Friend or Foe

by Brian Gallagher

  Jack frantically sorted through the keys, but he didn’t see one that fitted this description. ‘I can’t see it!’

  ‘OK,’ said Da, ‘pull the whole drawer out and bring it over here!’

  Jack grabbed the handle of the drawer and pulled, but it was stiff and it resisted his efforts. He tried again and fought against panic when it wouldn’t budge. He gave one final jerk, putting all his strength into it, and this time the drawer suddenly came free. Some of the keys fell out onto the floor, but Jack quickly scooped them up, then ran across the room and laid the drawer before his father. ‘Right, which one is it?!’

  Emer could feel her heart thumping, but she tried to look cool. It was frightening each time a grenade exploded, but even more terrifying was the thought of being caught trying to free Mr Madigan and treated as spies.

  The injured Volunteer was now being bandaged by one of the other rebels. The stocky man turned to Emer, his expression quizzical. ‘Why hasn’t your friend delivered the letter by now?’ he asked.

  Emer tried desperately to think up something that would buy time for Jack to free his father. ‘I’m sure he has,’ she improvised, ‘but Padraig Pearse said the prisoner could write a reply to his family, so he’s probably doing that.’

  ‘This is a war zone. We need to get you out of here. Come on!’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Emer. ‘I’m OK about it. Let’s give them time to write something.’

  ‘I’m not OK about it,’ said the man, ‘and I don’t take orders from you. Now shift yourself!’

  Emer realised that arguing further would only make him suspicious, so instead she moved as slowly as possible towards the door. She followed the man out into the corridor, dreading to think what would happen when they reached the room containing Mr Madigan.

  Jack turned the key in the lock, and the handcuffs clicked open. He watched as Da swiftly pulled the manacle off his wrist and felt a surge of elation when his father smiled and rose from the chair. Just then the door opened and Emer entered, closely followed by the stocky Volunteer. The man had his rifle hung over his shoulder, but when he saw his prisoner unchained, he immediately unslung the weapon and aimed it at Da.

  ‘Don’t shoot!’ cried Jack. ‘Don’t shoot an unarmed man!’ The Volunteer looked furious, and Jack felt sick with fear that he would kill Da for trying to escape. ‘Please, it would be murder!’

  For a moment everything seemed to hang in the balance, then the man breathed out, and Jack realised that he wasn’t going to shoot. Instead the rebel vented his anger by turning on Emer and slapping her hard across the face.

  ‘Lying little bitch!’ he cried.

  Emer fell back, and instinctively both Jack and his father moved towards the Volunteer.

  ‘Go on,’ said the man, ‘just give me a reason.’

  ‘Steady, son,’ said Da, and Jack controlled his anger. ‘Are you all right, Emer?’ he added.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ she answered.

  ‘You won’t be fine!’ snapped the man. ‘Spies get shot, and you two came here posing as Fianna.’

  Jack felt his stomach tighten. But just then there was a deafening blast as a grenade exploded outside the window. Jack was thrown backwards by the shock wave, and he smacked his shoulder against the wall. His father, however, was a big man weighing fifteen stone, and from the corner of his eye Jack saw that Da had weathered the blast. More than that, Da now sprang forward with surprising agility and clattered into the Volunteer, knocking the rifle from his hand. The rebel tried to fight back, but Jack’s father unleashed a pile-driver of a punch that poleaxed the man and left him unconscious on the floor. Jack looked around to see how Emer was, and his joy suddenly turned to fear as he saw her lying, unmoving, against the wall.

  ‘Bayonet charge!’ roared a voice nearby. ‘Bayonet charge!’

  Thuds of doors being kicked in and screams from men fighting hand-to-hand resounded through the air. Shakily coming to, Emer sat up gingerly. She saw the stocky rebel lying out cold on the ground, and her spirits rose.

  ‘Jack, lock the door!’ cried Mr Madigan, then he turned to Emer. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered. She felt a bit bruised from the blast, which had thrown her against the wall, but otherwise she was unhurt. ‘What happened him?’ she asked, pointing at the unconscious rebel.

  ‘Da levelled him!’ said Jack.

  Mr Madigan smiled and offered Emer his hand, and she rose to her feet. Now that her head was clearing, she understood Jack’s father wanting to lock the door to keep the rebels at bay. But the sooner they made their escape, the better, so she pointed towards the far end of the annexe. ‘If we head down the corridor and out the back of the building, that should take us away from the worst of the fighting,’ she said.

  ‘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 t
he 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.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Emer 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 a
s 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.