I reworked two chapters, today, and input them and printed them out. 53 pages, total. I'm up to the point where Brendan is 15 and the Troubles are beginning to make life difficult for all in the Bogside part of Derry. Checkpoints to go through just to shop or head for a doctor's appointment. Short supply on some foods and good. Demonstrations that devolve into mini-riots. The British Army paying more and more attention to the Unionists than the Catholics, regarding things. And the media still repeating the government's spin on what's happening instead of paying attention to reality.
I remember when I was living in Houston a columnist for the Houston Post ran an opinion that could have been straight out of the British Media Kit, without a single question. The Troubles were all the IRA's fault and no one wanted to really support them and on and on. If I remember right, it was about 1990, so a lot of the British claims had been debunked. I wrote him a long letter detailing them...and about six weeks later he wrote a three part opinion piece about the situation at the time, paying much more attention to what was really happening.
We didn't have a chance to speak again till I was in bed and he came in the room, freshly washed. "What a joy to have hot water in the tap, eh? And a toilet inside," he murmured as he sat beside me in the bed.
“What’re you sayin’?” I asked. “You act like we only just moved here.”
He nodded then cast me a glance, sideways. "My digs in Belfast weren't as modern as this." He cast me a wink. "You mind having the smaller bed?"
“It’s by the window,” I said, shaking my head. Then I looked out the window, at the back of Mr. Payne's. "The view was better on Nailors."
His voice went sing-song as he asked, "Bren-dan...what's the trou-ble?"
I looked at him. He was back to seeming like good old Eamonn, again, and he was one of the few who ever tried to find out what I was truly thinking, so I took in a deep breath and asked, “Didn’t your term end a fortnight ago?”
He grew still. “What if it did?”
"I read the papers," I said, soft and easy so as not to wake Rhuari and Kieran. "Mr. Hennessey clerks at Carroway’s and he lets me for having fixed his bicycle. The bloody thing's older than me and..." My voice trailed off. I coughed.
"And?" whispered from Eamonn.
I took a deep breath. "And sometimes at Colm's I'll see the news. There were fires in the Ardoyne and Short Strand, in Belfast. Catholics burned out. People on both sides shot. Both miles from Queens, but I can smell it deep in your coat. And word is Provos split from the IRA and fought back, killin’ people, and..."
He held up his hand to stop me. Did not look at me. His voice was tight as he said, "I have never known you to be one who spreads gossip or rumor."
"News is not gossip," I shot back, "and I only say this, 'cause...'cause..." My voice trailed off, but he had noticed my words quivered so turned his gaze upon me, wary. I kept on with, "I feel like I did when you were goin' on that long walk and...and I don't want you hurt, again. Seein’ you in hospital, like that...like you were that time...I'm scared for you."
He cast me an odd look, like surprise and confusion, then leaned on one arm and put his hand on my shoulder. "I've always wondered what you really think of the rest of us. You're so quiet. So focused on what you do. Sometimes it felt as if you were looking down on us all."
"Eamonn!" It jolted me that he said such a thing.
"I know better, now. I'm sorry for having ever thought it. I can't tell you anything more than...than I did not return to Queens in January. The IRA's cowardice in the face of what's been happening...it had to be remedied. And so...it will be."
"You're with the Provos?"
"I didn't say that." But his expression confirmed it.
Oh, Jesus... "Can I help you in some way?"
He looked at me, deep in thought. His face took back the expression of someone far older, then he said, "Do you...have you built yourself some hiding spaces? For to keep your money?"
So that's why he was talking to me. I almost felt hurt. I nodded. "It wasn't easy, believe me. Ma kept a sharp eye on me, expectin’ it. She's been pickin' everywhere, now Mai's gone." Then I smiled. "But I can be clever, now and then."
“Hang on.” He slipped back down the stairs, silent as a cat. I looked out to see him enter the hutch, for a moment, then come back out holding a small bag. Moments later, he was up in my room, his back to Rhuari and Kieran, blocking their view, and he showed me a felt bag. "Is one of your hideaways big enough for this?" He opened the felt wrapper.
Inside was a pistol.
I coughed and gulped in air and slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from saying anything.
He knelt by the bed and set it on the covers, his eyes locked on me.
I couldn't look at him as I whispered, "How'd you get it past the checkpoints?" He said nothing, for a moment, so I turned to him. "How?"
A crooked smile crossed his face. "I didn't come home the usual route. And it's not mine; I'm keeping it for a friend."
“Don’t lie to me,” I snapped, picking up the pistol and turning it over. "It's too big for any of my spaces. Have you a match?" He pulled a lighter from his pocket. I fired it up and inspected the pistol, carefully. "It can come apart, easy enough," I murmured. "I could spread it about."
"Could you?"
In answer, I slipped off the bed to get my tools, but Eamonn stopped me and moved the pistol to the window for better light then he ejected the bullet clip...and don't you think for two seconds I didn't notice it was filled. Then he pulled the slide to the rear to make sure it was empty, cocked it, pushed a tiny button on the right side of it, shifted the sliding part back to release a lever...a slide-stop. When he removed that, the pistol nearly exploded apart, across my bed.
He grimaced. "Forgot you have to hold it tight for the spring."
I stared at the pieces, unable to move. This was what the Provos were rumored to be heading for -- armed resistance. Now I knew why he hadn't returned to Queens; he was with them.
He continued with, "You're not supposed to carry it loaded, but there was no time and...well...no place I could do it, till now." He removed the bullets from the clip, slow and careful. "At least there wasn't one in the chamber."
"Jesus, Eamonn, if you'd been caught..." I noticed his hands were quivering. He knew full well he'd risked years at Long Kesh...and now was risking that for me, as well. "Would you rather I take it away?"
"No. No."
He took a section off the main grip then removed the barrel and bushings. In moments, the pistol was in pieces. The grip was still on the large side, so I removed the wood panels on each side, my stomach shaking but my hands steady as granite. I sorted them by size then checked at Ma's door to make sure she was sleeping. I heard her breathe, like a purr, so knew it was safe.
I snuck half the pieces downstairs and used paper from the fish to wrap the slide and stop, coating it with oil from the larder to avoid the juices. The felt bag held the panels, so I put it and the recoil bits in separate spaces behind the top frame of the pantry door. Then I slipped under the sink and pulled away a fake slat by the water pipe to hide the slide and stop. By the time I was done, you couldn't tell they'd been tampered with.
I kept the pistol grip, magazine and sear until the morning, when Ma was downstairs fixing a fry-up in honor of the man in the family. I snuck into her room, found a small groove I'd made, and pulled at it. A corner of the sill dropped down to reveal a hole in the wall. I hid the last of the pistol in there.
Aiden and Jackie came up for Eamonn just before noon and they headed out, being quiet as to where they were going, so I used that time to sneak into the hutch and make sure he didn't have a companion to the pistol...to find half a box of bullets! Those, I hid inside a brace under the settee.
When he returned home, Eamonn took me aside and asked for me to show him where everything was, but I wouldn't. "Better if you don't know," I said. "Then if you're lifted, you can't tell anyone of it."
"I never would," he huffed.
Says the man who can't keep a secret. "It's still safer this way," I snapped back. "And if things to explode and you need it, I...I'll put it back together for you."
Of course, my true intention was never to let him near that thing, again.
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