Once we were all in agreement I revealed my plan. It was a simple one really. We dress up in the Irish colours, paint our faces green, white and gold and wear large, silly, furry, Irish-flag-coloured hats. That way we’d be partially disguised during the robbery and we’d blend in with the rest of Ireland after it.
‘How do we get away?’ Charlie asked.
‘Our bikes,’ I said.
‘What if the money’s too heavy?’ Walker said.
‘It’s Rolands’ Garage, not the Central Bank,’ I said.
‘So we’ll take a small bag of money each,’ Charlie said, and the others nodded.
‘OK,’ they said.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘We’re doing this.’
I pulled Johnny J aside. ‘We’re bringing the pepper spray, just in case any big burly grown men arrive,’ I said. He nodded. ‘I need your help getting it.’
Sumo had a blackboard on a stand. I pulled it into the centre of the room and started writing a to-do list.
Break into Rachel’s room and get pepper sprayfn1/NO PEPPER-SPRAYING GRANNIES. (Sumo insisted I write that.)
Beg, borrow or steal football costumes (including face paint).
Make sure bikes are oiled and chains are fixed.
Steal cash from Jim Roland’s granny.
Now it was time to talk about the plan. I cleared my throat and stood in front of my friends (and Charlie).
‘In three days’ time the Ireland match is due to start at 4 p.m. in the Stadio La Favorita in Palermo.’
‘My dad’s going to be at that,’ Walker said.
No one cared. I wrote the date and time on the board. I didn’t write the venue or city as I had no idea how to spell them.
‘The match will play for minimum ninety minutes, plus fifteen minutes half-time. That means we have between 4 p.m. and 5.45 p.m. to rob the garage.’ Easy. We only needed five minutes. I wrote down ‘45 minutes to rob the garage’ for all to see. Charlie nodded. The boys looked concerned. I reviewed the board.
3.30 p.m. Meet in the den and put on our football gear (including face paint).
4.00 p.m. Grab the bags (stashed the night before) in the park.
4.20 p.m. Cycle to Rolands’ Garage.
4.30 p.m. Rob Jim Roland’s granny.
4.35 p.m. Cycle to the forest and hide the money.
4.45 p.m. Cycle to Cornally’s pub.
5.00 p.m. Blend into the crowd at Cornally’s.
I thought it was an excellent plan, but the boys were still quiet, so I wrote:
I underlined ‘Job done’ and ‘Johnny J’s mam saved’ for emphasis. Charlie nodded. The others still looked a little stunned.
‘Any questions?’ I asked.
‘I’ve two questions,’ Walker said.
‘OK.’
‘Can you hear yourself? And have you lost your mind??’
‘Yes, I can, and no, I haven’t. Any other questions?’
Johnny J had a question. ‘What if something goes wrong?’
‘Good question. If anything goes wrong, scatter. Cycle in different directions, ditch your bikes, run to the nearest pub and blend in with the crowd.’ I was really pleased with that answer. I’d really thought it through.
Walker put up his hand.
‘Yeah?’ I said.
‘I have asthma,’ he said, and we all stared at him.
‘Pubs are my enemy,’ he explained, and we ignored him. He put his hand down and fixed his glasses on his face, mumbling to himself about dying in prison.
‘What about the money? Where do we hide it?’ Charlie said.
‘In our place in the forest,’ I said.
‘Where’s that?’ she asked.
‘I’ll show you later,’ Johnny J said. I didn’t like her knowing our secret spot, but times were desperate.
‘So we scatter, drop the money off at the hiding place and then blend in with the crowd,’ she said.
‘Exactly,’ I said. It’s on the board, Miss Know-It-All.
‘OK,’ Walker said, and he held on to his big glasses and shook his head. ‘Madness …’ he mumbled to himself.
Everyone took in the plan. They read and reread the board. I was scared and my stomach still hurt, but I felt proud. I had promised my best friend I’d come up with a solution to get his mam to America and I’d done that, and anyway, what could go wrong? Nothing. I genuinely believed that it was a perfect plan and everything would work out.fn2
That evening, at home, I sat with my dad and we watched a post-match analysis of Yugoslavia v Colombia. I wasn’t really paying attention. I was thinking about my mam crying the night before. I wanted to tell her not to worry and that everything would be OK. But I couldn’t trust her not to blow her top. I couldn’t risk the operation.
That night before I went to bed I told her I loved her. I didn’t really do it that often because, well, you know … it’s embarrassing, but I did it anyway and I gave her a hug. I got a fright when it looked like she’d cry again, and felt a little uncomfortable when she didn’t let go for a really long time, but when we pulled apart she was smiling.
‘I love you too, son. You’re such a good boy.’
I went to bed hoping that she’d feel the same way after I’d robbed Rolands’ Garage.