The Existential Worries of Mags Munroe: The Mags Munroe Series by Jean Grainger

Author:Jean Grainger [Grainger, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: GOLD HARP MEDIA
Published: 2022-03-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

I’m back in Ballycarrick before I remember that I meant to buy Kieran a new jumper. Oh well. He’d probably never wear it anyway; he loves the old holey one too much.

I rang Delia before leaving Galway to ask her to come in for a meeting, and here she is, standing in front of my desk, her chin jutting out, looking belligerent, like she thinks she’s in trouble. I know it’s her default position, but still, like Ronan, I suddenly want to tell her that I’m not the enemy here.

‘How are you getting on, Delia?’ I ask, gesturing that she should sit. She takes the seat opposite. I don’t really like having this desk between us – I’ve never really liked it – but it’s how it is, and the chain of command is important in a police force. You can’t be friends with your commanding officer – that’s the mantra.

‘Grand, thanks, Sergeant Munroe,’ she replies, her eyes never meeting mine.

‘How’s Natasha? Is she feeling any better since…?’

‘Yes, Sergeant, she’s grand.’ She’s being tight-lipped.

I sit back. ‘Delia, I promise you can be open with me. I know there will always be some people, both on within the Gardai and in the community, who will treat you differently because you’re a Traveller, but I hope you know I’ll never do that. You are a member of the Garda Reserve and therefore part of this station, so it’s important you feel you can be open with me. And that you can come to me if you feel anyone else is treating you differently.’

I see the shadow of a smile cross her face.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘Nothing. I’m grand, Sergeant.’

‘Please, tell me.’ I cock my head sideways to meet her downcast eyes.

She pauses, and I can see her considering whether it’s wise to speak. Eventually, she does. ‘Well, it’s just funny, like, that you want me to tell you if people treat me different like, ’cause I don’t know what it is to be not treated different. Different to what? I’ve been called names, spat at, thrown out of shops, refused service in places, my whole life, since I was a child, and all my family the same. So I’m not saying it’s not happening now – it is of course – but it’s all I’ve ever known. And I know you’re a nice woman and all and that you’re trying to help, but like, you’re not going to change the world. To most of them’ – she jerks her chin towards the window – ‘I’m a knacker and all belonging to me are the same, steal the eye out of your head, battering their wives and kids, mistreating animals, all the stereotypes of Travellers. One of us does something wrong, and we’re all the same, bad to the bones. One of us does something good, then we’re the exception. That’s how they see us, always have and always will. That’s what they see when they see me, and it doesn’t matter about this uniform, or what you tell them to do – nobody can change it.

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