Across the Divide

by Brian Gallagher

  Nora laughed, then they arrived at her stop and she turned to face him. ‘Actually you are a decent skin, Liam. So I got you this.’

  She opened her music satchel and slipped out a small package wrapped in coloured paper.

  Liam was taken aback. ‘What is it?’

  ‘A book I thought you might like.’

  Liam didn’t know how to respond, and seeing him hesitate, Nora spoke again.

  ‘Just to say thanks for being my friend, and for saving me that day at the feis.’

  ‘That was nothing. You didn’t have to–’

  ‘I wanted to,’ said Nora simply.

  She held out the book, but still Liam hesitated. One part of him was touched. But another part of him was aware that the money for the gift must have come originally from Nora’s father. And however kind-hearted Nora claimed he was, her father was still on the other side in the battle being waged with Larkin’s union – of which his da was such a proud member.

  ‘Please,’ said Nora. ‘It’s a boys’ adventure book. I’d say you’d like it.’

  Liam didn’t want to be disloyal to his father’s cause. On the other hand, Nora was his friend, and he didn’t want to insult her. Looking at her outstretched arm, he wasn’t sure what to do. He stood there, torn between his opposing instincts, then he suddenly made his mind up.

  ‘Thanks, Nora,’ he said, accepting the gift. ‘There was no need, but thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ She smiled. ‘You can read it while you’re eating an ice cream cone that’s just melting – or even while you’re swimming in Dollymount!’

  Before Liam could think of a smart answer, there was a clanging sound as a tram pulled up at the stop.

  ‘That’s mine,’ said Nora, indicating the vehicle and taking out her tram fare. ‘So, have a good summer.’

  ‘You too. And Nora?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘If you’re at Buckingham Palace – tell the Queen I was asking for her!’

  Nora laughed. ‘Bye, Liam.’

  ‘Bye.’

  She boarded the tram with several other passengers, and Liam waited until the vehicle pulled off. Nora waved out the window, and he gave a final wave in return before the tram turned the corner and vanished from sight.

  Liam stood there a moment, then he opened the wrapping paper and looked at the book. It was R M Ballantyne’s The Young Fur Traders. The cover had a dramatic drawing of a boy leading a team of huskies, and Liam thought that Nora was probably right: it was the kind of story he would enjoy. But the important thing wasn’t whether or not the book was good. The important thing was that he had accepted it. Even though he completely backed his father and Mr Larkin in their struggle, his instincts told him that taking the book from Nora was right. But it wasn’t a gift he could ever show to his da.

  It was complicated having a friend whose family was on the other side. And the way things were going in Dublin, it was probably going to get more complicated. But whatever happened, Liam felt that friends were friends and should stick together. The thought raised his spirits, and deciding to leave aside all worries about the future, he slipped the book into his jacket pocket, turned around and headed for home.

  PART TWO

  SHOWDOWN

  Chapter 7

  ‘This is the calm before the storm. When we go home things will come to a head.’

  Nora listened secretly as her father sat forward in his deckchair, talking earnestly to her mother, Aunt Catherine and Uncle Jack. They were on the beach in Devon, and Nora lay on her towel with her eyes closed, enjoying the heat of summer. Her cousins and her brothers were a little further down the strand, building an elaborate sandcastle.

  Nora had come back to where the adults were sitting, to read her book for a while, then she had lain down, listening to the softly breaking waves and burrowing her toes into the hot sand. Normally her father didn’t discuss work problems in front of the children, but Nora guessed that he had overlooked her presence as she lay quietly at the side of the deckchairs.

  ‘This Larkin ruffian needs to be taken on,’ said Uncle Jack.

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said her mother. ‘Thomas has no quarrel with his staff, yet he couldn’t bring in wine shipments because Mr Larkin is in dispute with the shipping companies.’

  ‘That’s simply outrageous,’ said Aunt Catherine.

  Nora thought of what Liam had said about poor people and the awful lives they had in Dublin. Even though she understood her father being worried over his wine shipments, it struck her that it was far more outrageous that so many poor children died in the city. She wondered if the adults ever thought of that.

  ‘So what steps will be taken?’ asked Uncle Jack.

  ‘The employers are going to get tough,’ her father answered. ‘Especially on so-called sympathetic strikes.’

  ‘What are they?’ asked Aunt Catherine.

  ‘It’s where workers in one company down tools in support of strikers in another company.’

  Uncle Jack snorted. ‘Disgraceful idea.’

  Nora would have loved to join in, to give the other side of the story, but she knew her mother would reprimand her if she intruded into an adult conversation. After a moment her father said that really he shouldn’t have raised the topic and they should leave business for when they returned to Ireland next week.

  After that the women began talking about a fund-raising bridge night for a charity on whose committee they both served. Her father and Uncle Jack drifted into a discussion of the recent application to Prime Minister Asquith to build a tunnel under the English Channel, and Nora lost interest in their conversations.

  Next week they would all be returning to Dublin, and while she normally hated leaving Devon, this year she had mixed feelings. The choir would be meeting up, and she was looking forward to seeing Liam again. She would tell him about Torquay, and her visit to Buckfast Abbey, and the gypsy encampment she had seen on Bodmin Moor. She wondered how his summer was going, and wished that she could write to him, like she did to her friends Mary and Sheila. It wasn’t possible of course, as he would then probably write in return, and Mummy would want to know who her correspondent was.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by her aunt breaking off her chatter about the charity and speaking with concern.

  ‘That sun is getting very hot,’ she said. ‘I think Sarah might need her sunhat.’

  Nora heard the creaking of the deckchair as her aunt rose to get the hat, then she opened her eyes when Catherine addressed her.

  ‘Nora, would you be good enough to bring this down to Sarah for me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Sarah, her seven-year-old cousin, was kneeling near the water’s edge, working on the moat of the sandcastle. Nora rose from the towel and took the hat. Acknowledging her aunt’s thanks, she set off along the beach, the sand deliciously warm under her bare feet. In the distance she could hear a barrel organ playing ‘Shine on Harvest Moon’, and as she watched a seagull gliding against the bright blue sky, she was filled with a sense of happiness.

  The sandcastle was a complicated piece of work that her oldest cousin, Alan, had masterminded, though it was her brothers, David and Peter, and Alan’s younger sisters, Alice and Sarah, who had done most of the work. Sarah, Peter and Alice were working on a moat, and had a large bucket of seawater that they were using to dampen sand for the moat walls.

  ‘Here you are, Sarah,’ said Nora. ‘Your mum said to put this on.’

  ‘All right,’ said the younger girl, taking the hat and donning it, then immediately returning to the moat.

  ‘Well, if it’s not Nora,’ remarked Alan.

  He had been lying on his towel, but now he sat up, and looked at her, a smile playing about his lips.

  ‘Nora the suffragette.’

  David sniggered, and Nora felt like reaching out and pulling her brother’s hair. It was so like him to try and curry favour with Alan, whom he hero-worshipped for no better reason than the fact that A
lan was twelve, and so four years older.

  Nora ignored her brother and turned to Alan. She kept her voice reasonable, but looked him in the eye.

  ‘What’s wrong with suffragettes?’

  ‘Do you not know?’ asked Alan

  There was something unpleasant about the way he was smiling, and Nora felt her happiness of a moment before ebbing away. Alan wasn’t normally a blatant bully, but he was used to getting his own way and he had an arrogant air about him that seemed to say that he was the natural leader of any gang – and that it wouldn’t be wise to cross him.

  ‘No, I don’t know,’ she answered.

  ‘They’re all lunatics. Madwomen.’

  ‘For wanting to vote?’

  ‘Votes?’ Alan gave a derisory laugh. ‘They’re looking for attention. And this is the only way they’ll get it; most of them are too ugly to get a husband!’

  David sniggered again, and Alan grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

  ‘Who did you overhear saying that?’ asked Nora.

  Alan’s grin faded, and Nora reckoned that her retort had hit the mark.

  ‘You think you’re smart, don’t you?’ he said. ‘Well, you’re not; those suffragettes are all as thick as a plank. And so is anyone who supports them.’

  ‘I’m not the one who’s thick.’

  ‘Aren’t you? What happened to your suffragette teacher? I bet she thought she was dead smart – till she lost her job!’

  Nora felt a surge of anger. It was bad enough that Miss Dillon had been sacked, but to have her insulted by someone like Alan was infuriating. But before she could reply he gave a superior smile and spoke again.

  ‘Catch yourself on, Nora. No woman who’s a suffragette will ever get a husband.’

  ‘Well maybe there are worse things than that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like having a husband. Like having a husband who’d be a bully and a fool!’ Nora moved forward, deliberately banging her foot against the bucket of seawater. It overturned, spilling its contents over Alan and the towel on which he was sitting.

  Taken by surprise, he cried out, drenched by the cold water.

  ‘Oh, I’m really sorry, Alan,’ said Nora, then she gave him one of his own false smiles, turned on her heel and walked off down the beach.

  Liam’s heart felt like it would burst with pride as he marched along the street to the rousing sounds of the Transport Union’s Fife and Drum Band. The musicians were belting out ‘O’Donnell Abu’, and all along the street people were cheering and waving, savouring the novelty and excitement of Larkin’s union coming to town.

  Each Sunday the band marched through one of the market garden towns in north county Dublin, with Larkin himself in attendance to recruit the farm labourers into the union. Today they were in Skerries, and Liam was accompanied by his parents and sisters on a family day out. As a treat they had all travelled out on the train, dressed in their Sunday clothes and having already attended early Mass.

  His four sisters had ribbons in their hair and his mother wore a straw hat with a flower in it. She had been light-hearted on the train journey, almost as though she was once again a young girl.

  The band finished ‘O’Donnell Abu’, then the pipers launched into ‘Follow Me up to Carlow’. This was an even more rousing air, and Liam felt his skin come out in goose bumps as the pipers cut loose and he and his family marched past the cheering onlookers. It was a marvellous feeling, and he wished the march through Skerries could go on forever.

  By the time the musicians got to the end of the tune, the parade was reaching the outskirts of the town, and with banners flying against the clear blue August sky, the marchers turned into a field where Larkin was to address the crowd.

  ‘All right, girls,’ said Ma. ‘We’ll lay out the blankets and the picnic.’

  While his sisters helped to spread two large blankets on the grass and to unpack the food, Liam turned to his father, who was starting to fill his pipe.

  ‘That was brilliant, Da. Thanks for bringing us.’

  His father smiled and tossed his hair. ‘You’re grand. And wait till you hear Big Jim addressing all these culchies. They’ll be signing up in droves.’

  ‘Here, less of the culchies, you!’ said his wife in playful protest.

  Liam’s mother had been born in Westmeath, and so, like all country people, was called a ‘culchie’ by Dubliners like his father. She got her own back by calling her husband a ‘jackeen’.

  Ma pointed at the two blankets she had spread out on the grass. ‘Onto the blankets, you lot. I don’t want to see any grass stains on your good clothes.’

  ‘Can we eat now?’ asked Peg, Liam’s youngest sister, when they were all safely sitting on the blankets.

  ‘Yes, pet. But no cake till you’ve had your sandwiches.’

  ‘And no talking out loud, kids, when Larkin is making his speech, all right?’ said their father.

  ‘Yes, Da,’ they answered.

  Liam helped himself to a ham sandwich, the loaf-bread thickly cut, the way he liked it and the ham generously spread with tangy mustard. His mother had brought rhubarb tart, his favourite desert, and he sat back happily, the summer sun warm on his upturned cheeks.

  This is the life, he thought. His mind drifted to Nora, who had seemed to have such an exciting summer ahead of her. But while Nora had sailed across the Irish Sea to stay in a fancy hotel in Torquay, she hadn’t marched behind a band through streets of cheering people. And she wasn’t about to hear the famous Jim Larkin addressing a crowd.

  He wouldn’t swap with Nora for all the tea in China, as Granny would say. He wouldn’t swap with anyone. He chewed on his sandwich, closed his eyes against the gleaming sunlight, and savoured the glorious summer day.

  Chapter 8

  ‘This is not good enough, boys and girls! Simply not good enough!’ Brother Raymond pointed accusingly at the choir on this, their first night back since the summer break. ‘You’ve two more rehearsals, then you’re performing to a paying audience. And we’ll be compared to the other choirs present. Are you going to let yourselves down? Well, are you?’

  ‘No, Brother!’ the choir members cried in unison.

  ‘Good. All right, a five-minute break, then we tackle ‘Oft in the Stilly Night’. And this time I want everyone in tune and paying full attention. Five minutes.’

  Nora smiled to herself, aware that Brother Raymond was being a bit dramatic, when the choir was simply a little rusty after its six-week break.

  Liam nudged her in the ribs. ‘Come up to the landing,’ he said, ‘I want to show you something.’

  Liam picked up the satchel in which he kept his music and led the way out of the rehearsal room. Nora followed him, intrigued.

  She had come to the rehearsal early, hoping to catch up with Liam about how they had each spent the summer, but he had only just made it in time, and so they exchanged only a few details. She had been looking forward to seeing him again. The more she thought about him, the more he seemed a really pleasant contrast to her cousin Alan, who had been obnoxious for all of the second week of their stay in Torquay, after their argument about the suffragettes.

  Admittedly, Liam had laughed at her when she told him she would like to learn how to tune an engine, but somehow that was different. And Liam had been genuinely sympathetic – and in fact had shared Nora’s disgust – when she told him of Miss Dillon being sacked. Why couldn’t I have a cousin who was understanding and fun like Liam, she wondered as the climbed the stairs, instead of a stuck-up bully like Alan?

  Before she could give it any more thought, she reached the landing, and Liam turned to her and grinned.

  ‘I didn’t want the others to see,’ he said. ‘But I got you this.’

  He reached into his satchel and handed her a stick of rock. It was bright pink in colour, at least an inch thick, and had the word ‘Skerries’ on the wrapper, and also running through the rock itself.

  Nora hadn’t been expecting anything lik
e this, and she hesitated.

  ‘Go on, take it,’ said Liam, laughing, ‘it’s really good for your teeth!’

  ‘Thanks,’ she answered with a smile, but she felt a little uncomfortable.

  ‘I…I didn’t get you anything.’

  She knew that Liam didn’t have much money. Having given him the present of the book when they were splitting up for the summer, she had been afraid that if she brought him a gift from Torquay as well it might have put him in an awkward position.

  ‘Sure, you already gave me the book, so we’re quits. OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And it was a brilliant book.’

  ‘I’m glad you liked it.’

  ‘So, how was Torquay?’

  ‘Great. Well, the hotel was nice, and we did loads of swimming. But my cousins were with us.’ Nora grimaced. ‘Not so good.’

  ‘That’s cousins, isn’t it? I’ve loads of them, and some are great, but some are a pain in ... the rear end, as Da says – when he stops himself in time!’

  Nora laughed, knowing that her mother would strongly disapprove of this ‘rough talk’, as she would call it, but somehow Liam’s humorous approach made it seem all right.

  ‘So you went to Skerries?’ she said, indicating the stick of rock.

  ‘Just for a day. But what a day.’

  ‘Yes?’

  Liam told her all about the band, and marching though streets of crowds, and Big Jim Larkin whipping the people up into a frenzy.

  It sounded incredibly exciting, far more thrilling than anything they had done in Devon, and Nora wished that she could have been there. Almost as soon as she thought it, a tiny part of her felt disloyal to her father, knowing how he regarded Larkin as an extremist. But it was only a small part of her, because even if Mr Larkin was a bit extreme, surely the dreadful conditions that he was fighting against called for someone extreme? And the more Nora had heard from Liam – who now spoke about things as though they were both on the same side – the more she found herself identifying with the workers.