Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
1972 (23 page)
In spite of the good care he had received during his time in Killaloe, Dr. Roche's warning had proved accurate. Barry's leg had not healed well. He was beginning to worry that the limp might be permanent. When he mentioned this to Dennis Cassidy, the other man assured him, “You're trying to rush things, that's all. Trust me, your limp is minuscule.”
“It seems majuscule to me,” Barry said, trying to laugh.
The injury had changed everything. No longer did he play hockey, or go for long walks in the rain with pretty girls. Since returning to university Barry had not spent any time alone with a girl. He did not want their pity any more than he wanted it from his mother.
When he thought about Claire MacNamaraâand he still did think about her, more often than he likedâhe schooled himself
to feel angry rather than sorrowful. She had let him down by failing to keep in touch. As long as he could hold on to that feeling it kept the pain of rejection at bay.
to feel angry rather than sorrowful. She had let him down by failing to keep in touch. As long as he could hold on to that feeling it kept the pain of rejection at bay.
Barry had his studies to keep him occupied and, more important, he had his mission. The letters to America. The precious notebooks. And he had friends. Friends like Dennis and Alice were safe; nothing was going to happen to them.
On the twenty-sixth of February, 1962, the IRA issued the following formal statement:
To the Irish people.
The leadership of the resistance has ordered the termination of the Campaign of Resistance to British Occupation launched on December 12, 1956. Instructions issued to Volunteers of the Active Service Units and of local Units in the occupied area have now been carried out. All arms and other material have been dumped and all full-time active service Volunteers have been withdrawn.
The decision to end the Resistance Campaign has been taken in view of the general situation. Foremost among the factors motivating this course of action has been the attitude of the general public whose minds have been deliberately distracted from the supreme issue facing the Irish peopleâthe unity and freedom of Ireland.
The Irish Resistance Movement renews its pledge of eternal hostility to the British Forces of Occupation in Ireland. It calls on the Irish people for increased support and looks forward with confidence to the final and victorious phase of the struggle for the full freedom of Ireland.
2
2
Barry read the statement published in the papers with a sinking heart.
All those years of planning and work and sacrifice
;
of death and hope. The guns dumped, the Volunteers going back to private life
,
and Ireland still divided. It doesn
'
t seem possible
.
All those years of planning and work and sacrifice
;
of death and hope. The guns dumped, the Volunteers going back to private life
,
and Ireland still divided. It doesn
'
t seem possible
.
He went to Ãamonn Thomas. “Is this really true? If so, what will become of the Army?”
“Didn't you read the last paragraph of that statement? Don't you worry, as long as part of this country's occupied by a foreign power, there'll be a reason for the IRA. And the IRA will always need good publicity, so there'll be a place for you too.”
“Have there been any replies to my letters, Ãamonn?”
“Not a sausage, but it's early days still. If some money does
come in we'll hold it for the future. There will be a future, you know.”
come in we'll hold it for the future. There will be a future, you know.”
A
T the end of the spring term Barry had to face the prospect of returning to the farm. He could not stay at Trinity through the long hiatus from July to October; the campus would be taken over by private study groups and visiting academics. Nor would he be going north with his cameras. And he felt sure that Ursula would not be willing to fund rented digs in Dublin. He could just hear her: “You have a perfectly good home right here on the farm.”
T the end of the spring term Barry had to face the prospect of returning to the farm. He could not stay at Trinity through the long hiatus from July to October; the campus would be taken over by private study groups and visiting academics. Nor would he be going north with his cameras. And he felt sure that Ursula would not be willing to fund rented digs in Dublin. He could just hear her: “You have a perfectly good home right here on the farm.”
Barry hated the power that money, or the lack of it, could exert. He resolved to become self-sufficient as soon as possible.
The train ride from Dublin to Clare was not as uncomfortable as his last train journey had been. Barry put his cane in the overhead rack, and gazed out the window at rural Ireland. Beneath a blue summer sky blue barrels of poison waited to be sprayed on the potato drills, a modern preventative for the blight that had destroyed the last vestiges of ancient Ireland.
As Barry entered the Halloran farmhouseâthrough the front door, like a strangerâhe glanced into the parlour on his left and saw a television set next to the wireless.
“I'm home!” he called. There was no answer. He called again, more loudly. “Is anyone here?”
He slammed the door behind him.
The sound echoed through the house like a closing lid echoing inside the coffin.
B
ARRY stood perfectly still, every sense alert.
ARRY stood perfectly still, every sense alert.
In living memory he had not known the big old farmhouse to be so quiet. Usually it hummed with the invisible currents of human habitation. Today the air was dead.
A dozen possible scenarios flashed through his brain in quick succession. The worst was that loyalistsâ
the faceless Enemy
âhad learned where he lived and staged a reprisal against his family. Ursula and Eileen might be lying upstairs murdered in their beds.
the faceless Enemy
âhad learned where he lived and staged a reprisal against his family. Ursula and Eileen might be lying upstairs murdered in their beds.
Don't be silly
, Barry admonished his pounding heart.
The loyalists don't attack people in the Republic, they find quite enough prey on their own side of the border
.
, Barry admonished his pounding heart.
The loyalists don't attack people in the Republic, they find quite enough prey on their own side of the border
.
Nevertheless he made a thorough search of the house, moving as quietly as he could from room to room. Ursula could be out anywhere, of course. Riding, supervising the hired men, shopping in town. Eileen's absence was harder to explain. She hardly ever left the house except to go to Massâ
except it isn't time for Mass
âor to gossip in the kitchen of a neighbouring farm. At this hour she should be in the kitchen, preparing dinner for George and Gerry.
except it isn't time for Mass
âor to gossip in the kitchen of a neighbouring farm. At this hour she should be in the kitchen, preparing dinner for George and Gerry.
Barry returned to the kitchen. The first time he had been looking for Eileen and had seen nothing else. This time he noticed a gleaming new refrigerator standing against the wall, purring to itself with domestic satisfaction.
“She never got to see it,” a voice remarked behind Barry.
He whirled around. Clothes caked with manure, George Ryan stood in the doorway.
Eileen would never let him in the house in that condition
. “She who? Eileen? Where is she? And where's my mother?”
. “She who? Eileen? Where is she? And where's my mother?”
“At Ennis General.”
Barry's stomach clenched. “What's happened to Ursula?”
“Nothing. She's staying with Mrs. Mulvaney because the doctors don't expect her to last'til nightfall.”
It isn't Mam. Thank God.
“What happened to her?”
“What happened to her?”
“Massive stroke, they say. She fell like you'd chop down an old apple tree. Yesterday morning, that was; about an hour before they delivered that contraption over there. It was to be a surprise for Mrs. Mulvaney but she never got to see it.”
U
RSULA notified Eileen's far-flung children by telephone. Her married daughters, who lived elsewhere in Ireland, promised to make their way to the farm as soon as they could. Her
sons in Australia had good jobs, but said they could not possibly come ⦠unless perhaps Ursula would pay the air fare?
RSULA notified Eileen's far-flung children by telephone. Her married daughters, who lived elsewhere in Ireland, promised to make their way to the farm as soon as they could. Her
sons in Australia had good jobs, but said they could not possibly come ⦠unless perhaps Ursula would pay the air fare?
She did not take the bait. She would be paying for the hospital and the funeral and the gravestone. Her account books, which had been precariously balanced for some time, were about to go into the red.
The funeral was one of the largest held in Ennis that year. Barry was astonished at how many people turned out to mourn his great-aunt. Only a fraction of them could have known her personally, but everyone knew who Ursula Halloran was. Besides, as Gerry Ryan remarked to Barry, “We all love a good funeral.”
Eileen was buried with her rosary beads laced through her fingers. Ursula placed half a dozen of her favourite holy pictures in the coffin with her. “It's what she would want.”
Later she burned the rest.
U
RSULA and Barry did not have a real conversation until a few days after the funeral, when everyone had gone home and they had the house to themselves.
RSULA and Barry did not have a real conversation until a few days after the funeral, when everyone had gone home and they had the house to themselves.
Ursula looked wan and tired as she attempted to prepare breakfast. “I think you're supposed to start the rashers in a cold skillet,” Barry told his mother. “And crack the eggs into a bowl first before you slide them into the pan. That way you won't break the yolks.”
Gratefully, she stepped aside and let him take over. “Where'd you learn to cook?”
“I've been on my own for quite a while now, remember?”
“And by the looks of you, it hasn't been easy. Why are you using a cane? What happened to your leg?”
“Broke it. Here, you can slice the bread.”
“You broke your leg?
And you never told me?”
And you never told me?”
“What could you do about it? You're no doctor. It's healing now anyway. Make those slices thinner, will you? They'll never toast through otherwise.”
Exasperated, Ursula brandished the knife and pretended to threaten him with it. “When and how did you break your leg and what else have you kept from me? Speak up now!”
“Last summer. Taking photographs.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “That's preposterous.”
“It's true.”
“I thought you were visiting friends last summer.”
“Is this a formal interrogation, Ursula?”
“I have a right to be concerned about my own son.”
“And I have a right to my own life,” he countered.
Her eyes narrowed. “You were with The Boys, were you not? That's how you got hurt?”
He said with perfect truth, “I haven't been on active service since I entered university.”
“Then how ⦠Never mind. If you don't want to tell me I shan't insist.”
“Thank you.” Barry offered a placating smile. He would not give in, though. Could not let her dig and dig into him the way she had when he was a child. It was a matter of principle.
In silence, she finished slicing the bread.
In silence, he cooked the rashers and eggs.
When they were sitting at the table he noticed her eyes slide past him and fix on the refrigerator. “That's all she wanted,” Ursula said in a low voice. “With ice cubes. Why did I wait so long?”
T
HE Irish people were not prepared for the images of radically different ways of life that were beginning to appear on their television screens. Nineteen sixty-two saw the introduction of a new Saturday-night programme on Telefis Ãireann.
The Late Late Show
was presented by Gay Byrne, who had a more than passing resemblance to the popular image of a leprechaun, and from its inception both shocked and delighted its audience with an unfailingly iconoclastic approach.
HE Irish people were not prepared for the images of radically different ways of life that were beginning to appear on their television screens. Nineteen sixty-two saw the introduction of a new Saturday-night programme on Telefis Ãireann.
The Late Late Show
was presented by Gay Byrne, who had a more than passing resemblance to the popular image of a leprechaun, and from its inception both shocked and delighted its audience with an unfailingly iconoclastic approach.
In July, Barry and Ursula watched the first programme together. A sort of armed truce existed between them that summer. They could discuss a television programme objectively, but they could not talk about anything personal. Barry was unwilling to give his mother access to his private life. After all, she never discussed hers, nor told anyone anything about her financial situation.
We Hallorans play our cards close to our vests
, Barry thought, remembering Gerry Ryan's words so long ago.
, Barry thought, remembering Gerry Ryan's words so long ago.
Long silences were commonplace at the kitchen table.
Once, when the figures in the account book had given her another sleepless night, Ursula tried a trial balloon. “I don't suppose you can ride a horse now, not with your leg.”
Barry grinned. “I wouldn't care to ride without it.”
“I'm serious. Can you still ride, do you think? If I put you on one of the young horses would you be able for him?”
The grin vanished. “Not yet. Someday, of course. But not yet.”
B
ARRY'S thoughts drifted like autumn leaves across the landscape. Summer was drawing to a close and soon he would return to university.
Thank God.
There was a stiffness in the atmosphere of the house which had never been there before. Barry wondered if all adult children were as alienated from their parents as he felt. He would have preferred a more open relationship with Ursula but it did not seem possible.
She's Ned Halloran
'
s daughter after all; Ned of the notebooks and the secrecy
.
ARRY'S thoughts drifted like autumn leaves across the landscape. Summer was drawing to a close and soon he would return to university.
Thank God.
There was a stiffness in the atmosphere of the house which had never been there before. Barry wondered if all adult children were as alienated from their parents as he felt. He would have preferred a more open relationship with Ursula but it did not seem possible.
She's Ned Halloran
'
s daughter after all; Ned of the notebooks and the secrecy
.
And I'm his grandson.
He was still decoding names and writing letters which he surreptitiously gave to Gerry Ryan to post from Ennis. He looked forward to returning to Dublin and learning the extent of his success so far. There had to be some success. What he was doing had to be of value to the Army.
When he could get away without Ursula seeing him, Barry went to a far corner of the farm and practiced walking without the cane. Forcing his muscles to normalcy. Up hill and down. Clambering over rocks. Jogging. Then running, which was agonising at first.
With clenched jaw and impassive expression, he willed himself to ignore the pain.
Ignore anything long enough and it will go away
.
.
W
HEN Barry next walked through the front gateway at Trinity College he did not limp.
HEN Barry next walked through the front gateway at Trinity College he did not limp.
As soon as he was settled in, he went to see Ãamonn Thomas. “We've had some replies to your letters,” Thomas said, though he did not seem as happy about it as Barry would have expected. “Several of them included money.”
“That's a good sign, isn't it? I knew we still had friends in the States. I'll write more letters, I'll ⦔
“I'm afraid that won't solve our problems, Barry. The Army Convention's this month, you know, and there's sure to be trouble. Remember what I told you about the divisions in the Army between the old guardâthe Curragh Camp menâand the newer Volunteers?”
“I do remember.”
“It was obvious that the northern campaign had run its course, but there was a lot of bitterness about the order to dump arms. Tom Gill, who's a close friend of mine, made a speech at the Wolfe Tone Commemoration. He insisted it was a step forward, not backwards,
1
but that didn't satisfy many of the active service crowd. There's not much to offer them right now, though.”
1
but that didn't satisfy many of the active service crowd. There's not much to offer them right now, though.”
Thomas began ticking off a litany of woes on his fingers. “The Army's in disarray and Sinn Féin's no better off. The
United Irishman
has rising debts and falling circulation. The National Graves Association's looking after our honoured dead, but what can we do for the living? Shag-all, that's what.
United Irishman
has rising debts and falling circulation. The National Graves Association's looking after our honoured dead, but what can we do for the living? Shag-all, that's what.
“The shortage of money is only a small problem compared to uncertainty about the future of the movement as a whole. I hate to have to say this, but I suppose you'd best put your letterwriting campaign on the long finger, Barry. I expect a lot of resignations at the upcoming Army Convention, and there's no predicting what will happen afterwards.”
T
HE convention was held in a warehouse near the Dublin docks. When Barry arrived he found a sentry posted at every door. Defending the men who had sworn to defend the Republic. As the meeting progressed one Volunteer after another stood up to offer his resignation. Some said they could no longer tolerate inactivity. Others said they had had their fill of violence.
HE convention was held in a warehouse near the Dublin docks. When Barry arrived he found a sentry posted at every door. Defending the men who had sworn to defend the Republic. As the meeting progressed one Volunteer after another stood up to offer his resignation. Some said they could no longer tolerate inactivity. Others said they had had their fill of violence.
Most of the older generation had invested too much of themselves
in the Army to imagine a future without it. But even amongst them there was dissension. When a delegate suggested that the IRA would receive unlimited support if it aligned itself with international communism, Ãamonn Thomas leapt to his feet. “We fought the Brits long and hard for our religion. I won't hand it over to the communists!”
in the Army to imagine a future without it. But even amongst them there was dissension. When a delegate suggested that the IRA would receive unlimited support if it aligned itself with international communism, Ãamonn Thomas leapt to his feet. “We fought the Brits long and hard for our religion. I won't hand it over to the communists!”
Many of those present, particularly the members of Ãamonn's own Dublin brigade, applauded.
A few minutes later Rory Brady announced that he was going back to County Roscommon to teach. Cathal Goulding remarked, “That's a long way for you to commute to Army Council meetings.”
“I'm resigning from the council.”
After a momentary silence Goulding said tightly, “I think you owe us an explanation, Rory.”
“Let's just say I'm disillusioned. Besides, I'm tired of life on the run. Nobody's going to bother a schoolteacher in the wilds of Bally-go-backwards. I'm not leaving the Army altogether, but don't expect to see me in Dublin anymore.”
With Brady's departure the makeup of the Army Council changed substantially. By the end of the convention Cathal Goulding was chief-of-staff of the IRA.
Barry queued up with the others to shake his hand. “Good luck, Cathal.”
“I don't need luck. I need a bleedin' miracle.”
Ãamonn Thomas and Barry left the meeting together. “Why didn't you go for the leadership?” Barry asked his friend.
“Right now the Army needs a hard man with a forceful personality. Cathal answers to that description better than I do.”
“You'd have a lot of followers, though. You're certainly popular in Dublin.”
Thomas smiled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'm glad you didn't resign, Barry.”
“I never even thought of it.”
“Whatever it takes, we have to keep the IRA alive,” Thomas said earnestly. “Without the Army the republican movement would be just another Old Boys' Club, and southern Ireland would become little more than an annex of Britain in spite of our so-called independence.
“From what we saw tonight, I'm convinced there's danger of a total split in the IRA. So I'm thinking of standing for president of Sinn Féin. As president I could work to separate Sinn Féin from its Army connection and make it a strictly constitutional political party. That would let the Army remain intact, with Sinn Féin offering an acceptable alternative for republicans who're against using physical force.”
Other books
Unbreakable (Unraveling) by Norris, Elizabeth
Good Sensations by S. L. Scott
Warhead by Andy Remic
Knots by Nuruddin Farah
Wrecked by Walker, Shiloh
The Texan's Surprise Baby by Gina Wilkins
INVISIBLE POWER BOOK TWO: ALEX NOZIAK (INVISIBLE RECRUITS) by Buckham, Mary
Killing Cousins by Flora, Fletcher
Sex and Stravinsky by Barbara Trapido
Don't Ask Me If I Love by Amos Kollek