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22
Ulysses, James Joyce
‘Jago!’ I call as I fall to his side. ‘Jago!’
‘He’s only drunk again, miss,’ the kids dismiss him with a laugh. ‘He’ll get up when he’s slept it off.’
And with that, they run off.
A couple of others walk by, completely unmoved by seeing a man down. I call to them, but they shake their heads and walk on. What the hell kind of communityisthis? Wasn’t Starry Cove supposed to be a magical village where dreams come true?
Max is nudging him, but Jago is still.
‘Jago!’ I cry again, pulling at him by his jacket. ‘Open your eyes! Talk to me!’
But he groans and turns over as if the cold and hardness of the cobbled streets have become his second home. Max barks to wake him, pulling on his sleeve with his teeth, but Jago is oblivious.
I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. ‘Please! Get up! You can’t lie here like a heap of rubbish.’
‘Iama h-heap o’ r-rubbish,’ he corrects me in a broken voice.
I continue to pull at him.
‘Jago, please! I can’t lift you and I’m not leaving you in the road to get run over.’
‘Leave me here… save the trouble of a proper send-off… Undrownable, anyway.’
‘Oh, Jago, please don’t say things like that.’
The thought that he’d actually tried to kill himself and might have been trying again tore through my heart. How desperate would he have been even to think such a thing, let alone say it?
‘Jago, come on. Pull yourself up. We can’t stay here.’
‘Hmm…’ he groans. ‘Go home, Emmie.’
‘Come on, Jago. We have to get you home.’
‘Go,’ he repeats. ‘I’m no good for you.’
I’ve been getting a lot of that lately, but that’s another story.
I crane my neck and catch the attention of a man crossing the road. He stops when he sees me waving my arms, meeting me halfway.
‘Please, can you help me? There’s a man in the street…’
He shakes his head. ‘If it’s Jago Moon stone drunk again, just leave him there.’
‘What? Why? How can yousaythat? How can you just leave someone like that?’
In response, he looks at me and snorts, shaking his head.
‘My advice, miss? You go on home and forget you ever saw him. He’s no good for the likes of you.’
What is it with everyone in this village? Why will no one help? I whirl round, muttering every foul word I know. If only my students could see me now.
I flag a teenager with a mobile phone down and ask him to call Dr Miller’s office to explain the situation. In five minutes, both Janice and Martin are there, and Max follows us into the car. We drive Jago to his barge, where we manage to carry him inside onto the sofa. As they set him face down, I grab a wastepaper basket and put it by him.
Martin glances at his watch and then at his sister.
