remember.’
Fergus smiled. ‘He was always getting me to run errands. Down the village to get his fags. Down to Roscillin for the
Morning Star,
which he had on order. That was his communist phase.’
‘Think of this as another errand. For Joe’s sake.’
Fergus slowly shook his head.
‘You’re a fit man. We’ve watched you. You run like the wind. There’s only ever one squaddie posted up there. At most. And easy to dodge. I promise you, you’d be helping the Cause big time. And helping the hunger strikers. It might even be the saving of them. Of Joe. Len. And the rest.’
‘What d’you mean, the saving of them?’
Michael looked knowing. ‘It’s confidential. But it’s an operation that’s so fantastic, it will have all those Westminster bozos sitting up begging.’
‘Jesus. What is it?’
Michael shook his head. ‘You don’t need to know. All you have to do is a pick-up and a drop. Just a few times. You’d see nobody, meet nobody and nobody would bother you ever again. I swear.’
Fergus watched his mam and the two girls walking from the church. Mam looked over and beckoned.
‘A pick-up?’
‘Yep.’
‘What of?’
‘That would be telling.’
‘An envelope? A package? What?’
Michael Rafters looked around and dropped his voice. ‘A jiffy bag, small enough to stuff down your running shorts.’
Fergus waved the information away as if he was rubbing it out. ‘Sorry, Dafters. There’s Mam waving at me. I’ve got to go.’
‘Think about it, McCann. I need to know. By tomorrow.’
‘Fergus!’ Mam called.
Michael’s eyebrow went up as if to say
That’s mothers for you
. Then he skimmed away, merging with the crowd.
Fergus joined his mam at the gate.
‘You’ve no business getting tangled up with that Michael Rafters,’ she scolded. ‘His first and last name is trouble.’
‘We were just chatting, Mam. About Joey.’
‘Oh?’
Fergus dropped his voice so that the girls wouldn’t hear. ‘He says he’s already on the strike. That’s why they moved him. He says he has it from a good source.’
Mam grabbed his sleeve. ‘Shush,’ she said. Her face froze with her eyes wide open. A wind got up in the trees and a flock of crows took off yattering into the sky. Her grip on his arm tightened, then her lips grew firm with resolve. ‘Joey,’ she whispered, ‘I’m coming. Your mam’s coming and I don’t care if I sit outside that prison until midnight, they’re letting me in to you.’
Fergus put his arm around her waist. ‘I’ll come too, Mam. I can drive you. Please let me.’
‘Would you?’
‘I would. I’ll put the learner plates on.’
‘And would you think of some arguments, Fergus?’
‘Arguments?’
‘To get Joey eating. You were always good at the arguments. He’d listen to you before he’d listen to me.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘We’ll go after dinner. Your da’s working and he’s a visit booked anyway for tomorrow. The girls can go over to the Caseys’.’
‘Bake him something, Mam.’
Mam smiled. ‘If that son of mine is starving himself, my rhubarb tart will have him eating again. It was always his favourite, wasn’t it, Ferg? Wasn’t it? And remember: not a word to the guests.’
Eleven
Felicity and Cora were still out when they got back. The door to the spare twin room was open. On one bed, Fergus glimpsed a pair of maroon, silky pyjamas, neatly folded. The other bed was unmade. The spread with the daisy pattern tipped over onto the floor, the sheets and blankets anyhow.
He’d have done anything to have been up and out with them both on that mountain, looking for relics of another age.
He went into the kitchen. Mam had the tart prepared and in the oven in record time. The family sat down to a hasty dinner of oven chips and frozen peas and burgers. Da sat at the top of the table, saying nothing. His wiry eyebrows were hunched and his mouth pursed. He toyed with his meat.
Cath and Theresa asked to be excused from the table,
Fergus smiled. ‘He was always getting me to run errands. Down the village to get his fags. Down to Roscillin for the
Morning Star,
which he had on order. That was his communist phase.’
‘Think of this as another errand. For Joe’s sake.’
Fergus slowly shook his head.
‘You’re a fit man. We’ve watched you. You run like the wind. There’s only ever one squaddie posted up there. At most. And easy to dodge. I promise you, you’d be helping the Cause big time. And helping the hunger strikers. It might even be the saving of them. Of Joe. Len. And the rest.’
‘What d’you mean, the saving of them?’
Michael looked knowing. ‘It’s confidential. But it’s an operation that’s so fantastic, it will have all those Westminster bozos sitting up begging.’
‘Jesus. What is it?’
Michael shook his head. ‘You don’t need to know. All you have to do is a pick-up and a drop. Just a few times. You’d see nobody, meet nobody and nobody would bother you ever again. I swear.’
Fergus watched his mam and the two girls walking from the church. Mam looked over and beckoned.
‘A pick-up?’
‘Yep.’
‘What of?’
‘That would be telling.’
‘An envelope? A package? What?’
Michael Rafters looked around and dropped his voice. ‘A jiffy bag, small enough to stuff down your running shorts.’
Fergus waved the information away as if he was rubbing it out. ‘Sorry, Dafters. There’s Mam waving at me. I’ve got to go.’
‘Think about it, McCann. I need to know. By tomorrow.’
‘Fergus!’ Mam called.
Michael’s eyebrow went up as if to say
That’s mothers for you
. Then he skimmed away, merging with the crowd.
Fergus joined his mam at the gate.
‘You’ve no business getting tangled up with that Michael Rafters,’ she scolded. ‘His first and last name is trouble.’
‘We were just chatting, Mam. About Joey.’
‘Oh?’
Fergus dropped his voice so that the girls wouldn’t hear. ‘He says he’s already on the strike. That’s why they moved him. He says he has it from a good source.’
Mam grabbed his sleeve. ‘Shush,’ she said. Her face froze with her eyes wide open. A wind got up in the trees and a flock of crows took off yattering into the sky. Her grip on his arm tightened, then her lips grew firm with resolve. ‘Joey,’ she whispered, ‘I’m coming. Your mam’s coming and I don’t care if I sit outside that prison until midnight, they’re letting me in to you.’
Fergus put his arm around her waist. ‘I’ll come too, Mam. I can drive you. Please let me.’
‘Would you?’
‘I would. I’ll put the learner plates on.’
‘And would you think of some arguments, Fergus?’
‘Arguments?’
‘To get Joey eating. You were always good at the arguments. He’d listen to you before he’d listen to me.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘We’ll go after dinner. Your da’s working and he’s a visit booked anyway for tomorrow. The girls can go over to the Caseys’.’
‘Bake him something, Mam.’
Mam smiled. ‘If that son of mine is starving himself, my rhubarb tart will have him eating again. It was always his favourite, wasn’t it, Ferg? Wasn’t it? And remember: not a word to the guests.’
Eleven
Felicity and Cora were still out when they got back. The door to the spare twin room was open. On one bed, Fergus glimpsed a pair of maroon, silky pyjamas, neatly folded. The other bed was unmade. The spread with the daisy pattern tipped over onto the floor, the sheets and blankets anyhow.
He’d have done anything to have been up and out with them both on that mountain, looking for relics of another age.
He went into the kitchen. Mam had the tart prepared and in the oven in record time. The family sat down to a hasty dinner of oven chips and frozen peas and burgers. Da sat at the top of the table, saying nothing. His wiry eyebrows were hunched and his mouth pursed. He toyed with his meat.
Cath and Theresa asked to be excused from the table,
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