tells Dad, I can see you’re a man that did his bit. Dad says, Och, I did my bit, and the man says, I did me bit, too, and what did it get me but one eye less and a pension that wouldn’t feed a canary. But Ireland is free, says Dad, and that’s a grand thing. Free, my arse, the man says. I think we were better off under the English.  Good  luck  to  you  anyway,  mister,  for  I  think  I  know  what you’re here for. A woman opens the door at number fourteen. I’m afraid, she says, that Mr. Heggarty is busy. Dad tells her he just walked all the way from the middle of Dublin with his small son, that he left wife and three chil- dren waiting for him at the bus place, and if Mr. Heggarty is that busy then we’ll wait for him on the doorstep. The woman is back in a minute to say Mr.Heggarty has a little time to spare and would you come this way. Mr. Heggarty is sitting at a desk near a glowing fire. He says,What can I do for you? Dad stands before the desk and says, I have just returned from America with wife and four children.We have nothing. I fought with a Flying Column during the Troubles and I’m hoping you can help me now in the time of need. Mr. Heggarty takes Dad’s name and turns the pages of a big book on his desk. He shakes his head, No, no record of your service here. Dad makes a long speech. He tells Mr. Heggarty how he fought, where, when, how he had to be smuggled out of Ireland because of the price on his head, how he was raising his sons to love Ireland. Mr. Heggarty says he’s sorry but he can’t be handing out money to every man who wanders in claiming he did his bit. Dad says to me, Remember this, Francis. This is the new Ireland. Little men in little chairs with little bits of paper.This is the Ireland men died for. Mr. Heggarty says he’ll look into Dad’s claim and he’ll be sure to let him know what turns up. He’ll let us have money to take the bus back into the city.Dad looks at the coins in Mr.Heggarty’s hand and says,You could add to that and make the price of a pint. Oh, it’s the drink you want, is it? One pint is hardly drink. You’d walk the miles back and make the boy walk because you want a pint, wouldn’t you? Walking never killed anyone. I want you to leave this house, says Mr. Heggarty, or I’ll call a guard, and you can be sure you’ll never hear from me again.We’re not hand- ing out money to support the Guinness family. 52