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Danny and I guided Colm back to a bus and hopped on. As it filled with wet and angry people, I used an American bandana he had to work up a sling of a sort so it didn't just hang at his side. Done in blue and white, it was, and looked fine against his tan Anorak.
"You should get this to a doctor," I said. "X-rays and a splint..."
Colm shook his head. "That could be used in evidence against me, if they want to make a case for rioting."
Danny chuckled. "Like they need evidence for that."
Colm had to nod in agreement. "I know someone I can get to check it. No worries."
The bus headed back for Derry, and Danny stayed on it with us so I asked him, "Where you lodging?"
"I'm not. I told you..."
Colm shook his head. "After this, you'll be lucky to get away without being snatched. Better you come with me."
"Let's to my place," I said. "You can stay there. Clean up. Leave off in the morning, once all is clear."
"But your ma?" Danny asked.
I huffed. "She likes you, and Eamonn's not around so you can sleep in the hutch. The both of you."
Danny gave me a crooked grin. "And miss another day's classes? Oh, Brendan, how could I ever?"
Even Colm chuckled at that, and from there we only talked about the lovely sport of the broken up demonstration.
The bus let us off at Guildhall and we headed for the checkpoint at William.
"Do you have some smokes, Colm?" I asked.
"Just two packs," he said, wary.
"Marlboros?" He nodded. "That should be enough."
And normally would have been, but the checkpoint was manned by a pack of very angry soldiers, none of whom I'd seen before. Save one...maybe. They slammed us against a wall, telling us to put our hands up on it and to spread our legs so they could maul us with full abandon. But Colm couldn’t raise his hurt arm.
A Sergeant grabbed it to look closer at his injury, making him cry out from the pain.
"What's this?" he snarled at Colm. "Bloody rioter?"
He started to rip Com's Anorak off, causing even more pain to him.
I was still in control, for we were outside, not in a room, so gave a small laugh and shot in with, “Me mate? Rioting? Couldn't throw straight to save himself. He was just playin’ the cod, is all."
“Shut the fook up, ye fookin’ taig.”
I shrugged. “Call me what you want, but I was workin' on a car, at McClosky’s, and me mate went actin’ stupid and got under it to play and kicked it off its block. This is from the rear wing hittin' him as it fell. Me boss tied his arm and it took the three of us to set the car right.”
"On a Sa'ruday?"
"Who said it happened today?"
“Ye fookin’ liar! Ye fix cars? A nobody like yerself?”
I snorted, this time. “I can fix any car there is!”
He smiled at me, cold and hard. “Yeah? I got a Defender leaks oil. Nobody can tell me why. All the seals are good and no cracks in the block. What the fookin' shite is wrong wit’ it?”
“What’s the year?”
“...Sixty-one.”
“Model”
“S-4.”
“Is the head tight?”
“’Course it fookin’ is.”
“Sure of that? If you put a normal jointing on, it needs to twice be turned, to be sure. I used double joints and compounds when I fixed Dr. Wiler’s; went hard on the fastening. Colm helped me with the last turn of the spanner, didn't ya?”
Then I noticed that one ugly mug who looked familiar was running his hands up and down Colm, slow and grabby. But me China stayed cold as ice and said, without hesitation. “It was bloody hard. Bloody thing won’t come off without major surgery, for certain.”
“Hasn’t had a leak since,” I said, making myself smile.
Christ, that bastard groping Colm looked more and more familiar.
Another soldier came up. “What 'bout a Volvo 122? Shifter comes out the gear box.”
“That’s the bloody car’s design," I said, keeping my voice light. "Put it back in and screw it closed, is all you need do.”
“Not what me mechanic said. Needs doin’ just right, fasten down just right. Glove repositioned.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, and how much’d he hit you for?”
“...Ten quid.”
“Each time?”
“I...I didn’t say it was more’n once.”
I saw that same bastard was now shifting to Danny, and I was growing wary. I had to make myself chuckle. “Next time it comes out, put it in yourself and see what happens.”
“So you do know cars.” It was a Sergeant speaking, from behind me.
I shrugged. "I fix things."
That soldier began his mauling, up one of Danny's legs, grinning and growling like a hyena, then shoving his hand up around Danny's arse and Danny was growing tighter and tighter and his fingers were digging into the bricks and this was going to go so bad...it was going to go so bad...and...and I caught it. He was the same bastard who'd fingered my arse, a few weeks back.
Danny started to shake, his fingers digging tighter against the wall.
Oh, shite, oh, shite, oh, shite.
But then I noticed some older women in the queue, glaring at the fat bastard and without a thought suddenly barked, "What the fuck is this? You stickin' your thumb up my arse isn't enough, you wanna do it to me mate, too? Lookin' for dreams to wank off to, when you're alone?"
And I was loud with it.
The bastard spun to me, snarling, "What the fook're you sayin'?"
I noticed other ladies were casting glances our way so grew louder. "What the fuck, yourself, arsehole. It's not enough you grab my bollocks and stick your nose up me arse, you're gonna do it to all of us? Fuckin' poofter! Gettin' your jollies off goin' up boys' jacksies?!"
The bastard howled and punched me in the kidney and fuck did it hurt. I cried out. He grabbed the collar of my coat suddenly I'm back in Strand Road and I just know I'm going into that fucking room, again, and hours of that shite and that added to my gasps of pain and I was close to whimpering...
But that queue of women heard me.
They heard me.
Saw what the bastard was doing. Saw him hit me. And they began spitting furious curses on the man. Words I'd never heard come out of a woman before, not even Mrs. Keogh when she was in a lather. Spitting at all of them. Beginning to close in on them.
"What're you doing to them boys, you cunts?"
"You bastards gonna try anything with them?"
"Big fucks with toy guns beating up on little lads?"
"Motherfuckin' bastards!"
"Keep your fookin' paws to yerselves, ya sick fucks."
Colm burst out with, "That fookin' bastard groped me! An' he was grabbing me mate's arse. Me mate's an altar boy! Never a stitch of trouble to him and this ape's gonna drag him off for his sick fun!"
Oh, did the ol' cows howl even more. Poofters and Homos and Nancy Boys, and I'd swear I heard a few cocksuckers in there. It was glorious. Others began to come over, from Waterloo, both men and women, to see what the noise was about.
The paras started to get nervous and now held their weapons at the ready, in case this hoard of middle-aged ladies took it upon themselves to attack. If I hadn't been so winded by the bastard's punch, I'd have laughed at the cowardice in them.
But then I looked at Danny...and while he was still in position, staring at the wall as if frozen, his fingers still digging into the brick, he was also still shaking and breathing hard and sharp.
Like I had been...in that room...for hours...and I started begging in my mind, Please, Danny, please don't let go, not yet, not now. Please.
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