important, Jack.’
God, they’d be raking over the accident. All the details about the car crash. Could Jack cope with that? ‘Can’t you …’
Emer hung up without saying goodbye. Obviously pissed off with him. Great.
Jack pushed his breakfast aside and grabbed his coat. He’d only been about to say
Can’t you put them off for today?
Emer, though, probably thought he was suggesting she take Jack’s place during the police interview. Now their afternoon could be spoiled because of this.
Not for the first time, he cursed Luke Kiernan.
Luke assessed the two Guards standing in his hospital room. The usual double act. Introduced themselves as though that made them individuals, but they seemed like all the other Guards he’d met. They generally despised Travellers. Assumed they were all crooks and troublemakers. Didn’t give a damn about the decent ones. Only regular folk got respect and protection.
Like that night, some ten years ago, when his Uncle Joe was knocking Annie about … again. Luke had quietly called the police from the hall phone. The Guards didn’t turn up till the next day, and when they did, they brought a search warrant and ransacked the house, looking for stolen goods. Any excuse. They eventually looked at his mother’s bruises, asking if she wanted to press charges, but of course she’d said no. They made a comment about her child being worried, which landed Luke in it good and proper. Joe had gone mental because the police had been called and later he bashed Luke’s head so hard against a wall that blood ran from his ear. He couldn’t stand up for a week without feeling dizzy.
It was a lesson. The authorities were added to Luke’s growing list of people not to trust. No one was going to help him or his mother. They were on their own, and it was down to him to look after her. Fine job he’d made of that.
The older of the Guards, Sergeant Connolly, spoke. ‘We have a few questions about the accident, Luke.’
‘Mr Kiernan,’ he muttered. Typical. Not even asking if they could call him by his first name. No words of sympathy about his mother, either. His jaw clenched.
‘If you’re up to it, that is,’ said Byrne, the second policeman. He pulled up a chair and took out a notebook and pen.
Luke almost laughed aloud. Like they cared if he was up to it.
Byrne flipped some pages, found the one he wanted, and read out the details. ‘Luke Kiernan from Ennis? Aged twenty, born 28 October …?’
Luke stayed silent.
Let the bastard work for it.
‘Is that correct?’ prompted Connolly.
‘Yeah. I’ll expect a card then, will I?’ No response. They’d clearly had a sense of humour bypass.
‘Address?’ Byrne asked.
‘No, just a card’ll be fine. I’m not into women’s clothes.’ His uncle always said his smart mouth would get him into trouble, but these condescending gobshites deserved it. Oh well, if they hit him, he was in the right place.
‘Confirm your address for us, son,’ said Connolly slowly, as if he thought Luke might be simple.
‘I’m between places right now.’
‘Really?’ said Byrne. ‘According to our records, your address is 42 Carnlough Street, Ennis.’
‘So why ask me? But like I said, I’m between places. I left Ennis.’
‘No fixed abode, then.’ Byrne was obviously happy to have something to write down. ‘So where were you and your mother headed?’
‘None of your business!’ snapped Luke. ‘We were in a crash. My mother’s dead. End of story.’
‘Not quite,’ said Connolly. ‘We need to establish the cause of the accident. What do you remember?’
‘Nothin’.’ And that was true. Dr O’Meara had told him he might never remember those last few minutes of his mother’s life. Something about trauma affecting memory. Maybe it was for the best. Remembering might be worse.
Byrne came to life again, reading from his little black book. ‘The driver of the truck you collided with said your mother was driving too
God, they’d be raking over the accident. All the details about the car crash. Could Jack cope with that? ‘Can’t you …’
Emer hung up without saying goodbye. Obviously pissed off with him. Great.
Jack pushed his breakfast aside and grabbed his coat. He’d only been about to say
Can’t you put them off for today?
Emer, though, probably thought he was suggesting she take Jack’s place during the police interview. Now their afternoon could be spoiled because of this.
Not for the first time, he cursed Luke Kiernan.
Luke assessed the two Guards standing in his hospital room. The usual double act. Introduced themselves as though that made them individuals, but they seemed like all the other Guards he’d met. They generally despised Travellers. Assumed they were all crooks and troublemakers. Didn’t give a damn about the decent ones. Only regular folk got respect and protection.
Like that night, some ten years ago, when his Uncle Joe was knocking Annie about … again. Luke had quietly called the police from the hall phone. The Guards didn’t turn up till the next day, and when they did, they brought a search warrant and ransacked the house, looking for stolen goods. Any excuse. They eventually looked at his mother’s bruises, asking if she wanted to press charges, but of course she’d said no. They made a comment about her child being worried, which landed Luke in it good and proper. Joe had gone mental because the police had been called and later he bashed Luke’s head so hard against a wall that blood ran from his ear. He couldn’t stand up for a week without feeling dizzy.
It was a lesson. The authorities were added to Luke’s growing list of people not to trust. No one was going to help him or his mother. They were on their own, and it was down to him to look after her. Fine job he’d made of that.
The older of the Guards, Sergeant Connolly, spoke. ‘We have a few questions about the accident, Luke.’
‘Mr Kiernan,’ he muttered. Typical. Not even asking if they could call him by his first name. No words of sympathy about his mother, either. His jaw clenched.
‘If you’re up to it, that is,’ said Byrne, the second policeman. He pulled up a chair and took out a notebook and pen.
Luke almost laughed aloud. Like they cared if he was up to it.
Byrne flipped some pages, found the one he wanted, and read out the details. ‘Luke Kiernan from Ennis? Aged twenty, born 28 October …?’
Luke stayed silent.
Let the bastard work for it.
‘Is that correct?’ prompted Connolly.
‘Yeah. I’ll expect a card then, will I?’ No response. They’d clearly had a sense of humour bypass.
‘Address?’ Byrne asked.
‘No, just a card’ll be fine. I’m not into women’s clothes.’ His uncle always said his smart mouth would get him into trouble, but these condescending gobshites deserved it. Oh well, if they hit him, he was in the right place.
‘Confirm your address for us, son,’ said Connolly slowly, as if he thought Luke might be simple.
‘I’m between places right now.’
‘Really?’ said Byrne. ‘According to our records, your address is 42 Carnlough Street, Ennis.’
‘So why ask me? But like I said, I’m between places. I left Ennis.’
‘No fixed abode, then.’ Byrne was obviously happy to have something to write down. ‘So where were you and your mother headed?’
‘None of your business!’ snapped Luke. ‘We were in a crash. My mother’s dead. End of story.’
‘Not quite,’ said Connolly. ‘We need to establish the cause of the accident. What do you remember?’
‘Nothin’.’ And that was true. Dr O’Meara had told him he might never remember those last few minutes of his mother’s life. Something about trauma affecting memory. Maybe it was for the best. Remembering might be worse.
Byrne came to life again, reading from his little black book. ‘The driver of the truck you collided with said your mother was driving too
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