by Joan Lingard
In the early evening he came down to the city again on to the tow path of the River Lagan, where he had arranged to meet Sadie. She arrived a few minutes after he did. He saw her coming, walking with a long smooth stride, her fair hair blowing back in the breeze. He liked the look of her walking towards him with a smile on her face. He smiled too.
He caught both her hands in his.
‘I was wondering if you’d come,’ he said.
‘You didn’t really. You knew I would.’
‘Yes.’
They wandered along the path, their arms around one another’s waists. They passed other young couples, also walking arms entwined, or hand in hand. Sometimes, when they passed another couple, they all four smiled at each other, as if they were sharing a secret.
‘Does your mother know you’re out?’ asked Kevin, and Sadie laughed.
‘I’m always out. I hate being stuck in the house.’
‘Me too.’
‘Houses are too small.’ Sadie. ‘I’d like to live in a tent in a field.’
‘What about a caravan?’
‘We could be tinkers,’ said Sadie. “I’d quite fancy the life. Trotting along the roads with nobody to bother you. Are you any good with a horse?’
‘A horse? Sure I can handle them as smooth as silk.’ Kevin laughed. ‘As long as they’re fifty years old and ready to be pensioned off.’
They stayed by the river until the last light faded from the sky and the air was cool.
‘It’s been a lovely evening,’ sighed Sadie.
‘When can I see you again, Sadie?’
‘When would you like to?’
‘Tomorrow?’
She nodded.
‘Same place?’
‘Same place.’
They turned homewards. They decided they would part before they came near their own areas. They agreed that it was only a nuisance to have encounters like last night’s.
Several streets away from Sadie’s they stopped and sought refuge from the night wind in a shop doorway. Sadie said that she ought to be getting home so that she didn’t get another row for being late but Kevin kept hold of her hand. They stayed there talking for half an hour.
A clock near-by chimed midnight.
‘Time passes quickly,’ said Sadie. ‘I’d really better go.’
He kissed her. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘Yes. Half seven.’ She lingered still.
‘Only nineteen hours and a bit.’
‘Not long…’
They kissed again and then she left him, looking back from the next corner to wave.
She thought about him all the way home. When she came in her mother raged at her for being late but she did not even answer back. She drifted up the stairs with a little smile on her face. Mrs Jackson’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
‘I didn’t like the look in Sadie’s eye,’ said Mrs Jack-son to her husband when they lay in bed in the room next to Sadie’s. ‘She was supposed to be going out with some girls from her work but I’ve got my doubts. Jim, you don’t think she would have been meeting that McCoy boy again do you? Jim!’ She nudged him. But Mr Jackson was asleep and when she stopped talking she heard him snoring.
Kevin walked home thinking of Sadie too. He liked the way her eyes danced and her mouth lifted in a mischievous smile. She was full of life and energy that seemed to match his. They matched. He smiled at the thought. In some ways it was ridiculous, but there it was. He whistled to himself.
He came round by the side of the scrapyard, quite unprepared for the attack. The three boys were upon him before he even had the chance to see their faces. But he knew who one was, for the laugh was familiar and the voice. Traitor!’ He fought back blindly, without a chance. He went down on to the ground, face downwards, his arms protectively over his head. He felt their feet, and that was all…
10
Brede cleared up the mess of sand and water, put away a jig-saw, sorted out a jumble of toys. End of the day jobs. Not many children were left in the nursery now. Mothers had been coming in and out for the last half hour collecting their children. Brede kept an eye on the clock hoping that everyone would come on time and she would not be kept late. There were usually one or two mothers who rushed in at the last possible moment indignantly spilling out tales of delayed buses or being kept late at work.
‘Anything wrong, Brede?’ asked the matron.
Brede looked up, startled, from where she knelt on the floor amongst the toys.
‘Are you all right, Brede?’
‘Yes.’ Brede pushed a strand of hair from her eyes.
‘You’ve looked very troubled all day. Are you sure? Anything wrong at home?’
‘Well…’
‘Is it your mother? She must be getting near her time. Would you like to get away now? I’ll finish off for you.’
Brede thanked her, went up to the cloakroom and took off her overall. There would still be time for her to get across the town to the department store where Sadie worked.
She had to wait for a bus and when it came it seemed to travel like a snail out for a Sunday stroll. The shop would shut at six, she hoped, not before. She must catch Sadie before she left.
She alighted at the City Hall and ran through the crowds to the shop. At the inquiry desk she asked which department Sadie Jackson worked in.
‘Hat department.’
Hats were on the second floor. Brede did not wait for the lift; she ran up the stairs and arrived in the quiet hush of the hat department with a stitch in her side. There was no sign of Sadie. A middle-aged woman in a black dress was helping a customer try on a large yellow picture hat.
‘Madam, it’s absolutely perfect!’ declared the saleswoman. ‘It shows off your face beautifully.’
Madam did not seem so sure. She twisted this way and that, looking at herself in the mirror from every angle. Brede circled round the hat stands, unable to imagine Sadie in such a place.
‘It really is your colour, madam.’ The saleswoman looked over her shoulder at Brede. She ran her eyes over Brede’s rather shabby summer dress and scuffed sandals and obviously did not consider her to be much of a prospect for the sale of a picture hat. Brede blushed a little but stood her ground.
‘I don’t know…’ The customer fingered her chin, and then suddenly made up her mind. She whipped off the hat. ‘No, I think I’ll leave it for today, thank you.’
‘That’s all right, madam,’ said the saleswoman, stiff-lipped.
She began to gather up the dozen or so hats that the customer had been trying on for the past half-hour.
Brede approached her nervously. ‘Excuse me…’
‘I’m afraid we’re about to close.’
‘It’s not that. I don’t want to buy a hat’
‘I didn’t think you did,’ The saleswoman bundled several hats into a drawer.
‘I’m actually looking for Sadie Jackson.’
‘You won’t find her here. She got the sack this morning,’ said the woman triumphantly.
Brede fled from the shop. How was she to see Sadie now? There was only one place where she knew she could find her.
She knew the name of Sadie’s street, and that her house was the end one, with a mural of King Billy on its gable wall. Kevin had told her that. She had never been in the street herself before.
Brede advanced into the warren of Protestant streets with her heart beating. It was unlikely that anyone would recognize her, she knew that, but still she felt a tug of fear at her heart. The houses were very like her own, small, brick terraced, back-to-back, but the signs on the walls were different. LONG LIVE KING BILLY. KICK THE POPE. NO SURRENDER. When a child turned suddenly in front of her, she thought he was going to point his finger at her and shout, ‘She’s a Mick, come and get her!’ But he looked to the side of her and called to another boy further back. Brede passed him, face hot, lips dry. She went down one street, turned into another, looked at the name, could not find the right one. She would have to ask. On a c
orner stood a small shop with an open door. She went inside, picking her way between crates of lemonade and milk and bags of potatoes. There was only one customer, a woman with her hair in rollers and high-heeled shoes on her swollen feet. She was being served by a woman with an enormous bosom that rested on the counter.
They both eyed her, knowing at once that she was strange to the area. Brede swallowed.
‘It’s all right, Mrs McConkey, you can serve this girl first. I’m in no hurry.’
‘As long as you’re sure, Mrs Mullet.’ Mrs McConkey looked at Brede. ‘What can I get you then?’
‘Bar of milk chocolate,’ said Brede quickly. She took the money from her purse. She had just enough to pay for it.
Mrs McConkey shuffled over to the shelf, took down the bar of chocolate and shuffled back to the counter again. It gave Mrs Mullet plenty of time to examine Brede.
Brede passed over the money. As she moved towards the door she paused and asked for directions to Sadie’s street.
‘I live there,’ said Mrs Mullet. ‘Hang on a minute and I’ll walk you along. Just give me six eggs, Mrs McConkey, and I’ll pay you tomorrow.’
Mrs McConkey passed the eggs over reluctantly.
‘Thanks a lot.’ Mrs Mullet said to Brede, ‘Come on then and I’ll show you the way. Are you looking for anyone in particular?’
‘Well’… actually, the Jacksons’ house.’
Mrs Mullet stopped on the pavement. ‘The Jacksons? Fancy that, they’re old friends of mine. Their son Tommy’s courting my Linda.’
‘That’s nice.’ Brede moistened her lips, wishing that her throat was not as dry and her heart not thumping quite so loudly.
Mrs Mullet tripped across the road on her spiky heels, Brede finding difficulty in walking slowly enough to stay with her.
‘Is it far?’she asked.
‘Just the next street.’
The next street! Why couldn’t the woman have said so and saved her all this waste of time? Of course she knew very well why.
‘Don’t come from round here, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Known the Jacksons long?’
‘No.’
‘Is it Sadie you’re looking for?’
‘Yes.’
‘Work with her, do you?’
Brede tipped her head, as if in assent. They passed a mural of King William astride his white horse, with REMEMBER 1690 written below. This must be the house.
Mrs Mullet took her round the corner and rang the bell.
‘Please don’t bother,’ said Brede.
‘No trouble.’ Mrs Mullet pushed open the door and called out, ‘Anyone in? You’ve got a visitor.’
It was Tommy who came to the door. He looked at Brede and then at Mrs Mullet.
‘I met Sadie’s friend in the shop so I brought her round.’
Tommy continued to stare at Brede.
‘Who is it, Tommy?’ Mrs Jackson called from within.
‘Friend of Sadie’s,’ Tommy called back, pulling the door to behind him. ‘Thanks then, Mrs Mullet,’ he said.
She was dismissed. She did not hurry across the street, and when she reached the opposite pavement her shoe came off and she had to spend considerable time putting it on.
‘What is it, Brede?’ Tommy spoke quietly, a frown creasing his brow.
‘I haven’t come to cause trouble,’ she said.
‘I know that. Don’t be daft. It’s nice to see you.’
‘And you.’ She smiled. ‘But I came to see Sadie. I must. Is she in?’
Tommy nodded. ‘She’s upstairs getting ready to go out. You’ve just caught her. I think she’s going to meet Kevin but I don’t know.’
‘She is. That’s why I want to speak to her.’
‘Wait here. I’ll get her.’
Brede stood close to the house, aware that the Mullets’ lace curtain was being held back and two pairs of eyes were watching her. Sadie came quickly.
‘What’s up, Brede?’ she asked.
‘Can we go somewhere? Somewhere we can talk.’
Sadie pulled the door shut behind her and together they walked up the street.
‘Your neighbours are watching,’ said Brede.
Sadie turned and waved at the Mullets’ house. The lace curtain dropped. Brede laughed, forgetting her troubles for a moment.
‘You haven’t changed much, Sadie. I’m glad.’
‘It’s great to see you, Brede. But I haven’t got long. I’m meeting Kevin at half seven.’
‘That’s what I’ve come to see you about.’
Sadie sighed. ‘You’re not going to try to talk me out of seeing him too, are you? I’ve had Tommy at me already. It’s not that he’s got anything against Kevin, you know that. But it’s peace at any price for him!’
‘Peace would be nice,’ said Brede.
‘Sometimes the price is too high.’
‘Sometimes the price is high the other way too.’
Sadie glanced at Brede and frowned. ‘We’ll go to a little café further along the main street. No one’ll bother us there.’
The café was empty. Sadie bought two cups of coffee and they sat at the back of the shop, their chairs close together.
‘You need a hot drink, Brede. You’re dead pale looking.’
Brede took a sip of coffee before she spoke. ‘We had a shock last night.’
‘Kevin?’ asked Sadie swiftly.
‘Yes. He was beaten up.’
‘Badly?’
‘Quite. A lot of bruises, and a cut on his head and leg. He’d to get three stitches in his head.’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Sadie gulped, putting her hand to her mouth.
‘Is he all right?’
‘More or less. Mr Kelly found him lying outside the scrapyard late last night. He was unconscious. Mr Kelly called an ambulance and they took him to hospital.’
‘Is he there now?’
‘They let him home this morning.’
‘Was it because of me, Brede? Was it?’
‘Yes, I think so.’ Brede’s voice was scarcely audible. Her eyes were unhappy.
‘Who did it?’
‘There were three of them. One was Brian Rafferty. He used to be Kevin’s friend.’
‘Three of them! Cowards! If I got my hands on them!’
‘They’d do the same to you.’
Sadie finished her coffee with one gulp. ‘Did he ask you to come and tell me?’
‘No. He doesn’t know I’m here. He’s going to meet you, Sadie, I know it.’ Brede raised her eyes to Sadie’s. ‘He’ll not let you down. But I’ve come to ask you not to meet him.’
‘But that would mean I’d be letting him down.’ cried Sadie.
‘But you don’t want him to be beaten up again, do you?’
‘No. But –’
‘Then don’t see him again. Please don’t see him again.’ Brede pleaded.
‘You mean not even tonight? Let him wait there and me not come… He’d think I’d stood him up.’
‘Sadie, it might be best. He’s too proud to try to see you again if you don’t see him. I know it’s hard but it would be easier for him if he thought you’d given in. After all, he was beaten up.’
It was very quiet in the café. The proprietor had gone through to the back room. The sound of the traflfic from the street was curiously distant and remote. Sadie looked into Brede’s pleading, anxious eyes, eyes the same colour as her brother’s, dark brown, flecked with lighter specks. ‘I know it’s hard.’ Brede repeated. Sadie felt a lump in her throat like a boil that was threatening to burst at any moment.
‘I don’t know, Brede, I don’t know…’ I don’t know anything at all, thought Sadie, I don’t seem to know anything. I want to see Kevin and he wants to see me and all these people are trying to get between us. Everything in life had seemed straightforward before: there had been choices but she had never been afraid to choose, and to choose what she felt was right. What was right here: to give in to Brian Rafferty a
nd his friends and Linda Mullet and her family and all the others, or to do what she wanted to do? It didn’t seem much to ask, to want to walk by the river, to climb a hill with someone you liked.
‘You don’t want him to be hurt again, do you?’ Brede was saying, cutting into her thoughts.
‘Of course not.’
‘Then you won’t see him?’ Brede sat back.
‘I’m not sure.’ Sadie lifted her head. ‘I can’t promise, Brede. I have to think about it.’
‘Think carefully then.’ Brede stood up. She straightened her back, with her hand at the side of her hip, the way her mother did when she was tired. ‘There’s times when it might be all right for a Catholic boy to be walking out with a Protestant girl, but now’s not one of them. And in streets like these. There’s enough blood, Sadie, without any more getting shed.’
And with that, Brede left the café. Sadie stared at the sticky rims on the red formica-topped table. What Brede said was true. And Brede’s motives were good. She liked Brede: that was why she had listened. If Linda Mullet had said the same things she would have walked out defiantly to meet Kevin McCoy. But now… Now what?
She looked at the clock above the café counter. Ten minutes past seven. In twenty minutes time Kevin would be standing by the river waiting for her, trusting that she would come.
The café proprietor came back. ‘Another coffee?’ he asked.
She shook her head. She got up, pushed back her chair, and walked out into the fresh air.
11
Kevin walked stiffly along the path beside the river. His head throbbed, and from time to time he had to stop to rest. He carried his left arm in a sling; his shoulder had been badly bruised. At the hospital they had said it was lucky he was so strong and well-built. He had come out of it all remarkably well. But still he was shaken, and he had never felt before such weakness in his body. He would not be able to work for a week or two and he knew that Mr Kelly would not be able to pay him when he wasn’t working. Sickness benefit would not make up his pay. Another worry for his mother, who was full enough of worries already.
She had been worried when he had come out this evening. ‘You can’t go out, Kevin,’ she said, but he had told her he must. He could not let Sadie down, leave her standing waiting for him, wondering why he had not come. And he had no way of sending her a message, no one he could have asked to go to her house and explain. Brede might have been willing but he would not have asked her to take the risk for him.