The Guns of Easter by Gerard Whelan Read Free Book Online Page B

surprised him. It was only a week since soldiering had lost all its glamour for him.
    People around him were speaking of the Sinn Féiners’ madness. It was certainly mad, Jimmy agreed, but it was glorious too, and it thrilled him and heated his blood. TheVolunteers and the Citizen Army were fighting – not for Britain, not for the empire, but for Ireland.
    Then Jimmy stopped.
Who
would they be fighting? The British army. There was no-one else here to fight. But his own Da was in the British army, as were thousands of other Irishmen. Many of the soldiers posted in Dublin were Irish – you heard it when they spoke. So, would Irishmen be shooting at each other at home here in Dublin?
    Thinking of Da made Jimmy suddenly remember Ma. She would be home now with the girls. And she had no money. This afternoon, though, she’d be coming down to the Post Office along with other soldiers’ wives to collect her separation allowance. But with a rebellion going on and the Post Office in the hands of the rebels there’d be no money paid out here today.
    ‘Where the hell are the police?’ squawked the old woman beside him. ‘They’ll soon clear these thugs out!’
    Jimmy doubted that very much. He’d seen two policemen quietly slipping away only minutes before, not wanting to get involved. He thought of the look he’d seen on the faces of the Volunteers’ leaders. They wouldn’t be cleared out by any police force. There would be shooting here. Ma mustn’t come here today. He must warn her.
    Jimmy took a last look at the Post Office. Men were piling things in the frames of the broken windows, fortifying them. On the street, the crowd was gettingbigger. Even Jimmy knew that he was watching history being made. Whatever happened today, one day people would wish that they’d been here to see it. It was also, of course, the most exciting thing that Jimmy had ever seen, and he didn’t want to miss a minute of it. But Ma had nobody else to depend on; he could come back later.
    Jimmy tore his eyes away from the scene and ran across the street, not looking back. As he ran, he heard the old woman in the shawl shouting a curse at the men who were fortifying the windows.
    Once away from Sackville Street everything was completely normal. The scene at the Post Office might have been something from a dream. Jimmy didn’t stop running even when he reached his own house. He raced in the front door and up the rotting stairs, jumping over the piles of dirt and rubbish on the landings. He didn’t stop until he stood gasping, staring at Ma, trying to get his breath back so that he could tell her the news.
    Ma was sitting by the bed where Sarah lay. Sarah was red-faced and moaning, his mother pale and grim. Son and mother looked at each other.
    ‘Ma!’ Jimmy got the word out at last. ‘Mick …’
    ‘I know, son,’ she broke in. ‘He was here just after you went out. He came to explain. He said he couldn’t tell us before.’
    There was a whimper from the bed beside her, and both of them looked at Sarah. Her face was wet with sweat.
    ‘How is she?’ Jimmy asked.
    ‘Worse. She’s burning with fever. I sent Josie to Kitty Doyle – I was afraid she’d catch it too.’ Ma stood up, wiping her hands on her skirt. She came and stood in front of Jimmy, looking him in the eye. She was pale and tired and worried. ‘Jimmy,’ she said, ‘I think we’re in trouble.’
    ‘The Post Office …’ he said. ‘The Volunteers are after taking it over. There won’t be any money today.’
    His mother nodded. Tears came into her eyes. ‘It’s not just the allowance,’ she said. ‘It’s Ella.’
    Jimmy looked at her in surprise: surely she wasn’t fretting about Ella
now
. Didn’t she have enough problems of her own with a sick child and no money?
    Ma seemed to read his thoughts, and shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s not what you think. Ella … Ella made a mistake.’ The tears in her eyes overflowed, and she rubbed at them