A Threat of House Calls

By John O'Neil

Teresa had just started the breakfast dishes when she heard the scraping of gravel and muffled alien accents in the yard between the front of the house and the old barn. It was 10 o’clock, but Mary had been a holy terror and Teresa had only now put her down.

She knew straight away it was soldiers. The farm was only six miles from the border and they were forever about. “Like the poor, they are with us always,” Joe’s mother liked to say. They would have come on foot through the fields. The Army no longer moved by lorry in the northern Ireland county of Fermanagh.…

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