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A piece of flash fiction.
Sep 1st 2021
The Delaney Brothers
“Bejaysus and he won’t make a fool of me again.”
The older of the Delaney brothers announced as he pulled his hat down further, angling it and his head so that his face was better shielded from the rain which was coming in almost horizontally.
One of the brothers was Sean and one was Mick, but there was no one left in the village who remembered which was which, so they were known as the Delaney brothers. One was assumed to be older than the other because he was taller and had a sterner way about him, not because he looked older than the other.
The older, sterner brother was always neatly turned out and was not one for small talk, but he was always very mannerly and polite in his dealings. The other brother was a bit of a messer by all accounts, even at the age he was at now he was a prankster, the most likely reason for the older brother to be storming across the field from the house the two brothers shared.
“Bejaysus and he won’t. Enough of him I’ve had now. The age of him and he carrying on like a teenager. Well, he can go whistle! I’ll not be the butt of his jokes no more!”
He pulled up the collar of his coat, trying to stop the wind from whipping anymore rain into his ear.
Back in the house, the messer was still chuckling to himself. “Ah I got him good this time, so I did.” His brother had stormed off in a terrible temper, but sure, that was part of the fun. Shocking night to be out in it though. Still, the weather will help cool him down, and he chuckled again.
He threw a few more pieces of coal onto the fire in the sitting room and looked out the window to see if there was any sign of his brother coming home yet. There was no sign of him, but he’d be back soon enough. It was getting dark, and he didn’t like to miss the news. He pulled the curtains closed, turned on the light outside the front door and shuffled off to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Whilst the kettle boiled, he rummaged around in the cupboard over the counter for the pack of good biscuits. He knew he’d gone a bit too far this time and that the fancy biscuits might help.
The front door closed, not with a bang, but firmly. He heard his brother shake his coat free of whatever wetness he could before hanging it up. As he warmed the teapot, he heard his brother mutter about the state of his shoes. Then he heard him make his way into the sitting room. As he poured the water over the teabags in the teapot, he heard his brother in the sitting room ripping up the newspaper, more than likely to stuff his shoes with.
Just as the news came on, he placed the tray with the teapot, small jug of milk, plate of fancy biscuits and two teacups on saucers on the small table between their armchairs.
“You’re some gobshite.” Said the older brother, but not in a stern voice. The other brother chuckled, and they settled themselves in for the night.
From a performance piece available to view here on YouTube
