Taking Sides

by Brian Gallagher

  There was an awkward silence for a second or two, and on reaching the spot where his father’s ball had landed, Peter saw a chance to change tack. He quickly lowered the bag of golf clubs and withdrew a club. ‘I think a nine iron, Dad,’ he said.

  His father didn’t respond at once, and Peter wondered if he was going to get away with changing the subject. His father seemed to weigh up what he was going to do, then he nodded. ‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘I think a nine iron is about right.’

  Inwardly, Peter breathed a sigh of relief. This wouldn’t be the end of it, of course, and there was sure to be a discussion about family tradition and Peter’s future – not to mention a reprimand for his behaviour this morning. But for now he had managed to silence Mr Boyd, and that was really satisfying. He handed his father the club, then stood back and watched his shot soar up into the blue summer sky, feeling better than he had all morning.

  Annie knew that her mother wouldn’t open a letter addressed to her, but postcards were different, and Ma would have read any cards that arrived while Annie was in work. It was just as well that Peter’s card from Carlingford had no personal things in it, and had just described how he was having fun swimming and fishing during his family holiday. Anything more intimate and Annie was sure she would have been teased by her parents and her brothers about having a boyfriend. It was an embarrassing thing that adults did, and Annie could never see what was supposed to be funny about it. Even as it was, Eamon and Sean had tried to goad her about the postcard, but she had told them not to be stupid.

  Now she sat down to read the latest card from Susie, as Ma fried some fresh plaice that Mr Hickey had given her after work. She had settled in well at the shop, and after four weeks there she had completely overcome her distaste for the staring eyes of dead fish. She still washed her hands vigorously after work, though, to be certain they didn’t smell, much to the amusement of Mr Hickey. She had made an extra effort to get on with his wife, who seemed to have grudgingly accepted that Annie was a good worker, so that Mr Hickey no longer had to hide it when he gave Annie free portions of fish.

  Today’s offering was sizzling appetisingly in the pan as she sat down with Susie’s postcard. The card was a photograph of the sea at Wexford, and Annie turned it over and read Susie’s deliberately small writing that packed every available piece of space.

  Dear Annie,

  Greetings from Wexford where the sea is so cold my skin turned blue! Tommy laughed at my goosebumps, but I laughed at him when we crossed a field and he stepped in a cowpat! We went to a circus, but the clowns weren’t funny. The acrobats were great, my heart was in my mouth. Going now for ice-cream, yum, yum, yum! See you soon, your friend, Susie.

  ps. only six weeks till we enter Ecland!

  Susie had begun calling Eccles Street ‘Ecland,’ and Annie smiled now at her friend’s colourful wording and breathless writing style. She was enjoying Susie’s enthusiasm, even on a second reading, when she heard the hall door being closed, and her father came into the kitchen. He greeted Ma, then turned to Annie. She thought he looked tired, but he smiled at her.

  ‘How’s my girl?’

  ‘Fine thanks, Da.’

  ‘Fish for dinner, what?’

  ‘Yeah, I told Mr Hickey you loved the last bit of plaice.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t make us out to be a charity case, love,’ her father said.

  ‘It wasn’t like that, Da. I just said you loved it.’

  ‘Right,’ said Da, a little uncertainly.

  Annie knew that her father believed in providing for his family and didn’t like being under a compliment to anyone. Several times she had heard her brothers talking about the 1913 lockout, and she reckoned that Da’s attitude stemmed from that troubled time. Annie was too young to remember so far back, but it seemed that Da had been a member of Jim Larkin’s union, and when Larkin had clashed with the employers of Dublin, thousands of workers had been locked out of their jobs and had gone hungry. She had heard Da saying that the anti-Treaty rebels could have learned from the union leader’s tactics of fighting hard, but recognising when you had the best deal you were going to get.

  Despite his respect for Larkin, it was after the lockout that Da had branched out for himself, working hard as a hackney driver. Annie guessed that he never again wanted to depend on wages that an employer could withhold. It made sense of why he had gone into debt to buy the Model T, and why he worked long, irregular hours. It made sense, too, of why he accepted work that came through Uncle Mick, despite his reservations about his brother-in-law. Annie admired him for it, but her thoughts were interrupted as her mother turned to Da.

  ‘How did you get on today?’ she asked.

  ‘Busy.’

  ‘Thank God for Mick’s connections.’

  Her mother said it lightly, but Annie suspected that she was playfully ribbing Da.

  ‘Yeah,’ he answered evenly, not rising to the bait.

  ‘Where were you working?’ asked Ma.

  ‘Would you believe, I’m not supposed to say?’

  Annie’s ears pricked up at this. ‘Why is it a secret, Da?’

  ‘I was driving government people, so they’re nervous about anyone knowing their movements.’

  Her mother’s earlier ribbing tone was gone completely now. ‘Is this risky, Jim?’ she asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t say so,’ her husband replied. ‘But the rebels have a lot of sympathisers, so some of the government people are anxious that no-one reports their movements – just in case.’

  ‘Just in case what, Da?’ asked Annie. ‘Could the rebels attack you?’

  ‘Sure why would they, I’m just a fella doing his job. And the government people are probably over-reacting – the rebels aren’t strong in Dublin any more.’

  ‘No?’ queried Annie.

  ‘No, they were well beaten here in the city. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’

  Just then Ma put the fish onto three plates, with a big helping of chips and vegetables that she had already prepared. They all sat down and Da spoke cheerily. ‘So, fish and chips – and the fish costing nothing! What more could we ask for?’

  He smiled at Annie, and she smiled back, then Ma said grace and they all began eating.

  Annie wasn’t convinced by her father’s answers, however, and she worried that maybe he was doing dangerous driving jobs to earn money for her education. She didn’t voice her fears. Instead she ate the tasty plaice, but though she had really been looking forward to her fish and chips, the edge had suddenly gone off her appetite.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘OK,’ said Susie, ‘I have the best riddle ever!’

  Peter, Tommy and Annie groaned in mock protest, even though Susie’s riddles were usually entertaining. It was the first time that the four friends had gathered since they had come back from holidays, and the others were in good spirits as they sat in their usual spot under the sycamore tree at the end of Peter’s garden.

  ‘Give me a sentence with the words defence, defeat and detail in it,’ said Susie.

  ‘That’s not really a riddle,’ objected Peter.

  ‘God, you’d argue with your toe-nails!’ declared Susie.

  ‘Well it’s more a question than a riddle.’

  ‘Sure what’s a riddle, except a question that’s fun?’

  Before Peter could think up a reply to that, Annie spoke.

  ‘OK, I’ve an answer. What about: “Because of their poor defence, the football team suffered a defeat, which the newspaper described in detail.”’

  Susie sighed in playful exasperation. ‘Do you know what your trouble is, Annie? You’re too bright!’

  ‘I think that’s a pretty good answer,’ said Tommy.

  Susie turned to her twin brother. ‘Of course it’s a good answer. Why do you think she won a scholarship?’

  Peter could see that Annie was uncomfortable with Susie singing her praises, and so he spoke up. ‘Well, what’s the right answer?’

  Susie adopted a com
pletely straight face, then slowly replied. ‘When the horse jumps over de fence, de feet go before de tail!’

  Tommy groaned, as he generally did at his sister’s gags, but Annie laughed and Peter joined in. He was glad that all the gang were back together, he had missed the others while away in Carlingford.

  ‘No contest, Susie,’ said Annie, ‘your answer wins!’

  She smiled as she said it, and Peter noted how she always played down the fact that she was cleverer than most other people. And even though her family wasn’t well off, Annie was generous, and today she had given them all bags of jelly sweets that she had bought on a family day trip to the seaside resort of Bray. It had made his mother’s reaction all the more annoying earlier on, when Annie had arrived at the house and presented her with a gift of fresh fish from the shop where she worked. His mother had thanked her politely, then Annie had gone out to join Susie and Tommy in the garden, while Peter finished organising glasses of lemonade.

  ‘What an odd thing to do,’ his mother had said.

  ‘What’s odd about it?’

  ‘Bringing someone a gift of fish? It’s hardly the done thing.’

  ‘She works in a fish shop, Mum.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Can you imagine me letting Mary or Ann work in a fishmongers?’

  ‘It’s just a summer job.’

  ‘And then thinking that I’d appreciate left-over food?’

  ‘She was trying to be nice.’

  ‘I’m sure she was. But really, Peter, that’s simply not done.’

  His mother didn’t bother to keep the disdain from her voice, and something in Peter snapped.

  ‘You just have it in for her!’ he said.

  ‘No, dear, but–’

  ‘You do, Mum. But she’s Susie’s friend and now she’s my friend too, and I’m not going to have anyone looking down on her!’ Peter left immediately with the tray of lemonade-filled glasses, not wanting to get into a full-blown row with his mother.

  He felt really irritated with her. She had stopped a week’s pocket money as a punishment for his retort to Mr Boyd on the golf course, and now she was insulting his friend. If he was honest though, his mood wasn’t helped by the way the war was going. The new national army, equipped with artillery, armour, aeroplanes and ships, was pushing the rebels back all the time. Just a few days earlier the rebels had failed disastrously in a bid to occupy strategically important bridges around Dublin, and large numbers of prisoners had been taken. Most worryingly of all, the government had outmanoeuvred their anti-Treaty opponents by transporting thousands of troops by sea. This surprise move allowed them to bypass the strongholds in the south where the rebels were entrenched, and to attack them from the rear.

  Of course the rebels could still engage in widespread guerrilla warfare, and Peter himself was still impatiently waiting for word from either Finbar or Mr Mac. Surely at a time like this they would have wanted the supplies from the hidden sack, he thought, but neither man had rung him, and nobody had responded to the note that he had left at Willow Cottage.

  But there was nothing that he could do about any of these things today, and so he deliberately put his worries from his mind and relaxed instead with his friends.

  ‘That was great lemonade,’ said Susie as she drained her glass. ‘But do you know what’s not so great?’

  ‘Your riddles!’ said Tommy.

  ‘Don’t mind him, Susie,’ said Annie.

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘So, what’s not great?’ asked Peter.

  Susie grimaced. ‘This time next month you’ll be in Belvo, and we’ll be starting in Ecland.’

  ‘Why do you have to take the good out of the day by reminding us?’ said Tommy. ‘I hate when people do that.’

  ‘I’m just saying,’ said Susie.

  ‘Anyway, it might be good in Eccles Street,’ suggested Annie.

  ‘Or they might be dead strict. That Sister Immaculata looked like a holy terror!’

  ‘Then just enjoy the rest of the summer,’ said Tommy. ‘We’ve nearly a month left.’

  ‘I have a suggestion,’ said Annie. ‘You know my da drives a Model T?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Peter, his interest aroused. ‘What about it?’

  ‘He offered to take us all for a jaunt some Sunday when he’s not working. We could go for a picnic if you wanted. Up in the mountains or to the seaside.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Susie.

  ‘Yeah, that would be great,’ agreed Tommy.

  Annie looked at Peter.

  ‘A jaunt in a Model T? Count me in!’

  Annie seemed pleased at the enthusiastic reaction to her suggestion. ‘OK, I’ll ask him to do it the first Sunday he’s free.’

  ‘That’s a deal then,’ said Peter. He had never met Annie’s father and he was eager to see what he was like. And he loved the idea of a chauffeur-driven trip to wherever the gang chose!

  ‘Deal,’ said Susie.

  ‘Deal,’ echoed Tommy.

  Annie smiled and nodded. ‘Deal.’

  ‘Right,’ said Peter, ‘this calls for more lemonade.’ Then he rose, took up the tray and made for the kitchen, his worries forgotten for now.

  ‘I’m not your maid!’ said Annie.

  Her brother Sean looked up, his face showing surprise at her challenge.

  The family had had a fry-up for tea, and now that they were finished, Ma was over at the sink cleaning pans. Da had sat back in his chair and begun to read the newspaper, and Annie had been about to go and get her library book when Sean had said, ‘clear the table, Annie, will you, I want to do my football coupons.’

  He said it as though it was entirely reasonable for her to do his bidding, and as he looked at her now, his initial surprise gave way to irritation. ‘It wouldn’t kill you to move a few cups and saucers,’ he said.

  ‘I worked longer hours in the shop than you did in the foundry,’ answered Annie.

  ‘Maybe we should give you a medal,’ said Sean sarcastically. ‘What have you done now, six weeks work?’

  ‘I’m actually there eight weeks.’

  ‘Bully for you.’

  ‘It shouldn’t matter how long I’m there. We’re both working. If you want to do your coupons, why can’t you clear the table yourself?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ said Sean, crossly.

  Ma turned round from the sink and looked at Annie in appeal. ‘It’s not worth fighting about, love.’

  I hate when she does that, thought Annie. Mrs Reilly didn’t like arguments and was the peacemaker in the family, but Annie felt that asking her to be the one to give in wasn’t fair. If it wasn’t worth fighting about, why couldn’t she have asked Sean to do it? Annie hesitated, trying to decide what to do. She didn’t want to argue with her mother. If she did, Ma would probably say that she would clear the table herself when she was finished at the sink, and then Annie would feel bad. But she didn’t want Sean to get away with lording it over her either. Before she got a chance to respond, Da put down his newspaper.

  ‘Annie’s right, Sean,’ he said. ‘She’s putting in long hours as well. If you want the table for your football coupons, get off your backside and clear it yourself!’

  Annie could see that Sean was really annoyed, but he wouldn’t disobey his father. Da didn’t usually get involved in disputes like this, but when he did make a ruling his word was final. Sean breathed out loudly to show his irritation, but he began clearing the table. Ma diplomatically went back to the pans without another word, and Da immersed himself again behind his newspaper. Annie was tempted to put her tongue out at her brother, but she told herself that that would be childish, and besides, she had won this particular battle.

  She was about to rise from the table, but her eye was caught by an item on the opened page of her father’s newspaper. Rebels raid Dundalk, the headline said, and Annie quickly scanned the article. It appeared that a large force of rebels had recently occupied the County Lou
th town, before it was re-taken by the army. The moment that she read it, Annie thought of Peter. Dundalk was the town from which he had travelled by train on his way home from Carlingford. She was really glad that his holiday had ended before the rebels had raided the town. Who knows what foolhardy thing Peter might have done had he become caught up in that chaos? Sometimes she worried about him. He was firmly on the side of the rebels, and he was impulsive and daring by nature. Annie hoped that the combination wouldn’t land him in trouble. Before she could think any further about it she heard the hall door slamming, then Eamon burst into the room, his face ashen.

  ‘Have you heard?!’ he cried.

  Eamon hadn’t been with them for tea because he was doing overtime, and Annie wondered what awful news he had heard in work.

  ‘Heard what?’ said Ma nervously.

  ‘About Michael Collins?’

  ‘What about Collins?’ asked Sean, his annoyance of a moment before clearly forgotten.

  ‘He’s been shot!’ said Eamon. ‘He was ambushed in West Cork.’

  Annie was shocked. Even though Michael Collins was the Commander-in-Chief of the new army – and therefore, in theory, an enemy to all rebels – he was still admired on all sides because of his leading role in the War of Independence. ‘Is he … is he going to be OK?’ she asked.

  Eamon shook his head. ‘No. He’s dead. They’ve shot Michael Collins dead.’

  ‘You’re certain?’ said Da, his voice unsteady. ‘It’s not … it’s not a rumour?’

  ‘I wish it was. But a doctor confirmed it – he was pronounced dead.’

  ‘God almighty,’ said Da. He lowered his head into his hands, then looked up and spoke softly. ‘It’s really going to be savage now.’

  Annie thought the war was savage already. But something in her father’s tone made her fearful for the future, and though she couldn’t say why, she felt a shiver run up her spine.