A Life for a Life

Grainne didn't know why she was trembling. Perhaps it was still the shock of being out of the house for the first time in thirteen years – she hadn't even thought about what she was doing as she'd run out onto the street to her injured son. Now, she was still coming to terms with being out and about again. If she hadn't been at home, she'd been at the hospital with her first-born child.

Or perhaps it was the fact that she was about to come face-to-face with someone whom she had seen very rarely over the last few years, and when they had met, they'd argued viciously.

However, Diarmuid smiled at Grainne when she came into the small room – all it contained was a table and a few chairs. Two policemen were standing in the room as well – they gave the pair some privacy by moving out of the room, however, they remained watching them through a slit in the door.

Diarmuid had been arrested while still in hospital recovering from the bullet that had meant to kill Miceál. Despite this, he looked pretty lively, and not really that fussed about the fact he was currently facing a long spell in jail.

"How are you doing, Grainne?" he asked her gently, as though the many years of arguing had never happened. Grainne looked up, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"You saved my child," she whispered simply. Diarmuid smiled modestly and looked down at the scratched table in front of him.

"No, I didn't." he chuckled softly.

"You did,' Grainne insisted, coming forwards and taking his two hands in hers. "He survived, Diarmuid. He's going to be all right. You and I both know if you hadn't taken that bullet, he would have died."

"I did what I should have done thirteen years ago." Diarmuid sighed, gazing to his right at nothing in particular. "Then perhaps Darragh would be in here instead, hey?"

"You can stop blaming yourself over that right now.' Grainne spoke surprisingly firmly. Diarmuid looked up, startled. Never before had he heard Grainne speak properly about Darragh before – not without bursting into tears and becoming completely incoherent, anyway.

"I –"

"No, Diarmuid," Grainne stared right into his eyes. "You did all you could. I understand that now. But that happened thirteen years ago. I know I'm a fine one to talk, but it's about time that we started moving on, all right?"

"Since – what – since when did you come to that conclusion?" Diarmuid spluttered. Grainne smiled and sat down opposite Diarmuid. It was a while before she spoke, and she sounded ashamed.

"I snapped out of it when Miceál was shot." she said simply. "Wee Caolan was downstairs ringing an ambulance and I came down to see what was going on. Caolan told me Miceál was hurt. I just ran out of the house and to Miceál. And I realised, you know. I realised that for thirteen long years I had been nothing but a waste of space where my children were concerned. I neglected them, Diarmuid. I was so wrapped up in my own grief that I didn't even think about them. I was nothing but a bitch to them, but did they ever turn their backs on me? Not one of them ever gave up on me, especially Miceál. I had something against him, Diarmuid. He looks so much like Darragh … whenever I saw him he just reminded me of what I'd lost and what I wanted back. I guess that's why I took it out on him so much. But he never gave up on me, he always came to check on me when I was in a state, he never let me do any harm to myself, and he never lifted a finger against me, not even when I was going for him."

Diarmuid smiled.

"Miceál's a good kid. It's nice you finally see that."

Grainne nodded, smiling slightly.

"All of them are such wonderful kids. I don't know how they turned out so well. And I would understand if they never wanted to see me again, never wanted to speak to me again, but you know what? They forgave me with open arms, and you'd think none of it had ever happened."

"That's because they love you, Grainne. Miceál was always waiting for the day you'd come to your senses. He had faith in you, even if he didn't always show it."

"But," Grainne sighed heavily again. "I know it's partially my fault that he turned out the way he did. That he turned out so bitter … and got himself involved with all of this."

"I don't think anything you could have done would have steered Miceál away from the IRA." Diarmuid said gently, looking straight into Grainne's eyes. "He was always going to end up a Volunteer. He was just … inclined that way."

Grainne nodded.

"I guess so. Even when Darragh was still with us, Miceál was a little Republican."

"Sometimes they’re just born, Grainne." Diarmuid shrugged simply. "Sometimes they just turn out that way. But I don't think there'll be any more trouble. He did what he set out to do." Grainne's face paled slightly.

"I didn't want him to have to kill," she said quietly.

"I think it was his way of putting closure on his father's death." Diarmuid explained gently. "It was destroying him, Grainne. You didn't notice because of … well, because of your state, and the fact that when he was at home he was looking after your Aoibheann and Caolan. But when he was at my house, he was quite a different person."

Grainne looked up, her face showing a mixture of shock and surprise.

"He was? In what way?"

"He was … well, let's just say he was angry." Diarmuid said, glancing away, adding to Grainne's unease. "He was a very angry young man, we'll leave it at that. I think this was the only way he could ever let go of what happened."

"He's going to be spending a long time in jail." Grainne said, and for the first time in the meeting her voice broke slightly.

"It's better than him being dead." Diarmuid said bluntly, and Grainne nodded.

"I suppose so. At least I'll be able to visit him."

"And I'll be able to keep an eye on him." Diarmuid winked. "Don't you worry about that. I'll keep him in line." Grainne managed a weak laugh.

"It's just annoying that now I've finally snapped out of it, I won't be able to look after him. He's only sixteen."

"Perhaps they'll go lighter on him because he's a juvenile?"

"No." Grainne sighed once more. "His solicitor was saying that there wouldn't be much of a chance that he'll get a lighter sentence. They're tough on paramilitary cases. He probably be thrown in jail for life."

"There's always the early release scheme." Diarmuid said hopefully, but it did nothing to lighten either of their dark moods.

"You shouldn't have been caught up in it as well."

"Well. It was a long time coming." Diarmuid chuckled slightly. "I couldn't escape forever. I've been known for too long, arrested too many times … they were bound to get me for something."

"What are you in for?" Grainne lowered her voice. Diarmuid smiled slightly.

"Oh, you know. Conspiracy to murder, accomplice to murder, and, of course, IRA membership. Although, in my defence, I'm not actually a member anymore. But try telling them that." Diarmuid added the last sentence onto the end, slightly bitterly. "However, I guess it wouldn't really make a difference, would it? Not with all the other charges. How is Miceál, anyway? Does he know what's happening?"

"He knows." Grainne nodded. "He's fine, really, just a little sore. But he knows that he's going to go to jail, and to be honest with you, he's not so fussed." Grainne sounded a little confused as to why her son wasn't batting an eyelid at the prospect of his spending life in jail.

"I didn't really want it to turn out the way he did either, Grainne.' Diarmuid spoke softly after a couple of seconds silence. "But I think the only person who could have decided was Miceál. And he chose to go down this road, and I think that if he hadn't, he would have come off a lot worse."

"How can he come off any worse?" Grainne muttered. "He's sixteen years old, he's killed two people and he's going to jail!"

"Like I said, it's better than him being dead."

"Oh, so joining the IRA was going to protect him from death, was it?" Grainne suddenly spat. Diarmuid glared at the woman, and Grainne glared right back, and for a few brief, awkward seconds, thirteen years of vicious arguing flashed between then, before Grainne looked away and Diarmuid sighed.

"He couldn’t take it, Grainne.' Diarmuid said firmly. 'This whole thing, this need for revenge, he wouldn't have rested until he knew his father's killers were dead. And if he hadn't done it, he would have just … well, he'd have had no sort of a life. He was violent, as soon as anyone mentioned Darragh or Oisin he'd either burst into tears or wait for you to say something he could interpret as slagging them off, so he could attack you. It was all he thought about. All he wanted to do was kill this man, or these men."

"He wasn't like that!" Grainne gasped, looking both hurt and affronted. "I mentioned Darragh loads of times, I said he most atrocious things about him! When I'd been drinking, I used to say awful things about both of hem – Darragh and Oisin! I used to say that they only had themselves to blame, that they were selfish, I used to just tear them apart. I know I never meant any of it, but Miceál never lifted a finger against me."

"That's because he couldn't. You're his mother."

"But –"

"He tried to kill me, Grainne!" Diarmuid suddenly burst out, and there was a shocked silence.

"What?" Grainne spluttered.

"Yeah, that's right!" Diarmuid spoke loudly, but he softened his voice, not wanting to draw attention to their conversation. "He got it into his head that it was my fault Darragh and Oisin died. And, I suppose, in a way I was partially to blame. It was me who told them to go and kill Henderson. But anyway, I've told you how Miceál can get. He went straight for me, punching me, just trying to cause me as much pain as possible. It's horrible, you know, not being able to get through to your best friend's son when he's in a state like that. I managed to throw him off me and he took off into the kitchen – I went after him, and he went straight for me brandishing a kitchen knife."

Grainne gasped, and tears sprang to her eyes.

"I never –"

"Realised? Of course you didn't realise. You were lying up on your bed at home. But I knew at that moment, and this is the truth, that Miceál was going to end up a killer, and nothing was going to be able to pull him back. He was mad for those few minutes, Grainne. Absolutely mad – and I know for a fact that if I hadn't managed to knock him out cold that he would have killed me. Perhaps not … well, perhaps he would have regretted it afterwards, I don't know. He just wanted to vent off anger and frustration, and until he found his father's killers, he couldn't."

There was a long, sad silence.

"It seems so horrible," Grainne eventually whispered. "It is so horrible. The only way Miceál found peace was to become a killer himself."