Blood Ties: A gripping Irish police procedural, heralding the return of Ben Devlin by Brian McGilloway

Author:Brian McGilloway [McGilloway, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2021-03-24T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

‘There are rumours we’re going to be closing before the end of the week,’ Debs said, over dinner.

‘For Easter?’

She shrugged. ‘Someone claimed it was discussed at a headteachers’ conference yesterday, that everyone will be sent home and we’ll be teaching online for a few weeks.’

‘Nice one,’ Shane offered.

‘You’ll still have to get up and do your classes every day at the usual time,’ she said. ‘Your teachers will still be teaching.’

‘They will, right enough,’ he said, laughing. ‘I’ll be in me bed until lunchtime! I must see if I can get extra hours at work.’

‘If the schools close, shops might start closing down too,’ I said. ‘Work might not be quite the same.’

‘Besides,’ Debs said. ‘Your Granda is living here with us. Might be best if you’re not putting yourself at risk of catching coronavirus.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Shane said.

‘We’ll talk about it later,’ I said. My dad had been following the conversation, though had contributed nothing to it, eating his meal silently.

* * *

Later that evening, though, as I helped my dad up the stairs to his room, he did comment.

‘I might be better back at the home,’ he said. ‘It’s not fair on the young fella to have to stop working because of me.’

‘It’s not because of you,’ I said. ‘I don’t want him catching anything himself. Or bringing anything into the house to the rest of us.’

‘You’ll still be working, though,’ my father said, in such a way that I couldn’t be sure whether it was a question or a statement.

‘I’m sure they’ll be taking whatever precautions they need to for us,’ I said.

‘You can’t do one thing yourself and ask Shane to do the opposite. He’ll resent it. And resent you for making him do it.’

‘We’ll see,’ I said, a little rankled at the comment for reasons I could not fully recognise.

‘I’m not telling you what to do,’ he said. ‘He’s so like you at that age, I’m just thinking about how you’d have reacted to someone telling you what to do.’

‘I always listened to good advice,’ I said.

‘You did?’ Dad laughed and this time there was no confusion over the fact it was a question.

‘If only I could have found someone to give me some!’

He laughed again, lightly, the sound rattling around his ribcage as he slipped his arm across my back to support himself. His grip was loose, his arm surprisingly light around my shoulder.

* * *

I woke at around 3 a.m. with my dad calling for me. When I went into the room, he lay on the floor, one leg still caught in the sheets on the bed, where he’d fallen out.

I rushed across to him, as he protested that he was okay. But, even as he did, I could see that he was unable to lift himself, his arms ineffectually pushing against the ground, one hand twisted in the duvet that had fallen off with him.

I knelt down next to him and recognised his fear.

‘Are you hurt?’

He shook his head. ‘I shocked myself, I think,’ he said.

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