Friend or Foe (19 page)

‘All right,’ said Mr Madigan. ‘And thanks, Emer, I’ll never forget this.’

Emer gave a wry smile. ‘Thank me when we’re out.’

‘Da, what are you doing?’ asked Jack, as Mr Madigan took the handcuffs and bound the wrists of the unconscious rebel behind his back.

‘I’m arresting this fella. I’ll sling him over my shoulder and take him with us.’

‘No, Da, you can’t!’ said Jack.

‘This man killed two British soldiers. I heard him boasting about it. I’m not letting him away with murder.’

‘But he’s a soldier at war – that’s how he’d see it. Leave him here, Da, please. He can be captured with the others.’

‘Or he could escape scot-free.’

‘We’re the ones who need to escape, Da. And you couldn’t escape if Emer hadn’t risked everything coming here.’

‘And I’m really grateful, Emer.’

‘Then leave this man behind, Mr Madigan,’ pleaded Emer.

‘I can’t. It’s my duty.’

‘You’ve a duty to Emer, Da! Even though her father’s wounded in hospital, she went against the rebels for you. When this is over, you can’t tell anyone what she did. And it’ll all come out if you arrest this man.’

‘It’s true, Mr Madigan,’ said Emer. ‘If it ever comes out that I changed sides, I’d be seen as a traitor. And probably my Dad too. Please don’t do that to us – we could be shot by our own side.’

Jack’s father said nothing for a moment, and Emer prayed that he wouldn’t ignore her plea.

‘Emer, I … I’m sorry,’ he answered. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight.
This fella can stay behind,’ he added, indicating the rebel, ‘so let’s get out of here.’

‘Thanks, Mr Madigan,’ Emer said.

The policeman nodded in reply, then stopped to pick up the Volunteer’s discarded rifle.

‘Can we leave the rifle, Da?’ suggested Jack. ‘If we’re armed, both sides could end up shooting at us. Emer has a better idea.’

‘What’s that?’

Emer reached into her pocket and took out three homemade Red Cross armbands. ‘If you take off your tunic, Mr Madigan, you’ll look less like a policeman. And if we all put these on our arms, we can pretend we’re Red Cross.’

‘I’m not sure that will fool anyone,’ said the policeman dubiously.

‘It mightn’t fool them up close,’ said Jack, ‘but it could buy us a second’s doubt if someone is going to take a potshot. That could make the difference.’

Mr Madigan nodded again. ‘All right.’

He slipped off his tunic, Jack took off his military hat, and Emer quickly distributed the armbands. The sounds of battle were raging outside, but she steeled herself for what was ahead.

‘Ready?’ asked Mr Madigan.

‘Yeah,’ Emer said. ‘Let’s go!’

Black smoke hung in the air, and Jack coughed as it stung his
lungs. The burning smell was horrible, but he was grateful for the smoke, which hampered visibility as they ran down the corridor of the annexe. He heard shouts and screams behind them, and all around were the sounds of rifle shots and small-arms fire, but Jack, his father and Emer didn’t stop running until they reached the end of the long corridor.

‘Take one end of this!’ cried Da, grabbing a discarded stretcher that was propped inside the rear door of the building. ‘I’ll take the other end, and we’ll run like we’re stretcher bearers! Emer, you open the door for us.’

‘OK!’

Jack took hold of the stretcher’s handles as Emer opened the door and looked cautiously out into the sunlight. ‘All clear?’ he asked.

‘I think so,’ she answered. ‘Let’s make for the wall again!’

Emer began running, crouched low to be less of a target, and Jack and his father raced after her, also staying low. Jack’s heart pounded painfully, and it wasn’t just from exertion – there was a real risk here of stopping a bullet. They had been lucky to escape the confusion of the annexe, but to hope to reach the boundary wall unseen was asking a lot. Sure enough, after they had run about twenty yards, a shot rang out and a bullet ricocheted off the cobblestones behind them.

‘Stretcher bearers, don’t shoot!’ cried Jack. ‘Stretcher bearers!’

Jack and his father continued racing behind Emer towards the shelter offered by the corner of a nearby building. Just then a voice cried out, ‘It’s the copper! Open fire, it’s the copper!’

Jack had the rear of the stretcher, and he urged his father to greater speed as a volley of shots rang out. The corner was drawing near, but the final yards seemed to take an eternity to cover. Jack prayed that the riflemen wouldn’t be accurate enough to hit rapidly moving targets, but he still felt horribly exposed.

Emer rounded the side of the building a couple of paces ahead of him, then more shots rang out. Da cried out and fell, and Jack tripped over him, the momentum bringing him around the corner. Immediately he rolled over on the ground and looked back, terrified of what he might find.

His father was sprawled out right at the corner. He was clasping his ankle, and there was blood on his hand. Jack reached out and grabbed his arm to pull him to safety. Emer suddenly materialised, and Jack realised that she had come back to help. She grabbed Mr Madigan’s other leg, and they pulled him unceremoniously around the corner, just as more shots kicked off the nearby cobblestones.

‘Are you all right, Da?’ asked Jack.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m lucky, it’s just a graze.’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Emer.

Jack watched with relief as his father tried putting weight on his ankle and rose with just a grimace.

‘I’m all right,’ said Da. ‘Let’s get moving!’

‘What about the stretcher?’ said Jack.

‘Too risky reaching round for it! Let’s just make a run for the wall!’

They ran off again, keeping low to the ground, and Jack felt more anxious than ever. It would be unbearable to fall at the last hurdle, having got this close to freedom, yet it could easily happen.

They covered the ground at speed, then rounded another corner and suddenly came face to face with a British patrol. The solders immediately aimed their rifles, their evil-looking bayonets glistening in the sun.

‘Don’t shoot!’ screamed Emer. ‘Don’t shoot!’

‘We’re not rebels!’ said Jack. ‘Don’t shoot!’

‘Who the hell
are
you?’ demanded their officer, his pistol pointed at Da’s chest.

‘I’m Sergeant John Madigan, Dublin Metropolitan Police,’ said Da. ‘I’ve just escaped two days’ captivity by the rebels.’

‘Why are you wearing Red Cross armbands?’

‘To try and confuse rebel gunmen while we escaped. You can see this is the rest of my uniform. And this is my warrant card,’ said Da, handing the officer his police identification.

To Jack’s relief the officer relaxed.

‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ he said, holstering his weapon. ‘Lower the rifles, men,’ he instructed, and the soldiers lowered their weapons, while still keeping them at the ready.

‘And who would these be?’ asked the officer, indicating Jack and Emer.

‘Two very brave youngsters who helped me escape. This is my son, Jack Madigan.’

‘Good lad, Jack,’ said the officer.

In spite of everything that had happened, Jack found himself smiling. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘And Jack’s friend …’

Jack saw his father hesitate for a second as he indicated Emer. ‘The very brave Mary Murphy.’

Jack had to hold back a grin. He was pleased that Da was keeping his word and ensuring there would be no mention of a girl called Emer Davey in this story.

‘Well done, Mary,’ said the officer.

‘Thank you,’ answered Emer politely.

‘I take it we’re in army-held territory now?’ said Da.

‘In this part of the grounds, yes,’ replied the officer. ‘Still fighting tooth and nail in other parts, but from here over to the side entrance is all in our hands. Your ordeal is over.’

Da tied a clean handkerchief around his grazed ankle, and Jack sighed, the tension of the last few days finally easing. He suddenly felt drained. His father turned and looked at him, then held his arms open like he used to do when Jack was small. Without a second’s hesitation, Jack buried himself in his father’s arms and hugged him hard.

‘Jack,’ said Da, ‘you’re … you’re a son in a million …’

To Jack’s surprise there were tears in his father’s eyes. And in an instant his own eyes welled up as his pent-up emotions were released. ‘You’re one in a million too, Da,’ he said. ‘You’re one in a million too.’

‘And let’s not forget this young lady,’ said Da after a moment, as he gently unfolded himself from Jack’s embrace.

He offered Emer his hand, which she shook. ‘Thank you with all of my heart,’ he said.

‘I’m just delighted you’re OK,’ she answered with a smile.

Jack turned to his friend and offered her his hand also. ‘I don’t know what to say …’

Suddenly a handshake seemed inadequate, and he reached out and hugged Emer. ‘You’re a star,’ he said. ‘You’re just a star!’

Emer hugged him back. ‘Thanks, Jack,’ she answered softly, then she grinned. ‘And you’re not too bad yourself!’

Jack thought she was the best friend anyone could ever have, and he gave her arm a final squeeze, then turned to his father.

‘Time to go home, I think,’ said Da.

‘Yes,’ said Jack with a smile. ‘Time to go home.’

E
mer loved the sound of Sunday-morning church bells chiming across the city, but today she only half heard them as she sat beside her father’s hospital bed. She could see the strain in his face, and she suspected that he was in pain, even though he was putting on a good front for herself and Mam.

Her mother had managed to get back from Ennis on Wednesday night, and she had been furious with Emer for tricking her and staying on in Dublin. But Emer understood that her mother’s anger was fuelled by love, and within moments of being reunited, the anger was replaced by relief, with both of them tearfully embracing. Even so she had told neither of her parents about her adventure in rescuing Mr Madigan, and she was confident that Jack and his father would never reveal the secret of her involvement.

It was six days now since the Rising had begun. Last night the rebels had finally been forced to surrender to the overwhelmingly large British forces. The centre of Dublin was wrecked, hundreds of people had been killed and injured, and Emer found herself wondering if it had been worth it. It was generally felt that the rebels had fought bravely, but most people in Dublin were unsympathetic to the Rising, and many were horrified by what they saw as pointless death and destruction.

A bell rang on the ward to signal the end of the strictly enforced visiting time, and Emer reached out and held her father’s hand. ‘Mind yourself, Dad. And I’ll keep praying that you get better.’

‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘Give your dad a kiss,’ he added, offering his cheek.

Emer reached out and kissed him, then stood up as her mother did the same.

‘I meant to say, Molly, you might re-open the shops,’ suggested Dad.

‘You’re definitely on the mend when you’re thinking about business,’ Emer’s mother answered with a smile. ‘But you’re right, we should try to get back to normal.’

‘Whatever that will be …’ said Dad with a hint of sadness.

Emer felt a surge of affection for him, and on impulse she reached over and kissed him on the cheek again. ‘See you tomorrow, Dad.’

‘Bye, pet.’

Emer waved, then walked with her mother down the sunlit ward towards the exit.

She and Mam tried to be cheerful on their hospital visits, but the future was far from certain, and Emer’s belief in the rebellion had been shaken by all the pain and destruction she had witnessed in the past week. In spite of his shattered leg, Dad still believed that he had done the right thing for Ireland, and he insisted that the Irish nation was entitled to win its freedom by force of arms. Emer believed in freedom and admired people like Dad who were
prepared to suffer for their ideals. But dying for Ireland didn’t seem quite so noble now, and living a good life and being loyal to friends seemed more important.

She walked down the stairs with her mother, the hospital smells of antiseptic and floor polish heavy in the air. The events of the past week swirled through her head. Although the Rising had failed and Dad was a prisoner, at least he was still alive. And despite whatever sentence he would have to serve, in time they would be together again as a family. She was glad, too, that through her help Jack and his family were reunited. Because if she had learnt anything in the dramas of recent days, it was that family and friends were what mattered most.

They reached the exit door of the hospital. Mam must have seen that she was lost in her thoughts, because she turned to her and spoke reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry too much, love. We’re going to be all right. It’ll work out in the end.’

Emer smiled at her mother. There was no telling what the future would bring – either for Ireland, or for the ruined city of Dublin, or for Jack, or Gladys, or Ben, or Joan, or any of them. But whatever it brought, they would face it together and make the best of it. ‘You’re right, Mam,’ she said. ‘We
are
going to be all right.’ Then she took her mother’s hand and they walked out together into the warm spring sunshine.