The Wake (And What Jeremiah Did Next) by Colm Herron Read Free Book Online Page A

aren’t these Prods living here now all from Planters? And didn’t their religion start in the first place from that goat Henry not getting a divorce from the pope?”
    “The Protestants that are against the marchers didn’t come in with the Planters you know,” said Bill in a voice normally reserved for the backward row. “The Plantation of Ulster happened over three hundred years ago. What Protestants see now is their birthright being threatened. They know that a lot of the people out there marching are the children or grandchildren of migrants from over the border. There’s nothing black and white here. And if I may say so, a little bit of empathy wouldn’t go amiss.”
    The looks on the faces opposite were thunder dark. Whatever empathy is it can go to hell, they said. And suddenly the air seemed to have got thinner. Whether this was to do with my state of mind and body or the heightened feelings in the room or the fact that the kitchen window couldn’t be opened because it had been painted so many times or maybe even all three of the aforementioned I’m not sure. I could always have gone and opened the back door I suppose but then the cold air might have knocked me out and anyway the two wandering black cats from Majella Doherty’s would have taken the open door as an invitation and I couldn’t have that. This was nothing to do with superstition because I’m not superstitious or it being in bad taste, there being a wake in progress, but because Milly and Molly, for those were their names, always had a sweet smell about them that brought decomposing rats to mind. Options being limited to sitting doing nothing therefore I sat doing nothing if you can call listening doing nothing.
    “It was Michael Collins,” said Seamus, “that struck the first blow against the British Empire. Did you know that?”
    I turned my head slowly to look at him feeling vaguely grateful. Disadvantaged by the whiskey though I was I could still sense what he was at. He was trying to steer the conversation away from the rocky road to Dublin. Or so it seemed to me anyway.
    “Aye, that’s true,” nodded Jim. “And with a bit of luck this wee town of ours could finish them off.”
    “What is it they say?” said Braddock carefully ignoring Jim’s comment. “The sun never sets on the British Empire?”
    “That’s because it doesn’t trust them in the dark,” said Margie. This remark brought a smile to Big Bill’s face, a rare occurrence as he’s a forbidding sort of git most of the time, and loud laughter from all others present except myself for reasons that shouldn’t need explaining here.
    “England’s nothing but a pup,” said Seamus. “A mongrel pup too.”
    “A bastard pup,” added Willie Henry passionately. There was a look about him now that made me worry. This man was in need of a drink and there was no telling what he might end up saying or doing.
    “Oh dear,” said Margie. “Maybe we shouldn’t be using language like that, showing disrespect for Maud that’s lying there.”
    “Not at all,” Seamus reassured her. “Maud knows nothing that’s going on here now. Sure the soul only stays in the body three hours and then after that it’s in heaven.”
    “Or the other place,” Willie Henry said clawing at his front of his trousers like there was something at him again or maybe it was the nerves. Ready for the hills anyway.
    He looked up then for a reaction and, receiving none, held out his glass plaintively. Plaintiffly. This latter gesture was directed at me of course but I resolutely ignored it even though I had a strong idea how dire his state was. I felt sorry for him, as I did for myself, but there was no way the drink was coming out again till that bastard Braddock left.
    Mister Abel Doak prosecuting stated that the defendant William Henry McGillycuddy, who had earlier made a submission to the court requesting that he be referred to as the plaintiff, had been intoxicated when he trashed and