The Heather Blazing by Colm Tóibín Page B

heaven before the morning,” she said.
    He thought of Stephen’s soul floating out of him, seeping out of his body up through the house and into the sky. His father came into the kitchen. “We’re going to go upstairs now. We’ve made a bed for you in the back room so you can say a prayer and have a little sleep.”
    Eamon went in and lay on the cushions they had put downfor him. He left his clothes on but took off his shoes. They continued to say the Rosary in the room and he woke a few times as the prayers rose and fell, but soon he was fast asleep. He did not wake again until the dawn had broken. Someone had put more blankets on him; the room was empty now. He lay still for a while, afraid to move; he felt hot and sweaty and he wanted to go to the toilet, but still he was afraid.
    Suddenly, he heard the bed being moved in the room above and as he lay there he knew that Stephen was dead. He turned and tried to sleep again, but he could not, and he wondered if someone would come. Eventually, his Aunt Margaret and his Uncle Tom came into the room, they were looking for something and did not notice that he was awake. They moved quietly about, whispering to each other, trying not to disturb him. Soon they closed the door and he was alone in the room again.
    He did not know what they did to someone who was dead. Did they take all their clothes off? What did they wear when they were buried? An image of his mother came to him from his father’s Mass card, but he kept it away from his mind; he tried to think instead about his dead uncle. He waited there until his father came into the room.
    â€œStephen’s gone to heaven,” he said as soon as he saw that Eamon was awake.
    Eamon turned away, he did not want his father watching him across the room. He shut his eyes. His father came over and touched him on the shoulder. He wanted to turn towards his father, but he kept his eyes shut and his fists clenched.
    â€œEamon, you’ll have to get up, you can go to sleep later on.”
    The house was quiet now, all the neighbours had gone. He went into the kitchen and looked at the clock, it was half past seven. The house was freezing. He went to the front door and saw two nuns coming up the path, walking towards him. He found his Aunt Margaret and told her and she went out to meet them and took them upstairs.
    After a while his grandmother came down from the room in which Stephen had died. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, but when she saw him she put it back in place behind her head with her two hands. She was wearing a black coat.
    â€œPoor Eamon,” she said. “Poor Eamon.”
    He put his face against her and his arms around her, but she moved away quickly and went and sat down on her own in the back room until the others came and sat with her.
    â€œNo one is to touch me,” she said. “No one is to come near me any more.” They sat in silence, all of them, until one of the nuns came down and asked where the blessed candles were kept.

Part Two

CHAPTER ONE
    He woke during the night and went downstairs to his study. He had been dreaming, but now the dream had escaped him. He went into the kitchen and took some cold water from a plastic bottle in the fridge. He sat at the kitchen table for a while and then went back into the study. It was a warm night.
    He sat at his desk and looked down at the judgment he had written in longhand on foolscap pages. It was ready to be delivered. He wondered for a moment if he should have it typed, but he was worried about it being leaked. No one knew about it; even as he sat down to write it himself he did not know what he would say, what he would decide. There was so little to go on, no real precedent, no one obviously guilty. Neither of the protagonists in the case had broken the law. And that was all he knew: the law, its letter, its traditions, its ambiguities, its codes. Here, however, he was being asked to decide on something more