She chattered eagerly through the glass in an undertone, but you couldn’t help catching a stray phrase. ‘
Jerry says she’s raving…too bloody right I phoned…and the clutch gone again on it…another scan, Wednesday…What d’you mean, it’s OK?
’ It sounded like whoever was on the other side of the glass couldn’t get a word in. She had her hand under her denim jacket on her belly. Fergus could see a baby on the way.
A bustle from the other side made him look back through his own portion of glass.
Mam’s fingers tightened on his elbow. ‘That’s his voice. Joey’s voice.’
In the faded blue of the prison garb, Joey’s tall form appeared. As he sat down, his face came into view. His lips were chapped and his eyes bright, as if he had a fever. He beamed at the sight of them.
‘Mam. Ferg. What a surprise.’ He flopped down in the chair and stretched out his arms as if he had the whole world to embrace. Then he dropped his elbows down on the table and propped his chin up on his knuckles. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi?’ Mam said. ‘Is that all you can say? Hi?’
‘Hello, then.’
‘Joe McCann. You were doing the refraction on Friday. Next thing I hear you’ve joined the hunger strikers. Tell me it’s not true.’
‘Mam, I’m sorry. I should have warned you.’
Mam stared. ‘You mean you
are
on it?’
Joe closed his eyes and nodded. ‘We joined yesterday, Len and me.’
‘Why? Why would you do that?’
‘Why d’you think?’ He opened his eyes again and smiled. ‘I want to drop a trouser size. I’ve been putting on weight inside here.’
‘Stop that, Joey. Tell me why you’re doing this.’
‘Like they say. Less is more.’
They stared at him. He was smiling now, almost euphoric.
‘It’s not something I’m
doing
. It’s something I’m
not
doing.’
Fergus felt the three arguments he’d been preparing unravelling. His belly churned from the hasty dinner they’d had. Calmly, Mam took the foil-wrapped tart from her lap and put it on the table. ‘The guards say I can leave this for you. It’s your favourite. Rhubarb. And I made it fresh before coming. And it’s all butter, no margarine.’
Fergus saw Joe’s nostrils widen for an instant and then he shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t have.’
‘It came out good, Joe.’
‘You have some, Fergus. My belly’s a bit puffed up. With air, don’t you know.’ He laughed.
‘This–is–no–joke,’ Fergus said, his teeth clenched. He thumped the table on the word ‘joke’.
The guard tut-tutted.
‘Hush,’ Mam said.
Joe put a hand out and touched the glass. ‘It’s all right, Mam. Ferg’s right. It is no joke.’
Mam took a slice from the foil and held it up. ‘It’s good food,’ she said. ‘Flour, fruit, sugar, butter. Good food. Put here for us to eat.’
Joe made a motion like a priest might, blessing the holy bread. ‘I know. But it’s a strange time we live in. And we have to do strange things to get out of the strange time.’
‘But not starve yourself, Joe. It’s not natural.’
‘That’s my point. This is an unnatural time. See, Mam, it’s like this. I’m not a common criminal. What I did was fight for freedom. I’d rather die free in my own head than live like the dregs of the earth. And that’s how they treat us here, I swear to God.’
‘Can’t you just turn the other cheek?’
Joe shook his head. ‘It’s not as simple as that. It’s about dignity, Mam. Human dignity. Da understands. We talked about it last time he came in. It’s about freedom and dignity. Clothes, visits, the right not to muck in with the common prisoners. The right to keep ourselves apart, doing what we want to do. It’s the right to hold our heads up and not be ashamed of what we’ve done. And me and the boys here–we’re in this together.’
‘Oh, Joe. Fergus. Say something to him.’
Fergus swallowed. No words came.
‘You were always good with the arguments, Fergus.’
Fergus looked through the glass and
Jerry says she’s raving…too bloody right I phoned…and the clutch gone again on it…another scan, Wednesday…What d’you mean, it’s OK?
’ It sounded like whoever was on the other side of the glass couldn’t get a word in. She had her hand under her denim jacket on her belly. Fergus could see a baby on the way.
A bustle from the other side made him look back through his own portion of glass.
Mam’s fingers tightened on his elbow. ‘That’s his voice. Joey’s voice.’
In the faded blue of the prison garb, Joey’s tall form appeared. As he sat down, his face came into view. His lips were chapped and his eyes bright, as if he had a fever. He beamed at the sight of them.
‘Mam. Ferg. What a surprise.’ He flopped down in the chair and stretched out his arms as if he had the whole world to embrace. Then he dropped his elbows down on the table and propped his chin up on his knuckles. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi?’ Mam said. ‘Is that all you can say? Hi?’
‘Hello, then.’
‘Joe McCann. You were doing the refraction on Friday. Next thing I hear you’ve joined the hunger strikers. Tell me it’s not true.’
‘Mam, I’m sorry. I should have warned you.’
Mam stared. ‘You mean you
are
on it?’
Joe closed his eyes and nodded. ‘We joined yesterday, Len and me.’
‘Why? Why would you do that?’
‘Why d’you think?’ He opened his eyes again and smiled. ‘I want to drop a trouser size. I’ve been putting on weight inside here.’
‘Stop that, Joey. Tell me why you’re doing this.’
‘Like they say. Less is more.’
They stared at him. He was smiling now, almost euphoric.
‘It’s not something I’m
doing
. It’s something I’m
not
doing.’
Fergus felt the three arguments he’d been preparing unravelling. His belly churned from the hasty dinner they’d had. Calmly, Mam took the foil-wrapped tart from her lap and put it on the table. ‘The guards say I can leave this for you. It’s your favourite. Rhubarb. And I made it fresh before coming. And it’s all butter, no margarine.’
Fergus saw Joe’s nostrils widen for an instant and then he shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t have.’
‘It came out good, Joe.’
‘You have some, Fergus. My belly’s a bit puffed up. With air, don’t you know.’ He laughed.
‘This–is–no–joke,’ Fergus said, his teeth clenched. He thumped the table on the word ‘joke’.
The guard tut-tutted.
‘Hush,’ Mam said.
Joe put a hand out and touched the glass. ‘It’s all right, Mam. Ferg’s right. It is no joke.’
Mam took a slice from the foil and held it up. ‘It’s good food,’ she said. ‘Flour, fruit, sugar, butter. Good food. Put here for us to eat.’
Joe made a motion like a priest might, blessing the holy bread. ‘I know. But it’s a strange time we live in. And we have to do strange things to get out of the strange time.’
‘But not starve yourself, Joe. It’s not natural.’
‘That’s my point. This is an unnatural time. See, Mam, it’s like this. I’m not a common criminal. What I did was fight for freedom. I’d rather die free in my own head than live like the dregs of the earth. And that’s how they treat us here, I swear to God.’
‘Can’t you just turn the other cheek?’
Joe shook his head. ‘It’s not as simple as that. It’s about dignity, Mam. Human dignity. Da understands. We talked about it last time he came in. It’s about freedom and dignity. Clothes, visits, the right not to muck in with the common prisoners. The right to keep ourselves apart, doing what we want to do. It’s the right to hold our heads up and not be ashamed of what we’ve done. And me and the boys here–we’re in this together.’
‘Oh, Joe. Fergus. Say something to him.’
Fergus swallowed. No words came.
‘You were always good with the arguments, Fergus.’
Fergus looked through the glass and
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