Rugby Rebel (10 page)

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Authors: Gerard Siggins

BOOK: Rugby Rebel
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Chapter 31

. . . . . . . . .

T
HE movie was a bit of a disaster. Not a disaster movie, but a terrible film about stupid people doing unbelievable things. They laughed at all the serious bits and Eoin and Dylan took turns to make fake-vomiting noises when the actors were attempting to be funny. Caoimhe and her pal, Daniella, were very amused by their antics.

‘You could be a comedian, Eoin,’ Caoimhe laughed at one stage.

They were still laughing as they left the cinema, and wandered down the town together in great spirits.

‘Are you coming up for the game next week, Caoi?’ asked Eoin.

‘I don’t think so. Mam only goes to watch Dyl’s games,’ she replied.

‘Sure he might be playing yet. There’s a terrible dose of the winter bug in the school and they could need him.’

Caoimhe chuckled. ‘On the Junior Cup team? Little Dyl? That’d be hilarious to see. I suppose he could run
through their legs …’

And with that she took off, laughing as went, avoiding her brother’s clutches.

They ran about fifty metres before both stopped, panting, outside the chip shop.

‘C’mon lads, anyone for a sausage and chips?’ asked Dylan.

‘Not for me,’ said Eoin. ‘I’ve been eating all weekend and the chips aren’t a good idea if you want to keep an athlete’s physique like mine.’

Dylan grinned and nodded. ‘Do you know what, I think you’re right. Now, race you to the supermarket, we’ll have an apple instead.’

The following afternoon Eoin walked down to see Dixie in his home. The old man had a cold and was sitting wrapped in a blanket when he called.

‘I’ve had this dose for a couple of days, but I’ll make sure I’m right for my annual trip to Lansdowne Road for the final,’ he smiled. ‘I hear from Andy that you’ve been impressing some people in the Leinster set-up.’

‘Really? I hadn’t heard that …’ replied Eoin, puzzled.

‘Oh, perhaps I’ve spoken out of turn. Or maybe I was mistaken,’ said Dixie.

‘Sure I’ve only played for a few minutes here and there this season,’ Eoin replied. ‘That game in Rostipp
was the only time I got a full game.’

‘Well, I suppose it doesn’t take long to show your class,’ he chuckled. ‘But have you the stamina to last a full game next week?’

Eoin smiled. ‘To be honest I’m not sure. I’ve trained hard but it has been frustrating to get so little time in the middle. I hope I’m up to it.’

Dixie wagged his finger. ‘Eoin Madden, you’re a fantastic player, and I should know. You must ensure you have confidence in yourself because it will come out in the way you play. Playing at outside-half means being able to make quick decisions and acting on them instantly. If you lack self-belief you won’t play as well as you could. So don’t ever forget your previous great games and how you were able to set up scores for Castlerock.’

Eoin smiled. ‘Thanks, Grandad, I’m sure I’ll be fine. This will be my third time to play in the Aviva and it’s still a bit overwhelming. And all the guys I’m playing against are a year or more older than me.’

‘But none of them have your experience in
Lansdowne
Road,’ Dixie pointed out. ‘You have two winners’ medals from two games there – I know some top-class rugby men who went through whole careers without winning even a match there, let alone a medal.’

Eoin thanked his grandad and gave him a hug. ‘I’ll see you next week then, hope you get a good seat.’

‘Oh I’m sure Andy Finn has a nice comfortable one for me in the royal box,’ Dixie laughed. ‘I’ll give you a wave.’

On the bus back to Dublin Dylan was hyper with excitement. Caoimhe had mentioned Eoin’s suggestion that he might get on to the team due to the bug outbreak and he was already planning his tactical approach to playing in the game.

‘Steady on, Dyl!’ pleaded Eoin. ‘I was only saying that to Caoi to encourage her to come to see the final. There would need to be a lot of guys out for you to get in the team.’

As soon as he said it, Eoin realised that he probably should not have. Dylan glared at his friend and, obviously hurt, turned his face to the window and put his earphones in.

Chapter 32

. . . . . . . . .

E
OIN was right, of course, but even he couldn’t have expected that so many of the squad were laid low by the bug. Mr Carey called over to the dorm on Sunday night to check that his out-half was still in his full health.

‘Thank goodness,’ he sighed. ‘Six of the starters and three more of the squad are in the sick bay. I’ve asked the Leinster Branch for a postponement but they won’t grant it. Something to do with it being on television and tickets being sold. Thankfully they’ve allowed us to register some extra players from outside the 35 so we can at least turn out a team.’

Mr Carey turned to survey the rest of the room. ‘Ah, Dylan Coonan,’ he said. ‘We are a bit short of wingers. Can you turn up at training tomorrow?’

Dylan nodded. ‘Do you need Rory too?’ he asked.

‘Well Gav O’Donnell is out, so you might as well bring him along as cover,’ the coach replied. ‘And if you see Charlie Johnston could you ask him too?’

As soon as Mr Carey had left the room Dylan leapt up
on his bed and did a somersault as if it was a trampoline.

‘Yahoo!’ he cried. ‘That’s awesome news. And Rory too!’

Eoin smiled. ‘And of course Caoimhe and your mum will have to come up too.’

‘Yes, I forgot that,’ replied Dylan. ‘But maybe I should wait to see how training goes?’

The news of how Castlerock’s squad had been seriously depleted hadn’t reached the ears of the media just yet, which was why it wasn’t mentioned in the preview of the game in
The Irish Times
. During first class on Monday Mr McCaffrey called in to the science lab to read the article aloud to the boys:

I would venture to say that the clash of Castlerock and Belvedere in this week’s Junior Cup Final could be a classic collision of styles. In the cauldron of Aviva Stadium this could, assuredly, be a titanic battle in the trenches. Belvedere’s golden generation are, as ever, enigmatic, but Castlerock are the sleeping giant of les temps perdu and thus worthy of respect.

Interestingly, the latter entity has had its hand forced by fate and have had to pluck a second year into its ranks for the big day. The versatile Eoin Madden has put his hand up for selection, been hauled off bench duty and gets the
nod for Le Grand Match. He is sure to step up against his school’s traditional bête noire.

Eoin felt his face turning bright red as several of his classmates turned to stare at him.

‘Well, Mr Madden, it appears you are considered “versatile”,’ said the headmaster. ‘Well, good luck on Wednesday and I’m sure the boys wish you well in your “titanic battle in the trenches”,’ he chuckled.

There was plenty more ribbing throughout the day, and it didn’t stop when Eoin turned up for training after school. Because so many of the players had cried off, Mr Carey had to abandon his plan for a light work out in favour of a full session to introduce the replacements to the team’s tactics.

The team were so short of wingers that Dylan was given a chance to try out against a boy from the 15Cs. Dylan was far quicker than the older player and after his second try Mr Carey told him to join the first team group.

Eoin felt sorry for Mr Carey who was looking very hassled by the late disruption to his plans. Another one of the front rows had pulled out that morning and the coach was now most concerned that the school would
not be embarrassed by a hiding at the hands of Belvedere.

Devin had avoided catching the infection but even he was starting to despair. He played number eight but both the wing-forwards he packed down alongside were now sick in bed and he was struggling to explain the calls to Charlie and the other forwards who had been drafted in.

After training was over Mr Carey asked them to return the next day for another attempt to work on some plans.

Eoin walked back to the school with his room-mates.

‘It’s so much faster,’ gasped Rory.

‘And they’re so much bigger,’ gulped Dylan.

‘And that’s why I’m in this team since the start of the year – and you only got in when there was an outbreak of plague,’ joked Eoin as he broke into a jog.

But as he rounded the corner he was brought up quickly by the sight of the headmaster in deep conversation with Inspector Corbett.

Chapter 33

. . . . . . . . .


A
H, Mr Madden,’ called out Mr McCaffrey. ‘The Inspector here has some interesting news about our unfortunate mystery resident. Let us go into my office.’

Eoin followed the teacher and the policeman, and stood at the door as they took their seats.

‘I’m afraid the mystery has actually got a little deeper,’ explained the garda. ‘We were able to take some very clean fingerprints off the rifle that had been recently fired, and our technicians came up with a match in our records. The strange thing was, however, that they were for a man who had previously come to our attention – or more accurately, the attention of the police force of the time – way back in 1920.

‘His name was Eugene McCann and he was one of those who were arrested for attacks on British Army premises during the War of Independence. He was part of a well-known gang who seized weapons and we think those cases of arms are from one of those raids. We have experts from the National Museum working
on the case with us,’ he added.

Mr Finn arrived at the door of the headmaster’s office and stood beside Eoin as the policeman continued his story.

‘It seems McCann disappeared sometime in 1920 and nobody ever found out why. There was one theory that he had been murdered by soldiers, another that he was shot as an informer, a third that he had fled to Canada. One way or another, his body was never found – until you and Mr Finn came across it,’ he added.

‘It will be good that the man will get a proper burial,’ said Mr McCaffrey. ‘But has anyone any theory why he might have been holed up in Castlerock?’

‘I think I might be able to help there,’ replied Mr Finn. ‘I have been writing a history of the school,’ he told the Inspector, ‘and I have been a bit hampered by the fact that a large portion of the school records are missing, particularly from around ninety to a hundred years ago. But I had discovered that one of the senior teachers was quite sympathetic to the rebellion and had even taken part in some of the activities. I suspect this gentleman may have been willing to allow the arms raiders to hide their haul in the school. He presumably used the “second key” ruse for security. Perhaps the records will be able to tell me more.’

‘Well, that’s very interesting,’ said Inspector Corbett. ‘And I’ve brought you back those boxes of documents. We were unable to find anything relevant but then you would be much more familiar with the characters and the times. Please let us know if you find anything.’

Mr Finn smiled and thanked the policeman, and just as he and Eoin were about to leave, he asked one question that had occurred to him.

‘That gang that Mr McCann was a member of – were there any other members’ names in your files?’ he enquired.

‘Oh, yes,’ replied the Inspector, ‘And one quite famous one too – a lad of eighteen summers called Kevin Barry.’

After dinner, Eoin went up to his room and lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. His mind was full of the Junior Cup final, his history project, and the meeting with Inspector Corbett. His usual solution to such a situation was to go out for a jog, but he was tired after training – and it was lashing down anyway.

He realised there were so many questions he wanted to ask Kevin, but they would have to wait for now.

‘You look like a man with the weight of the Castlerock Rock on his shoulders,’ quipped Alan, as he rambled into the dorm. ‘Nervous about the game?’

‘Not particularly, to be honest,’ Eoin replied. ‘No, I’m
up in a heap over the secret chamber and all that. The body the guards discovered turns out to have been a comrade of Kevin’s. I’ve been convinced Kevin never told me the full story all along.’

‘Why don’t we go down there again?’ asked Alan. ‘Maybe this other guy will be there too?’

Eoin shrugged, and swung his legs off the bed.

They worked the contraption that opened the
trapdoor
and made their way down the steps, Eoin leading, carrying a fully-charged torch.

The heavy lock lay on the floor outside the secret room with the key still inside it. Eoin pocketed it, remembering his promise to the Belvedere archivist. Inside the room he shone the torch into the four corners, hoping to see something that would help, but the chamber had been completely cleared by the gardaí.

‘Looking for someone?’ spoke a familiar voice, and Eoin pointed his torch in the direction from which it came. The light caught the famous black, red and yellow jersey of the Lansdowne club.

‘Brian! You gave us such a fright!’ gulped Alan.

‘I’m a ghost, that’s what we’re supposed to do!’ laughed Brian.

Eoin grinned too, but that was wiped from his face as two other shimmering figures stepped into the room.
He recognised one as Kevin, but the other man was a stranger.

‘Howya, Eoin,’ said Kevin, sheepishly. ‘I believe I owe you a bit of an explanation. But first I’d better introduce you to an old comrade of mine. His name is Eugene.’

Chapter 34

. . . . . . . . .


A
ND I think I owe you an apology lad’, said the third of the ghosts, a curly-headed man about the same age as Kevin, but quite a bit shorter. ‘You were the fellow I had to shoot at a while back, weren’t you?’

Eoin nodded.

‘Well, as Kevin will explain, I had to warn you away from that part of the grounds,’ said Eugene. ‘I’m really very sorry about that, but I’m a pretty good shot and I always aimed about ten yards above and wide of you. You were never in any real danger.’

Kevin cleared his throat and looked at the boys. ‘I’m very grateful for your help, lads, and Eugene is too. You’ve helped him more than you will ever know. As you learned in school, and in that project of yours, Eoin,’ Kevin went on, ‘I was a member of the rebels back in the day. We were in no position to take on the Empire at the time, but I and a few of my comrades were given the job of building up our store of guns and ammunition. We did right well on a few of those raids, but we
had terrible problems storing them and keeping them hidden. The police and army were always raiding our homes and those of anyone connected to us.

‘Then the brother of one of the senior men in the rebels got a job as headmaster here in Castlerock. He was sympathetic to our aims, but had never been involved. He was one of the few who knew about this secret room and he allowed us to store our weapons here.

‘One day we raided the King’s Inns and got a huge haul of rifles. We were getting nervous that they might be discovered or stolen so we put a man here to guard them. That was Eugene. We locked the door from the outside so no-one could stumble upon the weapons.’

His comrade took up the story. ‘I stayed on guard for a few days, and then someone else took over. That went on for a month or two. One day, a man in Kevin’s platoon locked that big door behind him and left me here with enough food and drink for three or four days’ duty.

Kevin spoke again, looking mournful, ‘I was asked to go on another raid and that was the one that did for me. When I was in Mountjoy awaiting my fate one of my comrades, an old school pal, Joe Memery, came to visit disguised as a priest. He told me that he’d left Eugene on guard, locked into a room in Castlerock over a week before, but thought he was being watched and so had
been unable to get out to the school to check on him. We were always terrified of spies and informers – not to mention being stopped on the street and arrested – so rather than keep it in his pocket he had put the Castlerock storeroom key in a small wooden box and locked it.

‘Joe hid the key to the box under the Rock out there and cycled into town to our old school. One of the brothers that taught us in Belvedere was very fond of him and when he asked him to look after the box he did so, no questions asked.’

Eoin smiled, remembering his detective work and the visit to Belvedere.

Kevin continued, ‘Well, Joe said he was going to try to get out to Castlerock and he headed off and, well, a few days later my time was up. My sister came to visit, and a couple of priests from school. On my last night, not long before dawn and after I had said goodbye to my family, the priest was praying and he said a prayer for Joe Memery. I stopped him and asked what he meant and he told me that Joe had been found shot dead in an alley not far from the jail a few days before. I knew then that he had been discovered after coming to visit me.

‘I also realised what this meant for Eugene. I feared it was already too late for him, but I was still desperate
to get a message to someone about the keys but there was a warder there and I wasn’t able to make the priest understand …’

‘So what happened to Eugene?’ asked Alan.

‘Well, like the brave patriot that he was, he stayed at his post. He never knew Joe had been murdered, so he stayed here until the end.’

Eugene nodded gravely. ‘I don’t remember much about it at all. I was desperate for Joe to return and I just kept hoping that someone would come to rescue me. Once or twice I considered breaking the window and shouting for help but I had orders and I wasn’t going to break them and give myself and the weapons up. The hunger and thirst was terrible and after a while I got very ill. I suppose I just didn’t wake up one morning. The next thing I heard was some youngsters scrambling about at the door. I went out and gave them a bit of a fright with a few wooooo-oooos,’ he laughed. ‘They dropped everything and ran.’

Kevin spoke again. ‘It was Eugene’s spirit stirring that brought me back to Castlerock. I was frantic trying to find that key out there, but it’s hard to move the earth quickly when your fingers aren’t made of skin and bone anymore,’ he grinned. ‘Happily you were able to help me out.’

‘I was on duty at the window a while back when I spotted Kevin,’ explained Eugene, ‘and I knew then he was back to find that key and then to relieve me. When I saw you out there too I was afraid you would find the key instead and I’d never be at rest – so that’s why I fired those shots. They passed way over your head, but I wanted to frighten you off. I don’t think they worked!’

‘Yeah, it was a bit scary for a second,’ admitted Eoin. ‘The police are very confused that the gun was fired even though the door had been locked for
ninety-something
years!’

‘Still, it’ll give you something to write about in your project won’t it?’ smiled Brian.

‘I don’t think so,’ replied Eoin. ‘If I mention ghosts nobody will believe a word I’ve written. But Kevin has been great too, and he’s given me loads of information.’

‘Glad to be of help, lad, and now we had better go.’ Kevin replied. ‘Eugene deserves a break from this place after such a long time. I do hope we get to meet the pair of you again someday,’ he added before the three ghosts began to disappear.

As he left, Kevin gently tossed a small brass object towards Eoin. ‘Here, is this any use to you?’

It was the bullet casing that he had picked up on Sackville Street during the Easter Rising in 1916.

‘Wow, that’s
amazing
,’ said Alan, when Eoin told him where it had come from. ‘Another gift from the ghostly world to top off another prize-winning project.’

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