The Heather Blazing by Colm Tóibín Page A

grandmother was in the kitchen crying, his father and his uncles went down to her and he heard one of them telling her that she would be all right, but that only made her crying worse.
    â€œI won’t be all right,” he heard her saying, as she motioned them away.
    *  *  *
    They walked up through the town again; the sleet had lifted, but it was freezing cold.
    â€œYou’d better go straight to bed. I’ll make you a hot water bottle,” his father said.
    â€œAm I going to school tomorrow?” he asked.
    â€œWe’ll see in the morning.”
    The house was cold, he could see his breath when they turned on the light in the hall. The house seemed strange, as though they had been away for a long time. He tried to remember when they had last been there, and realized that he had slept there the previous night, and only left that morning to go to the funeral.
    â€œIt’s the coldest night of the year,” his father said as he put a match to the fire.
    Eamon fell asleep as soon as his father put the light out in his bedroom. He knew when he was woken again that it was not yet morning; he was aware that he had only been asleep for a short while. He was tired and the bed was warm. When he put his hands up from under the blankets he could feel the cold.
    â€œYou’re going to have to get up again,” his father said. “Put on an extra jumper and vest.” When he turned on the light, Eamon noticed that his father was still wearing pyjamas.
    â€œWhy do I have to get up?”
    â€œYour Uncle Stephen’s after taking a turn.”
    He looked at his father for a moment, and wondered if he could not just put back the time an hour, maybe two hours, to when he had just fallen asleep.
    â€œTom’s waiting for us downstairs. We’d better hurry up.”
    â€œWhere are we going?”
    â€œWe’re going back down to the house. You can sleep down there.”
    It occurred to him that they might put him to sleep in the bed in the front room upstairs where his grandfather had been laid out, and he did not want to sleep there, so he knew that he would have to try and stay awake. He looked down the stairs from the landing and saw that there was another man with his uncle; they were both standing in the hall with their hands in their coat pockets. He took his shoes into his father’s bedroom and sat on the bed putting them on. His father was almost ready.
    â€œDid you put an extra pullover on?”
    â€œLook, it’s under this one.”
    There was ice on the path as they walked down towards the Back Road.
    â€œWatch you don’t slip,” his father said. The other two men did not speak. Eamon wondered for a moment if he was still asleep, if he could be dreaming, but he knew that this cold was real and the darkness actual.
    â€œDid the doctor come before you left?” his father asked.
    â€œYes, I had to go and wake him. As soon as he came down and saw Stephen he told me to go for the priest. I had a terrible time trying to wake the Manse, but Father Quaid said he would go down immediately, and then we came over here.”
    â€œIt’s bad so, is it?” his father asked.
    â€œThe doctor says he won’t last the night.”
    They walked in silence along the ice-covered pavements of John Street, Court Street, Rafter Street and the Market Square. When they arrived at the house the Rosary was being said in the back room. The people were kneeling down and did not look up when his father and uncle came in. His father and uncle and the other man knelt down too and bowed their heads and joined in the concentrated prayer. Eamon counted twelve of them now and himself, most of them were neighbours. When the Glorious Mysteries were over they started again, this time the Sorrowful Mysteries. When Eamon went to the toilet he met his Aunt Margaret who said that they were going to say the Rosary all night.
    â€œYour Uncle Stephen will be in