Taking Sides

by Brian Gallagher

  ‘Hello, Peter,’ she said. ‘Annie Reilly.’

  Peter gave her a friendly nod. ‘Anything to Simon Reilly?’

  ‘Eh, no … I don’t think so.’

  ‘He’s in Belvedere with us,’ said Peter. ‘His dad’s a barrister. I thought you might be related.’

  ‘No, we’ve no barristers in our family.’ She left it at that. Even though Susie was completely unsnobbish herself, Annie didn’t want to risk embarrassing her in front of the others by revealing that her father was a hackney driver, or that Eamon was a carter and Sean an apprentice fitter. No sooner had she thought this than Annie felt a stab of guilt. Her family was the most important thing in her life and she shouldn’t have to hide her background. But before she got a chance to say anything further Susie chipped in.

  ‘Simon Reilly – isn’t he the boy with awful breath?’

  ‘Yeah,’ answered Tommy. ‘When he sang in the Christmas show, the other boys asked for gas masks!’

  ‘You should send him to your dad, Peter, get all his rotten teeth out,’ said Susie.

  ‘I wouldn’t wish Simon Reilly on anyone,’ answered Peter with a smile.

  ‘Yeah, it must be horrible being a dentist,’ said Susie wrinkling her face in distaste as she turned to Annie. ‘Can you imagine working in people’s smelly mouths?’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Annie. ‘No offence to your father, Peter,’ she added hastily, not feeling she knew the other boy long enough to be critical of his father’s career.

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Peter. ‘I’d hate it too. Though my brother John says: “Dentistry is vital in the overall health of the individual.”’ He mimicked his brother in a really pompous voice, and Annie laughed with the others.

  ‘I suppose loads of jobs have bad bits,’ said Tommy. ‘Remember Dad telling us about the cat with the glass in its paw? He was taking the glass out and the cat peed right into his face!’

  ‘Yuck,’ said Annie with a laugh

  ‘But I’d still like to be a vet,’ said Tommy. ‘You can’t let one bad thing put you off.’

  ‘Yes you can,’ said Susie. ‘Stuff like that is always happening to vets.’

  ‘So you don’t want to be one?’ asked Annie.

  ‘God, no! Unless you really like it, why do the same job as your parents?’

  Annie realised that this was a chance to raise her father’s occupation naturally, and she spoke up. ‘Yeah, my Da drives a hackney – I wouldn’t like that job.’

  ‘What car does he drive?’ asked Peter

  ‘A Model T Ford.’

  Peter raised an eyebrow in appreciation. ‘Driving that could be good.’

  ‘But even worse things happen to drivers than having cats pee on you,’ said Annie.

  ‘Like what?’ queried Susie.

  ‘Last year Da was driving a man and he had a heart attack and died in the back seat.’

  ‘That must have been awful,’ said Tommy.

  ‘Especially if he didn’t pay the fare!’ added Peter.

  ‘Peter!’ said Susie, laughingly admonishing him.

  ‘That’s the thing, he didn’t!’ said Annie. ‘And when the man’s brother came to thank Da for driving him to the hospital he still didn’t pay the fare. Know what he said?’

  ‘What?’ asked Susie eagerly.

  Annie adopted an exaggerated Dublin accent. ‘The blessings of God on you, mister!’

  The others laughed, then Susie said: ‘Do you want a go on the swing?’

  ‘OK – if that’s all right?’ said Annie, turning to Tommy.

  ‘Yeah, you’re grand,’ he answered, sliding off the make-shift swing.

  ‘And after that we could show Annie the steppiers,’ said Peter.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Stepping stones down at the Tolka,’ said Susie.

  ‘We have races there,’ explained Peter, ‘if you’re on for that.’

  Annie was pleased at having been accepted without fuss by Susie’s gang and she looked at the two boys and grinned. ‘Yeah, I’m on for it – if you don’t mind being beaten by a girl!’

  Peter was impressed, despite himself. When Annie had spoken earlier of being beaten by a girl he had treated it as a joke, but now as he watched her progress over the stepping stones he realised that she was fast. Like the others, she had taken off her shoes and socks in case she slipped into the shallow river, but her balance was excellent and when she completed the trip over the stones and back to their starting point, Susie called out: ‘Nine seconds!’

  ‘Nice stepping, Annie,’ said Tommy, ‘you’d make a good winger!’

  ‘The highest praise there is from these lads!’ said Susie, and Peter noted how Annie smiled, obviously pleased with the praise.

  ‘That’s putting it up to you, Peter,’ said Susie, turning back to him.

  ‘Nine seconds – less the handicap of two seconds you offered Annie,’ said Tommy.

  Susie had taken thirteen seconds and Tommy ten, so Peter reckoned if he beat seven now he would be the winner. ‘No problem,’ he said confidently, though in fact he knew that he would have to move really well to beat seven seconds.

  ‘Ready?’ asked Susie.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good luck,’ said Annie smilingly, and Peter wasn’t sure if she meant it or if she was being tongue-in-cheek.

  ‘One, two, three – go!’ cried Susie.

  Peter moved off at speed, jumping from rock to rock, then he reached the furthest point, swivelled, and leapt back in the direction from which he had started. He was doing well and felt that he had a chance of winning, when suddenly his foot slipped on one of the rocks. He threw his arms up instinctively to try and keep his balance, and for a second he seemed to hang poised. Then he landed, his bare feet splashing heavily down into the water.

  He heard a derisive cheer from Susie and Tommy, and he waded in from the shallows as the others all laughed. He grinned ruefully, knowing that he had been beaten fair and square. As he gained the bank, Susie playfully announced: ‘And today’s winner is – Annie Reilly!’

  Annie looked at him, her smile half apologetic. ‘I’m sorry for laughing, Peter, it’s just that you really reminded me of Coco.’

  ‘Coco?’

  ‘The clown. We went to see the circus and this clown called Coco kept losing his balance.’ Annie did a quick impersonation, her arms flailing in a way that Peter realised must have been similar to his own efforts to keep his balance.

  Annie grinned, but somehow Peter felt that she was laughing with him rather than at him and he found himself grinning back.

  ‘OK’, he said, ‘no argument. You’re the winner – this time.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Annie, then she looked at him seriously. ‘And can I just say one thing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The blessings of God on ye!’

  The others laughed again, and Peter found himself joining in. He didn’t know much about Susie’s new friend, but already he sensed that Annie Reilly would be interesting.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Peter had his scrapbook on the kitchen table and was eagerly cutting out stories from the newspapers that he had spread across the table. It was great to live at a time when there was so much going on.

  ‘Well, Peter, what’s happening in the world?’ asked his father good-humouredly as he entered the room.

  ‘Brilliant stuff, Dad.’

  ‘Glad someone’s found a bit of good news,’ said his father with a smile.

  Peter was pleased to see him relaxed; it was probably because it was Wednesday, and his father was looking forward to his game of golf.

  ‘Look at this,’ said Peter, ‘the very same week that Amundsen sets off again for the North Pole, Mallory’s team is trying to climb Mount Everest without oxygen.’ Peter pointed to the stories, and a striking press photograph of the explorer Amundsen setting off for the Pole from the city of Seattle.

  ‘Exciting stuff,’ said his father.

  ‘I’d love to go
on a trip like that,’ said Peter.

  ‘Which one would you prefer?’

  Peter considered. ‘I’d say the North Pole. You could race across the snow pulled by huskies!’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘How about you, Dad?’

  ‘On balance, I think I’ll stick to the golf!’ said his father with a grin. ‘What else have you cut out?’

  ‘Eh … there’s a piece about the rebels in the Four Courts,’ said Peter. Even though his father couldn’t know about his recent mission there, Peter still felt a little nervous in mentioning the place.

  ‘That’s a bad business,’ said his father, all amusement suddenly gone. ‘The government should root them out.’

  ‘But that would mean Irishmen fighting other Irishmen.’

  ‘That’s what these diehards trade on, Peter. They think just because they’re Irish they can defy the government. It’s madness.’

  ‘How is it madness, Dad?’

  ‘They’ve this half-baked notion that if they force a response from the British troops that haven’t left yet, it would unite all Irishmen.’

  ‘But wouldn’t it be good for Irishmen to be united?’ asked Peter.

  ‘Yes, in the Free State we’ve been granted under the Treaty.’

  ‘But the oath, Dad. They’d have to swear allegiance to the king of England.’

  ‘They could do it under protest, on the grounds that it means nothing to them.’

  ‘That’s … that’s like lying, though.’

  ‘No, it’s compromising, Peter. In a situation like this, nobody gets all the things they want.’

  Although knowing that that he probably shouldn’t alert his father to how strongly he felt, Peter couldn’t help himself. ‘But it’s against everything they fought for!’

  His father looked at him, and when he spoke again it was in the quiet tone that meant he was really serious. ‘They got the bulk of what they fought for – an Irish Free State. All sensible people can see that. Be careful what you say on these matters, Peter. Even as a schoolboy you don’t want to be heard saying the wrong thing. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Dad.’

  But if everyone had been sensible there would have been no War of Independence – and they’d still be under British rule, he thought. But he didn’t say that. Quite a lot of people had been happy enough with British rule. Even his own parents had regarded it as civilised and well intentioned. But Peter couldn’t accept that it was right, and his heart was still with the rebels. In future he would have to be more careful in front of his father, but that would be just for show – because no matter what Dad said, he wasn’t changing sides.

  Annie was getting worried. She had arranged to meet Susie and Tommy outside the Irish language club in Gardiner Street, but there was no sign of them. Susie had suggested that they meet a few minutes early, and had promised to introduce her to some of the other members before the club began, but there wasn’t going to be time for that now. Annie looked anxiously up the street, its tall Georgian buildings bathed in the evening sunshine, but there was no sign of the twins. There was no sign of their neighbour, Peter, either, and Annie felt nervous about joining a group of total strangers if none of her new friends showed up.

  Annie was surprised that Susie wasn’t here as arranged. After all, it had been Susie who had urged her to join the club, as they had made their way back to the O’Neill’s house after their races at the stepping stones a couple of days previously. Annie had really enjoyed spending time with Susie, and meeting Tommy and Peter had been fun too, and she had arrived home in good spirits.

  Ma had asked lots of questions, and Annie had said that Susie’s family was very nice and friendly, and had downplayed the size of their house, and their obvious affluence. She could tell that Ma was relieved it had all gone well, and so it hadn’t been hard to persuade her mother to let her to join the Irish language club.

  Now, though, she was growing anxious, then she saw a figure turning the corner and advancing. It was Peter, and she smiled as he drew near.

  ‘Annie,’ he said in greeting.

  ‘Hello, Peter.’

  ‘Susie asked me to say she’s really sorry. A pipe burst and flooded their kitchen. She and Tommy have to help in the clean-up, so she can’t make it.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a pity.’

  ‘Yeah, but they’ll only miss tonight. Don’t worry, I’ll give your name to Mr McMahon.’

  ‘Who’s he?’

  ‘The man in charge of the club. He’s a teacher in our school. He’s sound, you’ll like him.’

  ‘OK.’

  Annie was glad that at least she would have Peter to introduce her, though she would still have preferred to have Susie, as another girl, to show her round on her first night in the club.

  ‘Ah, Scanlon,’ said a stocky boy who arrived at the doorway of the club with two companions. ‘Who’s your judy?’

  Annie looked at the three boys, slightly embarrassed at the suggestion that she was Peter’s girlfriend. The newcomers were around the same age as herself, and she could tell from their clothes that they were all from comfortable backgrounds.

  ‘This is Annie Reilly,’ said Peter. ‘She’s a friend of Susie O’Neill.’

  He turned back to Annie and indicated the boys by way of introduction.

  ‘Doyle, Maguire and Nelson.’

  ‘Hello, lads,’ said Annie, trying for a friendly tone.

  ‘Well, hello Annie,’ said Doyle, the stocky-looking boy, with a hint of mockery.

  ‘Haven’t seen you around,’ said Maguire, ‘where are you from?’

  ‘Drumcondra.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’ asked Nelson.

  ‘St Alphonsus Avenue.’

  ‘The little backstreet up past the train station?’ asked Doyle.

  ‘It’s near the station,’ answered Annie.

  ‘I took a wrong turn up there once,’ said Doyle, ‘but I got out fast!’ He laughed unpleasantly, and the other two boys joined in.

  ‘And that’s where you live?’ he asked with mock disbelief.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Annie, trying hard not to sound defensive.

  ‘What’s it to you where she lives?’ said Peter.

  Doyle looked at him with surprise, and Peter drew slightly nearer to him.

  ‘What’s her address got to do with joining the club?’

  ‘Well, nothing maybe, but…’

  ‘Then what are you going on about?’

  Annie sensed that the stocky boy was probably a bully by nature and she hoped that Peter wouldn’t get drawn into a fight on her behalf.

  The other boy held Peter’s gaze, then he shrugged as though none of this was important.

  ‘Just a joke, Scanlon, relax. Come on, lads,’ he said to his companions, and the trio turned away and entered the doorway of the club.

  Annie was relieved. She realised that Peter was probably looked up to as a boy who was strong and a regular member of Belvedere’s rugby team, and she was glad that he had been there to support her.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ said Peter.

  ‘It’s OK. And thanks.’

  ‘You’re grand. Oops, here’s Mr Mac,’ said Peter, indicating a heavy-set man who had come around the corner. ‘Irish only, once he arrives, OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Fancy a game of table tennis?’

  ‘If you don’t mind another beating from a girl,’ said Annie playfully.

  ‘We’ll see about that!’ answered Peter, then he turned and made for the door.

  Annie followed him, but despite her playful tone she was a little thrown by the incident with the boys. She wouldn’t always have someone like Peter to defend her, and the more she spread her wings, the more there seemed to be people willing to put her down. Would it be like that in Eccles Street too? Probably, she thought glumly, then she pulled herself together. Starting school in Eccles Street was months away, there was no point worrying about it now. Meanwhile, she would try not to let anyone get h
er down, and make the best of everything that came her way. Feeling a little better, she took a deep breath, then followed Peter into the club.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘Sit down, Peter, and act like we’re just fishing.’ Mr McMahon indicated the flattened grass of the canal bank, and Peter lowered his bicycle, then sat beside the teacher. He opened a bait box and began to assemble his fishing rod. They were a little downstream from the third lock of the Royal Canal in Phibsboro, and being a sunny Saturday afternoon, there were plenty of people walking the towpath, while other fisherman were scattered at intervals along the waterway.

  Mr McMahon had made no reference to Peter’s mission of the previous Sunday when they met at the Irish club on Thursday night, but he had invited Peter to join him for some fishing this afternoon, and Peter was excited at the idea of getting further missions.

  It had been a good week all round, he thought, what with delivering the letter to the Four Courts, making a new friend in Annie, getting her signed up as a member of the Irish club – and then beating her at table tennis!

  As he assembled his rod, he looked across the still waters of the canal at the high walls of the nearby Mountjoy Prison. Had McMahon picked this spot deliberately to spook him? The jail certainly looked forbidding, and Peter was aware that it was inside its boundary walls that his fellow Belvedere pupil Kevin Barry had been executed. But if McMahon was testing his nerve by meeting so close to the prison, he was wasting his time. Peter was eager to be involved and he wasn’t going to be scared off.

  He had learnt his lesson, however, about being careful at home. Unlike the last time, when he had almost been caught in a lie, today he had been cautious. He had told his mother that he felt like going fishing for a while. His mother was in good form, having done well at bridge the night before, and she didn’t quiz him further, but wished him luck with his angling.

  He cast his baited line out onto the waters, keeping it well away from the teacher’s line. It broke the sparkling surface of the sunlit water, and Peter held the rod comfortably and sat back. Neither of them said anything at first, then McMahon spoke, not looking directly at Peter, but instead gazing out across the canal.