Across the Divide

by Brian Gallagher

  Surely another hour’s walk would bring him to some kind of town, he thought, although of course there could be no guarantee of that.

  Just then he saw what looked like the outline of a building up ahead on his left and he picked up his pace even further. Drawing near, his hopes began to rise as he saw a couple of railway sidings and he realised that he was approaching a station. He slowed down, not wanting to draw attention to himself, and he proceeded more carefully, studying the station and the impressive house that rose behind it, from his vantage point across the width of the canal.

  A sign proclaimed the place to be Moyvalley, but the station itself was small and there were no passengers on the platform. Liam could see smoke rising from the roof of the station house, however, and he reasoned that any passengers would be installed in the warmth of the waiting room.

  Liam came to a halt and considered his options. This wasn’t the kind of station he wanted. He needed somewhere that would be bustling – a large country town that would have passengers milling about the platform – in order to provide the cover he needed to sneak onto the train.

  He stood there a moment, disappointment welling up inside him, but he forced himself not to give in to it. He would have liked to heat himself up at the waiting room fire, but he couldn’t risk attracting the stationmaster’s attention. Instead he turned away and followed the towpath, which led under an arched bridge. It was a fine, solid structure, and sheltering under it briefly, Liam realised that a main road probably ran overhead. Should he try his luck seeking a lift on the road? Or was it better to stay with the canal, knowing that it led west, in the direction he required?

  He considered the choices, then found himself getting colder as he stood still, and he quickly made up his mind. He would take his chances with the canal. He moved on and rounded a bend. To his surprise he saw a country inn with an adjacent quay up ahead. A full length barge lay alongside the quay, its chimney belching forth a plume of black smoke. There was a group of bargemen offloading kegs of beer for the inn, and several of them looked at him inquisitively as he approached.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Liam, trying to sound as if walking along in the snow was nothing out of the ordinary.

  ‘Morning,’ answered the first of the bargemen.

  ‘You’re a hardy lad,’ said another man, who had a strong Dublin accent.

  ‘Do you know what the next station is?’ asked Liam.

  ‘Hill of Down,’ answered the first man.

  Liam had never heard of it. ‘And after that?’

  ‘After that, Killucan.’

  Liam had never heard of that either, which meant that neither of them was likely to be busy.

  ‘Do you know how far we are from Mullingar?’ he asked

  ‘Twenty-one miles,’ said the second man, looking enquiringly at Liam. ‘That’s a Dublin accent,’ he said. ‘What are you doing out here?’

  ‘I, eh…I lost my train fare, so I’m walking,’ Liam improvised.

  One of the other men came forward and looked searchingly at Liam. ‘Aren’t you Billy O’Meara’s young fella?’ he asked.

  Liam hesitated as he tried to figure out how best to respond.

  ‘You’re the spit of your aul’ fella,’ said the bargeman, and suddenly Liam’s intention to make up a story dissolved. He was alone, he was cold, he was stranded over thirty miles from Ballinacargy – and here was someone who knew his father and who might help him.

  ‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘I’m his son, Liam.’

  ‘So what are you doing around here, Liam?’

  Now that he had decided to tell the truth, Liam felt a sense of relief, and in a sudden torrent of words he spilled out the whole story. At the end of it, the man who had recognised Liam held out his hand for Liam to shake.

  ‘I’m Tim Morrissey,’ he said. ‘I used to play hurling with your da.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I still have the marks to prove it! Hold on, Liam, till I have a word with the skipper.’ He turned to one of the other bargemen. ‘Jack, give Liam here a mug of brew while he’s waiting.’

  The first man moved off to talk to an older man at the far end of the barge, while the man addressed as Jack briefly went into the galley, then returned to Liam with a steaming mug of tea and a plate of gur cake, which he placed on the side of the barge.

  ‘Get that into you, son,’ he said, ‘you look like you could do with warming up.’

  ‘Thanks, mister,’ said Liam, cupping his hands gratefully around the mug before swallowing the hot strong tea and biting into the sweet-tasting cake.

  Tim returned and placed his hand on Liam’s shoulder. ‘OK, Liam, here’s the story. We’re not going as far as Ballinacargy. But if you want, you can have a lift with us to Mullingar.’

  ‘Thanks, that would be great.’

  ‘We’re mooring there overnight. You can kip on the barge and make for Ballinacargy in the morning, if the roads aren’t snowed under.’

  ‘Thanks a million, that’s really great.’

  ‘Your aul’ lad is sound as a pound. Sure we couldn’t see you stuck. OK, hop up on the barge, we’ve finished our delivery here.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ cried Liam. He took another quick slug of the tea and a mouthful of gur cake, then climbed up onto the boat.

  The bargemen untied the ropes and cast off from the quay. The engine revved up, plumes of thick black smoke erupting from the chimney, and Liam felt a surge of exhilaration as they pulled out into midstream, then headed off in the direction of Mullingar.

  Nora peered worriedly out of her bedroom window at the lightly falling snow. It was ten o’clock at night now and the snowfall was finally easing off, but Dublin was still covered in a carpet of white. Nora hoped it hadn’t affected Liam’s attempt to get to Westmeath, and that it wouldn’t prevent her from travelling after him in the morning.

  Her plans were all in place now but snow was the one thing on which she hadn’t counted. All she could do was hope for the best. No, she thought, she could do better than that, she could pray.

  She went down on her knees, the carpet soft and deep beneath her, and she said her night prayers. Then she added prayers for Mr O’Meara, Liam’s father, as she had every night since he had been jailed. She prayed for Liam too, that he was safe and well and had made it to his aunt’s. And finally she prayed for herself, that she would be brave tomorrow and that she wouldn’t fail her friend.

  She paused, added ‘Please, God, don’t let me down,’ then she rose, turned off the gas lamp and jumped into bed, eager to get a good night’s rest before tomorrow’s adventures.

  Liam lay on a makeshift bed of blankets and cushions in the forward section of the barge. He felt warm and cosy as he listened to the sound of water lapping between the side of the barge and the icy wall of the quayside at the canal harbour in Mullingar. There was a faint glow of lamplight coming through the frame of the door leading back to the main cabin, where Tim and the other bargemen were drinking whiskey, their occasional laughter carrying to Liam’s ears as he stretched out, contented and drowsy.

  The barge had reached Mullingar just as the light had failed, and Liam had really enjoyed the adventure of travelling by boat. He had even been allowed to help with the lock gates when they navigated the extended set of locks through which the canal ascended near Killucan. It had been fun to work the handles of the sluice gates and to cause the water to cascade into the locks, then to watch while the barge rose, as if by magic, until it reached the level again and they travelled along the next stretch of snow-covered countryside.

  On reaching their destination, the bargemen had said that Liam had earned his keep, and they had all gone to a nearby eating-house once the barge had been moored. Liam ate a big meal of Irish stew, followed by apple dumplings, and when he returned to his makeshift bed he felt warm, full and ready for sleep.

  His mind drifted to his family, and he hoped that Ma wasn’t too worried about him, and that Da had enough to eat in prison and wasn’t col
d on a wintry night like this. Thinking about them made him more determined than ever, and he swore to himself that he would get to Aunt Molly’s tomorrow, no matter what the weather conditions. Normally thoughts like that would have kept keep him awake, but tonight he felt exhausted after what had been an action-packed day. His neck, shoulder and hip still felt sore from when he had jumped off the train, but the slight rocking of the barge and the gentle lapping of the water soothed him, and soon he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of trains and barges and his aunt’s farmhouse, miles away across seemingly endless snow-covered fields.

  Chapter 20

  Nora knew that she mustn’t make her mother suspicious this morning, and she was careful to hide her nervousness as she crossed the drawing room, pretending to leave for the Mansion House concert. In reality, her heart was pounding from the huge deception involved in travelling secretly to Hazelwood Farm near Ballinacargy.

  ‘I’ll see you this evening, Mummy,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, good luck with the concert, dear.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And I’m sorry it clashed with David’s school bazaar, but you do understand, I’d promised to help run it?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Nora. ‘There’ll be other concerts.’

  ‘If it’s a thing I can get away early, I’ll try to make it to the Mansion House.’

  Nora’s blood ran cold. ‘No. No, there’s no need, Mummy,’ she answered quickly.

  Her mother looked at her, and Nora feared that she might have over-reacted.

  ‘Really,’ she added more casually, ‘it’s fine. There’s no point having you rushing to get into town.’ Nora found herself holding her breath as she waited for her mother’s response.

  Her mother looked at her again, then shrugged. ‘You’re right, dear, it probably would be rather rushed. But I’ll definitely make the next one.’

  ‘Grand.’

  ‘And you do understand that Daddy can’t avoid his Federation meeting?

  ‘Of course. And please, Mummy, even if his meeting ends a bit early, tell him not to worry about getting in – I know he has lots of stuff going on.’

  ‘All right, dear. Make sure you keep your scarf on to protect your throat. And sing well.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ said Nora, then she kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘Bye, Mummy.’

  Hiding her relief, Nora quickly exited the drawing room. She put on her hat, scarf and gloves, crossed the hall, picked up her bag and went out the front door. She was hit by a gust of cold morning air, and as she descended the snow-covered steps she realised that the fog that she had seen on first getting up was now a little thicker.

  She headed for her tram stop, hoping that the fog wouldn’t affect her rail journey, but she decided to stay positive, and told herself that unless the weather in the midlands got extremely bad it shouldn’t stop the trains.

  Nora waited until she was out of sight of her home, then she accelerated, running along the pavements, her feet pushing down the crisp snow with a satisfying crunch. She wanted to reach Broadstone Station as quickly as possible, knowing that if she were to get to Westmeath and back in one day it was important to catch the earliest possible train.

  She had explained her early departure by telling her mother that Brother Raymond had called a final rehearsal this morning, with the choir scheduled to perform in the Mansion House in the afternoon. Fortunately, her mother had accepted this without question, and Nora’s good fortune continued now when, on rounding the corner, she saw a tram approaching. She hailed the driver, then took the tram into the city centre. She got off at the top of Parnell Square and continued on foot towards the railway station via the Black Church and Western Way. This was an area of the city near to where Liam lived, and as she made her way along the foggy, snow-covered streets she was struck again by how lucky she was to live in Leeson Park, instead of in the cramped-looking cottages or the run-down and freezing tenements that she passed.

  Walking briskly, she reached the station in a few minutes and entered the main concourse. To her relief it was busy, with plenty of passengers bustling about. Despite the foggy weather the trains must be running. She had planned her next move carefully, and with the money she had taken from her piggy bank in her pocket, she confidently approached the ticket desk. Her only fear was that questions might be asked of a child travelling alone. But she reasoned that with her well-cut clothes, middle-class accent and assured manner she should be able to persuade the ticket clerk that everything was in order – and if need be she had a story ready about being met by a fictitious uncle in Mullingar.

  As it was, the bored-looking clerk asked her nothing except her destination, and if he felt that it was unusual for a young girl to travel alone he kept his thoughts to himself. Pleased that things had gone smoothly, and that her money had been more than enough to pay the fare, Nora made her way to the platforms. There was a train leaving for Sligo in five minutes which would stop at Mullingar on the way, and she quickly headed for its carriages.

  She already felt guilty about all the lies she had told at home and, not wanting to have to tell any more lies to inquisitive passengers, Nora deliberately went to the carriage furthest down the platform. She stepped on board and saw two middle-aged men with briefcases sitting in the centre of the carriage. They’d probably be too involved in their business to wonder about a girl travelling alone. At the far end of the carriage there was a couple, a heavily-built man in his mid-twenties and a woman who, from the possessive way she had her arm wound through his, was obviously the man’s sweetheart. No interference from them either, thought Nora, then she made her way to the front of the carriage and took a window seat.

  She looked out the window, eager to be on her way. She was really looking forward to meeting up with Liam and could hardly wait to see the surprise on his face when she turned up. But still, she reminded herself, this wasn’t just an adventure; Liam’s family was badly in need of the food, and if Nora’s parents found out what she was up to she would be severely punished. Even so, it was hard to suppress a thrill at the daring of what she was doing.

  Her thoughts were cut short by the blast of a whistle. The carriage shuddered slightly, and the images of passengers on other platforms began to glide past Nora’s gaze, then the train pulled out of the station and began to pick up speed.

  Liam didn’t want to admit to himself that he could be lost. The fog had become steadily worse, and yesterday’s snow had covered possible landmarks in an all-enveloping blanket of white, making it hard to keep his bearings. He had been walking for several hours now but at the last two crossroads he had been uncertain of which direction to take. There had been no other travellers on the route and he had seen no roadside cottages at which he could seek directions to Ballinacargy since leaving the crossroads.

  He had started out later than he had intended, having slept through until nine o’clock this morning when the bargemen had finally woken him. Although the men had acted out of kindness in letting him sleep, he would have preferred an early start for Aunt Molly’s farm. Instead, his da’s old friend, Tim Morrissey, had insisted that he have porridge, and tea and bread and butter, to set him up for his onward journey.

  It had been after half past nine before he had finally said his farewells and thanked the bargemen for all their kindnesses, then he had set off from the harbour, following Tim’s directions for the road to Ballinacargy.

  Now he picked his way along snow-covered roads and, although there had been no fresh falls of snow, it was still cold, slow progress as he wound his way through the foggy countryside.

  A ruined cottage appeared out of the mist and he came to a stop, wondering what he should do. If he had taken a wrong turn at the crossroads then continuing on would take him further from his destination, wasting precious time and energy. The other choice was to shelter and rest inside the cottage and hope that a fellow traveller would eventually pass, from whom he could get directions. But since leaving the outskirts of Mullingar he had enco
untered no one else, and he reasoned that nobody would set out on a journey today unless he really had to. Better to push on and hope that he was on the right road.

  He breathed out wearily, his breath hanging like a small white cloud in the frozen air, then he set off again, hoping he had made the right decision.

  Nora stepped briskly from the train the moment it stopped in Mullingar station. She spotted the exit sign and moved quickly, wanting to be out of the building before the other passengers. She didn’t know how many carts might be for hire outside the station and she wanted to be first in line, in order to get to Liam’s aunt’s house as soon as possible. The fog was worse now than when she had left Dublin, and she hoped that the cab drivers who normally plied for business outside train stations wouldn’t have stayed at home because of the bad weather.

  Carrying nothing but her empty sports bag, Nora had the advantage over most of her fellow passengers, and she was first through the exit door and out into the chill morning air. She braced herself against the cold, then looked about. The snow on the ground here was discoloured and slushy in parts, and there was a big fog-enshrouded area directly in front of her that looked like the marshalling yards for goods trains. To her relief, there was a line of waiting carts, their drivers wrapped up heavily against the cold and the horses standing patiently between the shafts, their occasional whinnies sending plumes of breath into the icy air.

  Nora moved to the first man in line.

  ‘I’d like to hire your cab, please,’ she said.

  ‘Would you now?’ answered the man, looking at her inquisitively. He had a thin face and a prominent nose, and his head and ears were covered by an ancient-looking woollen cap. There was something weasel-like and off-putting about him, Nora thought, but she determined not to be intimidated and looked him in the eye.