Eden Burning

by Deirdre Quiery

Eileen nodded. “I know that it belonged to Paddy O’Connor. Well, it was destined for Molly.”

  “Yes.” Lily shook her head and sighed. “She never got a chance to wear it.”

  “Peter told me that Cedric took it off Paddy before he died.” Eileen pressed the ring back into Lily’s hand. “What would Paddy want to happen to it?”

  “I think he would want us to give it to his landlady, Anne. She adored him. Tom can decide. Now you tell me what you wanted to tell me.”

  They drank sweet tea, huddled over a small electric fire, while the trays of diamonds, sapphires, rubies and emeralds sparkled around them. Eileen explained what Peter had told her.

  Lily asked, “How much time do we have?”

  “Less than an hour before they leave the Shankill.” For the first time Eileen looked agitated.

  “My God Eileen, we shouldn’t be sitting here drinking tea. We need to do something. Let’s go.” Lily jumped down from the stool and pulled her woollen gloves on.

  “There’s one more thing you need to know. I told Cedric the truth last night.” Eileen said the words in a calm, measured voice.

  “The truth?” Lily straightened her beret.

  “This is so difficult. I haven’t told either William or Peter.”

  “What? Eileen, quick, spit it out for God’s sake!”

  Eileen gently got to her feet and stood as though in Court in the witness box with her two hands clasped together in front of her, her head down.

  “I told Cedric that he is not my child. He’s not William’s son.”

  Lily looked at her watch and with the first sign of impatience asked, “Whose child is he?”

  “Do you remember the Blitz?”

  “Yes. I do. Tom and I were living on the farm on the Horseshoe Bend. The night of the Blitz was the night that Catherine was murdered. How could I forget it?”

  Eileen raised her head. “Remind me who Catherine was?”

  “Tom’s sister.”

  “Yes. She was the one you said was murdered?”

  “Yes. We never found out who murdered her or why. Is this relevant to Rose?”

  Eileen nodded. “Yes – more than I thought. I remember that night so well. I was in the Royal Hospital.”

  “The Royal?” Lily interrupted. She continued, “Catherine was in the Royal.”

  Eileen wasn’t listening. Instead she told her story. “The bombs fell over a six hour period. In the first hour I gave birth to a son. I called him Cedric. The ward I was in took a direct hit. Mr Magee arrived to help. He lifted Cedric from his cot and was carrying him to safety. He was six steps in front of me when a bomb hit the ward and the ceiling collapsed. Cedric was thrown from Mr Magee’s arms against the wall. Mr Magee picked him up. He turned to me. He said, “I’m sorry. He’s dead.”

  I started screaming and yelling and he put Cedric on the ground, looked for a sheet to wrap him in and then he held me for a moment in his arms. He whispered to me, “Eileen, we have to move. We have to get out of here. I’m so sorry but you can’t stay here. Cedric is dead. Leave him to God. Go.”

  Mr Magee pointed to a corridor leading to an exit sign which I could just make out. He waved at me and turned left along a wider corridor where people were crying. He was needed to help the living. I didn’t know what I was doing. I wandered in the direction that I thought he had pointed to. I heard a baby cry. At first, I thought that I had imagined it, but there was a cry coming from behind a door leading into a small theatre. I opened the door. I couldn’t see anything at first. It was really dark. The baby’s cry was close and stronger. I felt as though I could touch it. I took a few more steps in the darkness listening to the sound of crying. It stopped for a moment. I stood still. My eyes had become more used to the dark. Then I saw them. There were two babies, held in the mother’s arms. She was dead. She had been murdered – her throat had been cut. I could see that.”

  “That was Catherine,” Lily whispered.

  “Catherine.” Eileen hesitated. “Yes. Tom’s sister.”

  “You took Jonas?”

  “I took a baby. There were two.”

  “Maria was his sister.”

  “Cedric is Jonas.” Eileen stared at Lily. There was silence.

  “Who killed her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you not go to the police and tell them everything?”

  “No,” Eileen shook her head, “I didn’t. I wanted to keep the baby. It was the only way that I knew how to keep the baby.”

  “What happened then?” Lily asked in a calm voice.

  “I thought that no-one would know. I wanted to take both babies, but I knew that would have been impossible to explain to William. It would have complicated everything. With only the boy I wouldn’t have to tell anyone, not even William.”

  “Mr Magee would have known.”

  “I know. But Mr Magee had had enough of Belfast. He decided to move with his family to America two months later. He knew that the real Cedric died. He knew that Catherine’s baby had been stolen. He didn’t see either the baby or me before he left for America.”

  “Oh my God, I think that we need something stronger than tea to survive this!” Lily picked up her black handbag and removed a small quarter bottle of gin and poured a generous helping into Eileen’s tea and then into her own and gulped it back.

  “I don’t drink but … I think I’m going to start.” Eileen sipped at her gin tea.

  “You do realise what this means?” Lily asked.

  “That Cedric is Jonas.” Eileen bowed her head again.

  “Cedric is also Rose’s uncle and Tom’s nephew,” Lily whispered.

  “And … He’s a Catholic. Mr Magee told us that Catherine had baptised him that night of the Blitz.”

  “How important is that?” Eileen asked.

  Lily threw her hands into the air. “Who knows? How will he react?”

  “I don’t know.” Eileen shook her head.

  “What will William do if he knows all of this?” asked Lily.

  “I really don’t know.”

  “What time is it?”

  Eileen glanced at her watch. “Quarter to six.”

  Lily said, “Mass is at seven. They’re going to attempt to kill Rose after Mass.”

  Eileen nodded. “They asked Peter to meet them at six.”

  Eileen took a tissue from her handbag and wiped her nose.

  “Maybe I should have told William the truth about Cedric this morning. I asked Cedric to tell him. I hoped that he would have more influence over him.”

  Lily took the last gulp of gin tea. “Let’s go. If we can convince Cedric that he is a baptised Catholic and that he is Rose’s uncle that might be enough to stop the killings.”

  Lily set the alarm, turned off the lights, turned the key in the front door, and they ran to catch the 57 Bus for the Crumlin Road.

  • • •

  “Where’s Peter?” William asked, draining his pint in the Black Beetle.

  “I don’t know,” Cedric whispered, looking over William’s shoulder to where Jenny used to stand behind the bar. Cedric saw Sammy P walk through the front door with his usual swagger. Cedric leaned forward holding his chin in his hands and sighed, “There’s Sammy P, dependably punctual. Let’s go without Peter. This is our last job. Peter can get on with his life and I can get on with mine and you can get on with yours.”

  William straightened himself up. “What do you mean last job? There’s more work to be done. We have to do our quota. There’s work outstanding.”

  Cedric smoothed his hair back of his face. “I don’t think so. I’m thinking of getting out of here, doing something different, starting afresh – maybe in Australia.”

  “Australia? Get a grip. Do you want another beer?” William asked, smoothing a long string of black hair across his bald head.

  “No thanks.” Cedric puffed on a cigarette.

  “What’s got into you? You’re not turning good living on me are you?”

>   “What about you Sammy P? Never known to refuse?”

  “I’ll keep you company then.” Sammy P slid onto the bench beside Cedric. He took his deck of cards from his pocket and started to shuffle.

  “Have you got the car sorted, Sammy P?” Cedric asked.

  “I bloody well have the car sorted out. Don’t fuck with me when I’m playing cards.”

  • • •

  At six o’clock in the evening Father Anthony closed his eyes and keeping them closed walked into the rose garden in the Grove holding his rosary in his hands, rubbing the beads, concentrating on the Third Sorrowful Mystery, ‘The Crowning with Thorns’. It was dark as he sat on a bench facing the rose bushes he had planted fifteen years earlier. He opened his eyes. Even in the depths of winter one or two black spotted leaves still hung on the branches with a single yellow bud, curled leaves bravely facing the winter frost.

  The evening star sparkled above him. There was no sign of the moon yet. His hands were sweaty rolling the beads, as were his feet. They felt wet against his sandals even though it was nearly freezing. Crows called harshly to one another, flapping their wings noisily above his head.

  Darkness surrounded Father Anthony. He heard a rustling in the freezing grass. He opened his eyes again as a white hedgehog scurried from the tangled undergrowth. It looked at him with small pink eyes and made a snuffling sound. Only when it disappeared under the wet brown fallen oak leaves did he place the rosary into his right pocket. He groped under the concrete bench for the cold nuzzle of Father Martin’s gun. Again he counted six bullet cartridges in his left pocket.

  “God protect you.”

  • • •

  Rose kissed Matt for the first time at the back of the monastery, near the Woodvale Road where Matt’s Saracen was parked. They were sheltered from view by the evergreen shrubbery and the thick trunks of oak trees. She asked him to show her his back and he heard her take a deep breath when she saw the blue and crimson bruising which covered the area from his shoulders to the base of his spine.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Matt tucked his shirt into his trousers. “It doesn’t hurt if I sleep on my front.”

  Rose kissed him again softly on the lips. “I must go back. Tom and Lily will be wondering where I am. Mass is in one hour. This is the best birthday present ever.” She pulled his beret to one side. “You look funny like that.”

  Matt pulled her pom-pom hat off her head. “You look beautiful like that.”

  Rose touched his cheek. “Would you do something for me?”

  “Anything.”

  Rose reached into her pocket and handed him Catherine’s ring. “Tom and Lily gave it to me this morning for my birthday. It’s my grandmother’s. Would you put it on me?”

  Rose removed her woollen gloves and Matt his leather gloves. He took the small diamond ring and looked into her eyes.

  “Which finger?”

  “You choose.” Rose blushed.

  Matt slipped the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. “Will you wait for me? It will be a year before I can leave the army.”

  • • •

  Sammy P manoeuvred the stolen red Mini Cooper around the remains of a wooden barricade made from an old bed on the lower Crumlin Road. Cedric and William followed closely behind in the black taxi. It was six thirty and two degrees below zero. The only shop open on the Crumlin Road at that point was an off licence with thick iron bars over the windows and doors. The light from the shop fell across the road and lit up William’s face. Grey stubble prickled around his chin. He rubbed it roughly with his hand.

  “We’ll warm things up here.” William glanced at Cedric who hadn’t said a word since leaving the Black Beetle. Cedric looked at his hands turned face up resting on his jeans. A cigarette glowed faintly between his lips. His fingers gently curled, as though waiting to receive something.

  “What’s up? You’re acting strange.”

  “I’m wondering what you feel when you kill someone?” Cedric asked without removing the cigarette from his lips or moving his hands.

  “What do you mean, ‘feel’? You get on with the job. You do it. You don’t ‘feel’ anything. Are you going soft on me? I tell you how that makes me ‘feel’ – fucking angry. There’s a job to be done tonight and I don’t need you to be turning all philosophical on me.”

  “How did you feel when you killed Paddy O’Connor and Michael McGuckin?”

  “You killed Paddy on your own, so don’t ask me about that one.”

  “You had a part to play. You knew that he was going to be dead within hours when you left him. How did that make you feel?”

  “I was thinking that you would finish him off and do a good job of disposing of the body so we wouldn’t be caught.”

  “I didn’t ask you what you thought. I asked you how you felt?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t feel anything.”

  “No. I didn’t think you felt anything. I thought that I didn’t feel anything either but I was wrong. I felt angry. I felt that this person was responsible for the pain I felt inside. I was angry that he made me feel that he way. I wanted to kill him to make the anger go away. He disgusted me. The way he took it all. He hardly fought at all. I thought he was pathetic.” Cedric continued to look at his hands.

  “Did the bloody anger go away then? Was it worth it?” William squinted into the distance trying to keep track of Sammy P’s mini.

  “No. I felt pleased for a minute or two afterwards but five or ten minutes later I was angry again and it was worse than before.”

  “What happened last night? What was in the bloody fish and chips? You’ve been poisoned or you’ve cracked.”

  “I had a heart-to-heart with Eileen after you went to bed.”

  In the dark of the taxi Cedric pulled the sun visor down and looked into the mirror. He moved closer. His eyes fascinated him. For the first time he noticed his long black lashes framing turquoise blue eyes. He kept staring into them. The black pupils dilated until there was almost no blue left. He stared into the blackness.

  “Why are you calling her Eileen? You never call her Eileen.” William took a quick look to the left.

  “She’s Eileen.”

  “You call her Mum or Mother. It’s disrespectful. What did you talk about? For God’s sake give me a fucking cigarette and stop looking at yourself.”

  William lifted the packet of Benson and Hedges from the dash board, tapped one free, and then snatched the cigarette dangling from Cedric’s lips to light it. He gasped for air and then took a puff and exhaled deeply. He coughed and felt his stomach shake. “I’ll have to give these up. They’re killing me. Anyway what did your Mother say to you to get you into this state? What was your little heart-to-heart all about?”

  “Eileen has kept a few things secret from you. She filled me in on the details last night.” Cedric laughed gently.

  William took the cigarette out of his mouth, kept his right hand on the steering wheel and pressed the glowing cigarette butt into Cedric’s palm. “Don’t you ever talk about your Mother in that tone of voice! It’s disrespectful, I’ve told you!”

  Cedric didn’t flinch or move his hands from his jeans. His fingers remained slightly curled upwards like a lotus flower floating on a pond.

  “Nice one ‘Daddy’.” Cedric dusted the ash from his palm. “But you need to know that she’s not my mother.”

  “What’s got into you?” William put both hands back on the wheel and pressed his foot on the accelerator. “What are your talking about? Eileen is your Mother. I’m your Father. Get your head sorted.”

  “You’re not my Father.”

  William tapped a cigarette onto the dashboard, pushed it between his lips and after lighting it with a shaking hand, dropped the lighter on the floor of the car. “You’re crazy.”

  “I’ll tell you one more time as you seem to be going a trifle deaf. Eileen is not my mother.”

  “You’re bonkers. Shut up or I’ll shut you up.” William put his
foot to the floor. The car pushed to fifty miles an hour.

  Cedric wound down the window and threw his cigarette out. “William, I’d advise you to keep to the speed limit if you don’t want to attract the attention of the police.”

  “Why are you calling me William? He slowed down. What do you mean I’m not your Father? What’s going on here, son?” His voice fell abruptly into a curiously gentle tone.

  “I’m not your son. Ask Eileen. So when you work that one out, maybe we’ll be getting somewhere.”

  William crunched into first gear instead of third. He turned to look at Cedric.

  “What are you talking about?” The black taxi slowed down as Sammy P in the Mini Cooper disappeared into the darkness ahead. “For fuck’s sake slow down, Sammy P. You’re going to set that bomb off if you go over the ramps at that speed.” William cursed under his breath. “Give it to me in one sentence what you’re getting at. I don’t know what you mean. How is Eileen not your Mother? How am I not your Father? Make it simple for me to understand.”

  “It will need more than one sentence. There was a ‘real’ Cedric. He was your son, not me. He was killed in the Blitz only hours after he was born. After he was killed, Eileen tried to find her way out of the hospital. She heard a baby crying. She followed the sound and found a theatre where a woman lay with her throat slit, holding two babies. The babies were both still alive. Eileen took one of the babies – the boy. That was me. She called me Cedric. She introduced me to you as her real son.”

  William started to cough violently. His tongue stuck out as he gasped for air, his body shuddering with each convulsion. The cigarette burnt into the filter held in his fingers. He stubbed it out in the overflowing ashtray, throwing the butt onto the floor of the car at Cedric’s feet. He couldn’t stop the words tumbling out. It was as though a magnet had taken his mind back with force to the theatre when he opened the door and walked towards Catherine. In his mind he only saw Catherine’s ghostly white face, close to his. He smelt the sweet soap on her forehead.

  “I killed that bloody Fenian woman. I sliced her throat!”

  “You did what?” Cedric sat up in the seat, licking the cigarette burn on his right palm.

  “You heard me. I was on the night shift at the hospital that night. Your Mother was in labour. I had to leave her before the bombs started to fall. There was work to do. Earlier in the day I had to tidy up the room after that woman was wheeled to theatre. It’s her ring that you’re wearing on your left hand.”