Member-only story
Paddy’s Pride
A meaty hand landed roughly on Padraig’s bony shoulder, “I’ll not tell you again Moynahan!” Constable Cooke whispered, his hot breath almost melting the young boy’s ear. “Next time, I’ll lock you up myself.”
Padraig, Paddy for short, shook Cooke’s hand off him, “Wasn’t doin’ nothin’, honest.” He shoved a handful of dice into the pocket of his ill-fitting trousers, his round hazel eyes fixed in as innocent a gaze as he could manage.
The officer shrugged, removing his hand, “And all those people that just run off?” he challenged.
Paddy grinned. It was the adolescent grin of a young man who knew he once again was about to escape the long arm of the law. “Don’t like police, I expect, Sir.”
Constable Cooke rubbed his moustache and leaned into the youth’s face, “I mean it, Paddy,” his voice stern and his eyes hard, “I’ve turned a blind eye until now. “Next time I find you out here on the docks running your racket, you’re headed to the clinker! Take ya there myself, I will.”
Cooke softened his gaze and stood tall. He had a soft spot for the Moynahan boy who at all of 13, had developed quite the reputation as a rabble-rouser and petty criminal in County Cork. Quick-witted and devilishly handsome, young Paddy had created a tidy little enterprise…
