‘If they’d ask me … that’s all I need … ask me. I have it all at my finger tips.’ Joe went over and looked into the stove. Down at the bottom of the darkness was a small red glimmer. He picked up the hod.

‘I’ll do that, Joe,’ said Brendan.

‘You didn’t though. It’ll go out.’

‘I’ll do it.’

Joe put the hod on the floor again.

‘Not only have I the experience but I’ve read the books. Lots of the books. Haven’t I had all the time in the world to read the books. I’ve read them so I have.’

He massaged the back of his neck with his hand for a moment.

‘I mean to say …’

‘Will you do it before Mam comes in?’

‘I said I’ll do it, I’ll do it.’

‘… these young lads haven’t the experience. How can they have? They need the old fellas so they do. It stands to reason. Like last night. What were they at last night? Where was their marksman? If they’d had any gumption at all they’d have knocked off one of those soldiers. Sit down, can’t you.’

Joe was edging towards the door.

‘I have homework to do.’

‘Here.’

Brendan pushed the papers off the table. Mr Logan took aim with an imaginary hand gun. Held out at arm’s length in front of him it was, his left hand carefully supporting the arm. His head was ducked slightly to one side, his eyes narrowed, judging.

‘There was few could better me.’ His finger tightened on the trigger. ‘Few. Could. Better. Me.’ As he spoke each word he fired, the gun moving slowly from one corner of the room to the next. He put the gun down finally on the table and looked with satisfaction at his eldest son.

‘I had a good eye. It’s a great thing to have that so it is.’

‘Yes,’ said Brendan, obviously somewhat taken aback by the exhibition. Joe wondered who his father had killed with his four shots. Who, from his past, had been lined up on the other side of the tiny room? Had his hand shaken then as it shook now? Hard for a marksman to have a shaking hand, no matter how good his eye.

‘Up there in the roof gullies. Head well down so they couldn’t spot you. Couldn’t get you. Pick one off and then away over the roof ridges and down the other side. Down through the skylight of a safe house. God.’

He rubbed his hand over his face.

‘God be with the days.’

‘I thought you were in a flying column,’ said Joe.

His father crashed his fist down on the table.

‘Wherever they needed me, son. Versatile you might have called me. First of the guerillas we were. Aye. First we were.’

Brendan yawned and stretched his arms above his head. His nails were bitten well below the tops of his fingers and the exposed flesh was puckered and sore-looking.

‘I need air.’