Across the Barricades

by Joan Lingard

  ‘Or takes off me tyres. They’re up to all sorts of tricks these days.’

  The tyres were so smooth they were on the verge of being dangerous, but Kevin did not point that out to his uncle. He wondered that the police did not pick him up more often for being in possession of an unroadworthy vehicle but then the police had plenty of other things to worry about.

  ‘Looks like well have to walk,’ said Kevin.

  Sadie walked between them, her arms linked through theirs. The sky had cleared and the moon rode high above them lighting the way. It was a fine night for a walk, Uncle Albert observed; he had walked home often enough before. And no doubt it would not be the last time, Kevin added. Uncle Albert broke into song, and Kevin and Sadie joined in.

  After they had gone a mile or two they saw the lights ahead of a parked truck.

  ‘Looks like an army check point,’ said Kevin.

  When they drew near they saw two soldiers standing in front of the truck, rifles held loosely in their hands. The walkers stopped in front of them.

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked one of the soldiers.

  ‘Belfast,’ said Uncle Albert. ‘Me car broke down a bit back there on the road.’ He launched into a description of the expiring of the car until he was cut off by the soldier.

  ‘And where have you been?’

  ‘Bangor. I went to see a man about a greyhound.’

  ‘O.K. then, on you go.’

  ‘Trouble, son?’

  ‘Army car blown up on one of the side roads,’ said the soldier shortly. ‘Landmine.’

  Uncle Albert tutted. ‘Nobody hurt I hope?’

  ‘The driver was killed.’

  Sadie, Kevin and Uncle Albert walked on in silence for a way. And then Uncle Albert said, ‘Well, if they will come over here they have to expect trouble.’

  ‘But –’ began Sadie, and then stopped as Kevin dug her in the ribs. She knew he was right: there was no point in arguing with Uncle Albert.

  ‘It’s not that I’m for people getting killed,’ said Uncle Albert. ‘And some of them soldiers are just boys.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know why we can’t get a bit of peace.’

  They did not sing any more. They walked more briskly, eating up the miles, until they saw the lights of Belfast ahead. They tramped through the sleeping suburbs, their feet ringing out in the quietness. After the suburbs came the rows and rows of streets of little redbrick terraced houses, running parallel, each one almost identical. They walked closer together, their eyes swifting from side to side watching for signs of trouble.

  ‘Wee bit of an argument up ahead,’ said Uncle Albert.

  The army and a number of dark-clothed men were having a running battle with stones and rubber bullets. Without another word the three walkers turned off to the right and made a detour to avoid the area. They passed a burning shop. A few people stood in the street watching the flames as if they were mesmerized. Sadie shivered and held on tighter to the arms of the two men.

  A church clock chimed three, and for the first time Sadie thought of her mother and father. She had forgotten them completely.

  ‘We’ll leave Sadie home first, will we, Kevin?’ suggested Uncle Albert.

  ‘No, no,’ said Kevin hastily. ‘I’ll leave her home. You’d better get on back to your own house. Aunt Patsy’ll be wondering where you are.’

  ‘Sure she knows better than to worry about me. But if that’s the way you want it! You’re only young once, eh Kevin?’ Uncle Albert chuckled and took his arm from Sadie’s. ‘Good night then, Sadie. It’s been nice to meet you.’

  ‘You too, Mr McCoy.’

  ‘Kevin must bring you up to meet the wife one of these days.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ said Sadie, knowing that Kevin would never be able to take her to his Uncle Albert’s house.

  ‘And the next time I give you a lift I’ll see to it that the ould car doesn’t let us down again.’

  Uncle Albert left them. Sadie and Kevin waited until he had gone from sight so that he would not see which direction they were taking.

  ‘I liked your Uncle Albert,’ said Sadie.

  ‘He’s a good-natured soul. But he’s a terrible husband.’

  ‘I could imagine that!’

  They turned along the main road which led to Sadie’s street. She drew in her breath.

  ‘Kevin, there’s three men coming.’ He looked and saw them too. They were still a good way off. ‘Don’t you think you should go?’ said Sadie,

  ‘And leave you alone?’

  ‘I’ll be all right.’

  ‘No.’ He held her arm more firmly. They look like a posse of vigilantes,’ he said jokingly.

  The men were walking with a firm even tread as if they were out on patrol. As they drew nearer, Sadie felt certain that she was going to recognize them. Their outlines were familiar, their heights correct.

  ‘It’s them,’ she murmured. ‘I might have known it Go on, go, please, Kevin,’ she said urgently.

  But he stayed beside her. They met the men in the middle of the street. They stopped, with a few yards of pavement between them. Then Mr Jackson, Mr Mullet and Tommy advanced to confront Sadie and Kevin.

  9

  ‘Come here, Sadie,’ said Mr Jackson, making a space for her between himself and Tommy.

  Sadie stayed where she was, her arm resting against Kevin’s.

  ‘I’m sorry if you’ve been worried about Sadie,’ said Kevin, ‘but we went to Bangor and missed the last bus –’

  ‘And then we got a lift from Kevin’s Uncle Albert and his car broke down,’ carried on Sadie.

  ‘I told you there’d be some quite simple reason for it, Da,’ said Tommy. He sounded awkward and embarrassed.

  ‘Simple?’ said Mr Jackson.

  ‘We’ve been searching the district for you for hours, Sadie,’ said Mr Mullet. ‘The whole street’s right upset and our Linda’s near up the wall.’

  ‘Well, she’ll just need to get down off it again,’ said Sadie.

  ‘Boys, the cheek of it!’ said Mr Mullet softly. He was beginning to think his wife had been right all these years: Sadie Jackson was a bad influence and would come to no good in the end. It was only his friendship for Jim Jackson that had made them spend these last two hours scouring the streets. He would rather have been at home in his bed so that he would be up in good time for church in the morning. They had even gone to the edge of the Catholic quarter but had not dared to venture into it. There had been trouble over there. They had seen flames shooting up into the sky and the sound of shouting and then armoured cars had rumbled past After that they had retreated.

  ‘Come here, Sadie,’ her father repeated again. ‘I want no more of your nonsense. We’ve been up the walls tonight. Your mother’ll need to go to the doctor for more pills.’

  ‘Sure she’s always at the doctor for pills anyway.’

  Mr Jackson lunged forward to catch hold of his daughter. She side-stepped. Tommy stirred uneasily wishing they could all go home and leave it at that. The more his father upbraided Sadie the more devilish she would become. His father must know that. He would only push her further into Kevin McCoy’s arms.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Sadie. ‘I’m coming home now anyway but I’m not going to be marched up the street as if I was being taken to the jail.’

  ‘The jail would be too good for you,’ said Mr Mullet.

  Mr Jackson glared at Mr Mullet. There was no call for a friend to make a remark like that about your daughter. There were a few remarks he could make about Linda if he chose to.

  ‘Well, Jim, there’s times a man must speak his mind,’ said Mr Mullet. ‘We’ve nearly been round the bend this last two hours thinking of all the things that might have happened to her.’

  ‘Did you think the Micks had got hold of me and tarred and feathered me?’ giggled Sadie.

  ‘Careful,’ said Kevin softly, squeezing her arm.

  ‘Let’s go home to bed,’ said Tommy. ‘We’ve found Sadie and that’s
the main thing.’

  ‘That’s not the main thing at all,’ said Mr Jackson.

  ‘’Deed you’re right, Jim.’ Mr Mullet shook his head. ‘I agree. If it was our Linda –’

  ‘I’m going home,’ said Tommy firmly. ‘Are you coming, Sadie?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s right, you two go on home,’ said their father. ‘Mr Mullet and I have some unfinished business with this fella here.’

  Tommy took a step over to his father. ‘Now look, Da, you’re not going to start fighting.’

  ‘If you want to go home to your bed away you go. You don’t seem to care who your sister’s roaming about with till all hours of the night, but I do!’ Mr Jackson pushed his son away. His temper was up. It seldom rose, but when it did it did not subside easily.

  Mr Mullet stepped forward. He would stand by his Brother. In the Lodge they were all Brethren. And confronted by a Roman Catholic no good Orangeman would turn tail and run. He wondered if Tommy would be a good choice for Linda after all.

  Sadie started to laugh. ‘What do you think you’re going to fight Kevin for? He didn’t force me to go with him. I went because I wanted to. He doesn’t carry on any white slave traffic’

  ‘White slave traffic?’ said Mr Mullet. ‘What kind of traffic is that?’

  ‘Skip it,’ said Sadie. ‘And skip the fighting too. Because if you don’t Kevin’ll make mincemeat of the two of you with no bother at all.’

  ‘I’m not wanting any fighting either, Mr Jackson,’ said Kevin.

  ‘So you’re a coward as well, eh?’ said Mr Mullet. ‘That doesn’t surprise me. Any Mick who’d go sneaking off with a decent young Protestant girl behind her parents’ back is sure to be yellow in the middle.’

  Now Kevin’s temper soared. Sadie knew how high it could go. She tried to catch his arm but he had left her in a flash and was holding Mr Mullet by the shoulders. He towered over Mr Mullet by about four inches.

  ‘If you were my own age I’d bash you for that!’ Kevin shouted. ‘But I don’t pick on old men and stupid eejits for I like the odds to be even.’ He released Mr Mullet.

  ‘Old man? I’m not an old man. I was only forty-five last month.’

  Tommy rolled his eyes upward. ‘For heavens sake, let’s go home. Ma’ll be taking even more pills if we don’t.’

  ‘I’m not going home till I sort this brat out,’ said Mr Jackson, ‘And you needn’t think it. By the time I’m done with him he’ll not come near my daughter again. Right, Bill?’

  Mr Mullet moved forward less enthusiastically now. He was beginning to think Tommy might be right. It might be better to go home. Mr Jackson advanced slowly towards Kevin. Suddenly Sadie jumped between them.

  ‘If you want to fight him you’ll have to take me on first.’

  ‘Sadie, I don’t need you to fight my battles.’ Kevin tried to put her aside frit she resisted.

  If this went on any longer, thought Tommy, everybody would be fighting everyone else. He looked along the street. There were another two men coming. They must break the gathering up quickly before the other two arrived or there could be a real blood bath. And the blood would be Kevin’s.

  ‘Kevin,’ he said, ‘I think you should get on home. I know you don’t want to fight my father.’

  ‘Course not.’

  ‘And I’m taking Sadie home. Now!’

  Tommy jerked his head towards the end of the street. Both Sadie and Kevin noticed and got the message. Neither Mr Jackson nor Mr Mullet had seen that reinforcements were at hand.

  ‘You’re right, Tommy,’ said Sadie. ‘It’s time we called it a day. Good night, Kevin.’

  Kevin hesitated a moment.

  ‘Good night, Kevin,’ she said again, her eyes on the approaching men.

  Kevin said good night to Sadie and Tommy, then walked quickly off in the opposite direction. Tommy held back his father. Mr Mullet required no restraining; his feet were already turning homewards.

  Kevin zigzagged through the streets towards his own area. He had not wanted to leave in a way. His old instinct of wanting to fight it out had been there very strongly, but he knew it would have been stupid. He didn’t want to fight Sadie’s father and brother. Tommy would not have fought him anyway. They had no reason to fight one another.

  He looked up and saw a glow in the sky. A fire. There was noise ahead too: the sound of rioting. He skirted the barbed-wire barricades. Two policemen asked him where he was going. Home, he said.

  ‘Been trouble?’ he asked.

  ‘Plenty. Still is. Doyle’s pub was burnt out.’

  Kevin moved on, tired now after the long day at the seaside and the walk. He walked close to the houses. The streets were astir with soldiers trying to clear up the last of the rioters. They were still fighting it out in isolated pockets. Kevin skirted these, taking several detours to get to his own street. The smell of burning was in the air.

  A burst of machine gun fire sent him sprawling full length on the pavement. He lay with his face pressed against the cold ground, his heart racing. He looked sideways. Another burst. He put his arms round his head. He was not the target but the need to protect himself was instinctive. A vehicle roared past and stopped. Kevin eased himself on to his elbow. More armoured trucks, soldiers, police, gathered quickly. On the opposite pavement lay the victim of the attack.

  The man was a civilian and he was dead.

  Two policemen came to Kevin. Had he seen anything? He shook his head. Nothing, he told them, he had seen nothing, he had only heard the gunfire.

  ‘Away off home then.’

  The policeman probably did not believe him, knowing full well that it would have been more than his life was worth to give away any information. He picked himself up and resumed his journey.

  He broke into a trot when he reached the end of his street. He wanted to go to bed and sleep and shut out the sound of gunfire and shouting and the sight of men slumped on pavements.

  ‘Hey there, Kevin!’

  He halted. It was Brian Rafferty’s voice.

  Brian caught up with him. ‘Boys, they’re getting a run for their money tonight all right!’ He was grinning.

  Kevin walked on. Brian fell into step beside him.

  ‘Where’ve you been all day?’

  ‘Bangor.’

  ‘You missed it all here. Doyle’s pub got burnt down by the Prods. The cheek of them! They’re going to pay for this. They’d burn us out to the last man if we let them.’

  ‘We do a bit of burning ourselves,’ said Kevin wearily.

  Brian seized him by the shoulder and spun him round so that they stood face to face. ‘I don’t like the sound of that talk.’

  ‘What good does burning things do? I’m sick of fires.’

  ‘So you take yourself off to Bangor for the day?’

  ‘Why not? It’s no crime.’

  ‘Could be. Depends on who you were with.’

  ‘What do you want to say?’ Kevin shoved Brian’s hand off his shoulder.

  ‘I met your Uncle Albert on the way home. He was telling me you were with a blonde girl by the name of Sadie.’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘I remember a girl called Sadie. Few years back.’

  ‘Mind your own business!’ Kevin spoke fiercely.

  ‘I don’t know that it might not be my business, if it’s the same Sadie I’m thinking of.’

  ‘You won’t tell me what to do, Brian Rafferty.’

  ‘No?’ Brian smiled and leaned back against the wall of a house.

  ‘No,’ said Kevin and left him.

  A few yards and he was home. He shut the door thankfully behind him, tiptoed upstairs in his stockinged feet and fell asleep on the bed fully clothed.

  He wakened to the sound of church bells and Brede prodding him in the ribs.

  ‘What time did you come in last night?’

  ‘Haven’t a clue.’ He yawned and stretched.

  ‘Get up,’ said Brede, ‘or you’ll be late for mass.’


  He washed, changed his clothes, went downstairs.

  His mother was fussing about, washing faces and combing hair. All the children wore their best clothes. It was the only time in the week when they were all clean and tidy at the same time.

  His father began to question him. Where had he been last night? Had he been in any trouble? What time did he come in? All the usual questions. Kevin answered with a few words, telling nothing.

  They set off for church, the smaller children running in front playing tag, his mother and father walking slowly behind since his mother now walked with difficulty. Brede carried the youngest child over her shoulder with Kevin beside her.

  When mass was over, the congregation loitered a while outside the church. The talk was all of the fire in Doyle’s pub. Indignation was running high.

  ‘You’d think it was something new!’ said Kevin to Brede.

  ‘I’m sick of death and burning,’ she said,

  Brede sighed, shifting the baby higher on her shoulder. They walked home ahead of the others. Half way along their street they were overtaken by Kate. She was breathless.

  ‘I’ve been calling you,’ she said.

  ‘We didn’t hear,’ said Brede. The baby cried and she joggled him up and down.

  Kate eyed Kevin. ‘I was wondering what you were doing this afternoon. I thought we might all go for a picnic or something. What do you say?’

  ‘I’m busy,’ said Kevin, and he carried on up the street, leaving the two girls together.

  ‘What’s up with him?’ Kate pouted.

  ‘Maybe –’ Brede hesitated. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t chase him as much, Kate. Boys don’t like to be run after.’

  ‘How dare you, Brede McCoy!’ Kate tossed her head. ‘I’ve never run after a boy in my life.’

  ‘I was just trying to be helpful.’ The baby began to cry again. ‘I’ll need to get him home for his bottle,’ said Brede.

  Kate went back down the street and on the way met Brian Rafferty.

  As Brede went inside her house she looked back and saw that Brian and Kate had their heads together and were deep in conversation.

  After lunch, Kevin left the house and walked to Cave Hill. He spent the afternoon up there alone, lying in the sunshine, drifting into sleep from time to time.