Eden Burning (36 page)

Sean watched and shouted in exasperation. “Have you lost your balls Ciaran? Wise up. Don’t take any shit from anyone and that includes Lily Martin.” Sean swung round to see three police jeeps race up the Crumlin Road. “Bigger shit on the way Ciaran – here come the police.”

Sammy jumped from the first jeep and headed straight for Ciaran, spread-eagling him against the red brick wall, while Sean whistled to Danny. They took a right turn and then a left out of sight, heading towards the action further up the Crumlin.

• • •

William pressed his foot again on the accelerator. He watched the rioters near Kerrera Street scamper off the Crumlin Road. Three Saracen tanks blocked the way forward but that didn’t matter. He was planning to turn left into the church grounds. That’s where Sammy P had left the mini.

Lily watched as William’s taxi approached the church gates. She breathlessly continued uphill, pushing her way through another group of rioters bunching together at Butler Street. Sean ran past her, catching up on a gang of four who had nearly reached William’s taxi.

Lily’s chest tightened. She felt a strange pain in the middle of her back which she had never felt before. Deep within her body she felt something moving, pushing and sinking, sending shudders of nausea up and down her spine rather than into her stomach. Her body was doing something that she couldn’t stop for reasons that she didn’t know. She attempted to take a few deep breaths but the movement of pulling and pushing in her chest area continued and expanded all the way down to the base of her spine.

She reached the long set of steps which led from the Crumlin Road to the main church doors. The doors were open and the
gentle mellow light from inside trickled down the steps into the Grove. She took three steps and had to stop as beads of sweat broke onto her forehead. She tried to take another step but fainted and sank to the ground on the fourth step. Her beige beret slipped from her head, her handbag rolled to one side, and one of her black patent high heel shoes slipped from her foot and tumbled onto the Crumlin Road.

• • •

“Let’s go into the monastery,” Tom suggested, holding Sammy P’s arm.

“You go. I can’t,” Eileen whispered. “I need to find William and Cedric. Peter, please go into the monastery. I promise that I’ll see you there later. I’ll be back.” Eileen pulled a silk scarf onto her head, buttoned up her coat, kissed Peter on the cheek.

“Tom, can I have a word?” While Tom held onto Sammy P, Eileen indicated that they move to the statue of the Little Flower, where she began to talk in a low voice. At one point Tom seemed to let go of Sammy P and then held him even more closely. When Eileen had finished with a few shakes of her head, she rested her hand on Tom’s face. She walked then towards Peter. Peter hugged Eileen. She felt small and fragile in his arms, dissolving into them like melted ice-cream. She whispered into his ear, “You don’t need to worry about Rose. Cedric and William have promised there will be no more killings.”

“Mum, are you one hundred per cent sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Let me come with you? You can’t go alone.”

“I want you to stay here. You’re still needed here. It isn’t over yet.” Eileen gently squeezed his hand.

“But you said that there will be no more killings.”

“I said not from Cedric and William. Keep an eye on him. He
looks dangerous.” Eileen pulled back from Peter’s embrace and looked in the direction of Sammy P.

Sammy P shouted at Eileen, “Be careful who you’re talking about and who you talk to. Remember loose talk costs lives. You’re not the only one who has a tongue and tongues can talk. William and Cedric might just find out just how loud tongues can talk after I speak to my lawyer.”

Eileen looked at Peter. She smoothed a few curls from his forehead. “It will be over soon. I promise.”

As Eileen left the Church and ran down the steps, Sammy P took advantage of the momentary distraction to pull free from Tom. He had already slipped his hands free from the tie which lay unseen at his feet. He caught his two hands together as though he was about to take a putt at golf and then with an almighty swing smashed his fists into Tom’s lower stomach. Tom exhaled with a hissing sound, bent over, his glasses crashing onto the ground where the lenses fell out, spinning like coins before settling unbroken onto the marble slabs.

Sammy P grabbed the rifle nestling in Mr McCabe’s arms. Peter lunged towards him in a rugby tackle. Sammy P stepped to one side. Peter crashed onto the floor, arms and hands spread out. Sammy P took two steps towards the stretched out body, standing over him, pointed the rifle at Peter’s head.

“Any more of where that came from and you’re a goner. I don’t care if you’re Cedric’s fucking brother. He’s cuckoo anyway.”

“Don’t hurt him!” Rose shouted, running towards Peter and kneeling on the floor beside Tom.

“You’ll be joining him too where the grass don’t grow if you make one more move. Or maybe I should quickly finish off the job I came here to do. Why waste more time? You’re getting on my nerves.”

He pointed the rifle at Rose.

• • •

Eileen stood at the bottom of the Church steps unsure of which way to go. What was in Cedric’s mind? Where would William be now? Would he still be with Lily waiting in the taxi? She had followed Cedric through the Grove on her right but would she find her way back? The easiest way back to William and Lily would be down the steps in front of her to the Crumlin Road, turn right and then right again. It would only be a short sprint to the taxi but it would be a dash through the rioters bobbing up and down below her like corks in oily water. The noise was unbelievable – the cursing, chanting. Even with the fear of descending into the madness below, it seemed the best option. Once she reached the Crumlin Road, she would have to move into the middle of the riot in order not to make it obvious that she would be heading for the Loyalist side of the Peace Line. She walked quickly down the first flight of steps. As she reached the second set of steps, she saw Lily’s beret before she saw Lily herself spread on the steps.

She didn’t remember running down the last few steps at all. She didn’t see the rioters withdraw like a wave dragging itself out to sea. She didn’t see Ciaran McCann spread-eagled by Sammy.

She knelt beside Lily. “Lily, speak to me. Please be alright. What’s happened?” She loosened the top buttons of Lily’s coat, holding her head in her arms. Lily’s eyes were closed. She didn’t appear to be breathing. Eileen took her pulse. There was a gentle throb.

“Get an ambulance!” She shouted at one of the rioters. She picked Lily’s beret from the step above and placed it back on her head. One of the rioters lifted her shoe from the road and
handed it to Eileen. She slipped it onto Lily’s foot. She sat on the step beside Lily, holding her head in her lap, waiting. Lily’s eyes fluttered open. Eileen smiled at her.

“What on earth happened to you, Lily?”

Lily gave a half smile back. “I took a funny turn but it has passed. Give me a few minutes.” She closed her eyes.

“Where’s William?” Eileen asked.

“In the taxi. They’re after him.”

• • •

Tom was on his knees groping for his glasses. Mr McCabe stood still, gasping, one of those gasps which seemed to go on and on like an inhalation where you wonder when and if you will ever exhale. He seemed to be sucking in the world without stopping. Sammy P moved slowly training the gun on each of them fixing it first on Mr McCabe, then on Tom, then Rose and finally on Peter as he slowly reversed towards the back door. He reached the main door. He jerked the rifle in the direction of Rose. Three shots rang out. The gun smoked, he dropped it on the floor, turned and hurtled through the heavy wooden door, tearing down the steps, stumbling into the Grove.

Tom and Peter knelt on either side of Rose who lay unmoving face down on the marble floor of the church with her hands over her head. Mr McCabe stood with his hands over his mouth.

Tom touched Rose’s shoulders, rubbing them gently. “Rose. Rose. Please. No.” There was no sign of blood. Rose moved her hands and lifted her head to look at Tom.

“Have I been shot?”

“Don’t move. Let’s see.”

Tom scanned Rose’s body from head to toe. “No. How did he miss?”

Rose rolled onto her side and sat up. “I don’t know.” Tom
shook his head in relief.

“I do.” Father Martin walked swiftly down the side aisle with the Rector by his side. “They weren’t real bullets. They were blanks. That was the Rector’s idea. We replaced the bullets I gave you.” He turned and smiled at the Rector who held both hands in the air. “It was always a risk, but then the alternative was totally unacceptable.”

Tom squeezed Rose and smiled. Then rubbing Rose’s shoulders with his hands, he said, “I’m grateful to you both for recognising my insanity and taking the appropriate measures but the madness is not over yet.” Tom pushed his glasses back into place. “We need to find Lily.”

Tom didn’t know where he was going when he left the Church. He stood at the top of the steps and took two deep breaths. He felt strangely calm. A cold westerly breeze made him shiver. He tightened the woollen scarf around his neck. His body buzzed with an unrecognised energy. Something was going to happen. He was sure of it.

“Tom! Tom! Lily is fine.”

He looked in the direction of the voice. He saw Eileen holding Lily on the steps below him. He descended, taking one step at a time.

• • •

Cedric watched the black taxi plough through the rioters like a battleship in stormy seas. A single shot rang out. It shattered the rear passenger window on the right hand side, piercing the empty passenger seat before exiting through the floor. William’s head and shoulders were barely visible above the steering wheel. A petrol bomb sailed through the air from Kerrera Street and burst into flames on the boot of the taxi, flames licking in through the back broken window pane. Bodies pressed together,
squeezing from Kerrera Street onto the Crumlin Road. William watched Cedric hand something to Father Anthony. He flashed the headlights twice.

Cedric sprinted along the pavement at the edge of the Grove. He opened the back door and jumped in.

“Lock it.” Cedric shouted. “Go, go, go.”

“I’m not going to be able to get through them.” William turned his head to look at Cedric.

Cedric pulled off his gloves and sat, head in hands. His stomach heaved. He gasped for air. “They know who we are, William.”

William wiped the sweat from his upper lip. “Leave the car in the church grounds and hike it to the back of the monastery. We hit the Woodvale!” William shouted and then continued in a softer voice, “Don’t lose it son. Hold it together.”

Cedric raised his head and looked at the back of William’s head. The long strand of black hair to cover the bald patch had become dislodged. It hung loose touching his right shoulder. Cedric bent forward and with his head touching William’s damp white nylon shirt, his lips pressed against it, breathing in the saturated musty cigarette smoke, he pulled the long black strand of hair into the correct position over William’s bald head.

“Let’s go.” William pressed his foot to the accelerator. He mounted the pavement, veered sharply left, skidded, bumped off the railing on the right. Sparks scattered into the air like fireworks as he pulled the car left again, trying to regain control.

“No, William, no, not left. Remember the car bomb!” Cedric shouted, lunging forward from the back seat to grab the steering wheel, trying to pull the car right towards the monastery. William instinctively pulled left, bouncing the left hand side of the car off the wrought iron railings.

“Didn’t Sammy P defuse it?” William took his foot off the
accelerator, stabbing heavily on the brakes. He tried to reverse. Cedric let go of the steering wheel and fell back into the seat.

“No. Stop, William. Get out and run.”

The car was reversing as Cedric, wrestling with the back door, caught sight of the Mini-Cooper and two shadowy soldiers kneeling on the ground beside it.

William abruptly stopped the taxi. Cedric opened the back door and threw himself onto the ground. William wrestled with the front door. It had jammed. He tugged violently at it, screaming. “Cedric. I’m stuck. Help me, Cedric. Don’t leave me.” William opened the glove compartment, feverishly retrieving a hammer and battering at the door handle. It didn’t move.

“Get out of the back of the car, William. Move yourself.”

William squeezed himself through the gap between the passenger’s seat and the driver’s seat and collapsed into the back. Cedric reached in through the door.

“Give me your hands.”

William reached both hands to Cedric who hauled him from the car onto the ground.

“Run now. To the Woodvale. I’ll delay them.”

“What about you?”

“Quit talking. Get out of here.”

William limped as quickly as he could towards the monastery and the safety of the Woodvale Road. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the moon slip between the two copper spires of Holy Cross Church.

“Bomb defused,” the bomb disposal expert shouted at Matt.

The rioters heard the call and surged towards Cedric.

“Don’t touch him!” Tom ran towards Cedric. “Don’t touch him! You don’t know the truth – the whole story.”

Just then a petrol tank exploded on a hijacked bus twenty feet away on the Crumlin Road. A wave of burning gasoline fell
onto an oak tree beside Tom. The wood blazed, setting on fire the neighbouring trees. Tom felt his face sting with the heat. He wiped tears away, dropped his arms to his side and looked into the blurred shapes in front of him.

“What are you talking about, Tom?” Sean, leading the rioters, raised a hand to silence them.

Tom steadied his voice, “You’re looking at Jonas – Catherine’s boy. He is my sister’s boy. This is my nephew.”

Apart from the hissing flames of the oak tree continuing to crackle and spit, there was silence and stillness from the rioters.

The silence grew. Tom was aware of it, it was real, tangible, holding him, taking away his fear, making itself a blanket for him. In this moment, he knew the silence for what it was – for what it really was. Silence was the emptiness of the womb without a child. Yet it was not barren. It was full of potential. Silence was the child of the empty womb. He knew that it had always been there waiting for him to know it.