Free The City of Strangers by Michael Russell Page A

then crashing through the undergrowth came Harry Lawlor, as Injun Joe, his belt tied round his head and a pigeon’s feather sticking out of his headband, and screaming loudly.
    ‘I’m a-going to get you, Tom Sawyer! I’m a-going to get you!’
    ‘Becky, run, it’s Injun Joe!’
    Tom put his fist up to defend Becky, who scowled and looked like she was perfectly capable of protecting herself, but before Harry reached his prey a small figure wearing a wide-brimmed, very torn straw hat, flung himself at Injun Joe. Alex Lessingham, more accurately Huckleberry Finn, was coming to the rescue. Tom Gillespie clenched his fists and shouted.
    ‘That’s not what happens!’
    ‘Who cares?’ said Jane.
    She ran. Injun Joe followed.
    ‘Come on, Tom, let’s go!’ said Huck, racing off. And Tom ran after them, laughing, finally abandoning accuracy for fun.
    Valerie got up, laughing too, pulling Stefan up on to the mound by the hand. The voices of the children echoed through the darkening trees for a moment longer, and then there was silence again.
    ‘Come on, you lot!’ shouted Valerie.
    ‘Tom, we’ve to get back! Tea’ll be ready! Harry needs to go too!’
    ‘Jane, Alex, it’s almost dark!’
    ‘Tom! I mean it!’
    Valerie sniggered.
    ‘What’s that for?’
    ‘I mean it, indeed! Sure, don’t you put the fear of God into them?’
    ‘They’ll have us standing here all night, Valerie.’
    ‘Really?’ She took his hand.
    He pulled it back.
    ‘Don’t be so daft.’
    She giggled. They walked on a few steps.
    ‘Did you say you had to go to America?’
    ‘New York.’
    ‘What on earth for?’
    Out of the twilight four forms launched themselves at Stefan and Valerie, leaping up and pulling them down to the ground, laughing and whooping, in whatever characters they still carried in their heads. Tom and Harry Lawlor pinned Stefan to the ground; Jane and Alex held their mother down, demanding immediate surrender and a considerable ransom. But after a few moments the hostages were released. As they all got up, Valerie grabbed at the severely battered and torn straw hat that had fallen off her son’s head. She frowned a frown of considerable severity.
    ‘And who did this?’
    The children looked at one another and said nothing.
    ‘This came out of my bedroom. It was new last year. Look at it!’
    ‘It’s like Huckleberry Finn’s hat,’ muttered Alex.
    ‘It certainly is now,’ replied his mother. ‘Who did it, please?’
    Tom stepped forward, his head hanging down.
    ‘We were going to put it back, Mrs Lessingham.’
    ‘Oh, well, that’s all right then.’ Her voice was still very stern.
    ‘I only cut it a bit, so it looked right. But it’s got quare ripped now.’
    ‘Quare ripped indeed, Tomás Gillespie!’
    She put her arm round Tom; then she put the hat on her head.
    ‘So what do you think?’
    As Valerie and her children walked down the track through the woods, Stefan turned towards the farm with Tom and Harry. The boys climbed over the fence into the field and walked on. He realised he hadn’t explained anything at all to her yet. He called out in the near darkness.
    ‘I’m leaving for New York tomorrow!’
    ‘How long will you be?’
    ‘Five days, six. I’m flying.’
    ‘What? You still haven’t told me why.’
    ‘I’ll catch you in the morning, Valerie!’
    ‘I don’t know what I’m doing tomorrow. I’ll see what –’
    She was gone from sight; her voice had gone too, fading into the trees. He wasn’t sure how much she had heard but when he clambered over the fence it was clear Tom had heard enough. He stood with a look of bewilderment and awe on his face, waiting for his father; it was a look shared by Harry Lawlor too. The Mississippi had disappeared from view.

5. Inns Quay
    That evening, after tea, Tom Gillespie brought down the newspaper cuttings he had collected earlier in the year about the flying boats that had just taken to the air, flying out of Ireland, across the Atlantic,