Chapter 14:
Fragments
Renee returned to the pub with the events of the night racing through her head, her skin still electrified by the physical memory, and the anticipation for their arranged meeting the day after next flowing through her. Constance was still asleep as she slid into their room, for which Renee was grateful. She was sure she would have given everything away, just by the shining excitement in her eyes. However, despite her raging emotions, Renee managed to sleep for a few hours before Constance woke her as the grey light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains. The two women dressed and set out to complete their mission.
They slid out the pub, not seeing Shadow or his wife, and took the Tube to the nearest station to their parents' homes, then walked through the neighbourhoods where they had spent their childhoods together.
The buildings were almost completely demolished. It looked to Renee as if a huge giant had stomped across the city, squashing everything underfoot. Renee remembered the landmarks of her childhood as they had been, now reduced to piles of debris. The Dublin of her memories had never been beautiful or unique, but tears came to her eyes when she saw it destroyed. Fear gripped her as she realized that her parents' home was probably in ruins too.
They turned down the street where their parents lived to be greeted with the same scene: rubble piled haphazardly, buildings in ruins, people trying to salvage anything from the destruction. Their parents' neighbours were evident among the scavengers, but not their own families.
Constance bit her lip and crossed the street to the building where her family had lived, Renee staying close to her side. They approached an older woman who was hanging laundry on a makeshift line outside the ruined building.
"Mrs. MacDonagh?" Constance asked quietly.
"That would be - Constance Edwards?" Mrs. MacDonagh's hand dropped from the line as she saw the two women on the other side of the line. "And Renee Pearse? Oh, it's good to see you well!" She wiped her hands on her dress and embraced the younger women. "And where have you been all this time?"
"We left Dublin for Waterford the morning after ... this. We've only been able to come back now," Renee said.
"Wise ones, you are. I would have done the same, if Daniel had been well." Mrs. MacDonagh shook her head sadly.
"I'm sorry. What happened to him?" asked Constance.
"Ah, he'll be all right. Just had his leg broken in the ... well..." Mrs. MacDonagh gestured at the ruined street. "He'll be up on his feet in no time, just you see."
"Have you been here all this time?"
Mrs. MacDonagh nodded.
"We've taken one of the inner rooms on the ground floor. It did fairly well that night, and no-one else claimed it, so..."
"Is anyone else still here?" whispered Constance, staring up at the destroyed first and second floors of the building.
"It's just me and Daniel now, Connie." Mrs. MacDonagh fidgeted uneasily with the skirt of her dress. Constance noticed the gesture, and swallowed nervously.
"My parents?" she whispered.
"I'm sorry, Connie."
Constance sucked in a breath. The colour faded from her face as she balled her hands into fists. Renee reached over and laid a hand on her friend's shoulder.
"Eamon?" Constance managed.
"He's all right, Connie. He went with Renee's parents to Cork."
Mrs. MacDonagh reached out to lay a sympathetic hand on Constance, but the young woman stepped away , jerking her shoulder out from Renee's grasp. She shook her head, her breaths coming in sharp gasps, then muttered something about it being impossible, how it couldn't be. Renee turned to Mrs. MacDonagh.
"Where are they?" she asked, blinking away tears.
"In the cemetery. Your mother made sure of that."
"Then they're all right?" Renee instantly regretted it, hated the selfishness of the question, but Mrs. MacDonagh only smiled sadly.
"They're all right. After the burial, they took Eamon and went to your mother's family in Cork."
Renee nodded, then turned back to Constance. The beautiful redhead had her arms wrapped around herself, rubbing her upper arms, even though it was a warm summer's day. She stared blankly at a point on the ground with no real significance. Renee could feel the lump in her throat rising, and an itchiness in her eyes. She stepped forward and put her arms around her best friend.
"Stance, I'm sorry." It was all she could say, all she knew to say.
Constance gently pushed her away, a confused look on her face.
"This can't be real. It doesn't feel real. I..." Her voice trailed off as she shook her head. Renee's tears were running freely now.
"Stance..."
Constance sat down on a pile of rubble, staring up at the ruins of her childhood home.
"Stance?"
"I'm fine." Constance's voice was calm, if a little more hollow than usual.
"Stance -"
"For now." Constance gave a little laugh with no humour in it. "Don't know about later."
Through her own tears, Renee stared at her best friend, whose dark eyes were perfectly dry.
"We'd best be going," said Constance suddenly.
"What?"
"Thank you, Mrs. MacDonagh," said Constance, but her voice broke as she said it. Mrs. MacDonagh smiled.
"God bless you both," she said.
Constance nodded, and steered the still crying Renee down the street. Renee hastily wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her blouse as they turned down a street with telescreens. The Tube ride back to the pub was spent in silence, Constance staring out the window, her jaw tight and her fists balled, and Renee with her arms wrapped around her stomach, watching Constance.
Walking between the Tube station and the pub, Renee saw nothing but the striding form of her best friend, head held high. Her vision blurred every so often as she remembered Constance's parents, and she would quickly swipe at her face to hide it.
They spent the afternoon in their room, neither saying much beyond the necessities, nor eating much when they decided to eat. At one point, Constance left to go for a walk and returned about an hour later, saying nothing of what had happened. Renee let all her tears out while Constance was away, knowing that it was subtly wrong that she was the one weeping over Constance's loss.
As evening fell, Shadow's wife knocked on the door to tell them the pub was open. Constance immediately got to her feet.
"Coming?" she asked.
Renee shook her head, not in the mood for drinking or music. Constance shrugged and left.
An hour later, Shadow's wife once more appeared at the door, this time with Constance's arm around her shoulders. Constance's nose was bleeding, and she held her hip painfully as she dragged herself with Shadow's wife's help into the room.
"Fucking hell, what happened to you?" Renee almost shouted.
"She got into a little tussle with one of the other customers," said Shadow's wife.
"You started a barfight?"
"I didn't start it!" Constance tried to say, but it came out "I didn't start - aagh!" as she sat down on her blanket. She lifted a hand to her nose, and gratefully accepted a handkerchief from Shadow's wife.
"What happened?" Renee asked the older woman.
"One of the other customers tried getting friendly with her, and wouldn't take no for an answer."
"He called me a whore when I turned him down," supplied Constance through the handkerchief.
"Did he recognize you?" demanded Renee.
Constance shook her head.
"Never seen him before. It was just an insult."
"Not just an insult," continued Shadow's wife. "She punched him for it. I must say, he deserved it. And he's worse off than she is."
Renee knelt by Constance and gently removed her hand from her leg. Constance unzipped her skirt one-handed and slid it down so that Renee could assess the injury. Her right hip was bruised in shades of black, violet and green which continued down her outer thigh.
"What did he do?" Renee asked.
"Smashed me into a table," replied Constance matter-of-factly as she refastened her skirt.
"Can I get you ladies anything?" asked Shadow's wife.
"No, thank you," Renee said.
When the older woman was gone, Renee sat down across from her bleeding friend.
"You didn't care that he called you a whore, did you?" she said quietly. "Hell, you call yourself that sometimes. You just wanted to hit something, to make someone else bleed, didn't you?"
"Yeah," whispered Constance.
Renee shook her head.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Stance, just tell me what I can do."
Constance held her gaze for a moment, then dropped it as she checked whether her nose was still bleeding.
"You can get me another handkerchief," she said softly.
Renee smiled weakly and fetched Constance's handkerchief. Shadow's wife's bloody handkerchief was quickly discarded into a corner.
When the bleeding stopped, the silence that had reigned over the room all day returned, but it was broken by a sudden sob from Constance.
Instantly, Renee was at her best friend's side, laying Constance's head on her shoulder, crying silently as Constance's tears soaked her blouse. They spent the night that way, Constance's violent sobs shaking her body as her surrogate sister held her. Sometimes Constance would rail in anger against the Party and Big Brother, and other times she would descend into self-blame over the bombing. In the morning, Constance fell asleep, and Renee tucked the blanket around her, and did not sleep herself, but instead watched the sun rise, and mourned.
Author's Note:
The MacDonaghs are named after Thomas MacDonagh, one of the leaders of the Easter Rising. And I forgot to say before, but Eamon Edwards is named after Eamon De Valera, the first President of the Irish Republic.
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.
Fragments
Renee returned to the pub with the events of the night racing through her head, her skin still electrified by the physical memory, and the anticipation for their arranged meeting the day after next flowing through her. Constance was still asleep as she slid into their room, for which Renee was grateful. She was sure she would have given everything away, just by the shining excitement in her eyes. However, despite her raging emotions, Renee managed to sleep for a few hours before Constance woke her as the grey light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains. The two women dressed and set out to complete their mission.
They slid out the pub, not seeing Shadow or his wife, and took the Tube to the nearest station to their parents' homes, then walked through the neighbourhoods where they had spent their childhoods together.
The buildings were almost completely demolished. It looked to Renee as if a huge giant had stomped across the city, squashing everything underfoot. Renee remembered the landmarks of her childhood as they had been, now reduced to piles of debris. The Dublin of her memories had never been beautiful or unique, but tears came to her eyes when she saw it destroyed. Fear gripped her as she realized that her parents' home was probably in ruins too.
They turned down the street where their parents lived to be greeted with the same scene: rubble piled haphazardly, buildings in ruins, people trying to salvage anything from the destruction. Their parents' neighbours were evident among the scavengers, but not their own families.
Constance bit her lip and crossed the street to the building where her family had lived, Renee staying close to her side. They approached an older woman who was hanging laundry on a makeshift line outside the ruined building.
"Mrs. MacDonagh?" Constance asked quietly.
"That would be - Constance Edwards?" Mrs. MacDonagh's hand dropped from the line as she saw the two women on the other side of the line. "And Renee Pearse? Oh, it's good to see you well!" She wiped her hands on her dress and embraced the younger women. "And where have you been all this time?"
"We left Dublin for Waterford the morning after ... this. We've only been able to come back now," Renee said.
"Wise ones, you are. I would have done the same, if Daniel had been well." Mrs. MacDonagh shook her head sadly.
"I'm sorry. What happened to him?" asked Constance.
"Ah, he'll be all right. Just had his leg broken in the ... well..." Mrs. MacDonagh gestured at the ruined street. "He'll be up on his feet in no time, just you see."
"Have you been here all this time?"
Mrs. MacDonagh nodded.
"We've taken one of the inner rooms on the ground floor. It did fairly well that night, and no-one else claimed it, so..."
"Is anyone else still here?" whispered Constance, staring up at the destroyed first and second floors of the building.
"It's just me and Daniel now, Connie." Mrs. MacDonagh fidgeted uneasily with the skirt of her dress. Constance noticed the gesture, and swallowed nervously.
"My parents?" she whispered.
"I'm sorry, Connie."
Constance sucked in a breath. The colour faded from her face as she balled her hands into fists. Renee reached over and laid a hand on her friend's shoulder.
"Eamon?" Constance managed.
"He's all right, Connie. He went with Renee's parents to Cork."
Mrs. MacDonagh reached out to lay a sympathetic hand on Constance, but the young woman stepped away , jerking her shoulder out from Renee's grasp. She shook her head, her breaths coming in sharp gasps, then muttered something about it being impossible, how it couldn't be. Renee turned to Mrs. MacDonagh.
"Where are they?" she asked, blinking away tears.
"In the cemetery. Your mother made sure of that."
"Then they're all right?" Renee instantly regretted it, hated the selfishness of the question, but Mrs. MacDonagh only smiled sadly.
"They're all right. After the burial, they took Eamon and went to your mother's family in Cork."
Renee nodded, then turned back to Constance. The beautiful redhead had her arms wrapped around herself, rubbing her upper arms, even though it was a warm summer's day. She stared blankly at a point on the ground with no real significance. Renee could feel the lump in her throat rising, and an itchiness in her eyes. She stepped forward and put her arms around her best friend.
"Stance, I'm sorry." It was all she could say, all she knew to say.
Constance gently pushed her away, a confused look on her face.
"This can't be real. It doesn't feel real. I..." Her voice trailed off as she shook her head. Renee's tears were running freely now.
"Stance..."
Constance sat down on a pile of rubble, staring up at the ruins of her childhood home.
"Stance?"
"I'm fine." Constance's voice was calm, if a little more hollow than usual.
"Stance -"
"For now." Constance gave a little laugh with no humour in it. "Don't know about later."
Through her own tears, Renee stared at her best friend, whose dark eyes were perfectly dry.
"We'd best be going," said Constance suddenly.
"What?"
"Thank you, Mrs. MacDonagh," said Constance, but her voice broke as she said it. Mrs. MacDonagh smiled.
"God bless you both," she said.
Constance nodded, and steered the still crying Renee down the street. Renee hastily wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her blouse as they turned down a street with telescreens. The Tube ride back to the pub was spent in silence, Constance staring out the window, her jaw tight and her fists balled, and Renee with her arms wrapped around her stomach, watching Constance.
Walking between the Tube station and the pub, Renee saw nothing but the striding form of her best friend, head held high. Her vision blurred every so often as she remembered Constance's parents, and she would quickly swipe at her face to hide it.
They spent the afternoon in their room, neither saying much beyond the necessities, nor eating much when they decided to eat. At one point, Constance left to go for a walk and returned about an hour later, saying nothing of what had happened. Renee let all her tears out while Constance was away, knowing that it was subtly wrong that she was the one weeping over Constance's loss.
As evening fell, Shadow's wife knocked on the door to tell them the pub was open. Constance immediately got to her feet.
"Coming?" she asked.
Renee shook her head, not in the mood for drinking or music. Constance shrugged and left.
An hour later, Shadow's wife once more appeared at the door, this time with Constance's arm around her shoulders. Constance's nose was bleeding, and she held her hip painfully as she dragged herself with Shadow's wife's help into the room.
"Fucking hell, what happened to you?" Renee almost shouted.
"She got into a little tussle with one of the other customers," said Shadow's wife.
"You started a barfight?"
"I didn't start it!" Constance tried to say, but it came out "I didn't start - aagh!" as she sat down on her blanket. She lifted a hand to her nose, and gratefully accepted a handkerchief from Shadow's wife.
"What happened?" Renee asked the older woman.
"One of the other customers tried getting friendly with her, and wouldn't take no for an answer."
"He called me a whore when I turned him down," supplied Constance through the handkerchief.
"Did he recognize you?" demanded Renee.
Constance shook her head.
"Never seen him before. It was just an insult."
"Not just an insult," continued Shadow's wife. "She punched him for it. I must say, he deserved it. And he's worse off than she is."
Renee knelt by Constance and gently removed her hand from her leg. Constance unzipped her skirt one-handed and slid it down so that Renee could assess the injury. Her right hip was bruised in shades of black, violet and green which continued down her outer thigh.
"What did he do?" Renee asked.
"Smashed me into a table," replied Constance matter-of-factly as she refastened her skirt.
"Can I get you ladies anything?" asked Shadow's wife.
"No, thank you," Renee said.
When the older woman was gone, Renee sat down across from her bleeding friend.
"You didn't care that he called you a whore, did you?" she said quietly. "Hell, you call yourself that sometimes. You just wanted to hit something, to make someone else bleed, didn't you?"
"Yeah," whispered Constance.
Renee shook her head.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Stance, just tell me what I can do."
Constance held her gaze for a moment, then dropped it as she checked whether her nose was still bleeding.
"You can get me another handkerchief," she said softly.
Renee smiled weakly and fetched Constance's handkerchief. Shadow's wife's bloody handkerchief was quickly discarded into a corner.
When the bleeding stopped, the silence that had reigned over the room all day returned, but it was broken by a sudden sob from Constance.
Instantly, Renee was at her best friend's side, laying Constance's head on her shoulder, crying silently as Constance's tears soaked her blouse. They spent the night that way, Constance's violent sobs shaking her body as her surrogate sister held her. Sometimes Constance would rail in anger against the Party and Big Brother, and other times she would descend into self-blame over the bombing. In the morning, Constance fell asleep, and Renee tucked the blanket around her, and did not sleep herself, but instead watched the sun rise, and mourned.
Author's Note:
The MacDonaghs are named after Thomas MacDonagh, one of the leaders of the Easter Rising. And I forgot to say before, but Eamon Edwards is named after Eamon De Valera, the first President of the Irish Republic.
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.