The Summer of Penny Walsh - by T.A Fynes

 

 Bondage, I suppose they would call it now. It was called tying up a girl you liked, back then.

I liked her. I suppose I loved her. She was beautiful and had a plain sister. Penny was from Wales. She and the sister were spending their holidays in Dublin. Sitting on the steps of her Aunts Donnycarney council house. Looking bored. She was a breath-taking vision of loveliness. Waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Me, Connery and Mad Harry, peering over Harry’s garden hedge, where stunned by this amazing development. In our sunshine school holidays of endless nothing. We never went anywhere.  The Irish family holiday had not yet been invented. The Irish Dad’s spent their two weeks in the pub and the betting shop. Holiday time was no different from any other time, for the mums. Just the same shite, in the kitchen, winter or summer. For summer entertainment we took the long walk to Dollymount Strand. Down past all the big houses. Where we would, like a locust swarm of hungry Pikeys, knock at doors and beg for water to quench our thirst. Then across the ancient wooden bridge, to Bull Island. And on to the endless windy beach that was Dollymount Strand. Hoping against all hope to catch sight, of some girls that were rumoured, to take all their clothes off, to go swimming. Never did. Just caught crabs and got sand kicked in our faces. I was no muscle man. No Charles Atlas or even a Genghis Khan. Joe, or Connery as he liked to be called, was our Mr Cool. Harry was a bit of a wild guy. 

So, teasing some girls was fun, on yet another endless boring sunny day. We wore our hip jeans. With empty pockets. Looked cool. I heard that in Germany some guys had fifteen pairs of jeans. And three pairs of shoes. What a rumour and what a joke. How could you ever hope to wear, or even own, 15 pairs of jeans?                                                              

Penny thought we were cute. Her smile nearly broke my heart. She wasn't smiling at me though. Connery was in her sights. His Mom reckoned he looked like Sean Connery. More Lee Marvin was my opinion. I liked Lee Marvin. War hero. Buried in Arlington Cemetery. Movie Actor. Point Blank, The Dirty Dozen and all that.

Connery was a smoothie though and did have a way with the ladies. We played the tying up game. Well, Mad Harry did. I was never a believer. Tied both Penny and her sister up real tight. So tight it hurt. I broke ranks and let her go. She was in pain, and she smiled at me and said, “thank you.” In that strange Welsh accent, she had. Soft, moist, foreign and warm. I could have died and gone to heaven. But my mom called me in for tea. And Daniel Boone was on the TV. He fought for America to make all America free. With Mingo, his Oxford University educated Cherokee sidekick. What a country. What a man.

I sat and talked to Penny about going to South America. I wanted to visit the Aztec ruins.        

She dreamed of going to swinging London. I loved her because she listened and was a female.

These were strange exotic creatures and had strange exotic shapes. Never discussed football or Daniel Boone. And went to all girl schools. We didn't get much chance, to ever talk to them alone. Her sister fancied me. But my eyes were only for Penny. Connery was, as always, on the horizon. And Mad Harry just wanted to tie them up and torture them again.

Sunday was my day of dread. Off came the jeans and on went the short trousers.

Never hip back then. Definitely un-hip. I cried and begged my mom, not to make me wear them, this time. But we went to Church, and I had to dress in my finest Sunday clothes. “You don't want to look like a little, Aul Fellah,” was all my mom had to say on the matter.                                              

On cold winter days she would take great delight, in poking some mini-skirted harlot, in the arse with her umbrella. “You'll get your death of cold,” was the comment. I died a death with every poke.

It was raining that Sunday, and the girls were not out. So, me and Mad Harry just sat glumly and got wet. Like drowning puppies in the summer rain. Then the door opened, and Penny called us in. The Aunt had gone out. They were alone. This was like a dream sequence from some silent Hollywood Rudolph Valentino Movie.

I was wet right through, so she made me take off my coat and shirt. Harry went home.                  

I was at last alone, with Penny and the sister. She wanted to dance with me. She was amused at me in my shorts, like a schoolboy. Well, I was a schoolboy.

But not in a Hollywood Rudolph Valentino epic type of way. She kissed me then. And I think I did die, for a few seconds.

The sister had disappeared. I kissed her back.

But my panting must have put her off. She turned and went to play some more music.

I was dumbstruck. Heart struck. Love struck.

Her sister came back, and the moment was gone.

Well not entirely. I spent the whole night dreaming of Penny Walsh, skinny dipping on Dollymount strand.

Next day they went on a trip to Portmarnock beach, with the whole family. They travelled by bus. Me, Connery and Mad Harry went after her by bike.

It was a long ride to the beach as we raced the C.I.E bus, by the back roads to Portmarnock.

Penny was not at all shocked, to see us. She had that Hollywood glowing glamour.

That attracted attention, like moths to her flickering flame. We were conditioned, like pet seals. To jump, dance, spin backwards and forwards, preform any tricks or task she set.

I thought, Penny, just throw us the fish. She just smiled in my direction, and I knew all our exertions, were worthwhile.                                                                                                                                For that one brief moment. Basking in her happiness in seeing us there. I felt I could defeat anybody, achieve anything. Go forth and conquer the world.

We played King of the Castle, at the beach, to impress the girls. It was for me, a very bad career move.

Connery threw us all off, every time.

Penny watched him, with adoring eyes and I knew I had lost, the love of my life.

It was never the same after that.

She was still the beautiful exotic Hollywood Princess, and I was a laughable, “Just William,” in shorts.

On the day she and her sister went back to Wales. We promised to keep in touch, to write every day. We even got a postcard. I wrote out her address and then we filled it in, with schoolboy rubbish.

Mad Harry wrote about tying and torturing them again next year. I just wrote I missed her. Connery said he would come over to Wales and kick some ass.

We never did send it off.        

 As we had written so much drivel on the card it was unreadable.

 I never saw her again.

The sister came the next year with a friend. But even Mad Harry was not up for the bondage game anymore. We had grown, matured, moved on.

Penny was so beautiful and so soft spoken, and her sister was not her.

Her friend was also a bit off a boot, which didn't help.

I loved Penny Walsh. I kissed her. I adored her. I would have died for her. And she kissed me.

She once stopped my heart in our very own Hollywood epic.                                                                         

Years later as I travelled around South America, standing alone in the splendour, that is the Valley off Pyramids in Peru. She came back to me in a daydream. As large as life.

And I swear I could hear the mystic wind, whisper her name.

I wondered then; did she ever get to swinging London. Did she dazzle like the sparkling diamond she was, that glorious Dublin summer. Did she ever, just once, stop and think of me.