in public and piercing sexual innuendo when no one was around.
“Those two foxes will have to be marked tighter than Didier Drogba,” he said to himself as he made for the front door, smiling.
His mood was helped too by a bulging wallet courtesy of a rewarding Cheltenham the day before where he’d inflicted damage on the profits of Boru Betting, much to the mock concern of his wife, the office manager.
Vinny couldn’t warm to Paul Nicholls, who seemed devoid of humour – that his father was a policeman was no surprise – but as a trainer, Nicholls’ ability to lead punters to profit through big-race Saturdays over winter was without equal.
Vinny’s rules of engagement were simple. If the horse was less than 8/1, he put €20 on the nose; otherwise it was a tenner each-way
In turn, Woolcombe Folly (4/1), Sam Winner (4/7), Master Minded (10/11), and Poquelin (16/1) all won. He also backed Celestial Halo (10/1) and Join Together (14/1), which were placed.
His only losers were Robinson Collonges (15/2) in the race won by Master Minded and Silviniaco Conti (5/2), leaving him more than €300 up on the day. If only punters would stick to Nicholls and ignore all these so-called experts, he thought to himself.
No, nothing was going to upset Vinny this Sunday, not even his boring brother-in-law, Bungalow Bob, who had Brennie pinned against wall and was droning on about the benefits of elderberry wine.
But then, as he opened the door, Vinny’s smile evaporated in the chill air and his spirits sank lower than a serpent’s belly. Socket Twomey, his boss in Dublin Bus, was standing there, po-faced as usual.
Even on a good day, Socket looked miserable with his pointy nose and pinched lips. “Ah Vinny, have you a moment? I see you’re busy but this won’t take long,” he said.
Vinny’s jaw dropped, never a pleasant sight. He knew bad news was coming after he’d taken a bus out on icy roads the previous week when barred from driving, but he didn’t think the grim tidings would be passed over on his own doorstep.
“Socket, can’t this wait? If I’m going to lose my job, I’d like to do it with dignity, in the work place tomorrow, not here in front of everyone,” he said.
Socket shook his head. “Sorry, we need to talk in private, just for a few minutes,” he said. With an expression akin to a Cocker Spaniel that has just been turned down for a walk, a wounded Vinny beckoned Socket in. “Best go upstairs,” he sighed.
As he headed up, Vinny was briefly aware of a strong scent of heady perfume and felt someone brush against him suggestively. It was Jackie but he hadn’t the heart for her parlour games.
“Once a mouse, always a mouse,” tittered Jackie as she continued past a disconsolate Vinny, who glumly ushered Socket into his den.
Usually, this was Vinny’s place of refuge, where he could watch sport on the telly, munch crisps and enjoy a couple of cans of stout, especially when Angie was catching up with Coronation Street which seemed to be on every night these days.
He offered Socket a seat but it was turned down. “Right, Vinny, this is where we are at,” said Socket, reaching inside his coat pocket for something.
As he did so, the door of the den burst open and Angie stood there in the doorway, eyes blazing, dark hair cascading around her shoulders. With her black dress, tights and boots, she could have passed for a dominatrix. All that was missing was the whip.
“How dare you disturb our family day like this?” she hissed. “Are you completely cold-hearted and unfeeling? Have you no shame?” There was a silence. Vinny felt Socket cowering beside him. He wasn’t alone as Vinny was cowering too. After a moment or two, Socket, put his hands up and raised his voice.
“Let me explain why I am here, please. I don’t have bad news, in fact quite the opposite,” he said, his voice shaking.
Angie and Vinny stared at one another. This was unexpected. What did Socket mean? “Go on, spit it out,” said Angie.
Socket paused before revealing the nature of his visit. “After your unapproved caper last week, I wrote up a report which was a short cut to your P45, and I don’t mind saying it, but then a strange thing happened. The next morning, the phone lines began to hop as people rang in to express their thanks. And it wasn’t just the garage which fielded calls but head office too. A board member of the company was even contacted.
“One elderly woman, dropped by with a box of chocolates for you, and a hand-written note, which I have somewhere.”
Socket fished inside his jacket. “Here is what she says, ‘Vinny’s selfless actions, unstinting service and excellent spirits reminded me of the words of Lewis Carroll who wrote ‘all that is really worth doing is what we do for others’.
“It didn’t stop. Vernon Radio were inundated with texts, emails and calls from passengers from Fairview, Clontarf and Dollymount, all singing the praise of what one chap called the ‘Hero of the Highways’.”
“RTÉ got wind of the story and Joe Duffy wants to talk to you on Liveline tomorrow. And that’s why I’m here, to tell you to take the day off and to say a big thanks on behalf of everyone at Dublin Bus.”
Socket paused, reached for a handkerchief, mopped his brow and blew his nose noisily. “And another thing, you’ve won the employee of the month for December. It comes with a gift. Is there anything you’d like for Christmas?” Vinny blinked but still said nothing. After a bit, Angie nudged him. “Go on, love, think of something you’d like, you deserve it.” Eventually, words rose up through Vinny’s parched throat. “I know what I’d like. I’d like a bloody drink,” he said hoarsely.
Vinny’s Bismarck
1pt Lay Manchester City to beat Juventus in Europa League (2/1, Stan James, liability 2pts)
Bets of the Week
2pt win Charl Schwartzel in South African Open (10/1, Paddy Power)
1pt win Jessies Dream in Drinmore Chase, Fairyhouse (5/1, general)
