1972 (41 page)

Read 1972 Online

Authors: Morgan Llywelyn

BOOK: 1972
5.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
The following day he wrote to Ursula, “We have three crowds calling themselves republican now. There's Fianna Fail, who used to be republicans. There's the so-called Official IRA with a Marxist-socialist philosophy. And there's the Provisional IRA, who inherited the dream and not much else.”
But, though he never mentioned it to anyone, Barry still had Ned's notebooks with the coded lists of names.
N
INETEEN seventy did not have an auspicious beginning in Northern Ireland. Attacks on Catholic communities by Protestant
extremists continued. In fear and fury, the Catholics turned on their tormentors and fought back.
The Provisional IRA in Belfast organised itself into battalions and undertook a serious search for weapons and funding.
3
Meanwhile, the various republican splinter groups continued to fund themselves through criminal activities. The success of these operations was not lost on the Provos.
W
HEN Barbara's money arrived from the States she opened a Dublin bank account and asked Mr. Philpott if she could move to a nicer room when one became available. “I'll pay the extra cost,” she assured him.
Philpott smirked. “I'll have to contact the new owner and ask him, but I'm sure it will be acceptable.”
Following the Sinn Féin
Ard Fheis
on the eleventh of January, Éamonn MacThomáis telephoned Barry with news of a split in the party mirroring that in the Army. One-third of the delegates had walked out, going to a hall in Parnell Square to hold their own meeting. They would be giving their support to the Provisional IRA.
“Ruairí Ó Brádaigh's now the president of Provisional Sinn Féin,” MacThomáis reported, “and he'll be moving their offices to Kevin Street. I'm going with them. The Officials will stay in Gardiner Street.”
“Is the whole world splitting down the middle?” wondered Barry.
“I blame everything on partition,” MacThomáis said sourly. “Divisiveness is a disease.”
The two halves of republicanism swiftly moved further apart. The Provisionals announced the launch of a revived
An Phoblacht
, to keep the physical-force men around the country informed of what was happening. From Donegal, Dáithí O Canaill was one of the first to subscribe.
W
HEN one of the Officials passed a Provisional in the street they did not speak, but fistfights broke out in pubs.
Meanwhile, Charles Haughey, acting on his own, was trying
to interest various British ministers in coming to Dublin to discuss the problem in the north. His effort was unsuccessful.
L
IFE in Harold's Cross continued as before. McCoy was slowly regaining his strength and taking over more duties in the household. Although her work was physically hard Barbara enjoyed it. She felt she was making a needed contribution—something she had never done before. She even persuaded Philpott to let her help with the cooking and discovered a talent for making pastry.
Whatever she did, she did to perfection. Waiting for Barry to notice.
Barry, however, was preoccupied on other levels. Although he took no part in Army activities—on either side—he followed developments avidly, as did Séamus McCoy. Both men were deeply worried over the split, and equally worried about the unresolved problems in Northern Ireland.
At the end of March disbanding of the B-Specials began, but this was counterbalanced by Ian Paisley's victory in a by-election for the Northern Ireland parliament at Stormont.
“One step forward and two steps back,” Barry lamented. “For a little while there I really had hopes that there would be changes in the north, but I don't think that's going to be allowed to happen.”
“Now who's being pessimistic, Seventeen?”
“Tell me honestly. Do you think there'll be any long-term improvement?”
“Honestly?” McCoy squinted into a dimly perceived future. “Not.”
At the beginning of April there were three nights of rioting in Belfast which came to an end only when the British army used CS gas against the nationalists. Amongst those nationalists were members of the city's rapidly expanding IRA brigade.
The arrival of an additional five hundred soldiers brought the total of British troops in the north to sixty-five hundred. As if in response, the IRA began a new bombing campaign.
It had been fourteen years since Operation Harvest.
Barry and Apollo headed north again. While he was away,
Barbara installed window boxes and filled them with a riot of spring flowers.
“You're a wonder, you are,” McCoy told her.
It was not McCoy's admiration she sought. All those years ago she had started off on the wrong foot with Barry and she did not know how to make it right. Having sex with him had only exacerbated the problem, because now Barbara knew she was deeply in love with him.
She told herself she would rather die than admit her true feelings to him. She was certain he did not share them.
When Barry came home from Belfast his eyes saw the flowers but they did not register in his brain. His brain was filled with too many ugly pictures.
O
N the first of May, Captain James Kelly, an intelligence officer with the Irish army, was arrested in Dublin under the Offences Against the State Act. He was released within twenty-four hours, but suddenly the word
gunrunning
was on everyone's lips. The suggestion was: “Sure the Army could lose a few hundred rifles and slip them across the border quietly.”
Five days later Jack Lynch dismissed two cabinet ministers: Charles J. Haughey, the minister for finance, and Neil Blaney, the agriculture minister. Together with a gaggle of press photographers, Barry arrived in time to capture Haughey and Blaney as they left Leinster House. Neil Blaney looked extremely tired. Charles Haughey was a short man with a closed face and deeply hooded eyes, but there was a quality about him that caught and held Barry's attention.
That man's a ticking bomb,
he thought
. We haven't heard the last of him.
Subsequently the Dáil debated for almost thirty-eight hours about allegations of arms smuggling. On May twenty-eighth the two ex-ministers were arrested together with three other men for conspiring to import arms and ammunition for use in Northern Ireland.
T
HE Arms Trial rocked Ireland. Never since the foundation of the Irish Free State had a serving cabinet minister been arrested. Now there were two of them in the dock.
“I want to believe they're guilty,” Barry told McCoy, “because that would mean at least a couple of our politicians tried to do
something.

“I'm about ready to do something, Seventeen. The old eyes are as good as they'll ever be, so I'm not much use with a rifle anymore. But the IRA is attracting new men and they'll need training officers. I'm thinking of going back on active service.”
“With the Provisionals, I assume?”
“The Officials don't speak for me anymore.”
McCoy was standing straighter, coughing less, eating more. But, though he was touched by the older man's bravado, Barry knew he was not fit to return to the Army. He decided to seek an ally in his fight to keep McCoy at home.
He waited until the house was quiet in the evening, then went to Barbara's room and knocked gently on the door. “Barbara? It's Barry. May I come in?”
“Just a minute!”
It was considerably more than a minute before she opened the door. She was wearing a new dressing gown and her hair had been brushed until it shone. “This is an unexpected pleasure,” she said.
He could not read her mood. Perhaps she was being formally polite, perhaps she was being sarcastic. With Barbara one could not always tell. “I need to talk to you privately,” said Barry.
She stood aside for him to enter.
He took a deep breath. This was going to be surprisingly hard. “Barbara, I've never discussed certain aspects of my life with you, because I don't discuss them with anybody. But now I
think you need to know that both Séamus and I have been members of the Irish Republican Army.”
The colour left her cheeks. “The IRA?”
“Indeed.”
Barbara sat down abruptly on the edge of her bed. “Do you kill people?”
He was taken aback by the baldness of the question. “No, no I don't. I haven't been on active service in years. Séamus was, though, until he fell ill, and now he's talking about going back. The reason I'm telling you is, he thinks the world of you and I need you to help me persuade him to stay here with us.”
“With us?”
“You and me.”
Her features rearranged themselves in some subtle fashion. “If he does go back, will you go with him?”
It was a question Barry had been asking himself. “I don't know,” he said honestly. “I might have to. He's, well, he's the closest thing I've ever had to a father and I feel an obligation to look out for him.”
Barbara's features rearranged themselves again. “And if I ask you not to go, would that make a difference?”
“Why would you do that?”
It was her turn to draw a deep breath. “Let me tell you about my father. He was born in America but he was an Irish republican because his father was an Irish republican. Dad raised money for the IRA. I know from my mother that he felt guilty because he wasn't playing a more active part in what he called ‘the armed struggle.' When I was still a little girl he couldn't stand it any longer. He made his first trip to Ireland with a couple of his republican friends and never came home again.”
“What happened?” Barry asked, expecting the familiar story of a man who had abandoned his family.
Her lower lip began to quiver, though she made a brave effort to control it. “We never knew, not exactly. Dad died of a gunshot in a place called Ballymena.”
Northern Ireland
. “Oh, Barbara!” Barry reached out and gathered her into his arms.
She was trembling uncontrollably. “Because they got him
killed my mother hates the republicans and everything they stand for.”
“Yes, of course,” Barry murmured into her hair. Meaningless syllables of comfort. “Yes. Of course she does. I understand.”
At last the trembling stopped.
“Are you going to be all right?”
“I'll be all right,” she whispered with her face burrowed against his chest. “As long as you don't …”
“I won't,” Barry promised.
“I don't believe you. You'll go away like he did and never come back.”
Curiously, her vulnerability touched him more than her sensuality. He realised how adrift she really was. Partly as a result of circumstance but mostly by choice, Barbara was cut off from those pillars of stability which most women of her age and class enjoyed. It was one thing for a man to be independent, as Barry had always thought himself. It was a quite different matter for a woman.
The only woman I know who seems able to manage it is Ursula. Or perhaps she simply conceals her vulnerability better.
Barbara lay soft and pliable in his arms. Her hair smelled like cinnamon. She was a big girl but he was bigger. Stronger. Man enough to take care of her.
In that moment he felt he was man enough to take care of anything.
“Barbara, listen to me. I'll never abandon you, no matter where I go or what I do.”
“How can I be so sure?”
“Because I always mean what I say.”
With a snort of derision, she was suddenly herself again. “No man always means what he says.”
B
OTH Haughey and Blaney were released on bail, pending trial for conspiring to finance the illegal importation of arms. Also charged with attempting to smuggle guns to the north were Captain James Kelly, John Kelly—who was not related to the captain but was a leader of the Belfast Citizens' Defence Committee—and Albert Luykx, a Belgian-born businessman.
Defence counsel argued that the weapons in question were
intended for use in Northern Ireland on the specific instructions of the government, according to Captain Kelly, a man with a previously unblemished reputation for probity and integrity. The prosecution insisted that no such instructions had been given. Any official sanction for the involvement of the Irish army in northern affairs was strenuously denied. Documents that could have supported Kelly's contention went missing.
Political insiders hinted that in its conduct of the first Arms Trial the Irish government was not, as it claimed, keeping the state from becoming involved in an island-wide sectarian war. Rather, it was addressing a power struggle within Fianna Fail. If it could be proved that two senior ministers had financed the importation of illegal guns with the secret knowledge and permission of the taoiseach, the Arms Crisis could bring down Jack Lynch.
A cloud of obfuscation and confusion surrounded the case. The subsequent trials and parliamentary debates did nothing to clarify the matter. Half-truths, outright lies, and political chicanery were in full bloom in Irish politics.
W
ORKING in concert, Barry and Barbara managed to dissuade McCoy from returning to the north. It was difficult, however. Every scrap of news from across the border brought indications of trouble to come.
In the June elections to Westminster, which brought in a Conservative government led by Edward Heath, Ian Paisley was elected MP for North Antrim—and Bernadette Devlin for Mid-Ulster. However, Devlin's appeal against a six-month sentence for her role in the Battle of the Bogside was dismissed and she was imprisoned.
There was violent rioting in Belfast. In the first sustained military action by the Belfast IRA, snipers were stationed in the Newtownards Road. On the twenty-seventh of June five Protestants and a Catholic were shot dead and twenty-six people were seriously injured. On the following day five hundred Catholic workers who had gained employment through Terence O'Neill's liberal policies were driven out of the Harland and Wolff shipyards by angry Protestants.
A curfew in Belfast was monitored by military helicopters,
an ominous sight overhead. The Catholics no longer saw the British army as their saviours, but as an occupying force which made little effort to defend them. Both wings of the IRA became involved in skirmishes with British soldiers.
On the second of July the charges against Neil Blaney were dismissed.

D
o you believe in déjà vu?” Barry asked Barbara.
“Why?”
“When I saw you dancing that day, it was as if it had all happened before. Did you feel it too?”
“Of course not,” she replied. He thought she answered too quickly, perhaps to deny the truth.
“Well, I do. I've experienced it too many times not to believe that some part of the past … continues to exist. In us, through us, I don't know how to explain it. But it's there. And in that past I think I knew you.”
He was half afraid that she would laugh, but she did not.
“Yes,” she said in a whisper.
B
ARBARA was still contrary and contradictory, still difficult to fathom, yet from that moment they grew closer, as if a door had opened.
Barry admitted to her that he had bought the house.
“Do you mean I'm working for you?”
“Well, sort of. We're working together, really, we're—”
“I'm not about to be your hired help!” Barbara flared. “Not for one more minute!”
“Then be my …”
“Your what?”
He could not bring himself to propose marriage. Not yet. She was so complicated during a time when life itself was complicated. It was better that things remain as they were for a while, Barry thought, with each of them living a separate life.
“Be my partner,” he suggested. “Help me with this house and I'll split the profit with you.”
Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Is there any?”
“A little. But if I can count on you to stay we can increase our
profits. I'll talk to the bank about adding an extension to the house; there's room at the back.”
“I'll think about it,” Barbara promised.
How did my life go in this direction?
Barry wondered in the quiet of his own room. Yet he was not displeased. He felt like he was growing.
He moved his gramophone into the front parlour and began to invite other friends to visit. He discovered that he enjoyed the role of host, while Barbara was astonished at the wide range of Barry's acquaintance. She already knew Alice and Dennis Cassidy, but Gilbert Fitzmaurice was very different. The first time he came to visit, Barbara took Barry aside and said, “You once told me that man and I were made for each other. Now that I've met him, I'm insulted.”
He could not tell whether she was really angry. Barbara's true feelings, he was learning, were not always reflected by her outward demeanour. “I'm surprised you remembered about that,” he told her. It seemed a safe remark.
“I remember everything you say.”
I'll have to be more damned careful about what I say!
Paudie Coates treated Barbara to a knowledgeable discourse about rally driving, and had her laughing at stories of near disasters on muddy Irish roads. An evening with Éamonn and Rosaleen MacThomáis provided the most wide-ranging conversation of all, for Éamonn was a splendid raconteur.
Barry had asked Éamonn in advance not to discuss the north in McCoy's presence.
S
UMMER gave way to autumn without any improvement in the northern situation. If anything, it had grown worse. In September a riot in the loyalist Shankill Road resulted in two hundred civilians and more than one hundred soldiers and policemen being injured. The following month brought riots in the nationalist Ardoyne that lasted for three nights, during which nail bombs were thrown at the soldiers.
T
HE four remaining defendants in the Arms Trial ultimately were acquitted. Barry was in the crowd outside the High Court
on the October day when Charles Haughey emerged a free man. As Haughey's jubilant supporters cheered, Barry took his picture.
That is indeed a remarkable face,
he thought.
A Caesar. Or a Borgia.
Half-concealed by the heavy lids were keen and cunning eyes. Without seeming to do so they scanned all the faces in the crowd. Noting who was there; committing them to memory. When Haughey looked at him, Barry gave the politician a tiny wink in salute.
Charles Haughey's enigmatic features revealed nothing. But he responded with an almost imperceptible nod.
W
HAT was it like to grow up in America?” Barry asked Barbara. They were in his room, late at night when the house was quiet. Sometimes they went to hers to make love. There was an unspoken understanding: each had their own territory, not to be invaded without invitation.
“Since I didn't grow up someplace else, I have nothing to compare a childhood in America to,” Barbara said.

Other books

Perfect Sax by Jerrilyn Farmer
A Fugitive Truth by Dana Cameron
Vision by Beth Elisa Harris
Maid to Match by Deeanne Gist
The Train to Paris by Sebastian Hampson
What Love Is by Grant, D C
Lucky Billy by John Vernon
Restless Empire by Odd Westad