Belfast Girls

by Gerry McCullough

  Would Davy know that she was getting out?

  Would he be able to find her?

  Would he still want to?

  She decided that she must make some contact with him.

  The only way she knew how to do that was through Big Maggie.

  The easiest way to find Big Maggie was to keep an eye out for her in the canteen. Phil hoped that she hadn’t been released. It was several weeks since she had seen the tall, thin figure about.

  It took three days of watching before she spotted the big woman at last. She stood a few places ahead of Phil, with her tray, in the queue for dinner.

  It was easy to follow her to a table and slip in casually beside her.

  “Haven’t seen you around, lately, Maggie,” began Phil in a friendly way.

  “I’ve been in the infirmary,” Big Maggie told her briefly. “Appendix.”

  “Oh, dear, sorry to hear it,” said Phil, reflecting that this was one of those social lies. Actually, she felt little or no concern about Big Maggie’s health. She just wanted to make use of her. “Okay, now?”

  “Yeah,” the woman grunted, eating fast. “What do you want?”

  Phil’s heart missed a beat. Was she being so obvious?

  Was everyone, prison officers included, wondering why she was talking to this woman who was not even an acquaintance of hers, let alone a friend?

  But a moment later, she regained her calm. She had done nothing suspicious. She had no particular seat in the canteen, unlike some of the prisoners who always sat together.

  There was nothing strange in her happening to sit beside Big Maggie.

  “Yes,” she admitted. She looked round nervously and kept her voice low. “I want you to get a message to my friend. You remember DH?”

  “And supposing I can?” Maggie asked.

  “Well, can you?”

  Maggie glared at her for a moment, then made up her mind.

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks,” said Phil. “Will I pass it to you in the library like last time?”

  “No. Janet got out months ago. Observant, aren’t you? See me in the toilets after this.”

  “But I haven’t written it yet,” Phil protested. “That’s no good.”

  “Okay. Tomorrow, then. After dinner.”

  “Thanks,” Phil said again.

  She made no further attempt to speak to Big Maggie who seemed to want to be left alone to eat as quickly as possible without the bother of talking.

  While she was working in the library that evening, Phil managed to scribble a brief note.

  Dear Davy, she wrote

  I will be getting out on 28 Jan. If you want to get in touch, ring me at my parents.

  I love you.

  Phil.

  There was so much else to say, but somehow a letter was not the right way to say it.

  As the time drew nearer, she became more and more nervous of seeing Davy again.

  He was part of the unreal world, the outside world, now.

  Would she still feel the same about him when they met?

  Would he still feel the same about her?

  Did she really love him or was it all just a delusion, a game she played?

  So many things had happened since she last saw him.

  Those things were real. The drugs, the interrogation, the trial, the year in prison.

  By comparison with those things, her feelings for Davy seemed to have faded into an insubstantial, imaginary emotion.

  Only when she saw him again would she know how much reality was left.

  She met Big Maggie in the toilets, as they had arranged, and gave her the note. The sleazy surroundings seemed to increase the dreamlike, nightmare quality of the whole thing.

  What had her love for Davy to do with all this?

  There was no means of telling if the note had reached its destination. She had no reason to trust Big Maggie, but equally no reason not to trust her. The big woman was acting out of her own strange loyalties. She had taken trouble to deliver Davy’s letter to Phil. Phil supposed she had been asked to do this through some criminal communication chain.

  She could only hope that for the same motives Big Maggie would deliver the note Phil had written to Davy.

  On the 28 January, Kevin and Annie Maguire, with Gerry, came for Phil.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  It was a bright, sunny day, cold but clear.

  Phil came out through the gates and paused for a moment to shield her eyes from the glare.

  Her parents saw her and waved.

  Then they ran towards each other.

  Phil found that she was crying as Kevin, Annie and Gerry each hugged her and fussed over her. Gerry seized her suitcase and Kevin took her hand to lead her to the car. Annie, on Phil’s other side, kept her arm round her daughter’s shoulders.

  Suddenly they were real people again.

  For the first few days, Phil relapsed thankfully into childhood.

  She allowed Annie to look after her, to cook tempting meals, put hot water bottles in her bed, run hot baths for her, and generally behave like a hen with one chick. It was so lovely to sleep in a soft, comfortable bed, to wear clothes of her own choice, to sleep or get up when she chose, to sit around reading or watching television if she felt like it.

  But then a restlessness came over Phil and she began to feel the need to become a whole person again. She spoke cautiously to her mother about perhaps going out – taking a bus into town, looking at the shops for an hour or so. Annie encouraged her to go but when it came to the bit, Phil was very frightened. She felt sure that everyone would be looking at her.

  It took several attempts before she could bring herself to go out. In the end, Annie came with her and that seemed to make it easier.

  Phil was glad that she had made the effort. Each time it was easier. After the first week, she was able to take the bus by herself and felt secure that no-one was interested.

  She was still reluctant to leave the house for long. She told her parents nothing about Davy but said that it was possible that some old friends might want to contact her.

  “If anyone rings me while I’m out, mammy, be sure to get a number where I can ring back.”

  She developed a habit of listening with one ear for the phone to ring, no matter what else she was doing. Her mother noticed that she was becoming jumpy, and worried about it, but said nothing.

  Annie Maguire was so glad to have her daughter safely back that at first it was enough in itself. Presently she would hope to see Phil getting her life together again but, for the moment, even the family relationships were fragile things to be dealt with carefully. She showed Phil her love in practical ways. But as far as knowing her daughter’s thoughts, she was aware that Phil was practically a stranger.

  Then one day the phone rang and it was Davy,

  They met one evening in late February, when the first traces of spring were stirring in the light breezes and in the scent of new blooming flowers.

  Phil had wondered if he would be the same person, if she would still love him. But from the moment of hearing his voice on the phone, she had had no doubts.

  He came towards her across the grass of Botanic Gardens, where they had met so often before and, as he came near enough for her to see his face, Phil saw the smile, half rueful, half doubtful of his reception, which had twisted her heart so often before. Then she was running, running and his arms were round her.

  It was one of the most perfectly happy moments of Phil’s life.

  Davy lifted her off her feet, swung her round and set her down again. Her heart felt like bursting as she kissed him back and clung to him.

  “Oh, kiddo,” he said in a trembling voice. “I love you so much.”

  He was thinner and pale and, after the first moments, when she was able to look at him properly, Phil could see the changes. He looked older, more definitely an adult – a man, not a boy.

  They began to walk hand in hand along the grass lined paths.

 
; “What happened? What happened, Phil?” Davy asked. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard it.”

  “How did you hear, Davy?” Phil asked.

  Davy hesitated. “Well. I was out of the country for over four months. Sorting out problems. This is completely top secret, Phil. I was in Lebanon. When I came back, someone had cancelled the lease on the flat and I was told to go on over the Border. I’m based there now. I come and go. I was told, when I got to the Dublin HQ, that you had been arrested and given a two year sentence, but nobody down there seemed to know why.”

  “I think,” said Phil slowly, “I think they did know, Davy. I wasn’t sure whether I would tell you this or not – I don’t want you to feel responsible. But I’ve decided now that I should tell you. Here’s how it was.”

  She spoke slowly and with difficulty, stumbling and repeating herself in the more traumatic places but eventually the story was clear.

  Davy was silent for a moment.

  When he spoke at last he sounded very angry.

  “I didn’t know any of this, Phil. I swear it.”

  “I know that, Davy,” Phil said quietly. “I never had any doubt of that. If you had known, you’d have made a fool of yourself by making a statement in the hope of freeing me. And the only result would have been that you’d have been in prison too and for far longer. That’s why your friends kept it from you.”

  “They had no right!” Davy broke out violently. “They should have let me decide for myself. Of course I would have come forward. I could have convinced the court that you were completely innocent. They treated me like a child. And you, Phil – they put you through hell, kiddo, when it could have been prevented!”

  Phil was silent. She had said all she could in order to be fair. A hope raised itself unbidden that Davy might be so disillusioned with his drug associates that he might make a break. But his next words quenched the hope stillborn.

  “I understand why they did it. A lot of money’s involved. They couldn’t risk a line from me leading back to the centre of the gang. They have their rules. But, Phil, a few more months and I’ll have enough in the bank in Switzerland to finish with them, to leave this country for good and set up a life somewhere else, somewhere safe.” He looked down at Phil and his voice hardened again. “But I’ll break someone’s neck for this, all the same!”

  Phil shivered.

  “You’re cold,” he said in sudden concern. “I shouldn’t keep you out here!”

  “I’m okay,” Phil said. “But let’s go for a drink or something.”

  “No,” said Davy. “I’m supposed to keep a low profile. Pubs in this area wouldn’t be a good idea. Come on, I’m staying not too far away. We’ll go there.”

  Taking Phil’s hand, he led her through the gardens with their scattering of new purple and white crocuses, and out by the far entrance. There was a maze of little streets there.

  Phil followed as Davy walked rapidly down one street after the other until he came to a terrace of tall houses mostly divided into flats. It was very like the flat he and Phil had shared in Thomas Street and Phil could not prevent another shiver as she looked up at the building where Davy had paused.

  “In here, kiddo. We’ll soon get you warmed up.”

  He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze and they went inside.

  Upstairs, Davy unlocked the door to a flat which was much smaller than the familiar one in Thomas Street and less shabby. They went into the kitchen where Davy switched on a heater and filled the electric kettle.

  “You need something warm to drink,” he said. He sounded embarrassed.

  Phil looked at him in surprise.

  “I’m not specially looking for coffee, pet,” she said. “I thought you were going to warm me up yourself?”

  Davy found that he had forgotten Phil’s forthrightness. He burst out laughing.

  “Oh, Phil, Phil, I do love you!”

  She came towards him and reached out to put her arms around him. Davy held her tightly but said in a troubled voice, “Kiddo, I didn’t intend anything like this to happen. “I’m not – well, I’m not prepared.”

  “I don’t care!” said Phil passionately. “I’ve been wanting you for so long. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  Davy bent his head and kissed her.

  “Phil, I want to say something important.”

  She looked up at him, surprise in her eyes.

  “Phil, I want us to get married. I want you to come with me when I leave. I want to be able to look after you.”

  Phil said nothing.

  “Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” Davy burst out. “Look after you! If it hadn’t been for me, you would have been fine. But I didn’t know that, Phil, and I’ve been wanting to say this to you as soon as I saw you again, so I’m saying it anyway. I know I’m saying it all wrong. But I need you, Phil. Will you marry me?”

  “Oh, Davy – it’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  Phil knew that she was trembling from head to foot. It was true, it was what she had always wanted. But now that it had come, she was frightened.

  “I want you to come away with me, kiddo. I told you that I’m living across the Border now. There’d be room for you where I am and you’d be safe.”

  Suddenly Phil realised why it had all seemed too easy.

  “Davy, I can’t.”

  “What do you mean?” He was thunderstruck.

  “I mean I can marry you, yes, but I can’t marry what you’re involved in. I can’t go and be part of all that.” She shook her head vehemently and tore her eyes away from him. “Don’t ask me to, Davy – you know I can’t.”

  “Phil, you must! I can’t manage any longer without you.” He put his arms around her and gently turned her head until her eyes met his again. “I love you, Philomena Maguire.”

  “I love you, David Hagan.”

  He bent his head and kissed her. They clung together, feeling the familiar warmth of body to body. Davy groaned and held her closer.

  “Oh, love. I want you so much.”

  “I want you, too, dear.”

  Then there were no more words but only loving.

  Chapter Seventy

  Sheila came back to Belfast, a few months after Phil got out of prison, in a strange mood. She had spent the last year moving from place to place with Delmara fashions as Francis set up communications all over America and Europe. She had had a number of holidays but had not returned home for any of them. It was as if she wanted to cut her links with her background. The Sheila who had grown up in Belfast, and who had been in love with John Branagh, was a different person.

  Over that year, Sheila had got on with her life. She adopted a policy of work hard, play hard. There were fashion shows, photo sessions, private showings for privileged customers, designing sessions with Delmara and the cutters and sewers. Then a round of parties, drinks, swimming, tennis, sailing.

  And always new men, new admirers, but no one who meant more to her than pleasant company and friendship.

  It was the news that her father had had a heart attack that finally brought her home.

  The letter had followed her from California to Hawaii where she was having a short break after a lengthy photo session for a French magazine. After a strenuous few days of holding one pose after another and always making sure her hair, her face and her clothes were perfect, Sheila was glad to lie in the sun and relax. The silver sand shimmered, the water lapped at regular intervals, the shady umbrella was a refuge from the fiercest heat.

  Chloe had been with her for the photo session, but Sheila’s holiday was a solitary one. She was not lacking in offers of company or invitations to join one or other group of jet-setters, but she had found in herself a desire to get away from the noise and the pleasure seeking, and to be alone.

  She lay in the sun or the shade, sipped long cool drinks, ate what she chose from the dinner menu, read light fiction and slowly unwound from the stress of the last year.

  Walking slowly up to the hotel from
the beach one afternoon, she found a letter from home awaiting her. She went up to her room to shower and change before dinner. Then she sat down on her bed to read the letter.

  “Now, don’t be worrying, dear,” Kathy wrote, “because your daddy’s getting over it fine. It was a bit of a shock at the time, but the doctor says that it’s just that he’s been working too hard. If he takes it easy and eats a better diet he’ll be all right. I’m making sure that he does, don’t worry.”

  Sheila felt a pang of mixed anxiety and guilt.

  How long was it since she had seen her parents? If anything were to happen to her father ...

  She must go home straight away.

  That was the beginning and end of her thoughts on the subject.

  This was a holiday. She wasn’t due back at Delmara Fashions for another two weeks. There was nothing to stop her.

  She took the first available flight home and touched down at Belfast International Airport two nights later. It was a dark, rainy evening, as great a contrast with Hawaii as Sheila could imagine. It was late April and still chilly, especially in the evenings.

  She had phoned in advance and her parents were there to meet her in the Arrivals Lounge.

  Sheila was surprised at how glad she was to see them, especially her father. He was looking older, she noticed with a touch of anxiety, with his hair sparser and greyer than she remembered. Her mother, on the other hand, looked just the same as ever. Her hair was, if anything, blacker. Sheila grinned privately.

  “How are you, Dad?” she asked straight away.

  Frank smiled. “I’m fine, Sheila, just fine. A lot of fuss about nothing.”

  Sheila gave him a hug. “Just the same, you have to take it easy, right?”

  Kathy said, “I make sure of that, don’t I, Frankie?”

  “She does, she does,” Frank agreed. “A terrible woman, she is. She never lets me do a thing, these days.” But he was smiling and Kathy smiled back at him in harmony. To Sheila, who remembered her parents’ relationship as stormy, it seemed that they were getting on better now than she had ever known.

  “C’mon, lass, let’s get your bags and get on home,” Frank said, and Sheila felt the warmth and security of his words lapping her round.