When Calum returned home that afternoon, he found his father in one of his bad moods, and with a sinking heart, the young man knew he was in trouble - not through his own doing, but trouble nevertheless. "It's a black day, when me own family turns against me," Barry snarled, whirling on his son and raising a threatening fist. "So you were after thinkin' ye could up and leave the place? Well, ye're a damned fool for thinkin' that. Ye're still me son, and I'll be damned if me own flesh and blood turns on me and casts all me kindnesses in me teeth!"
Calum rolled his eyes. "Put a sock in it, Da," he said.
Barry's glare deepened, but he lowered his fist. "Ye're mad for thinkin' ye could up and leave home," he snapped. "I've already arranged for you to be shipped off to Dublin - no more lollygaggin' about with your hairbrained schemes of bein' a lowly fisherman. Ye were made for bigger and better things; Fergus can find another boy for his vessel, and be damned to his idiot thinkin' that's turned me own son against me."
"You can feck right off with that," Calum said, folding his arms. "The train can go to Dublin, but I won't be on her."88Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1yDKZUL1Xa
"Ye'll be on that train if I have to tie you up and throw you on board meself," Barry warned. "Oliver's expectin' ye day after tomorrow, and don't think ye can get away with skiving off anymore. I've already told Fergus he can find someone else to take over his squidding business. He took it hard, but it serves him right for lurin' me son away from me. Ye were made for better things, and an accountant is a good, honest job."
"You know damned well I can't do math for shit," Calum said angrily. "And I'll wager Uncle Fergus is more than a little fecked off at your meddling nonsense."
"Fergus can feck off for all of me," Barry said. "Ye're goin' to Dublin day after tomorrow, and if I have to lock you up till then, I will."
Calum drew himself up to his full height. "Feck off," he said. "I'm a grown man, and I won't be locked up like a naughty boy. I'm takin' over the squiddin' business, and if I've got to leave here with nothin' but the clothes on me back, then I'll be doin' it, and you can kiss me arse."
Barry's eyes narrowed. "If you walk out the door, you're no son of mine," he warned.
"Then so be it," Calum said, giving his father one last glare before turning to his mother, who'd remained still and silent in her rocking chair. Molly never intervened between father and son, but Calum didn't blame her at all, and he dropped a kiss on her small, wrinkled hands. "I'll be grand, Mam," he told her. "You know I will. Haven't I the luck to make good of me name?"
Molly managed a small smile. "You do," she said. "Bless ye, me baby. Go well, and God be with you."
Calum smiled at her before turning his back and walking out of the house, head high. He wasn't worried about leaving with just the clothes on his back - Fergus would look after him. Though as Calum made his way down the street towards the bus station - counting his lucky stars he still had his wallet with him - he knew this was going to turn the feud into a much more permanent rift between his father and his uncle.
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