Sometimes Lightning Strikes Twice

Sometimes Lightning Strikes Twice
Dave Weir



Jimmy got to work at ten minutes to six, as usual.

For the past thirty-nine years, he had done the evening shift at McGurks bar in the centre of the village. It was a village bar like any other, and could have passed for a regular house in the street it was situated in, had it not been for the two worn old benches that sat outside the door, the chipped planks holding decades of memories of jokes, first kisses, furtive whispered gossip and the divulging of secrets never to be repeated.

The inside was even less remarkable There were a few rickety hardwood tables and chairs, ringed beer stains and scratches the remnants of the generations of drinkers who had frequented it. In various nooks and crannies, several antique looking pieces of farming and textile equipment sat, fat, rusted and useless on shelves and hanging from the walls. These had been purchased at an auction by the bars owner, Sean McGurk. He had taken over the running of the bar after the death of his mother several years before, and had bought these ‘artefacts‘, including a turn of the century weaving loom which dominated an entire corner of the bar, in an attempt to make it look more traditional. Apparently he did not realise that before his purchases, the bar had not seen a fresh coat of paint since the mid eighteenth century, and if anything it now looked more like a low rent curio museum.

It was empty tonight except for two grizzled old regulars who were seated on stools at the bar. Jimmy knew them well, having watched them gradually evolve from young strong men to stooping, wizened old creatures who could seem to make a pint of Guinness last for an hour. Jimmy had expected it to be quiet tonight. Tuesday night was not a busy night at McGurks. It was never particularly busy, except for maybe a few hours on a Friday evening when some of the younger ones from the village would congregate there before hastily retreating to one of the more fashionable establishments in town. He moved behind the bar and cast a disapproving eye over the man who he would be relieving of his responsibilities.

He had seen them all come and go through the years. Young people would come and work for a few months as a stepping stone to make some money before going off and starting their ‘real’ lives. As he watched Conor slink out into the warm August evening, he smiled at the sight of him joining hands with young Andrea, the lunchtime waitress. He had had a sneaking suspicion that were was something going on there, and was pretty sure that the reason there hadn’t been a lot of work done was due to them spending all day wasting time looking at each other.

He couldn’t be too angry. After all, that was how he had met his wife Eileen many years earlier.  She had worked behind the bar, which was extremely rare for a woman in those days, but all the men knew that Eileen Atkins was not to be trifled with, and on many occasions Jimmy had witnessed her silencing many a rowdy customer with a stern glance.

She had passed a year earlier and life was not quite the same for Jimmy anymore. At the end, they had been married for 37 years, and Jimmy knew that the only thing that could have separated them from their idyll was the ravaging cancer that had slowly and painfully ate away at her insides. They had never been blessed with children, so now the only colour Jimmy had in his life was at McGurks.

As he looked around the bar this sleepy evening, there wasn’t an awful lot of colour. The two regulars propping up the bar were good for only one more drink before they would have to go home and face their wives cooking with a belly-full of thick stout.
There was one other customer, cocooned in the far corner of the bar, who Jimmy probably wouldn’t even have noticed had it not been for the sudden rustling of his newspaper. He caught Jimmy’s gaze and proffered a friendly nod, which Jimmy immediately returned. He began to settle himself into the task of cleaning up after Conor, taking care to polish each glass with a soft cloth to remove any trace of smear which the machine had not taken care of. He busied himself for a while, buffering the deep mahogany of the bar and wiping dust from the whiskey bottles, some of which had been there longer than he had. No-one was coming in tonight, and he watched as the two regulars slunk off one by one into the faltering evening sunshine, squinting at the brightness as they headed homeward.

It was now just Jimmy and the stranger in the corner. The stranger silently got up from the table and made his way to the bar, pulling out a stool and sat facing him.

‘Slow tonight, huh?’ he offered.

Over the years, he had entertained many a solitary man who had wandered in on their way to somewhere else. He could always spot them because they always had a newspaper, and they seemed to pore over every word, sometimes twice, before they would come to the bar and eventually attempt to keep their conversational skills alive by sharing a word or two of casual dialogue with the bartender.

‘Tis quiet indeed. And what brings you here on a Tuesday night, when every man worth his sanity is somewhere else?’

The stranger studied Jimmy, a grin seeming to appear at the corners of his mouth and just as suddenly disappearing.

‘Ah sanity is over-rated. For many a year I have been on my own, I prefer my own company I suppose. I’m passing through, just stopped here for the night.’

This was not an uncommon occurrence for Jimmy. He had guessed that the man had been staying up at old Teresa Flannery’s boarding house. He had had that out-of-town look about him, and the fine dark material of the sports jacket he was wearing was not to be found here in the town, or anywhere close to it.

‘A single man then?’ Jimmy offered. He could have placed the stranger anywhere between thirty and fifty. He had an unlined face and a deep healthy tan that wasn’t a million shades lighter than the bar he was currently propped up on.

‘I am. And yourself? The stranger replied.

Jimmy hated this question. To be fair, he wasn’t asked it so much these days, but it hurt his heart to have to reply and face the stark reality of his situation. ‘I am, unfortunately. My wife left me to my own devices, not by my choosing’

The stranger seemed to understand, and pressed no further, instead offering the unspoken commiserations, a look which Jimmy knew and appreciated, glad of the chance not to have to explain any further.

The stranger eyed Jimmy up and down and spoke ‘If you had a chance to do it all over again, would you?’

Jimmy didn’t appreciate the strangers forwardness. After already deducing that his wife had passed on, he wasn’t sure that the best move was to play a hypothetical game with him, especially a game he could never hope to win. Despite this, he answered the man, more out of politeness than want.

‘I would give everything I have, and steal whatever I would have to if that wasn’t enough, for one more minute with her.’ Jimmy was surprised by his sudden, uncharacteristic outburst of emotional conviction in the company of the stranger.

‘How long did you have together?’ the stranger enquired. For the next twenty minutes Jimmy regaled the stranger with tales of Eileen’s and his happy life, how they had met while working together here at the bar, their wedding day, countless deliriously happy days spent together in the little cottage which the witty inhabitants of the town had named ’The Love House’ The stranger said nothing and listened intently, smiling as Jimmy recalled more and more memories. 

‘Well, Jimmy, it has been known for lightning to strike twice in the same place’

Jimmy thought this was a strange comment, but pushed it to the back of his mind as the stranger drained the rest of the beer in his glass, folded his paper and pointed it at Jimmy as a gesture of farewell. He stood up from the stool, and Jimmy watched as he crossed the road and disappeared out of sigh and on his way up the street. It wasn’t until the stranger was out of sight that Jimmy realised that he had called him by name. Thinking that he had probably overheard Conor or one of the other customers call it out, he thought no more of it and continued his routine of methodically cleaning the bar and setting up the various items that would be needed for lunch service the next day.

The rest of the night dragged on. No other customer had entered the bar since the strangers departure and as Jimmy glanced at the clock he noticed that it was approaching eleven o’clock. He joking bellowed to the empty bar ‘Last orders, ladies and gentleman!’

Hearing no argument, he swept the bar and turned off the lights, pulling the heavy glass panelled door closed and locking it. Jimmy looked at his reflection in the glass. He looked old, and very tired. His hair had rapidly whitened recently, and his hairline had started to make its way steadily along the top of his head. His eyes still shone with a keen blueness, but even he noticed that there was something missing, and it was almost liked he was looking straight past himself. His face was tracked with deep lines, every laugh line and furrow in his brow a different memory.

Jimmy found himself alone in the silent darkness of Main Street. He scanned the street, seeing no signs of life. McGurk’s was located right in the middle of the street. To the right was the village church, and past that again, vast swathes of fields that disappeared far into the hills in the distance. Jimmy turned left. He had no desire to look at the church for too long. Too many unanswered questions. This was the part of the night that Jimmy hated the most. He knew that when he got home, Eileen would not be waiting for him with a cup of tea and the soothing words that could wash away anything that was troubling him.

He hardly noticed the first fat raindrop that splashed loudly in front of him as he idly walked along the street. He noticed the second, which was accompanied by a sudden onslaught of many thousand more. Cursing the weather, Jimmy pulled up his collar and picked up the pace. The rain thundered onto the street, and he faintly heard the rumbling of thunder far off in the distance.

He was glad to see that the cottage was now in sight. No lights were burning in the windows, but he knew that in a few minutes he would be inside, steam rising from him and drying himself off and sitting in front of the fire until sleep came.

As Jimmy rushed along the street, he passed Flannery’s boarding house, noticing that there was a figure standing in the doorway silhouetted by the hallway light.

‘That’s a bad turn in the weather Jimmy!’ Teresa called out from the inside of her door.

Jimmy hurried up her short pathway, flanked on both sides by rows of saturated geraniums. ‘Jesus Teresa it is indeed it came out of nowhere! I’m sure your guests are glad they’re tucked up in bed and not out in the middle of this.’

‘Sure there’s no-one here tonight its just myself.’ Teresa replied.

Jimmy thought this was strange. He had assumed that the stranger would be staying here, for there was nowhere else in the village he could have been. He shrugged it off and turned back to Teresa ‘Right well id better get off home, im wet now so a little bit more wont make any difference.’

Jimmy got to the end of the road and turned right into the little winding track that led down to his cottage. As he did every night, he focused his eyes on the three foot statue of an angel that he had placed in the garden shortly after Eileen passed. He had seen it in the garden centre in town and he had felt compelled to buy it. It made Jimmy feel like she was welcoming him home from above and made crossing the door a little bit easier than it could have been.

As he put his hand on the garden gate, black clouds started to tumble and thrash above him and the rain thundered down with even more vigour. Suddenly there was a deep rumbling and a vicious crack and then a flash of light as a serrated, vicious strike of completely blue lightning crashed towards the earth and struck the base of the statue with an almighty noise that shook him to his core.  Jimmy stared in wonder, hardly able to move but still having the presence of mind to remove his hand from the wrought iron gate, and had barely done this when again the supercharged electrical energy descended from the sky like a bullet train and struck the statue in exactly the same place. As soon as the residual dust from the twin strikes had settled, the swirling clouds began to retreat, the rain became less vengeful and calm returned to the skies. Jimmy turned the key in the lock, avoided the living room completely, and went to his bedroom, put his head on the pillow and fell directly into a heavy sleep.

*

Jimmy woke up with a start. He looked around, puzzled. He shut his eyes tightly, rubbed them and looked again. He was standing at the bottom of Main Street. The sun was blazing and every single building was bathed in a warm golden light, and Jimmy felt good as it lay upon his face like a warm washcloth. He could hear birds chirping furiously, chasing one another from roof to roof. As he walked along the street, he realised that he was walking faster than usual. He felt stronger, purposeful even. He reached McGurks and stared at the benches outside. The wood had a deep burnished glow and looked like they had received a fresh coat of lacquer. The black iron detail of the feet and struts looked almost as if they had just left the blacksmiths workshop.

As he was wondering how this could have happened since he had left the previous night, he heard a commotion from inside the bar. The doors were wide open and a small mongrel was lazily lying at the threshold, idly licking at a crust of bread. He looked inside and was shocked to find that it was absolutely packed. The walls were bare save for a few faded old posters advising that Guinness was good for you and an old fashioned clock that hung over the bar. Jimmy’s first thought that Sean McGurk had had some kind of fit of sense in the early hours of the morning and had got rid of all the old junk and just restored it to its former glory. He must have found an old photograph as Jimmy noticed that the bar looked exactly like it did when he had started working there. People crammed together at the bar like sardines and every table was bustling with people talking and laughing uproariously. He squeezed his way in and almost made it to the bar when one of the guys shuffled off his stool and made his way to the bathroom. 

Jimmy froze.

As the customer had left, he had created an unobstructed  view of the bartender. She was small but perfectly formed. Her hair was a mass of exquisite jet black curls that hung loosely around her heart shaped face. Her deep green eyes took in everything that was going on around her. Her blemish free skin was like that of the finest alabaster, yet she still had a healthy flush of pink in her well defined cheekbones. Her neck was long and graceful and descended perfectly onto her slim elegant shoulders. She was dressed in a white linen shirt which hung on her frame as if it had been tailor made for her, and he could see the outline of her body through it as the sunlight streamed in through the open doorway and fell upon her.


Eileen.


Jimmy sprinted out of the bar, unable to speak, unable to think, the door swinging closed behind him. This was the cruellest dream he had ever had. His head swimming, he looked down at his hands. They had seen years of wear and were deeply lined, the onset of arthritis had begun to make his fingers look like gnarled branches. He looked around wildly. At the bottom of the road, no more than a hundred yards away, he saw a faint but unmistakeable outline of a male figure. He was dressed in a dark coloured sport coat and even from here, Jimmy could see that he had a deeply tanned face. As Jimmy stared at him, the stranger raised a newspaper in salute.

Jimmy buried his face in his hands and wished to be awake. He took his hands from his face and stared at them in shock. They were clean and smooth, and he could feel the strength and vitality of his fingers as he made a fist. The street was empty now, and there was no sound except for the laughter and boisterous shouting coming from the heaving bar behind him. He kept looking up and down the street. Jimmy had the faintest idea that he was looking for someone who wasn’t there. Had he just recognised someone? Had someone just been standing at the bottom of the street?

He shrugged it off. He began to worry. He was going to be late, and the new girl who had started at the bar the week before was going to kill him. He was supposed to be on shift with her and here he was standing in the street looking at no-one.

He paused at the door and smoothed himself down. He gazed at himself in the glass panels and flattened his thick dark hair down with the palm of his hand. He didn’t usually make this much of an effort to be presentable for McGurks, and wasn’t sure why he was now. He opened the door and pushed his way into the throng of people, all regulars, all smiles and backslaps, faces he all recognised. He had the strangest feeling that he hadn’t seen a lot of them for many years, but pushed the thought from his mind as he raised the end of the bar and ducked underneath.

The girl stopped and glared at him, her face tilted towards him and a hand firmly placed at her side. ‘Jimmy Doherty. You’re late. I cant be expected to be dealing with this crowd of animals all by myself. Get to work already will you for gods sake.’
He thought he detected a slight smile as she turned her head away to serve another one of the animals. Jimmy turned and glanced at two of the men seated at the bar. He raised his eyebrows at them theatrically, and they laughed and glanced at Eileen, shaking their heads and exhaling loudly, but discreetly. They were big strong men and could drink a pint of Guinness in two seconds, but not even they wanted to be caught doing anything untoward by the sparkly madam behind the bar.

Jimmy pulled his apron around his waist and tied the straps firmly. It was going to be a long night by the looks of it, but he was strangely looking forward to it.

He meandered over to a man waiting impatiently and the bar, flashed his brightest smile and enquired. ’What’s it gonna be?’