Ashes to Ashes

"Did you hear?"

Grainne, tired and grouchy from too many police interviews and too little sleep, looked up as a police officer with a triumphant grin came into the room to speak to the two police detectives interviewing her.

"What's that?"

"They got one of the bastards."

"What?" Grainne demanded. It was the first word that she had spoken since her first interview, and now they had grabbed her attention. All three men looked at her in astonishment briefly, before turning their attention away again.

"One of that pair we're looking for. One of them's been shot dead in the Ardoyne area. Trying to escape, it looked like."

"What about the other one?"

"He was there but he slipped away. They're still looking for him. They're searching every house in the area. Looks like he's slipped into one of those IRA safehouses, run by all those bloody sympathisers out there."

"Which one? Who?"

"Why should you care?" one of the detectives scoffed. "He's out of the country, isn't he?"

"My arse." The messenger laughed. "He's just been seen running about with the other one."

"He's not dead?"

"Of course he's not. He's in Glasgow." All three policemen laughed and Grainne folded her arms at them, before coming out with a barrage of abuse in Irish, making them stop and blink at her.

"Quit your nonsense." one of them eventually said. He turned to the others. "Anyway, the bastard they killed was called … some Irish crap, his name was. Oisin or something. Oisin O'Donnell. Nutted him with one to the head, they did. Good shot, if you ask me."

Grainne felt tears in her eyes, but she didn't let the policemen see. She couldn't stop thinking of their words … Oisin was dead. What had become of Darragh? They went everywhere together … never one without the other. Darragh would have seen everything. He would have seen his best friend gunned down. What sort of effect would that have on Darragh? He would be destroyed. She remembered how close they were … Darragh wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

"Did you hear that?" someone was tapping into Grainne's thoughts. One of the peelers.

"Of course she didn't. She was mourning the death of the Provo bastard, wasn't she?"

"What?" Grainne asked, ignoring him.

"You can piss off. You're not going to tell us anything and we know your husband is bawling his eyes out in Ardoyne somewhere."

"You can let me get back to my children, then." Grainne said coldly.

"It's a shame that your little Darragh isn't there as well. It may well be the last chance you have together as a family."

-

"Mummy!" Miceál came charging out of the living room as Grainne got back into the house. "Mummy! They didn't hurt you, did they, Mummy?"

"No, Miceál, they didn’t. I'm all right. What are you doing up this late anyway?"

Daimhin, their neighbour, then came out of he living room.

"Are you all right, Grainne? They've not done anything to you?"

"No, don’t worry, Daimhin. I'm fine. What about the children?"

"Aoibheann and wee Caolan are fine. Miceál wouldn’t settle, though. He was worried about you, so I let him come downstairs and sit with me on the sofa."

The little child's head was now resting against his mother's shoulder as she cradled him in her arms. His breathing was deeper and his little eyelids were drooping closed.

"Mummy," he asked tiredly.

"Yes, Miceal?"

"What are they saying about Uncle Oisin?"

Grainne sighed softly. Miceál loved Oisin so much … that's why he was an honorary uncle to him. He may as well have been. Darragh and Oisin were closer than brothers. Had been closer than brothers.

"I'm not sure, Miceál."

"You do know. The news says he's been hurt, Mummy. Has he?"

Daimhin glanced worriedly at Grainne.

"I didn’t tell him, Grainne. I didn’t think he should know." Grainne nodded.

"It's all right." She placed her little son down on the floor and knelt down next to him, so she was at his height. He chewed his thumb, watching her with eyes the same shade of blue as his father's. "Miceál?"

"What, Mummy?"

"Uncle Oisin has been hurt, I'm afraid. He's gone to Heaven with Jesus and the angels." Little Miceál blinked and stayed silent for a while, his innocent mind chewing over what Grainne had told him.

"When will I see him again?"

"When you go to Heaven."

"When will that be?"

"Not for a while yet, I'm afraid."

Miceál's bottom lip wobbled and his eyes filled up.

"Oh."

"Come here." Grainne held her tiny son close to her, and then they both began to sob.