The Trojan Boy Read Online Free PDF Page A

that he knew where they would be making for. He was brought up round there, see. He would go lend a hand. He and his brother drove through the backstreets in Michael's car and, unfortunately, they found you.'
    'That was brave of them.'
    'Brave!' scoffed the woman. 'It was bloody stupid. It was Guinness not bravery!'
    'You're not for a free Ireland then?'
    'Free Ireland! Now what would I be doing with high-sounding phrases like that? I want a decent house, I want a job for Con, I want a future for my kids. These are the things I'm interested in.'
    'And don't you think that you'd get these things in a free Ireland?' asked O'Neill.
    'Governments are governments. They are politicians and they don't give a stuff for the likes of me, whoever they are.'
    'If you feel that way why didn't you turn me in?'
    The woman threw back her head and laughed bitterly. ‘Turn you in?' she exclaimed. 'Me, a Catholic woman living in the Doonan, turn in a Provo? Do you think I'm mental or something?'
    O'Neill conceded the point silently and tried to raise himself on to his good elbow. He said, 'If you will just give me a hand, I'll be getting out your road.'
    Political considerations became personal ones. The woman said, 'You will do no such thing. Besides, Con and Michael have gone to get medical help for you.' She saw the look of alarm appear in O'Neill's eyes and added, 'Don't worry. They’re daft but not that daft. There's a woman, used to be a district nurse, her brother's in the Maze, she's quite safe.'
    Thanks,' said O'Neill.
    The woman sat down on the edge of the bed, her face showing the signs of strain that the last few hours had brought. 'Would you like a cup of tea?' she asked quietly.
    ‘ I’d love one.'
    The woman's husband returned, accompanied by his brother and a small woman in her fifties. In her hand she carried a battered leather case.
    'Connor McShane,' announced the man holding out his hand but taking it back in embarrassment as he realised that O'Neill was in no position to accept it. O'Neill nodded.
    'And this is my brother Pat.' The smaller of the two men grinned and O'Neill nodded again.
    'And this here is Mrs O'Hara. She's going to have a look at your arm.'
    'I'm obliged to you,' said O'Neill.
    The woman did not smile but put down her case and took off her coat while the rest retreated to a respectful distance. She gingerly started to cut away the blood-caked sleeve of O'Neill's shirt with scissors that seemed none too sharp judging by the difficulty she was having. O'Neill watched what she was doing impassively but was afraid inside for he feared that the bullet had shattered the bone.
    'I'll need some water,' said the woman. 'His shirt is stuck to the wound. I'll have to bathe it free.' McShane's wife left the room and returned a few minutes later with some warm water in a bowl.
    This will hurt,’ said the nurse as she began teasing the cloth away from O'Neill's arm. A sharp intake of breath from O'Neill verified it. He was watching the faces of the onlookers when his shirt was finally freed from the wound and saw them wince. He looked down to see the smashed pulp of tissue and bone that had been his left elbow and felt despair threaten.
    The nurse's shoulders sagged. 'You need a hospital,’ she said.
    'No hospital,’ replied O'Neill.
    There's nothing I can do for you.'
    That's what they always say in the pictures before they go and patch it up anyway,’ said O'Neill with a desperate attempt at humour.
    The nurse's face showed both cynicism and pity. 'Not in your case,’ she said. 'Your arm will have to come off.'
    The fact that O'Neill, only a few short hours before, had been preparing to take his own life did not seem to matter now as he was stricken by the thought of mutilation. In his mind he could see the empty sleeve, turned up and secured with a safety pin which would rust with the passing of time. He could see the little stump at bedtime, flapping like the useless wing of a penguin.
    The hell was all