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Colm’s knees crumpled beneath him and he fell back in the dirt, winded.
    Brother Dennis grabbed both boys by their collars and hauled them to their feet. He shook the other boy violently by his shoulders. It was Tommy.
    ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he barked.
    ‘Just coming back from Brother Keaney, sir,’ said Tommy. ‘He asked for me. To warm his bed, like. And then I saw you and thought I’d show McCabe the way back to the dormitory, sir. Save you the trouble.’
    Brother Dennis looked from Tommy to Colm. Before he could say anything else, Tommy grabbed Colm by the wrist. ‘Run!’ he whispered into Colm’s ear.
    They fled towards the boys’ dormitory.
    In the shadow of the portico, they stopped to catch their breath and watched as Brother Dennis disappeared into the Brothers’ quarters.
    ‘Why did we have to run?’ whispered Colm.
    ‘You don’t want to get yourself alone with Brother Dennis, not at night, when no one knows where you are. Believe me.’
    ‘Why not? And why were you warming Brother Keaney’s bed?’
    Tommy snorted in disgust. ‘The old bugger makes us lie at the end of the bed so he can warm his feet. Then, when he’s snoring, we get out. The smell just about suffocates you. You was lucky he fell asleep when he did so that I could rescue you.’
    ‘I wanted to wash this concrete off,’ said Colm.
    ‘You should be thanking me, not worrying about a bit of muck. I’ll cop it sweet tomorrow for getting in Dennis’s way.’
    Suddenly, through the shadows, they saw a flicker of movement in the moonlit yard. Brother Dennis was heading straight towards the boys’ dormitory entrance. Tommy pulled Colm back into the shadows.
    ‘Sweet Jesus. He’s still on the frigging prowl. What if he doesn’t wait until tomorrow? He knows where I sleep.’ Tommy jumped nervously from one foot to the other, talking rapidly in a low whisper. ‘Listen, I’m getting out of here, Colm. I’m not waiting for whatever he wants to dish up. I’m sick of this place, sick of the work and the thrashings and being old Keaney’s whipping boy. I asked him once, I said, “You’re Irish and we’re Irish. Why are you so hard on us?” And you know what he said? He said, “Biddy Ann” - he says, “Biddy Ann, you are the son of a whore.” That’s what they think of us. They think we’re sons of whores. That Brother Dennis, he’s already tried to have a go at me once. I’m not giving him a second chance. I’m thirteen now. Old enough to make me own way.’
    ‘Let me come too,’ said Colm.
    ‘You’re still too little, Tonto. They’ll catch you for sure. Quick, get yourself in bed, down with the Clontarf boys. I’ll go north and find myself work, be a jackeroo. That’s what they call cowboys in this country. If I go now, I’ll have a whole night’s start on them.’
    They waited in the dark until Brother Dennis emerged from the dormitory again and returned to his room. ‘Here’s my chance,’ said Tommy. ‘So long, Tonto.’
    Colm grabbed his hand in a last grip and they pressed their thumbs together so the scarred ridges of their blood brotherhood touched. ‘Keep safe, Kemosabe.’
    Tommy scurried into the scrub, his hair a beacon in the moonlight, and Colm walked into the dormitory alone. There was the familiar rustling of restless boys and the odd whimper. Colm tiptoed down the length of the room until he came to the row of camp beds set up for the Clontarf boys. Exhaustion overcame him as soon as he lay down. The last thing he saw was a black shadow in the doorway of the dormitory. It slipped into his mind and flitted through his dreams. All night he dreamt of running with Tommy by his side as the black shadow moved in and out of the flickering dreamscape.

7

The broken boy
    The next morning, Tommy was gone. Colm was called up for questioning, but to every question he simply answered, ‘I don’t know.’
    As soon as the interview was over, Colm was sent back to the concreting crew.