The Chisellers by Brendan O'Carroll Read Free Book Online Page A

bill as he had over £60 saved, but Agnes stuck to her guns, delighted to treat Mark to his first business-meeting outfit. However, she did let him pay for the shoes himself. He chose a pair of all-leather Black-thorn brogues, which alone cost £11.
    Meanwhile up in Henry Street, young Dermot was doing a little bit of shopping of his own. Just a bit of gear he needed to keep his wardrobe up-to-date. Unlike Mark with his savings, or Agnes with her bingo win, Dermot hadn’t a penny to his name. He was out for an afternoon’s shoplifting.
    He decided on a pair of navy-blue corduroy trousers in Amott’s. His plan was simple. He wandered through the store for about thirty minutes before stealing his first item. This was an empty brown-paper bag with the words ‘Amott’s Store Dublin’ written across it. Armed with this, he went to the boys’ section where he picked out a pair of brown corduroy trousers in his own size, 26inch waist. Dermot was an independent shopper, he had his own methods. He folded the trousers carefully and slipped them into the Amott’s bag, and then made his way straight to the Security Man at the main door. Dermot tipped the man on the arm and the Security Man turned around and looked down at the blond-haired, blue-eyed boy with the babyish smile, who looked like an innocent twelve-year-old.
    ‘Excuse me, Mister, are you the manager?’ Dermot asked, full of innocence.
    ‘No, I’m the store security, son. What do you want the manager for?’ the man asked, still trying to keep an eye on the store.
    Dermot opened the bag to reveal the folded pair of brown corduroy trousers. He looked into the bag himself and held it open for the Security Man to peep in also.
    ‘It’s these, Mister,’ he said.
    The man looked into the bag and was a little confused. ‘What about them?’
    ‘Me Mammy got them this momin’. They should be blue not brown. And she sent me up to change them.‘
    ‘Come with me, son.’ The Security Man spoke as if he were the manager. He walked Dermot up to one of the cash points at the men’s and boys’ section and drew one of the young ladies aside.
    ‘Excuse me, love. If you’ve got time would you look after him for me. I’ve got to get back to the door.’
    ‘Sure, Tom. What is it, dear?’
    Dermot proffered the bag. ‘I need to change these to navy.’
    ‘Certainly, dear. Do you have a receipt ? ’
    ‘Daddy said I didn’t need a receipt.’
    ‘Daddy?’
    ‘Yeh, Daddy.’ Dermot pointed at the retreating Security Man.
    ‘Oh, you’re Tom’s little boy!’
    Dermot opened his blue eyes as wide as he could, smiled and nodded his head.
    ‘Of course, dear, come along with me. So tell me, which one are you, Barry or John?’
    ‘Barry,’ Dermot lied, and very convincingly.

     
    After leaving Clery‘s, both pretty pleased with themselves, Agnes and Mark crossed the street to the GPO and began to stroll up Henry Street to do some window-shopping. They talked about Rory, and how well he was doing at Wash & Blow. Mark told Agnes how excited he was about attending the meeting this coming Monday with Mr McHugh and yet how frightened he was at the same time. They discussed the move to Finglas and what it would mean to the family. They even talked about the two Cathys’ chances of winning the go-cart race the following Saturday. They talked about everything and anything - except Frankie. As they passed the entrance to Amott’s upstairs café the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and freshly cooked pastries wafted out the door.
    ‘Mmm,’ said Agnes, ‘d’yeh fancy a coffee, Mark?‘
    ‘Yeh, yeh sure, Ma. Well, tea, actually.’
    And up the stairs they went. Agnes took the shopping bags from Mark as he went to the self-service counter to get the drinks and cakes. She wandered around the seating area looking for a table where they could have a little bit of privacy, not easy to find on a Saturday afternoon. She eventually settled on a side-booth. She placed the bags on the