Deathbed Confessions

The money that the Mammy gave us lasted only as far as Fishguard. The ferry tickets and a bowl of soup at the dockside accounted for all but a few pennies. For my sake Jack remained cheerful throughout the crossing, although I was sick for the greater part of it. It was just as well that we didn't eat before we left Rosslare because the precious food would have been bequeathed to the waves for sure. Watching two weatherworn old Irishmen drinking Guinness before dawn did little to appease my rolling stomach. Apart from a fishing trip on Uncle Timmy's boat down at Kinsale, I knew nothing of the sea. I'd always wondered why we should sing for those in peril on the sea at Mass on Sunday but now I understood. "Are you OK Liam?" asked Himself as I gorged on my vegetable broth. I smiled and nodded. Twas only once I had a full belly that the sense of adventure seized me. I had rarely left Ballycraich and only twice visited Cork, but now here I was, supping soup with my big brother and not knowing what God or foul fortune held for us. "Have ya got nutting to say for yerself?" he asked me. I thought and shook my head. My fifteen years had taught me to keep my opinion to myself in our household. You wouldn't want to upset my Pa with a quenched thirst on him. So begins the story of two runaway brothers whose violent lives are to touch so many others. And, when that story resurfaces forty years later, Jack Daly needs to discover just how his late mother was involved with the brothers and three gangland murders. This colourful and engrossing story captures the true essence of the sixties in London, where the author grew up. As the story follows Jack on his journey of discovery, the plot is interlaced with the Deathbed Confessions of the main characters, whose lives were ripped apart by the events of two summers in the sixties.