Across the Barricades

by Joan Lingard

  ‘I think we should come less often,’ said Kevin. ‘Maybe once in the week, and we’d have to take care not to be seen.’

  ‘I’ll still come every day and work for you,’ said Sadie, wondering as she spoke how long she would be able to stall her mother, who again this morning had been asking when she was getting a new job,

  ‘Whatever you think is best,’ said Mr Blake. ‘We could try that for a while and see if things quieten down. Maybe people will lose interest and leave us in peace.’

  Kevin said that he would telephone Sadie one morning and arrange their next meeting, but riding home on the bus he decided that he would not phone her. He must not see her again. For her sake. He was terrified that something might happen to her. The Twelfth’ was approaching, and her street would soon be consumed by Orange fever.

  He called in at the scrapyard. He would be able to go back to work the following week and was glad of that for time hung like balls of lead round his neck. He saw Mr Kelly working at the far end of the yard, sorting out parts of an old car.

  ‘Hi there, Mr Kelly!’ Kevin picked his way through the junk towards him.

  Mr Kelly looked up briefly, then returned to his sorting.

  ‘I’ve come to tell you I’ll be fit for work on Monday.’

  ‘You needn’t bother.’ Still Mr Kelly did not look up.

  ‘What?’ Kevin frowned. He and Mr Kelly had always got on well, they had never exchanged a harsh word. ‘Do you mean you’re giving me my cards?’

  ‘Just that.’ Mr Kelly wiped his hands on a dirty rag.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Do you need me to spell it out for you?’

  ‘You don’t think I put that box in your yard, do you?’

  ‘Kate said you did. She saw you.’

  ‘She’s lying!’ Kevin spat the words out angrily,

  Mr Kelly looked him straight in the eye for the first time. ‘So you’re calling my daughter a liar, are you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you think I would employ a man that calls my daughter a liar?’

  ‘You’re not going to employ me again, are you? I can’t win either way. O.K., maybe I wouldn’t want to work for you if it means keeping on the right side of your daughter.’

  ‘There’s no call to be rude.’

  ‘I’ll tell you something though, Mr Kelly. If you’re fond of your daughter I think you should be taking a good look at the company she’s keeping. If you don’t you might find more boxes of guns hidden in your yard.’

  Kevin jumped over a back axle and made for the gate. Mr Kelly called to him to stop but he did not. That would give him something to worry about.

  Brede was baking. He smelt it as he came in the door. Her face was flushed as she bent over the oven.

  ‘Well, Brede,’ he said. ‘I’ve just got the sack. What do you think our father’s going to say to that?’

  ‘Plenty,’ said Brede. ‘But it doesn’t surprise me. I was waiting for it to happen.’

  ‘I shall go down and have words with Kelly the night,’ said Mr McCoy, when he was told the news.

  ‘You’ll do nothing of the kind,’ said Kevin.

  ‘He can’t get away with this.’

  ‘Of course he can. It’s his yard:

  ‘I’ll go down and tell him he’s a little namby-pamby run by those stupid women he has in his house.’

  ‘That’s not likely to get Kevin his job back,’ said Brede.

  ‘I wouldn’t want it back now anyway,’ said Kevin. ‘Not after what’s happened:

  ‘And what are you going to do?’ asked his father. ‘We’ve another mouth to feed in this family now.’

  ‘I’ll go down to the Labour Exchange in the morning and see what they’ve got.’

  It did not take long to find out. They were sorry but they had nothing at all that they could offer him. He was not apprenticed, he had no trade, three years in the scrap business was not much of a help for anything else, there were not many scrapyards in the city and no one was asking for labour, and unemployment in the province was high, as he must know. Kevin nodded at each piece of information. Before he had gone he had had no hope. He would have to draw the dole and from time to time he might get some casual labouring to do.

  He was out of work. The full realization of it dawned upon him as he walked around the City Hall. Days to fill. He was too restless to lean on street corners with the others. He would walk for miles and end up wearing out shoe leather and that would cost money. Money… There was seldom enough to go around anyway. And he would have little to spend on himself.

  He thought of Sadie and Mr Blake and wished that he could go out and see them. For a moment he was tempted, but then his resolve hardened and he thought, no, he must not go, he must leave them alone. That way they, at least, might get peace.

  18

  ‘I wonder why he doesn’t phone,’ said Sadie.

  Each morning she dusted the telephone, wondering if it would ring for her that day. But there it sat, black, and squat, and silent.

  ‘He will,’ said Mr Blake. ‘One of these days. Perhaps at the moment it’s too difficult. He’s got all sorts of things to work out.’

  ‘I hope he’s all right.’

  Sadie worried about him but there was nothing she could do. She could not go to his house and ask for him.

  ‘You’re quiet these days,’ said her mother. ‘Are you sickening for something?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You don’t go out much either. It’s not like you. Mind you, I’m just as glad you’re staying in. It’s not safe to be out in the evenings nowadays.’

  She sat in her bedroom, reading sometimes or writing letters to Kevin that she tore up afterwards, often just sitting staring out through the window at the bunting that linked the houses in the street. The flags were out, and each evening she heard the sounds of bands practising for the big day. Drums beating. Children shouted in the street, excited by the noise and colour. The army had been reinforced to keep down the amount of trouble.

  Kevin might be ill. Or he could have been beaten up again by Rafferty and his gang. Or his house might have been burned down and his family moved away to Tyrone. Or perhaps he just did not want to see her any more. He might have found another girl, one from his own street, whom he could take out without complication. All the possibilities whirled in her mind.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve stopped seeing Kevin,’ said Tommy. ‘You’ll forget him after a while. It’s just as well.’

  On the eve of the ‘Twelfth’ the bonfires were lit. From her window Sadie watched the children lighting the one at the end of the street. The flames leapt high, spitting against the dark sky. The children danced round it singing Orange songs.

  The next morning the Jacksons were astir early. Mr Jackson was walking in the parade. His bowler hat lay brushed and smooth on the hall table. He wore his best navy-blue suit and white shirt, and the sash of his lodge, purple and gold. Mrs Jackson took out her rollers after breakfast and combed out her hair, then went upstairs to take off her dressing gown and put on her Sunday clothes.

  Tommy was going out, just to see the parade pass, but not to take part in it.

  ‘Why don’t you go with him?’ Mrs Jackson asked Sadie.

  ‘I’ve seen it often enough.’

  ‘Better for you than sitting in the house brooding. I don’t know what’s come over you.’ Mrs Jackson shook her head.

  ‘When I went out all the time you were always complaining.’

  But Mrs Jackson was not listening. She was fussing in front of the mirror, demanding to know if her hair was all right, and her hat.

  Mr Jackson put on his bowler hat and set off up the street to join the other members of his lodge. A little while later Mrs Jackson and Tommy went out. Tommy avoided Sadie’s eye.

  Now Sadie was alone. She stood at the front door. The street was empty; nearly everyone was out lining the route to the ‘field’ at Finaghy. The sky was overcast, threatening rain. ‘No Surrender’ sa
id the streamer hanging limply across the street. The sound of the bands reached her.

  She could not spend the day in this deserted street. She could go to Mr Blake’s but for once did not feel like it. She would be restless in his tidy villa in the suburban road. She would go to Bangor.

  The rain started when she got off the bus. She pulled up the hood of her anorak and walked along by the sea wall enjoying the smell of the sea and the fresh whip of the wind in her face.

  At the end of the wall she met Kevin. He was leaning against it looking out at the sea.

  ‘Hello,’she said.

  He turned. ‘Hello.’ He smiled.

  She leant against the wall beside him.

  ‘Did you know I’d come here today?’

  ‘I had a feeling you might. Come on, let’s go and have some coffee and get out of the rain.’

  He took her arm and led her across the street. The café was full of wet holidaymakers staring miserably at the rain streaming down the windows. Sadie and Kevin sat huddled together in a corner smiling at one another. For a few minutes they said very little, needing time to adjust to seeing one another again. And then Sadie asked him why he had not phoned.

  ‘It seemed wiser,’ he said.

  ‘But you came today.’

  There’s days I feel wise and days I don’t. But I’m glad to see you again, Sadie.’

  She was glad too. It rained on and off most of the day but it did not concern them. The hours passed happily and without anxiety.

  ‘I’m out of work, Sadie,’ Kevin told her. ‘That’s been another of the things that’s been bugging me. I don’t know what I’m going to do at all. I’ve even been thinking of going away.’

  ‘Leave Belfast you mean?’ she cried.

  ‘I might have to.’

  ‘I would miss you.’ The sparkle died in her eyes.

  ‘Don’t be sad. This isn’t a day for being sad. It’ll probably not happen anyway. If I can get work here I’ll stay. Let me see you smile.’ She smiled, and he leaned forward and kissed her.

  ‘I’ll smile again if that’s what happens,’ she said.

  At the end of the day he took her to the bus station. It would be safer for them to travel home separately, he said. He would take the bus after hers. Sadie agreed with a sigh. It was hard not to be able to ride home on the bus together, hand in hand; it was the right way to finish off such a day.

  ‘Not much is right these days, Sadie,’ said Kevin.

  She touched his face. It had darkened again. She hated to see him like that. She loved his laugh, the mischievous glint in his dark eyes. Some of his gaiety had gone. He was changing.

  She put her head against his shoulder and he stroked her hair. His sweater felt rough against her face.

  ‘Being with you feels right, Sadie,’ he whispered.

  ‘I think so too.’

  ‘You must go soon. Your bus is due.’

  She looked up at him. ‘When shall I see you? At Mr Blake’s?’

  He hesitated for a moment. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘We’ll be careful.’

  ‘Wednesday?’

  ‘O.K. Off you go!’

  He kissed her, then pushed her gently away. He stood in the alley with his back to the wall. The rain had stopped but dark clouds covered the sky keeping the night chill. He stood and thought of Sadie until it was time to go to the bus station and catch the last bus home.

  ‘Now you’ll not forget to be in for the rent and the Insurance?’ said Mrs McCoy.’

  ‘Stop fussing, Ma. I’ve got it all written down.’ Kevin waved a sheet of paper. ‘Where to get the butter one pence cheaper, the best day for fish.’

  ‘And you can ask Brede about anything I’ve forgotten.’

  ‘You can’t have forgotten anything, surely to goodness!’

  Mrs McCoy could never leave her family without checking every detail, taking into account every possible calamity. Mr McCoy had a week’s holiday so they were both going off to Tyrone taking with them the baby and the next two youngest children.

  ‘Are you ready for off then?’ asked Uncle Albert, putting his head round the kitchen door.

  ‘Not be a minute, Albert,’ said Mrs McCoy, wrapping the baby’s feeding bottle in a cloth and putting it into a bulging carrier bag. Then she put out her arms for the baby. Kevin had been holding her.

  ‘There you are.’ He swung the baby across.

  ‘Careful, Kevin! You nearly stopped my heart there.’

  ‘I’ve held plenty of babies in my time, have I not?’

  “Deed I suppose you have.’

  ‘Mary!’ Mr McCoy was calling from the front street.

  ‘Coming, Pete.’

  Kevin carried the bag out for her. The other two children were already in the back of the car, climbing over the seat, jumping up and down with excitement.

  ‘It’s about time!’ said Mr McCoy, helping his wife to get into the back of the car with the baby. ‘It’ll be dark before we get there.’

  ‘It certainly will,’ said Kevin.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Uncle Albert, who had never made the trip to Tyrone without at least one breakdown, but would never in advance admit to it being the remotest possibility. His memory sieved out anything he didn’t want to remember. Just as well, thought Kevin, as he watched Uncle Albert cranking up the car. He wished he was like him.

  The engine sprang to life. Uncle Albert cocked his head in admiration. ‘Going as sweet as a bird, eh, Kevin?’

  ‘Sweeter.’

  Uncle Albert whistled as he put the starting handle back in the boot amongst the collection of luggage. There was nothing dearer to his heart than setting off on a journey. He was always ready to oblige friends or family with a lift.

  ‘You’ve a full load on there, Uncle Albert,’ said Kevin.

  ‘Sure she’ll take it in her stride.’

  Kevin waved them off. They would get to Tyrone eventually. Uncle Albert had a way of getting to his destination somehow or other. By the time they did get there his brother would be cursing the car and Albert and his wife and County Tyrone, and Mrs McCoy and Albert would be paying no attention. Kevin chuckled to himself as he went inside.

  It was quiet in the kitchen. The clock ticked on the dresser. The other children were out playing, Brede was at her nursery. He was in charge of the house.

  His mother had made a stew and peeled potatoes. He had only to boil the potatoes, she said, and drain them when they were cooked. Tomorrow he would have to peel the potatoes himself and cook the dinner and shop. He had never done any of these things before for Brede had always been the one to help his mother. His father kept himself well away from all women’s work. He couldn’t boil an egg and was proud of it. ‘What is the use of keeping women in the house,’ he said, ‘if you have to do their work for them?’

  Kevin boiled the potatoes but poured off the water too soon so that the potatoes were still hard. He shook his head with disgust when they sat down to eat their dinner.

  ‘I tried them with a knife, like Ma said.’

  ‘Never mind.’ Brede smiled. ‘We can still eat them. You’ll get the hang of it in no time. You’ve done very well, Kev. I’ll wash up afterwards and one of the others can dry. You’ll be going out?’

  He nodded.

  It was Wednesday. He went out every Wednesday. He met Sadie at Mr Blake’s. They arrived and left at different times and sat in the kitchen at the back of the house. He spent Saturdays with Sadie too. They met outside the city somewhere, usually in the country, well away from people. Sadie brought food and drink and many days they saw no one else at all. They waded in streams, climbed trees, lay in meadows in the sun listening to the continuous chorus of the birds. Long summer days at the end of which he returned home flushed with air and contented. He knew that Brede suspected he was meeting Sadie again though they never mentioned it. Sometimes she would put her hand on his arm and say, ‘Take care,’ but that was all.

  ‘She’s a fine sister to have,’ he s
aid to Sadie that evening. ‘I hope she gets a good man. She’ll marry in a year or two, I fancy, and have lots of kids.’

  ‘Just like your mother.’

  ‘I hope it won’t be just the same. My mother’s had too much work and not enough living.’

  ‘Well, there’s one thing for sure,’ said Sadie, ‘I’m not going to end up like my mother!’

  Kevin laughed. ‘I think you’re safe on that one.’

  ‘She found me a job. You’ll never guess?’ Sadie rolled her eyes. ‘Working at the cash desk at the local butcher’s. Can you imagine me sitting cooped up in one of those wee boxes all day taking the money for lumps of meat?’

  ‘What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘I’ve done it. I went along for an interview and I told the butcher that the sight of blood always made me vomit. He said that under the circumstances it might not be wise for me to take the job. I said that unfortunately I was forced to agree.’

  Kevin ruffled her hair. ‘It takes a lot to put you down, doesn’t it, Sadie Jackson?’

  ‘That’s what my mother says too!’

  They were laughing when Mr Blake came into the kitchen with Jack. They had been for a walk and were both thirsty. Sadie got up to put on the kettle and Kevin filled the dog’s dish with fresh water.

  ‘It’s nice to hear the two of you laughing,’ said Mr Blake, hanging up the lead on the back of the door. ‘Whatever happens we mustn’t forget how to laugh.’

  Kevin came out of the supermarket with a heavy bag in either hand. The greengrocer’s next door was not doing any business today: the window had been smashed and broken glass lay amongst the boxes of oranges and apples and carrots. The shop had been looted after the window was broken. Split bananas and squashed tomatoes mingled with the shiny splinters on the floor. He walked on, came to the newsagent’s and tobacconist’s. Another shattered window, already boarded up. There had been rioting for several hours the previous night. He had lain awake listening to it, wondering if any minute they would have to get up and dress and leave their home for some safer place. Rubber bullets lay in the gutter and at the side of the pavement. He kicked one aside with his foot.