Freedom First, Peace Later

by Jeanette Hewitt

  But spoil Mary’s day she did. In fact Mary would now go to say that the seemingly innocent assistant at the travel agent spoiled her entire life. That woman—Joanne was her name—immediately made some telephone calls and told some people very high up what she had heard in her little shop that day.

  They were waiting for Billy when Mary went to meet him. Just like they were waiting for Connor twenty-one years later. They were different men, more than likely the fathers or uncles of the men that lay in wait for Connor and Rosina. In fact, it was so identical, it was ironic.

  Rosina listened quietly as Mary relived her story and, when she stopped, Rosina leaned forward to take the empty coffee cup out of Mary’s hand. She sensed not to push Mary into talking; she would resume when she was ready.

  “More coffee?” she asked.

  “Yes, yes, please.” Mary pulled herself out of the past and into the present. “I didn’t realise it would be so hard talking about it.”

  “Does Connor know? I mean, have you ever told him this?” asked Rosina as she retrieved two more coffees.

  “He knows his dad was a Catholic, but no, he doesn’t know what I’ve told you.”

  Rosina came back across the room and handed Mary her coffee.

  They sat in silence for a long time before Mary began to talk again.

  “We had arranged to meet at the shipyard in Crossmaglen, and it was almost midnight when I got there. The yard was deserted. It wasn’t even used as a shipyard anymore so we were never disturbed there. I saw him at once, sitting on the wall of the dock, and I pulled the tickets out of my pocket and waved them at him. I saw his face light up and, as I got close to him, he stood up on the wall and was about to jump down when three men came out of the shadows behind the wall. I stopped, too scared even to shout, and as they pulled Billy off the wall and onto the ground behind it, I started to run to him. I had no thought for my own safety. I knew what was going to happen. I’d heard about the kneecappings and the shootings and I’d even seen the aftermath of one once a couple of years before. I knew that I couldn’t stop them from hurting Billy, I just prayed as I ran to him that hurt him was all that they would do.

  “They hauled him up as I reached the wall that separated us, and we all stood there like idiots. Two men were each holding one of Billy’s arms, the third man just behind us, standing staring at them.

  “‘Run,’ Billy urged me and I saw the despair in his eyes as I shook my head.

  “‘No, don’t run. Stay and watch,’ said one of the men, and as I stared into his eyes I had never felt such hatred before.

  “Suddenly, they sprang into action. The man on Billy’s left pulled out a handgun and, before I knew it, a shot rang out. The noise was loud, louder than anything I’d ever heard and I remember clamping my hands to my ears. It didn’t block out the sound of Billy’s screams as they cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger again. I couldn’t see where they had shot him. The wall was in my way, but I prayed that it was his legs and not any vital organs. I looked directly at Billy, and his eyes locked on mine as he sagged against the two men who held him up.

  “‘Let him go now,’ I pleaded.

  “The two men holding Billy looked at each other. They nodded, and I could see that they were just about to release him when the third man stepped closer to Billy. He whispered something in his ear, something that I didn’t hear, and suddenly Billy lurched forward, out of the grip of the two men and slumped over the wall. For a second I was confused, and then I saw the knife sticking out of Billy’s back. I screamed and screamed, and, to my ears, my screaming sounded louder than the gunshots. I was hysterical. It seemed like hours later that I finally got a hold of myself and stopped

  screaming. The men had gone. It was just Billy and me. I stumbled over to him and fell to my knees in front of him.

  “I called his name and slapped his face. Eventually, he opened his eyes and stared blearily at me.

  “‘It’s all over, sweetheart,’ he said quietly. On reflex I moved back, and a river of blood came out of Billy’s mouth as he spoke.

  “‘I’ll get help,’ I said and stood up.

  “It must have taken all of his strength to lift his hand and pull me back.

  “‘Too late,’ he whispered. ‘Stay with me.’

  “Of course I knew that it was too late. He had two bullets in him, and a butcher’s knife sticking out of his back. He didn’t seem to be in too much pain, maybe he had passed that stage, but I knew that he was dying.

  “I climbed over the wall and stood next to him. Looking back now, I can’t believe that I was so calm, although maybe I realised that this was the last time we were ever going to be together. I couldn’t waste it by getting hysterical.

  “‘Should I move you?’ I asked.

  “He shook his head, so I sat down on the ground and clutched his hand.

  “‘I love you, Billy,’ I said and then I told him that we were going to have a baby.

  “The light in his eyes had nearly faded, but when I told him that they lit up. He couldn’t speak now, but he gripped my hand and I knew that he was as happy about the baby as I was.

  “Minutes later his head fell forward and he died.”

  Mary sat with her head bent as Rosina stared, ashen-faced.

  “What happened next?” she asked.

  “I left him eventually and went to the police station. I told them what had happened, and two officers came with me back to the dock. They didn’t talk to me, didn’t offer any comfort or sympathy. They knew why he had been killed and that I was the reason.”

  Rosina felt a sob rise in her throat, and she clamped her hand to her mouth. Mary glanced up and saw the look on Rosina’s face.

  “It’s not all bad,” she said. “I got Connor, didn’t I?”

  Rosina nodded, still not trusting herself to speak.

  “That was hard, telling my mother about the pregnancy. She threw me out, of course. The day after Billy died, I found myself on the streets, homeless, penniless and pregnant. I got a refund on the tickets to America and went to see Meg. She was my rock,” Mary broke off and smiled at Rosina. “She’s still my best friend now. The only person who didn’t desert me during those black days.”

  “You never met anyone else?” asked Rosina.

  Mary laughed; a harsh, brittle sound that echoed around the small room.

  “A single, Protestant mother with a dead Catholic’s child? No, nobody would touch me after that.” Catching the look of sympathy in Rosina’s eyes she stood up. “And I didn’t want anyone. I’d had my chance—my love. Anyway, I took Billy’s name so a part of him and me are forever together. It’s more than some people get. I was lucky.”

  “But you’re…liked now?”

  “I am.” Mary held her head up. “I’m respected and I’m respectable. Or, at least I was, until you came along.”

  “But you must understand!” Rosina said desperately. “How I feel about Connor, surely you, of all people, must understand!”

  Mary said nothing.

  Rosina leaned back in her chair and thought about everything Mary had told her. She knew that it could get just as bad for Connor and herself. The question was, were they strong enough to handle it?

  A nurse coming into the room interrupted her thoughts, and she stood up quickly.

  “Mrs Dean, your son is awake and asking for you.”

  Mary nodded and, as she held the door, she turned back towards Rosina.

  “Are you coming?”

  Rosina’s face broke into a smile and, for a heartbreaking second, Mary could see why Connor had fallen for this girl. She took a second to pray for them both, for the strength that they would need in the months and years ahead.

  * * * *

  “Hey!” Connor’s eyes widened as Mary and Rosina walked into his room together. “This is a sight I didn’t think I’d see.”

  Mary hugged Connor and kissed his forehead. She smiled at him for a moment before stepping back and letting Rosina up to the be
d. She took his hand and kissed it before bursting into tears.

  “Babe, it’s okay. I’m all right, see?” Connor gripped her hand. She nodded and tried to get a hold of herself.

  He looked terrible. His right eye was swollen closed, and he had stitches in his forehead, where he had received a vicious cut. Rosina sat on the edge of the bed, taking care not to touch his heavily bandaged leg.

  “Girl’s been kicked out of her home,” said Mary as she sat down on the side of the bed. Connor looked horrified.

  “Does everyone know?” he asked his mother.

  “Yes,” Mary replied.

  “What are you going to do?” He looked at Rosina but it was Mary who answered.

  “What do you think she’s going to do?” Mary pulled a tissue out of her bag and passed it over the bed to Rosina. “She’s coming to stay with us.”

  * * * *

  Barry sat quietly in the cell meeting, concentrating hard on what Andy was saying. The cell leader was planning an attack on a local Catholic off-license that had been caught serving out of hours to Protestants. It was vital that he remembered every piece of information Andy fed him so he could deliver it back to Johnny, the British government agent.

  “So, Kay, you’ll stash the weapons until the big night. Baz, you’ll arrange transport. We’ll need a car, preferably stolen, to drive up to the gates, and another vehicle to get away in,” Andy finished and looked around the table at his fellow comrades.

  “When are we doing this?” asked Barry.

  Andy paused and looked again at each of the people seated. It seemed to Barry that Andy’s gaze lingered a little too long on him, and he shifted nervously in his chair.

  “Soon,” Andy said finally.

  The meeting finally broke up and the group members disappeared into the night. As Barry walked the mile or so back home, he couldn’t help but think about Bronwyn. She had been shocked to discover his involvement in the I.R.A, but she would be devastated if she ever learned that he was just there undercover. Devastated, because she knew the dangers that he faced. The problem with being an agent was that the more attacks and killings and bombs that he stopped, the more likely he was to get caught. Sooner or later, Andy was going to realise that every job that got messed up was a job that Barry was involved in.

  Barry rubbed his eyes as a faint headache started. He had another problem on his hands; he wasn’t sleeping.

  Well, he started off sleeping each night, but for the last week he had begun waking earlier and earlier to find it utterly impossible to drop off again. Last night he had tried going to bed later, and had stayed awake until just after midnight. But he had still woken at five o’clock. It was all the stress of this damn job, he told himself. But he was caught now. Caught in a trap between the Irish Republican Army and the British government, and, if the truth be told, he didn’t entirely trust either one of them.

  As Barry trudged slowly home, he noticed the bright light of an off-license across the street, ironically the one that they had just been planning to bomb. Already feeling a quart of whiskey warming up his belly, he crossed the road.

  Well, it would at least help him sleep, if nothing else.

  * * * *

  Bronwyn located Connor’s bed just after Mary had dropped the bombshell about Rosina staying at their house. She pulled back the curtain and appraised the serious faces around the bed.

  “Bronwyn!” Rosina cried and stood up to greet her friend.

  “Bronwyn, hey?” Connor smiled at the pretty dark haired girl and held out his hand to her.

  “Rosina’s told me all about you. It’s good to finally meet you.”

  Bronwyn studied the boy in the bed. Rosina had landed herself a right looker. He was quite dark skinned, and his hair matched the raven’s colour of her own. He was very handsome and his smile melted her heart. She stepped forward and smacked his hand aside.

  “From Rosie’s guy I expect a hug not a handshake!” she said.

  Connor’s look of surprise made Rosina giggle and she pulled Bronwyn down onto a chair.

  “I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances that we finally meet,” said Bronwyn and then turned to Mary. “Hello. Are you Connor’s ma?”

  Mary had watched this exchange with hidden amusement. She liked this Bronwyn girl on sight. She could tell immediately that she was tough as nails, a good person for Connor and Rosina to have rooting for them.

  “That I am,” she replied and stood up. “What say I get us all some coffee?”

  The three youngsters murmured their agreement and silently watched Mary leave. Bronwyn turned to Rosina.

  “How did it go with your ma?”

  Rosina was downcast.

  “She threw me out, but Mary said I could stay with her and Connor.”

  “Fantastic!” said Bronwyn. “Now, Connor, when are you getting out of this shit hole?”

  “As soon as I can stand again,” replied Connor and pulled up the sheet so Bronwyn could peer at the bandage that adorned his leg.

  “Bron, I need to ask a favour,” said Rosina in a small voice. “I need some things…”

  Bronwyn held up her hand.

  “Say no more. I’ll get your stuff and bring it round to Connor’s. You just write me the address and it’ll be there.”

  “You’re the best friend a girl could ever ask for. But what about me mam?” said Rosina as she scribbled Connor’s address down and handed it over.

  Bronwyn took the paper and memorised the address before looking back up at Rosina.

  “You just leave her to me,” she said and planted a kiss on Connor’s cheek. “See ya.”

  And with that, she enveloped Rosina in a fierce hug and was gone. Connor looked perplexed.

  “Does she always move that fast?”

  Rosina sighed and stared after Bronwyn’s departing figure.

  “Always,” she replied.

  Outside the hospital, Bronwyn stood in the rain and tried to compose herself. It was the first time she had met Connor, and she could tell immediately that he was a good, decent lad. How

  could Danny have hurt him like that? And why had she shot her mouth off to him about Rosina and Connor? That surely made this mess partly her fault. She clenched the piece of paper with Connor’s address on it tight in her fist and swallowed against the tears that threatened. You’re the best friend a girl could ever ask for.

  Bronwyn snorted and headed off to the bus stop.

  Oh, darling Rosie, if only you knew…

  Chapter Six

  Kathleen

  It didn’t take Bronwyn long to get to Rosina’s house. She had known Kathleen James all of her life, and could easily see why Rosina was so scared of her mother. But Bronwyn was not Rosina, and, as she rapped on the front door, she took a deep breath and prepared herself for a cold reception.

  “I might have known she’d send you,” said Kathleen as she opened the door. Bronwyn pushed past Kathleen and immediately headed upstairs to Rosina’s room.

  “I’m here for her things. I won’t be long,” she said over her shoulder. As she entered Rosina’s room, Kathleen was right behind her.

  “You can’t just barge in here like this!” she said.

  “I can, and I have. I’m not Rosina. I’m not frightened of you,” said Bronwyn and pulled Rosie’s suitcase off the top of her wardrobe. “And if you hit me, I’ll hit you right back.”

  Kathleen gaped in shock at the nerve of the girl. How Rosina had gotten mixed up with a wild child like this one was beyond her.

  But she didn’t stop her from packing Rosina’s things. She knew Bronwyn of old, and was aware that she didn’t make empty threats. She knew Bronwyn’s reputation for fighting, and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end. As Bronwyn carefully and methodically packed Rosina’s clothes, Kathleen backed out of the room to watch Bronwyn from the other side of Rosina’s bedroom doorway. How lucky her daughter was to have this feisty girl in her life. She, Kathleen, had had nobody. Not one single soul would
have been prepared to do for her what Bronwyn was doing for Rosina. Before she could start to wallow over the injustices of life, Kathleen turned on her heel and went downstairs without another word.

  Bronwyn watched Kathleen leave and when she was gone she worked more quickly. With Kathleen there, she had deliberately moved at her own pace, not wanting Kathleen to think she was scared and hurrying. Now Kathleen was gone, so she moved fast, no longer folding clothes or

  placing them in the case in a tidy manner. It was by no means Kathleen that Bronwyn was afraid of; she knew she could handle her attacks any day – physical or verbal. No, it was the house that haunted Bronwyn more than any living person in it. Never had she known a house so cold. It was clean to the point of obsessiveness Bronwyn would have said, but that was the only part of life where Kathleen seemed to have made an effort – cleanliness. Not one ornament adorned the windowsills, no photographs, not even of Rosina. This house was a shell, nothing welcoming or homely about it. Just like the woman who owned it.

  Bronwyn packed the last of Rosina’s clothes, took one last look around the room, and, with a shudder, she pulled the suitcase behind her and walked back down the stairs. Kathleen waited at the bottom, standing in front of the door. Bronwyn tensed and kept right on moving until Kathleen had no choice but to move away. Bronwyn paused at the front door and turned back to face Kathleen.

  “I met Connor tonight. He’s a nice lad, a good lad, and it’d be a shame for you to fall out with Rosie over this.”