Eden Burning (29 page)

Peter got off the bus at Holy Cross Church below the main gates. He pulled the hood of anorak over his head. It was seven-fifteen. Mass was half way through. He turned left and walked up the driveway with his rucksack on his back. The monastery with its soft orange lights was on his right. He breathed quickly. Someone shouted on the Crumlin Road. What were they saying? He quickened his pace. In front of the monastery there was the dark shadow of a statute to Saint Paul of the Cross which marked the site of the original church. He climbed the front steps, opening the heavy oak door. Several hundred heads were bowed in prayer. A bell rang. The heads bowed again in unison. He walked slowly to the last bench which was empty and sat with his hands on his lap. Where was Rose? He started to scan the benches beginning on the right. At first he didn’t recognise her. She was sitting half way down on the left hand side. What had happened to her hair? It was her wasn’t it? It was in the angle of her chin as she looked right that he recognised her.

The congregation stood up to pray together. Yes, it was definitely Rose. The priest held a small white flattened piece of bread in the air, his eyes raised towards the ceiling. The altar boy rang a bell, three times. Everyone bowed again. Peter bowed his head looking at the row on front. He then knelt on the cushioned kneeler. As everyone stood up he stood and joined them in saying the ‘Our Father’. An elderly man with twinkling blue eyes turned around in the bench in front and reached out a hand. “Peace be with you”. Peter shook his hand. “Peace.” He reached a hand to a woman muffled in a scarf, “Peace be with you.”

The congregation filed from the benches, walking up the aisle towards the priest who waited for them at the altar. They
knelt down. The priest said “Body of Christ” and Peter heard “Amen”. He watched Rose hold her hands out and then place the communion into her mouth. She walked away from the altar; her hands joined together, her gaze on the floor. It was definitely Rose. The dark haired priest wiped the communion goblet clean, placed a white cloth on top and then a gold plate. He said the prayer after communion.

“The Son of Man came to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. Alleluia.” He then gave a final blessing. “In the name of the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit, go in peace to love and to serve God. I would like to remind you all that there will be Confession this evening from eight o’clock until nine. Have a safe evening everyone.”

Peter, breathing heavily, bowed his head as people started to leave the church. He took a deep breath of frankincense mingled with the heavy musk of extinguished candles. He looked up after a few minutes to make sure he didn’t miss Rose. Marble pillars stretched up to the ceiling where they disappeared into angels and chubby babies flying through the air. Rose sat alone. The remaining congregation gradually left, genuflecting at the end of the aisle and walking silently towards the back of the church. A few gathered around a statute to light candles. Peter stood up and walked slowly to the bench where Rose was sitting. He sat beside her in silence. The church was now almost empty. Rose’s eyes were closed as she sat, hands crossed on her lap. She opened her eyes, turning her head to look at him.

“Who are you?”

Peter removed his anorak hood. The rain had turned his blonde hair into dark curls. He rubbed a hand through the fringe shaking free a few heavy drops.

“Peter.”

“Why are you here, Peter?”

Peter’s breathing quickened. He looked into Rose’s eyes. She had a fearless, open way of looking. It wasn’t easy to look either at her or to look away and Peter dropped his gaze.

“I need to talk to you.”

“You’re soaking wet.”

“Yes.” Peter rubbed his dark wet jeans. “I’m sorry. I’m making a mess.” He moved slightly away from Rose, wiping the wet bench with the sleeve of his anorak. He pushed his rucksack under the bench in front.

Rose leaned towards him. She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “What is it? Tell me.”

Peter looked behind to see if anyone was listening. There was only a woman in a beige duffle coat and woolly orange hat at the back of the Church lighting a candle at the statue to ‘The Little Flower’. He looked again into Rose’s eyes. She looked at him in a relaxed almost amused way. With her hair so short, her eyes seemed even larger, with long black eye lashes and china doll whiteness to her face.

“Your life is in danger.”

“Tell me something I didn’t know.”

“No. I don’t mean potential danger, I mean certain danger.”

“What do you think the new hairstyle is all about?” Rose removed her hat and rubbed the top of her head.

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story. Better you tell me what danger you are talking about?”

“There is a plan to murder you.”

Rose took a deep breath, moved closer to Peter and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Who plans to murder me?”

Peter rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.

“This isn’t easy to explain. My brother and father are
murderers.” Peter looked up at the arched ceiling rather than face Rose’s gaze. He heard her question in the softest of voices.

“Murderers?”

“Yes.”

“Who have they murdered?”

“Paddy. You knew Paddy?”

“Yes.” Rose felt her knees tremble. Her heart banged hard in her chest.

“Who else?”

“Michael.”

“Michael McGuckin?”

“Yes.”

Rose felt her head scrambling. It was hard to think, to speak. In the pit of her stomach she felt a churning and nausea. She took a deep breath and turned in the bench to look at Peter.

“Would you say that in Court?”

“Yes, I will when the time is right.”

“Why not now? There’s no time like the present. Let’s ring the police.”

“Don’t be naïve.” Peter felt his heart thumping. This wasn’t going the way he had planned. He shifted awkwardly on the bench.

“What do you mean?” Rose’s voice flowed over him like toffee over a Halloween apple.

“If it was that easy, I would have gone to the police myself rather than come here. You don’t know them. They saw you walking home from school on last Tuesday and you’re on their list.”

“Their list?”

“They randomly pick targets who go on a list.”

“Why me?”

“There’s no reason. They saw you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You caught their eye.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there.”

“What were you doing?”

“They tricked me into being with them when they murdered Paddy O’Connor. Then they threatened to kill me if I didn’t help.”

“You helped to murder Paddy. I don’t understand.”

“I was with them. I didn’t murder Paddy. Cedric did.”

“Who is Cedric?”

“My brother. William is my father.”

“Why are you here now?”

“I don’t want them to kill you. I don’t want to be a part of any more murders. I want the killing to end.”

“When do they plan to kill me?”

“I’m not sure. I tried to talk them out of it, but it didn’t work. I’m telling the truth when I say that they threatened to kill me. I have a friend who can help – Mr McCabe, a teacher. He’s found a safe house for you in Portstewart. You can go right away if it helps. I have the contact details.” He pushed a folded piece of paper into her hand.

Rose opened it. “I need to talk to my uncle and aunt. Why should I believe in you? This could be a trap.”

“You’re right. You’ve no reason to believe me. Maybe I could bring Mr McCabe. He could explain it better than me. You could believe him. He is a good man.”

Rose watched Peter’s face flicker red and white, his lips go straight, his eyes drop to the red kneeler. She reached for his hand.

“I believe you.”

Peter looked up at Rose. She was smiling at him. She didn’t look at all afraid.

“Your aunt and uncle can go with you. It’s all arranged. Once you are safe, we can tell the police.”

Peter reached into his anorak pocket. “I’ve something else for you.”

As Peter reached into his pocket, Rose asked, “Why did you try to talk them out of it? You don’t know me.”

Peter handed Rose Paddy’s diamond ring. “I never wanted them to kill anyone. I was in the car with them when they spotted you. Your hair was long then.”

“Yes it was.” Rose blushed. “What’s this?” Rose held the ring in the palm of her hand.

“Paddy O’Connor had it with him the day Cedric murdered him.” Peter looked down again at the kneeler.

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“I am going to tell them that I’ve given the ring to a friend. If anything happens to you or to me, this friend will bring the ring to the police. The ring will lead the police back to Cedric.”

“They’re not going to like that are they?”

“No.”

“What will they do?”

“I don’t know. But that doesn’t need to happen if you go immediately to the safe house. If you do that, I will go to the police. You keep the ring until they are arrested.”

“Are you not in danger?”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter what happens to me.”

“You can’t go back home. It’s too dangerous. Why don’t you go to the safe house tonight? You need it as much as I do.”

The church was empty. A sweet sense of incense hung in the air. Rose looked at her watch. It was seven forty-five. Father Anthony would be coming out to take Confession in fifteen minutes.

Peter’s voice became stronger. “I have to go home. I have to speak to Mum. I’m going to tell her everything.”

“We both need to go home. I’ll talk to Lily and Tom. We don’t have a car. I don’t think we can get to Portstewart tonight.”

“Maybe Mr McCabe could give you a lift tomorrow after Mass? He has a car.”

“Maybe.”

“Are you afraid?” Peter asked as they walked together to the back of the church. Rose dipped her hand into the Holy Water font and blessed Peter on the forehead before blessing herself.

“Not really. I feel numb. It hasn’t sunk in.”

Peter kissed Rose on the cheek. Her skin was like silk just as he had imagined – cool, smooth and then warm and flowing. He didn’t expect kissing her to trigger an image of Jenny leaning forward across the table with an empty coffee cup to her left. He stood up and placed his hand on Rose’s head.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow at Mass. I’ll try to find out more information if I can but see if you can persuade your aunt and uncle to go with you to Portstewart.”

“I’ll talk to them.” As they left the church, a gang of rioters gathered at the corner of Butler Street. “I’ll wait with you until the bus comes.” Rose whispered.

Five minutes later Peter boarded the double decker bus for the city centre.

Rose waved at him as he took a seat by the window. He twisted in the seat to watch her as the bus pulled away into the darkness. He watched her open the garden gate and turn the key in the lock.

“Lily, Tom, where are you?”

Tom listened carefully as Rose told her story. Neither Lily nor Rose noticed that he was staring with the whites of his eyes showing above and below his iris rather than only to the sides.
He was breathing quickly and shallowly. Lily sat beside him on the sofa. Rose walked up and down the sitting room in front of the TV, trying to remember every detail of her conversation with Peter. When she finished, Tom stood up.

“The safe house is a good idea but we can’t get to Portstewart tonight. Tomorrow we go with Mr McCabe. Let’s hope he agrees to that. What time is it?”

Lily looked at her watch. “Eight o’clock.”

Tom patted Rose on the head. “I’m going to talk to Father Anthony and see what we can do. We need help. We need a gun.”

Tom bent down to kiss Lily on the cheek. Lily pulled herself to her feet and put her arms around Tom’s shoulders. “A gun Tom? For God’s sake. You need to take a tablet. Calm down. We can deal with this without guns. We always have.”

Tom turned without saying a word, hands by his side and opened the sitting room door. “They’re not going to kill you Rose. I promise you that.”

He opened the door into the hallway. Rose caught Lily briefly by the hand, then dropped it and ran after him.

“Don’t, Tom. Please, don’t.”

The front door closed. Seconds later Rose heard the gate squeak open. A dark silhouette approached the door. She waited. The letterbox opened and a small white envelope fell on the floor.

Rose’s heart beat rapidly. It had to be Matt.

She ripped opened the envelope:

Dear Rose

I have been worried sick about you. What a nightmare. I am OK although struggling to come to terms with what happened to Eddie and Max. Can’t get that last hour out of my head. They wanted me to stay in hospital for another few days but I
wanted to be able to see you on your birthday tomorrow. I am on Crumlin Road duties from six o’clock in the evening. Hope to see you somehow
.

All my love

Matt

• • •

Peter breathed heavily and his stomach did cartwheels as he turned the key in the lock of the front door.

“You’re back”, Eileen shouted from the kitchen, clinking dinner plates in the basin. “Come on in. I’ve kept dinner warm.’”

“Where are Father and Cedric?”

“You’ve missed them. They’ve headed off for a drink at the Black Beetle. How did rugby practice go?”

“Mum, I didn’t go to rugby training.”

“Where were you then?” Eileen asked, brushing back a wisp of hair that had fallen over her eyes.

“Holy Cross Church, Ardoyne.”

“Why on earth did you go there? Ardoyne is dangerous.” Eileen slipped off her court shoes and stood on the tiled floor in stockinged feet.

Peter didn’t reply. Instead he asked, “Do you ever wonder what Father and Cedric are doing when they come home at three and four in the morning?”

“I do. Then I stop thinking about it because it can drive you insane imagining all sorts of things which may or may not be true. They’re probably talking and drinking. There’s not a lot more to do.”

“What if your worst thoughts were true?”

“What do you mean? Are you saying that you know what they are doing? Are they not drinking in the Black Beetle?”

“Not all the time. What if they were planning to murder
Catholics? What if they were murdering Catholics?”