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Authors: Gerard Siggins

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Chapter 17

. . . . . . . . .


N
OT just Duffy,’ said Dylan, ‘but Sugrue, Flanagan and Humphries as well.’

‘We’d better make sure we’re completely right on this, lads,’ said Eoin. ‘That gang will destroy us if we slip up. We need to get the teachers in on this as soon as possible.’

‘But McCaffrey and Duffy’s father are best friends,’ whined Alan. ‘He’s always going on about how much fund-raising he does for the school. He won’t do anything to him.’

‘OK,’ said Eoin, ‘here’s what we do. We show Mr Carey and Mr Finn what we found. They’ll be horrified and won’t allow it to be hushed up.’

‘I wonder what’s behind the other door?’ asked Alan.

‘That lock looked pretty solid,’ said Dylan.

‘Look, the sooner this is sorted and we get our phones back the better,’ said Eoin. ‘I’ll go down to the staff room now.’

Dylan went along too, and Alan stayed behind to keep an eye on the secret chamber.

Mr Finn was talking to Mr Carey outside the staff room. He hailed Eoin as he came down the stairs.

‘Ah, Master Madden, hero of the JCT I hear.’

Eoin blushed because Mr Carey was present, and mumbled his thanks.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt, sirs, but we’ve discovered something serious in our room. Can you come up with us?’

The teachers immediately looked concerned, but Eoin assured them it wasn’t anything dangerous. Or at least he hoped it wasn’t.

When they got to the room he explained how three mobiles had gone missing, and how they had heard the sound of them ringing – he left out Mr McCaffrey’s part in their discovery – and how they had found the trapdoor. He also explained how they found their way in – leaving out the part about Brian – and showed the teachers the staircase.

Alan handed Mr Carey his lamp and the rugby coach led the way down.

‘We didn’t touch the phones, sir, in case you need to fingerprint them or something?’ said Dylan.

Mr Carey came back up through the floor a few minutes later. He dropped the mobiles on the bed.

‘I presume you discovered the ladder at the end of
the corridor. Do you happen to know where it leads?’ he asked.

‘Yes sir,’ replied Eoin. ‘It’s No.11. Duffy, Sugrue …’

Mr Carey looked at Mr Finn. ‘This is very disturbing …’ Mr Finn started.

‘Don’t worry about fingerprints or any of that,’ Mr Carey chipped in. ‘Just be happy you got your phones back.’

‘But, sir––’ started Eoin.

‘I’ll have a word with the occupants of room 11, and be assured this will not happen again.’

And with that the teachers left.

‘That’s really annoying,’ said Alan.

‘They’re going to let them away with it,’ said Dylan.

Eoin stopped and looked at his two room-mates. ‘There’s something that just doesn’t add up,’ he said. ‘Why did Duffy’s gang leave the phones down there?’

‘They just wanted to cause trouble and they knew Rory would blame me,’ said Dylan.

‘Maybe,’ said Eoin. ‘But why haven’t they gone back down there? There’s something missing here and I’m going to try to find out what it is.’

‘How are you going to do that?’ asked Alan.

‘I don’t know,’ he replied, slipping into a hoody, ‘but one of the spooks might have an idea.’

Eoin brought a notebook and pen down to the Rock, as he needed to get moving on that history project. He was glad to see that Kevin was there, again scrabbling round at the base of the enormous stone.

‘Hello, Kevin,’ announced Eoin. ‘I wonder is this a good time to start that interview?’

Kevin nodded, and stood up, stretching his ghostly bones. ‘No time like the present,’ he laughed. ‘Especially when all you have is a past.’

He explained to Eoin about his days as a boy living in the countryside of County Carlow, and how his family moved to Dublin where his father worked on his dairy in Fleet Street in the city centre.

He talked too about his schooldays, first out in
Rathmines
at St Mary’s College and, when that school closed down, in Belvedere College which was a short walk from his home.

‘I used to ramble up Sackville Street – I think they call it O’Connell Street now – past the GPO and up to the school. Dublin was a different place then, very few motor cars and nearly everyone wore a cap.

‘It all changed for me after the Easter Rising in 1916. I thought those men were very brave and I joined up after that. Here, take a look at this – my souvenir of the rebellion …’

Kevin poked around in his pocket but looked confused when he couldn’t find what he was looking for.

‘That’s very annoying. For years I’ve been carrying around a bullet case that I found up on Sackville Street …’

‘Is this what you were looking for?’ asked Eoin, producing the bullet he and Brian had found weeks before. ‘I found it down here.’

‘It is indeed!’ chirped Kevin, delighted to see his keepsake once again. ‘I went up to the GPO when it was all over …The place was covered in rubble. My mother was very annoyed when she found out I’d been up there – I suppose I was about your age, Eoin. Just gone fourteen.’

‘And was it scary?’ asked Eoin.

‘No, there were lots of soldiers around but the place was such a mess no-one paid any heed to me. I found lots of these things,’ he said, pointing to the bullet casing, ‘and swapped them with my pals for cigarette cards and toffees. I kept one to remind me of the rebels though.’

A few raindrops started to fall, but within seconds there was a steady strumming on the leaves as the rain got heavier.

Eoin went to hide under a tree, but his new friend just grinned.

‘Not much point me worrying about getting a chill, is there?’ Kevin laughed. ‘Mind yourself there,’ he said as he pulled the thicker leaves over where Eoin was standing. ‘Remind me of a day when I ran home all the way from Rathmines using a rhubarb stick and leaf as an umbrella. The passers-by all thought I was mad.’

Eoin laughed too, as Kevin mimed his attempt to avoid the raindrops.

‘I’d better be heading back,’ Eoin said, pulling on his hood, ‘But it would be great if you could ask Brian to get in touch with me when he’s next around.’

Chapter 18

. . . . . . . . .

E
OIN got soaked running across the playing fields back to the dormitory, and when he woke next morning he found he was starting to sniffle. By lunchtime he was sneezing and Mr McCaffrey sent him to see the nurse, Miss O’Dea, who told him to go back to bed.

‘Take this lemon and honey drink with you and try to sleep,’ she told him. ‘I’ll call up to see you about four o’clock. What classes do you have this afternoon? I’ll tell the teachers.’

Eoin listed off the subjects he would be missing, but remembered something else. ‘Oh, Miss, can you tell Mr Carey too, he’ll expect me at the JCT training. We have a big game tomorrow,’ he said.

‘Tomorrow? I don’t think you’ll be well enough in time to play tomorrow,’ she told him. ‘But I’ll let Mr Carey know.’

Eoin was miserable enough without missing the big rugby match too. Why were the days you were allowed to stay in bed always the days you felt too terrible to enjoy it?

He dozed off eventually, but was awoken by a rustling noise in the corner. He opened one eye to see Brian peering under Alan’s bed where the trapdoor lay.

‘Hey, Brian,’ he said, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘Kevin told me you wanted to see me,’ he replied. ‘And I was wondering about that trapdoor message – I presume the trapdoor is the one under this bed?’

‘Yes,’ said Eoin. ‘It leads to a secret passageway that goes up to another dorm. The lads in there were using it to sneak in here and steal our phones. It was weird, though, they just took the phones out of here and then left them down in the secret room. We told the teachers, but they don’t seem too interested in finding out any more about who did it or why. There’s a second door down there too, with a huge lock on it. It’s all very mysterious.’

‘I’ll have a look around. Why are you in bed during the daytime?’

‘I woke up with a cold this morning. The nurse says I can’t play in the Junior Cup quarter-final tomorrow, which is a pain.’

‘Well, she’s probably right. Never a good idea to play a match too soon after a cold. I’ve seen a lot of lads get much worse. Get yourself right for the semi. They’ll be
fine without you.’

Brian was right, of course, and Eoin was still in bed when Castlerock found their way past St Ultan’s in the quarter-final. Rory came straight up to the room to give him a blow-by-blow account of the game.

‘It was too close for Carey to empty the bench, so Paudie never got a look-in,’ he chuckled. ‘He wasn’t too happy about that. Paddy Buckley got a knock though, so Gav got on. I suppose I’ve moved up in the
scrum-half
pecking order too …’ he added.

‘You definitely have,’ said Eoin. ‘But I think they can only play guys in the 35 they send in before the cup starts.’

‘Oh,’ said Rory, suddenly gutted.

‘Sorry to break that to you, pal. It’s just the stupid rules.’

‘But what if …’ he started, before shrugging his shoulders and sighing. ‘Oh well, there’s always next year. We’ve a decent team – or we will when we get you back anyway.’

Dylan and Alan arrived, and the four sat around talking rugby for a while before Dylan tried out one of his stupid jokes and they all cracked up laughing.

‘Thanks for coming to visit me, lads,’ chuckled Eoin. ‘Just a shame no one cared enough to bring me a few grapes.’

Chapter 19

. . . . . . . . .

E
OIN recovered quickly and a couple of days after the JCT game he was up and about. His return to training took a couple of days more.

‘OK, Eoin, good to have you back,’ Devin called as he jogged onto the training pitch. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Good, thanks,’ he replied. ‘Raring to go.’

‘Right, Ronan’s looking a bit dodgy for the semi,’ said the captain. ‘I want you to work with the first team backs in case you need to be brought in. Mr Carey’s still not sure whether to stick with Paudie, but I’m pulling hard for you.’

Eoin nodded and took his place with the backs. The session went well, but when it came to rejigging the first team backline, Mr Carey called out KPaudie Woods’s name.

‘OK, Woods, let’s see what you can do with the big boys,’ he called, as Eoin gritted his teeth. Devin looked across and shrugged, as if to say that he had done his best, but the teacher had made the final call.

Paudie did OK too, but Eoin still reckoned he was a
better out-half. Paudie was just too slow making decisions and was often caught in possession. Eoin knew whether a pass or a kick was the better option before the scrum-half had even turned to pass him the ball. He wished he had another chance to show that to Mr Carey.

Eoin was put at full back and made a couple of tackles and one good catch under a garryowen, but that was all he saw of the play in twenty minutes on the field.

Devin sought him out after training, laying his arm across Eoin’s shoulder and telling him to stay focused, that his time was coming.

‘Thanks,’ Eoin shrugged, ‘but I’d probably be better off playing the rest of the season on the 14s.’

‘No you wouldn’t,’ insisted Devin. ‘This is a lot tougher, better training, more competitive games. You don’t realise it now, but you’re becoming a better player every day. Stick at it, you’ll get your chance. I’m certain of it.’

The following weekend Eoin and Dylan went home to Ormondstown. Because they had both turned fourteen their parents decided they could travel on the bus, as long as they stayed together. It was quite an adventure for the pair – their new independence was very exciting.

‘Any plans for the weekend?’ Dylan asked.

‘Eat, sleep and watch some TV that doesn’t involve sharing the remote with sixty other people,’ Eoin laughed.

‘Yeah, I’m wrecked. Need some home cooking and nothing much else. Catch you around the town maybe?’

‘Yeah, maybe a bag of chips tomorrow, say six o’clock?’

Eoin’s dad was there at the bus-stop, and he dropped Dylan home too. Caoimhe waved at them from the window.

Eoin had the lazy weekend he had hoped for, tucking into shepherd’s pie and roast beef and enjoying the simple pleasures of being home with his mum and dad. He called around to see Dixie, too, and naturally asked his grandfather had he heard of Kevin Barry.

‘Sure I did, indeed. Your grandmother used to sing a ballad about him. “Just a lad of eighteen summers…”’ he sang.

‘I’m doing a project about him,’ Eoin said. ‘And as you were so useful last year…’

‘Ha! Now, don’t say that. Your hard work won that competition for you. But to be honest, I don’t know much about him. He played a bit of rugby, didn’t he?’

‘Yes, for Belvo,’ Eoin replied. ‘He was from Carlow originally.’

‘Ah, yes.’ said Dixie, ‘I met a man once who knew him from down there. Said he was a quiet fellow, a serious type.’

‘Still is,’ said Eoin, before he realised what he had said.

Dixie looked at Eoin strangely.

‘I mean, I mean … he still
was
when he was up in Dublin,’ said Eoin. ‘I found a book about him that said that too.’

‘Well, that book should help you write your project then,’ said Dixie. ‘They were terrible times he lived through. He wouldn’t have been much older than yourself when he joined the rebels. Some people thought Ireland wouldn’t win its independence without a fight, others preferred to do it through politics. In the end it took a bit of both, but it took many years to heal the scars of those times. A lot of mothers buried their sons – on all sides.’

Eoin told his grandad about the rugby season so far, and how he had spent more time watching the games than playing in them.

‘It’s funny,’ said his grandad, ‘when I played there was no such thing as replacements. Back then they brought them in for injuries only. Nowadays it seems as if it’s a twenty-three man game. I get a bit confused watching on television sometimes.’

Eoin laughed ‘But don’t get disheartened,’ continued his grandfather. ‘I’m sure your coach knows what’s best for the team, which means he’ll have you right in his sights. Keep working at your skills and you’ll be in a good position when you are called upon.’

Eoin thanked his grandad for the advice and made his farewells. ‘I have to go meet Dylan,’ he explained. ‘But I’ll see you before we go back to Castlerock.’

BOOK: Rugby Rebel
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