Through The Barricades: Winner of the SCBWI SPARK Award 2017

by Denise Deegan

  Until now, it had been the law. ‘If that is what funds my education, I want none of it.’

  ‘Then, leave. Go and live in your precious tenements.’

  Daniel looked at his father’s face and imagined him wigged, gowned and resting his case. He had won his argument.

  ‘Goodbye, Father.’

  Daniel’s eyes wandered about his bedroom like a final caress, alighting on his school scarf pinned to the wall, his uniform, discarded casually over the back of a chair, his rugby ball, grubby and worn, lying by the door as if fully expecting to be picked up again in the morning. He took a deep breath, then fetched his satchel. Tipping it upside down over the bed, he watched his schoolbooks slide out. It was like watching his childhood slip away.

  He did not know what he would be required to bring with him to the army, perhaps nothing at all. He collected one of every item of clothing, three undergarments and five pairs of socks. He folded them all neatly, delaying his departure. At last, he could hold off no longer. He swung the bag over his shoulder.

  Out on the landing, he stopped outside Niall’s bedroom. He could not leave without goodbye.

  Niall was on the verge of sleep, eyelids heavy, hair tossed. Daniel smiled. Niall’s return smile was sleepy and innocent. Daniel’s throat burned as he tried to commit to memory this little cherub face. He sat on the bed.

  ‘Nially, I’ve come to say goodbye. I’m going away for a while.’

  Niall sat up, suddenly awake. ‘Where?’

  ‘France most likely.’

  ‘Where’s France?’

  ‘Not too far away.’

  ‘But why?’ he whined. He was tired.

  ‘I’m going on an adventure.’

  ‘Can I come?’

  ‘No but I’ll soon return.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘By Christmas, most likely.’

  ‘That’s miles away.’

  ‘I’ll write. I’ll send you your very own letters.’

  ‘Really?’ Niall had never received a letter.

  ‘How are things at school?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And how is Jimmy Lyons?’

  ‘He’s my best friend now. Isn’t that mad?’

  ‘Who made that happen, only you?’ Daniel ruffled his hair proudly. He was about to say, ‘Fighting is never the solution,’ when he remembered where he was headed. He stood. God, those little striped pyjamas of Niall’s; he’d remember them forever.

  ‘Must you go?’

  Daniel nodded.

  ‘But you’ll write me my very own letters?’ he confirmed.

  ‘I will. And I’ll see you at Christmas.’

  ‘Are you leaving now?’

  ‘I am.’

  Niall bit his lip.

  ‘I’ll write to you, tomorrow. I promise.’

  Niall nodded.

  ‘But it will take a day or two to reach you,’ he remembered to reassure. He glanced about the room, already looking forward to the day he would walk back in and be home. But could he come back? Could he ever come back now?

  ‘Will you wait till I’m asleep to go?’

  Daniel smiled and nodded, relieved at the reprieve. He sat down.

  He stroked Niall’s hair until at last he slept. Then he kissed his forehead.

  He took a deep breath and stood.

  On his way downstairs, he stopped to listen to the familiar chime of the grandfather clock in the hall. It had rung in every hour of his life.

  Onward, he urged himself.

  Passing the coat stand by the front door, he reached out and touched his mother’s coat.

  fifteen

  Daniel

  It was late when Daniel arrived at Maggie’s house.

  Her mother called through the door. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It’s Daniel, Missus Gilligan. I’m sorry for the late hour but I must see Maggie.’

  The door opened and light spilled out.

  ‘What is it, Daniel?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I need to say goodbye. I’m going to war, Missus Gilligan.’

  ‘Oh Lord.’ It was as if the breath had left her body. ‘Come in, come in.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, no.’ She ushered him into an empty drawing room, the fire on its last legs. ‘I’ll fetch her.’ She hurried out.

  He paced, trying to get the words. There were none.

  She burst in, eyes wide, cheeks drained of colour, her dressing gown wrapped hurriedly about her.

  They stood facing each other.

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ she whispered.

  ‘It’ll be over by Christmas, Maggie.’

  She stepped back as though he had hit her. ‘Why would you do this?’

  ‘To defend our country,’ he lied.

  ‘You are betraying it. What of the oath you took when you joined Na Fianna never to join the British Army?’

  ‘An Irish regiment of the British Army.’

  ‘Our oppressor for hundreds of years.’

  ‘I do not do this easily. John Redmond said....’

  ‘Do not mention Redmond, the man who wants a peaceful solution for Ireland by sending thousands to war.’

  ‘Home Rule-’

  ‘Home Rule! If you believe in Home Rule, let others fight for it. One person won’t make a difference.’

  ‘I could say the same to you about a republic.’

  She bowed her head.

  ‘I’ll be home by Christmas,’ he found himself repeating.

  ‘Should you live that long! Don’t go, Danny. Please. I beg you. I love you. That must count for something.’

  ‘It counts for everything,’ he whispered. And that was why he had to do this. ‘But I must go.’

  ‘So, there’s nothing I can say?’ There was a note of warning in her voice.

  ‘There’s something you could do.’

  She looked at him hopefully, then all hope faded as though she knew what he was about to ask.

  ‘Leave Na Fianna, Maggie. And I won’t go.’

  ‘You can’t ask that of me!’

  ‘And yet I am. I love you. I don’t want to lose you.’

  She began to pace, her distress clear.

  He prayed like he had never prayed before. He would return home, grovel to his father if he had to. If only she would leave Na Fianna.

  At last, she stopped, and turned to face him. And he knew.

  ‘I have to make a difference! Don’t you see? I can’t stand by and let this continue! I couldn’t live with myself!’ She was crying.

  He nodded and took a deep breath, accepting his fate; he had known it all along but he’d had to ask. His heart ached at the thought of leaving her. ‘Do you have a photograph?’ he choked.

  She covered her mouth and ran from the room.

  Minutes passed. She did not return.

  Was this it? Was he to show himself out? He could not walk away from her, not like this.

  And then she was back.

  Relief almost floored him.

  Without meeting his eyes, she held out a small photograph.

  ‘Thank you,’ he whispered, looking down upon the sepia face that he loved like no other. He could not believe that it had come to this. ‘I’ll treasure it,’ he said, voice hoarse.

  At last, her eyes met his. ‘You had better.’

  He took her in his arms and breathed her in. A photograph would not be enough to sustain him. ‘Do you have a lock of hair?’

  She laughed through tears. ‘My best feature.’

  ‘Long or short, it’s my favourite hair in the world.’

  She pressed her cheek to his chest, then slipped from his arms.

  She fetched a pair of scissors from her mother’s bureau and returned to him with it. ‘You do it.’

  He couldn’t imagine not seeing her the following day. Or the next. Or the next. He swallowed.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. He took a deep breath and then turned Maggie a
round. He chose a lock low down where it would not be missed. The nape of her neck was elegant like the rest of her. He touched it with his fingertips. He bent to kiss it. Tears rushed to his eyes. He dashed them away. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  ‘Promise me that you’ll stay out of trouble till I return.’

  Tears flooded her face now. ‘You can’t ask that of me, Danny. You’re joining the enemy.’

  He nodded, then prayed for the war to be over and Home Rule in place before the rebels could organise. What could they do in three months? Their numbers were being hammered.

  ‘Do you have notepaper in that bag of yours?’ she asked.

  How could he have forgotten the most important thing?

  She threw her eyes to heaven like a wife who loves her husband despite his frustrating ways. It made him smile. She returned to the bureau and collected notepaper and envelopes.

  ‘I’ll write every day,’ he promised.

  ‘No! If I missed one, I’d imagine the worst.’ She gasped at the thought. ‘Tell me you’ll not go directly to war. Tell me there’ll be training, at least.’

  ‘They wouldn’t send us off without it, Maggie.’ Would they?

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I’ll write as soon as I do.’

  She looked at him with sudden hope, ‘Perhaps the war will be over before you’ve finished!’

  He smiled. ‘Wouldn’t that be something?’ They would have Home Rule without him ever having to raise a weapon.

  Daniel stood on the street, his bag on his back. No recruitment office in the country would be open now.

  Michael would have a piece of floor for him for the night.

  The house was in darkness. Daniel went to the rear and began to lob pebbles at Michael’s window. Presently, the drapes parted and he appeared, hair standing on end. He opened the window and smiled down at Daniel.

  ‘What are you up to, you big eejit?’

  ‘Let me in.’

  Two minutes later, Daniel was following Michael up to his bedroom, where the dying embers of a fire glowed gently. Michael turned up the lamp. Warm, yellow light spread out like liquid. Daniel smiled at the state of the room.

  ‘You’re a great man for keeping the servants busy.’

  ‘I try.’ He smiled. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

  ‘I’m going to sign up, Mick. I need you to put me up till the morning.’

  Michael stared at him. ‘What are you talking about? What about Maggie?’

  ‘It’s because of Maggie that I have to do this.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  So Daniel explained.

  Michael’s face grew darker. ‘How long have you been in a rebel organisation without telling me?’

  Daniel sighed. ‘I couldn’t tell you without asking you to keep it from your father. And I know how you love him.’

  He looked at Daniel for the longest time. At last, he nodded. ‘I told you she’d be trouble.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be without her, Mick.’

  ‘And yet, you’re going to war.’

  ‘I don’t see that I have a choice.’

  A silence fell.

  ‘Tell me, was your father proud?’

  ‘He doesn’t know.’

  Michael stared. ‘You’re going to war without as much as a goodbye?’

  ‘I said goodbye to Niall.’

  ‘In fairness, Danny, you ought to tell your parents.’

  ‘I’ll write to my mother when I’ve signed up.’

  ‘And your father?’

  Daniel shrugged.

  ‘We have only the one, Daniel.’

  Whenever Michael grew serious, everything seemed twice as grave. So Daniel told him what had happened between them.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said with such feeling.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Ah, Danny. He’s a good man beneath it all.’

  Daniel thought of the tenements. His own education had relied on them.

  ‘So you’re going, honest to God?’

  He put his hand on his chest and nodded.

  ‘I’ll never understand you, Danny.’

  ‘I surprise myself, sometimes.’ He smiled.

  Michael twisted a button of his pyjamas, round and round.

  ‘It’ll come off,’ Daniel warned.

  Michael looked up. ‘We’ll sign with The Pals.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You don’t think I’d let you go off by yourself and have all the adventure?’

  ‘Michael, it won’t be adventure. You haven’t seen people die. Nothing can prepare you for the horror of it.’

  But he had leapt up and was now emptying out his satchel. He stopped and glanced at Daniel’s. ‘What have you got in yours? I’ve no idea what to bring.’

  ‘Look, Mick,’ he said softly. ‘It would make all the difference in the world to have you along but I can’t have you risk your life-’

  ‘Must I open your bag myself?’

  ‘Can you please discuss it with your parents before deciding.’

  ‘Says he. I have decided. I’ll tell them in the morning.’ He grabbed Daniel’s bag and started to rummage through it. He looked up. ‘So what do you think? The Pals?’

  ‘Who are they, Mick?’

  Michael shook his head sadly. ‘You, my friend, have been spending too much time in the company of boy scouts. The Pals are D Company of the 7th Royal Dublin Fusiliers, a special unit formed from members of the Irish Rugby and Football Union.’

  ‘I have heard of them!’ They had famously gathered on the pitch at Lansdowne Road then marched off to sign up together.

  ‘They refused officerships so they could stay together as a unit. I’m telling you, Danny, it’s The Pals for us.’

  There was one issue. ‘We’re not members of the Irish Rugby and Football Union.’

  ‘We play rugby and we’re good. We’ll play our way in. What do you say?’

  ‘It’s worth a try.’

  He’d do anything for Michael now.

  Michael’s father swelled with pride. His mother was hysterical.

  ‘If you go near a recruitment office, I’ll be in after you telling them you’re underage.’

  ‘Ah, Nora, let the lad do what he must do.’

  ‘He’s only a boy, Denis. My boy. Let him finish out his schooling. Let me have him for another year.’

  It pained Daniel to see her beg for her son. ‘Stay, Mick. Finish school.’

  ‘And miss the war? Not on your nelly.’

  ‘Let him go, Nora, love. ’Tis what he wants.’

  She covered her mouth and ran from the room.

  Michael’s father gripped his arm. ‘I’m proud of you, son.’

  Daniel swallowed.

  Michael’s mother returned.

  There were tears and hurried wrapping of parcels. And, finally, embraces.

  Out on the street, the air was lighter. Michael whistled and made a stab at a march. Daniel began to step in time. Michael looked at him and grinned.

  ‘Our first time out of Ireland!’

  ‘Making our own way in the world!’

  ‘No parents to answer to!’

  ‘No teachers!’

  ‘No coaches!’

  ‘We’re freeeee,’ Michael joked. ‘Jesus this marching is surprisingly tiring.’

  They passed children on their way to school. Daniel thought of Maggie. He was doing this for her – so why did he feel like he was betraying her? It would be over soon, he reminded himself. And they’d be together again.

  sixteen

  Daniel

  Daniel ran clammy hands along his trouser legs and wished that moustaches could be grown overnight. At least he was tall for his age, he reassured himself as he came face-to-face with the recruiting officer. Seated at a table behind a mound of forms, the man looked bored.

  Daniel stood tall. ‘I wish to sign with The Pals Regiment.’

  The officer s
at up. ‘The Pals?’ he asked as though he’d never heard of them.

  ‘D Company, 7th Royal Dublin Fusiliers.’

  He peered at Daniel as if at a troublemaker. ‘We’re recruiting for the 6th Royal Dublin Fusiliers not the 7ths.’

  Daniel thought about Michael, behind him. He owed it to him to persist. ‘I was told that one could request to join the Pals.’

  The officer’s eyes narrowed. ‘What is so great about the Pals regiment that you would chose it over the 6ths?’

  ‘Rugby, sir.’

  ‘Rugby?’

  ‘We play it. It binds us.’

  The officer sat back. ‘Are you sure that it’s not being a toff that binds you?’ he asked with the resentment of a man who had risen through the ranks.

  ‘I’m quite sure.’

  ‘Are you a toff?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Daniel Healy.’

  ‘And what do you do with yourself, Healy?’

  ‘Study, sir.’ He felt a slow poke in the back. ‘At university.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘The Royal College of Surgeons.’ Daniel had never told anyone – not even Maggie – that he dreamt of being a doctor for the poor – that that was how he’d like to do his bit for Ireland.

  ‘You’re studying medicine?’ the officer asked with sudden interest.

  Daniel realised the reason for this interest and panicked. ‘First Year, sir.’

  The officer toyed with his pen reminding Daniel of a cat with a mouse. ‘You’re a university student. Why have you not requested a commission?’

  ‘I do not wish to be an officer, sir.’

  The officer squinted. ‘Why would any man refuse a commission?’

  Daniel remembered what Michael had told him about the Pals. ‘More important to me is to join the Pals with my friend, Michael.’ He turned around. Michael raised an awkward hand.

  ‘A word of advice, Healy,’ the officer sneered. ‘If you wish to survive the army, you’ll put aside wishes and dwell on one thing only – orders.’ He pushed a form across the desk and called, ‘Next.’

  It took a moment for Daniel to realise that he had passed the first hurdle. Now all he had to do was fill in the form and pass the medical examination.