As the poet says, to every thing there is a season under heaven. Well I can tell you now; winter most definitely wasn’t Eddie’s season. The cold weather only served to accentuate his more unprepossessing features. Some local wit in a moment of inspiration had dubbed him Ferret Face, and the name stuck. His prominent red nose, pink eyes and slicked back yellow hair, were a dead giveaway. Even when he tried to hide behind the silk scarf that he wore around his neck, winter and summer, his nose had a disconcerting habit of seeming to move of its own accord, to the surprise of many an unwary passer-by.

I had found out a long time ago, to my cost, that Eddie had no conscience where money was concerned. Eddie et Libra non conscientus est, as a bogus latin scholar put it. As the saying goes, he would lift the pennies from a dead man’s eyes, not that he would have that opportunity these days. I don’t think there’s a big call for pennies.

I suppose it was inevitable Mrs Mawhinney and Eddie would cross paths at some time in their lives. The place just wasn’t big enough for both of them. She was not known for her largesse and nobody could accuse Eddie of being a philanthropist. Big Renee, as we called her behind her back, had been described in the Annals of John Street as a formidable woman. Actually the exact words used were, “never get on the wrong side of that big fat cow or she’ll kill ye.”

She was actually built more like a Sumo wrestler than a big fat cow, and she was not averse to giving an wayward child a clip round the earhole. She was something of an outdoors woman. All year round, she could be seen standing at her front door, muscular arms akimbo, or down on her knees scrubbing her doorstep. She was very proud of that door step and if there had been a national doorstep championship she would have been up there with the best. The only time it wasn’t polished until it shone was around the Twelfth of July celebrations when she painted it red, white and blue. I’ll say that for her, she was true blue and loyal as they come, and even the Orangemen doffed their hats when they paraded past her door on the Twelfth.

As luck would have it, Eddie was passing her house just before Christmas that year. No doubt he was on one of his mysterious missions and he would have been in a hurry as usual.
“C’mere, son. I want you to do a message for me.” called Renee. Now when Big Renee said jump, most of us just needed to know how high. But not Eddie. He had something else on his mind that day and was in no mood to take orders from the likes of Renee. After all he wasn’t some wee toddler to be ordered about by Big Renee or anybody else for that matter. He ignored her and walked on by, whistling Dixie or some such tune.

“Come back here when I tell you, you wee skitter!” she called, her voice dropping two octaves.
That jolted Eddie from his reverie.
“What’s your problem, Renee?” he snapped as he turned to face her. “D’ye think you’re the only one with things to do? Can’t ye see I’m in a hurry.”
Her face turned brick red. She hated people using her first name.
“Mrs Mawhinney to you, you cheeky wee brat. I want you to do a message for me,” she retorted. “I’ll not be disregarded by the likes of you. By sangs you’re looking for a thick ear.”
“Why don’t you ask one of them kids over there? I’ve got better things to do with my time than running messages for any old body.”
“Never mind better things.” She was almost apoplectic by this time. “Go down to Burnges shop and get me five Woodbine. Here’s a ten bob note. Quick as you can now. I’m gasping for a smoke.”
Eddie eyed the ten shilling note greedily. His eyes narrowed and his nose almost glowed in the semi darkness.
“My apologies, Mrs M. You know I was only codding. Whatever you say. Give us the money. I’ll be back before you can say Jack R.”

Barlow Brown, who witnessed this exchange, couldn’t believe his ears.
“Talk about Fast Eddie,” Barlow told us later. “He was off like a rat up a drainpipe. I knew he wouldn’t be long so I hung around to see what he was up to. He was back in two shakes of an ant’s knacker. He gave Renee the cigs and the change and waited. I suppose he was expecting a tip. Guess what? She took them and just turned and slammed the door in his face. You should a seen the look he gave her. If looks could kill Renee wouldn’t have made it up the hall.”
“Serves him right,” chortled Sammy, who was sitting on the wall beside me. “You know he borrowed three d from me one day and never gave it back. Said I was telling lies when I asked him about it. Let’s go and give him a real bollocking.”
“Aye, but hold on,” said Barlow. “You haven’t heard the end of it. Eddie was raging. You should have seen his face. Anyway, Renee had just put her bin out in the street. Now what do you think he does. He picks it up and empties it on her nice clean step. You can imagine it. Then he shouts in her letterbox, ‘Why don’t you get off yer big fat arse and do a bit of spring cleaning, ye big fat cow. It’s disgusting out here.’ I never saw anything like it. Talk about moving quick. She was out that door like a bull elephant, but she had no chance. Eddie was off like a hare. He could have won the hundred yards at the Olympics, the speed he was going. She stood there shaking that big fist. Of course then she sees me staring at her so she yells over ‘What are you looking at ye wee blirt. Watch ye don’t shit yerself. Niver mind. Give that pal of yours a message. Tell him the Lord works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform. That’ll give him something to think about.”
“What did she mean by that?” I said.
“Don’t ask me,” said Barlow. “I just took off. There’s no telling what she would have done.”