Across the Divide

by Brian Gallagher

  ‘He asked if anyone knew why you weren’t in, but no one did.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘I had to go to my aunt’s.’

  ‘Right,’ said Connolly as though this finished the topic. He looked at the two bags, then looked at Liam. ‘What’s in the bags?’

  Liam considered for a moment. Could he convince Connolly that all they contained was second-hand clothes? But even old clothes might be something the impoverished Connollys would be keen to get their hands on.

  ‘What’s in them?’ repeated Connolly.

  ‘Food for my family,’ answered Liam. He was suddenly tired of watching his every word. He had gone through too much to get the food to here, and he wasn’t going to be timid or apologetic about it. And if Martin Connolly tried to take so much as a crumb, then Liam would fight him, toughest boy in the class or not.

  ‘Where did you get food?’ asked Connolly.

  ‘From my aunt down the country.’

  There was a pause, and Liam tensed himself, his fists bunched.

  Connolly held Liam’s gaze, then he looked away. ‘Lucky you,’ he said resignedly.

  Liam looked at him in surprise, and in that moment he saw, not the terror of the school yard, but a beaten, rake-thin boy whose cockiness had been eroded by hunger that possibly bordered on starvation. Liam felt a sudden pity for him and before he knew what he was doing he blurted out, ‘Do you want a sandwich?’

  Connolly looked at Liam, clearly taken aback by the offer, then he nodded vigorously. ‘Yeah.’

  Liam took from his coat pocket the last of a large package of ham sandwiches that Aunt Molly had wrapped in greaseproof paper and given to Liam and Nora for the train journey. He handed the sandwich to Connolly who wolfed it down in a matter of seconds.

  Liam felt slightly embarrassed by the other boy’s public display of hunger, then Connolly looked at him.

  ‘That was…that was great. Thanks, Liam.’

  ‘You’re all right.’

  ‘I’ll give you a hand to carry the stuff home.’

  ‘It’s OK, I can manage.’

  ‘No, I will. For the sandwich.’

  That made sense to Liam. If Martin helped carry the bags, the sandwich might seem a little less like charity and more like a payment.

  ‘All right so. You take the suitcase, I’ll take the bag,’ said Liam.

  They took one piece each and started on their way, treading carefully on the icy pavements, then Connolly turned the corner ahead of Liam. They were entering Liam’s street now and he called ahead.

  ‘That’s grand now, Martin. I can take it from here.’

  Connolly turned to face him. ‘I’ll carry it in for you,’ he said.

  ‘No, that’s…that’s something I want to do myself.’

  ‘OK,’ answered Connolly as though he understood the significance of this for Liam. ‘And thanks for the sandwich.’

  Liam looked at Connolly, then spontaneously lowered the sports bag and opened the top of it. He took out one of Aunt Molly’s loaves of brown bread and offered it to the other boy. ‘For your family,’ said Liam.

  Connolly looked at him almost disbelievingly, then took the loaf.

  ‘I … I won’t forget this, Liam. Thanks.’ He nodded, then quickly turned and walked away.

  Liam watched him go. He felt good, not just because of being able to help someone else, but because, despite all the obstacles he had encountered, he had succeeded in his mission. He allowed himself to savour the idea for a little while, then he took up both bags and walked happily towards his hall door.

  Nora stood on the steps of Broadstone station, trying to control the butterflies in her stomach. She had been dreading the arrival of her mother and father, but another part of her was anxious to get it over with, knowing that she had to face them at some point.

  She had rung from the station master’s office a little earlier, and her father had answered the telephone immediately. He sounded more agitated than Nora had ever heard him, but she had assured him that she was all right and had promised to explain everything when they were reunited.

  Nora had thanked the station master for his kindness, and managed to persuade him not to involve the police in the matter of her fictitious stolen purse – she said her father would report the theft. Now she waited at the entrance with a railway man whom the station master had insisted should remain with her until her parents arrived.

  Nora’s pulse accelerated as she saw the family Ford turning into the slip road leading up to the station entrance.

  ‘These are my parents now,’ she said to the railway man. ‘Thank you for waiting with me.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Miss,’ said the man, touching his hat and heading off as the car drew in to the kerb.

  Nora could see her mother in the passenger seat, grim-faced and anxious. Her father got out and came round to the front of the car. He saw Nora and, unusually for him, neglected to open the passenger door for his wife, but ran instead towards his daughter.

  ‘We’ve been worried sick!’ he cried. ‘Are you really all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, Daddy,’ she answered, then without another word her father reached out and hugged her.

  Nora hugged him back, pleased that for now he was more relieved than angry. He stroked her hair, and Nora felt a stab of guilt at how much worry she had caused.

  Her father eventually released her, and looking past him, Nora saw that her mother had exited the car and was bearing down on her. Nora felt her earlier butterflies intensifying. Her mother had always been the disciplinarian at home, and this was the moment that Nora had dreaded. She stepped aside from her father and nervously stood her ground. He mother didn’t speak, but looked hard at Nora, then ran forward and embraced her.

  ‘Nora, darling. You gave us such a fright.’

  Nora had been expecting a blazing row, but to her surprise she saw that there were tears in her mother’s eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mummy,’ she said, then her mother gripped her more tightly and hugged her. Nora felt the tears forming in her own eyes, and although she knew that later there might be all sorts of trouble, right now she felt relieved and loved, and as a tear rolled down her cheek, she lost herself in her mother’s embrace, happy to be safely home again.

  Chapter 24

  ‘Liam! It’s Liam!’ cried Eileen, running forward excitedly as he stepped into the hallway. His other sisters crowded around him, and Liam couldn’t help but enjoy their obvious pleasure at his safe return. He looked past them after a moment, to the table where his mother had been sitting, her sewing spread out before her.

  She rose now and came towards him. Before she could say anything, Liam indicated the two heavy bags.

  ‘I got the food, Ma,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry for going behind your back – but we needed it. And I got loads of stuff, it’ll really help.’

  ‘Oh, Liam,’ cried his mother. ‘You’re one in a million!’

  She hugged him, and Liam smiled and held her close, pleased that she wasn’t annoyed at him.

  ‘Aunt Molly was asking for you,’ said Liam when his mother finally released him.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘She’s grand. And she said she’s going to do a novena to St Francis for Da.’

  Ma smiled, but it was a strange smile, as though she were aware of a joke that Liam wasn’t in on.

  ‘What is it?’ he said.

  ‘She can save her prayers.’

  Liam turned around, startled. For there, standing in the bedroom door, was Da. He looked thinner and paler than when he had first been taken to prison, but he still had a twinkle in his eye and he cocked his head sideways and looked at Liam with a crooked grin.

  ‘Do you not have an aul’ hug for your da?’ he asked.

  Liam ran to him and jumped into his arms like he used to do as a small boy. His father hoisted him up in the air and swung him around playfully before gently setting him down again.

 
‘When did you get out, Da?’ asked Liam.

  ‘This morning. Your ma’s told me what you did, heading off to Westmeath. I’m proud of you, son. Really proud.’

  ‘Thanks, Da. And…and how come they let you out?’

  ‘I think they’d had enough of my company.’

  ‘No really, Da, why?’

  ‘Public opinion, Liam. Every fair-minded person knows this lockout is wrong.’

  ‘And what about Mr Larkin?’

  ‘He’s working hard to get the English workers to come in behind us.’

  ‘And will they?’

  ‘I don’t know, Liam. The politics are …’ Da grimaced. ‘It’s complicated, but we’ll hope for the best.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘But we’re not going to worry about any of that tonight. Tonight we’ll burn whatever coal we have in a blaze. And we’ll have lots of food, thanks to you. So we’ll be warm, and full, and all together again as a family. Now doesn’t that make us luckier than lots of people?’

  ‘It does, Da,’ said Liam. He looked around the room at his mother, and his sisters, and Da with his laughing eyes. He wasn’t just luckier than lots of people. He was the luckiest boy in Dublin.

  He smiled at them all, then he bent down and began to open the first of the bags.

  ‘Just wait till I show you what we’ve got,’ he said.

  Nora folded her letter and placed it in a stamped envelope, then leaned back in her chair and gazed out the window. She was sitting in the drawing room, a log fire roaring in the grate, while outside in the garden the snow was melting and dripping from the branches of the gaunt winter trees.

  It was two days now since she had returned from Ballinacargy and, as she had expected, after the first surge of joy and relief had died down, she had been questioned at length. She had been queried about Liam, about Brother Raymond, about the choir, and about all that had happened on her journey to and from Westmeath.

  Her parents had not been as angry as they might have been, even when Nora said that despite being sorry for the worry she had caused them, her sympathies still lay with families like Liam’s. When, however, she added that she hoped Mr Larkin succeeded in winning an honourable settlement of the lockout, it had gone down badly, especially with her mother. Nora had stayed polite and respectful, and had explained that her eyes had been opened and this was now her honest, heartfelt view. She knew even as she said it that her parents might bar her from seeing Liam again, seeing him as a bad influence, but she felt that the time for lies was over and that from here on she had to tell the truth, no matter what.

  She thought back over all that had happened, then she withdrew her letter from its envelope, wanting to be sure she had covered everything that needed to be said, and she began to read.

  Dear Liam,

  I hope you are well and that your family is enjoying the food we got from your Aunt Molly. She’s a lovely woman, and I really liked her – and especially her brilliant apple tart! Anyway, I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble at home, and that your mother let you off when she saw all the food you brought back.

  Mummy and Daddy collected me from Broadstone and they were so relieved to find me all right that they hardly gave out to me at all on Sunday night. Since then they’ve asked me loads of questions, though, and Mummy is annoyed that I went behind her back to be friends with you and that I’m on Mr Larkin’s side in the lockout.

  The really bad news is that they’re taking me out of the choir, and after this letter I’m not allowed have any more contact with you, so I can’t write to you again or get letters from you. I tried so hard to argue with them, Liam, but it was no good. Mummy claims that it’s not a punishment, but I know it is. She says it’s her duty to see that I’m protected from ‘influences not in my best interest’. I tried to explain how much I learnt from being your friend and from seeing both sides of the argument about the lockout, but she wouldn’t listen.

  I’m really sorry they won’t let us stay friends, Liam, because you were a great friend and I’ll miss you. And no matter what Mummy says, I’ll never be sorry we met and I’ll remember all the fun we had. And I hope too that Mr Larkin wins out with the lockout, it’s only fair that he should, and I’ll pray that that happens.

  I’m sorry that you and I can’t do any more together to help, but we played our part as best we could and that’s something I’ll always be proud of.

  I don’t know what else to say, Liam. It’s awful that they won’t let us stay friends. But Mummy has put her foot down and she made me promise that there’ll be no more lies, so I can’t go behind her back again. Maybe when we’re older and all the strikes and disputes are over we’ll meet again. I really hope so. Until then I know I’ll think about you, and meanwhile I’ll pray for you and your family. Thank you so much for being my friend.

  Yours sincerely,

  Nora Reynolds.

  Nora sat looking at the letter, but she knew that she had said things as well as she could and that there was no point putting off the inevitable. So she placed the letter in the envelope once again, and this time she licked the flap and sealed it. She got up and went to the door, moving out of the warm room and into the hall, where she took her overcoat and scarf from the hat stand. Now that she had made her mind up, she moved quickly, stepping out the hall door and down the steps into the garden.

  She walked along Leeson Park, turning into Dartmouth Road and heading for the pillar box at the corner. She felt a strange mix of emotions as she walked along. She was sorry that her time with Liam was at an end, but somehow she wasn’t all that surprised. It was as though, deep down, she had always known that sooner or later her mother would put a stop to their friendship.

  Still, they had enjoyed their eight months together. They had sung, and laughed and had fun, but Nora had also seen inside Liberty Hall and delivered food parcels to people in need, and in the process had seen the world outside of her own comfortable circle.

  And last but not least, Liam had given her the chance to make a stand. On the day that Miss Dillon had been dismissed from the school Nora had sworn that she would do something concrete, something of which her inspirational teacher would approve. And throwing caution to the wind and following Liam to Ballinacargy so his family didn’t go hungry was something that Nora would never regret, something she sensed might already have changed her life forever.

  She thought of Miss Dillon now, and even though she knew that her former teacher was in England, she imagined her somehow knowing of Nora’s actions and being proud of her. It was a nice feeling and it made Nora smile. Then it was time, she knew, to end things. She looked at the letter in her hand, whispered Bye, Liam to herself, then slipped the envelope into the pillar box, turned away and started back for home.

  EPILOGUE

  In January 1914, after over four months of misery and strife, the lockout ended in victory for the employers. It was a limited victory, however, and the lockout came to be seen as a turning point, after which workers were never again treated as badly as they had been before Jim Larkin came to Dublin, and his trade union recovered and went on to become even more powerful.

  Nora’s father’s business was damaged by the lockout, as were lots of other companies, but in time it too recovered, and Mr Reynolds carried on for many years as a successful wine importer, while Nora’s mother continued to sit on the boards of numerous charities.

  Liam’s father was earmarked as a trouble-maker and not taken back at his job when the lockout ended. Unable to find work anywhere in Dublin, he joined the Royal Navy, where his skills as a mechanic were recognised, leading to a successful career as a Petty Officer. Liam’s mother picked up more work as a dressmaker, and had another child the following year, a baby brother on whom Liam doted, and who was, unsurprisingly, named Jim.

  The progressive school in Yorkshire suited Miss Dillon, and less than ten years after her arrival there she was appointed principal.

  Brother Raymond’s choir – without Nora, but w
ith Liam still a member – went on to win many prizes.

  Martin Connolly survived the food shortages of the lockout, but died later from TB, two weeks after his fifteenth birthday.

  Liam trained as a mechanic. When his father finally left the Royal Navy they opened a small garage together, and in time Liam went on to own a number of garages on the north side of Dublin. He no longer had time for choirs, but in the bath he still sang ‘Has Anyone Here Seen Kelly?’ much to the amusement of his family.

  Nora did well in school. She attended University College, Dublin and got an Honours degree in English. Against her mother’s wishes, she went to London where she worked successfully as an editor with a large publishing company. At her parents’ insistence, she had never told her friends and relatives the true story of Liam and the trip to Ballinacargy. But she still remembered every detail, and one day, when the time was right, she knew she would tell the story of a special friendship. A friendship so strong it reached across the divide…

  HISTORICAL NOTE

  Although Across the Divide is a work of fiction, and Liam and Nora and their families are creations of my imagination, the background to the story is very real and many children of Liam and Nora’s age were deeply affected by the severe food shortages and general upheaval of what became known as the Dublin Lockout of 1913.

  The tenement living conditions that horrified Nora, with up to seventy people sharing a single toilet, and large numbers of children dying in infancy, were, unfortunately, the everyday reality for many poor people in Dublin.

  All the main historical events described in the book really happened, from the baton charge in Sackville Street, (now O’Connell Street, where Jim Larkin’s statue can be seen, opposite the GPO) to the tram drivers abandoning their vehicles, to the ships steaming up the Liffey with food for the hungry workers and their families. The food kitchen in Liberty Hall operated as described, and children being sent by their parents to sympathetic families in England were forcibly prevented from leaving the country.