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bands at once.
    ‘If you think you’ll be up to the journey,’ Mick said mockingly, ‘we’ll be leaving on Saturday evening, and we won’t be back maybe till Tuesday.’
    Up to the journey? Jimmy blinked at his uncle’s smiling face. Did Mick think he’d fall asleep on the way? Why, Jimmy doubted that he’d get any sleep at all for the next week.
    He stammered a quick acceptance. He couldn’t express his gratitude properly. It was just too big for words. The girls played with their dolls on the floor. Ma sat smiling.
    Suddenly Jimmy couldn’t contain his joy for another second. It seemed to burst out of him. He gave a great whoop of happiness that made the adults laugh and made his sisters stare at him in fright. Still whooping, Jimmy jumped from the chair and ran out of the room. Behind him he heard his mother laughing, delighted with her only son’s delight, glad after this tiresome week to have her son back again.

7
EASTER MONDAY
    IT WAS MORE THAN A WEEK LATER . It was, to be exact, just before noon on Easter Monday. And in all Dublin – in all the world, maybe – there was no more miserable creature than Jimmy Conway.
    He walked in Sackville Street with heavy steps like a man on his way to jail. In
Sackville Street
: that is to say, in Dublin city, and not in Fairyhouse. The impossible had happened: Mick had let him down. His uncle had ruined his life.
    Mick had called around on Friday evening, looking very upset. When Jimmy smiled at him he looked even worse. He took Ma aside and whispered to her. She became very angry.
    ‘Oh no you don’t,’ she hissed out loud to Mick. ‘You can tell him yourself.’
    Something in her voice chilled Jimmy’s heart. When he looked at Mick’s face his expression told Jimmy that something terrible had happened. And there was only one thing that it could be, and it was a thing that Jimmy didn’t even want to think about.
    ‘Jim, lad,’ Mick stammered. ‘Jimmy, I …’
    But Jimmy was already shaking his head, willing this new problem to go away. Mick wasn’t going to Fairyhouse. Something very important had come up. He was very sorry. He knew, he said, how Jimmy must feel.
    ‘Do you, though?’ asked Ma. Jimmy had never heard her sound so angry. ‘Do you really understand how high you had that child’s hopes? What can be so important, Mick?’
    But Mick, who looked almost as upset as Jimmy felt, just shook his head. ‘I can’t talk about it,’ he said.
    The ice in Ma’s voice changed to fire. ‘Is this some political nonsense?’ she demanded.
    Mick said nothing, but his silence seemed only to confirm her suspicions.
    ‘Mick,’ she said, ‘you’re worse than mad – you’re cruel. What good has any of that rubbish ever brought anyone? And now look at Jimmy! You’ve destroyed that boy.’
    Jimmy just stood there. He could feel himself start to shake. Surely Mick wouldn’t let him down because of the union or the Citizen Army? Mick had no faith in causes any more; he’d said so himself.
    Mick looked helplessly from his sister to his nephew. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He was almost crying. ‘I can’t say anything more now.’
    He turned around suddenly and walked out. Ma followed him to the door and called angrily down theshabby hallway after him: ‘May God forgive you, Mick Healy, for destroying a young boy’s hopes. May God forgive you, because I don’t think Jimmy will be able to. I know I won’t.’
    Jimmy was too shattered even to cry. It wasn’t just missing the races, terrible though that was. But he’d spent days telling everyone about it. All the boys had been impressed and humbled. Older boys, who’d normally not bother talking to a kid like Jimmy, had come to ask him respectfully if the story was true. For a week he’d been the hero of the neighbourhood. And what would everyone think of him now? They’d think he was a liar.
    Jimmy spent the rest of the weekend hiding at home, sitting in his mother’s chair and staring into the