Eden Burning (3 page)

“Matt, what are you doing here?” Rose whispered, looking over her shoulder to see if Tom and Lily were about.

Matt sighed in relief, tightening the strap of his helmet and pulling on his gloves.

“Rose, it’s a car bomb. Get Tom and Lily. It’s about to go off. The bomb disposal guys say it is a big one.” Matt pointed at a white Ford Cortina parked two doors away, on the pavement at the corner of Brompton Park.

“Is there anyone next door? I can’t get a response.”

“The Maloney family. But they’re not there tonight. They’ve gone to visit Nuala’s sister.”

Matt sighed. “They’re not going to have much of a house to come back to if this goes off.”

Rose looked past Matt to see two soldiers peering through the back windows of the Ford Cortina. They shouted at Matt.

“It’s about to go! Run! Get out of here!”

Matt grabbed Rose’s hand and pulled her towards the gate.

“No Matt. I can’t leave Tom and Lily. You go. Go!”

Rose’s hand slipped from Matt’s gloved fingers. She took two steps towards the front door. Matt sprinted with the two soldiers through the wrought iron gates, into the Church grounds. Rose was rooted, bolted to the floor. Matt was inside the gates of Holy Cross Church when the bomb exploded. It started with a small rumble and built to a massive roar as Rose saw the car
disintegrate. She instinctively moved her hands to cover her ears as the full force of the bomb swept towards her. It thundered to a recognisable BOOOOOM. The glass from the parlour windows to her right, the upstairs bedroom, and even further up in the attic exploded, dropping in a glittering fountain of glass. Her body swayed and she felt herself losing balance as the plaster ceilings collapsed above her. The roar continued as the plaster crumbled and the wallpaper lay in strips on the floor. After the initial explosion Rose could still hear a high pitched continuous ringing in her ears. She felt the stinging of small splinters of glass pierce both the soles of her feet and toes as she ran up the flight of stairs. She didn’t care. There was only one thought in her head.

“Tom, Lily where are you?”

She tripped on a mound of fallen plaster on the landing, struggling to her feet as the hall lights flickered on and off. As she pulled herself off the floor, she looked up and could see stars twinkling above. It was as though she had fallen through a crevice and could see the sky from the jagged edge of the hole through which she had slipped.

Tom emerged flustered in his striped crumpled pyjamas and bare feet.

“Rose – are you alright?”

“Yes.” Rose ran towards him, forgetting the pain from the glass sticking into her feet.

Lily appeared breathless behind Tom. She threw her arms around them both.

“Oh my God, have a look at the bed.”

Lily held her hands to her face. The bed was covered with glass and plaster. A triangular piece of glass pierced the pillow. From the bedroom door, it looked like a sail on a small yacht.

“Tom’s head was right there.” Lily pointed at the pillow.

“Come on everyone. There could be a second bomb. We need to find out what’s happening.”

Lily tightened the belt on her dressing gown.

“Quick. Downstairs.”

Mr Langley the next door neighbour stood at his front door smoking his pipe.

“Mr Langley. Are you OK?” Lily patted him on the arm.

“Well, I’m not bad at all – considering.” He tapped his tobacco on the wall and refilled the pipe. “I could be worse.” He gave Lily one of his slow smiles, holding the pipe in his hand, and then with a wink, he placed it back in his mouth and took a deep puff.

“Here’s Father Anthony.” Lily shivered, crossing her arms.

Father Anthony stumbled onto the Crumlin Road. His long black woollen habit swirled around him in the freezing breeze. His dark curly hair glistened like oil in the light of the moon. As he neared them, Lily pointed at his sandaled feet,

“You’ll catch your death of cold Father.”

Father Anthony rubbed his hands. “Forget about me. What about you all here? Has anyone been hurt?”

Rose stood beside Lily. Father Anthony looked at her feet which were covered in blood.

“You OK?”

Rose smiled at him. “I’m fine. It looks worse than it is. It’s only a few scratches. Lily aren’t you going to offer Father Anthony a cup of tea?”

Father Anthony followed Rose’s gaze across the road.

“Are you looking for someone?”

Rose shook her head. “No.”

Father Anthony followed Lily down the hallway as Tom brushed a path ahead of them.

Rose stood in the doorway and looked across the road
again for Matt. Her heart sank as she watched him jump into the armoured jeep. What would happen to him? As soon as he disappeared from sight she felt her stomach starting to churn once again. The driver swung out across the Crumlin Road to block oncoming traffic. She couldn’t tell if Matt could see her. She wanted to wave at him but she couldn’t as Mr Langley would see. She turned towards Mr Langley and looked into his eyes.

“Did you have any damage to the house Mr Langley?”

“Only the windows – you and the Maloney’s have taken the brunt of it. I’ve got folk inside who will be boarding up the windows for me within the next hour.”

“Well, that’s not so bad.” Rose patted Mr Langley on the shoulder. “You know where we are if you need any help. Goodnight Mr Langley.”

Rose closed the front door gently and joined everyone in the sitting room.

The reality of how close they had all come to dying hadn’t hit home. That would happen the next day when they realised the extent of the damage and there was time to reflect. For now, it was Lily as always who made an attempt to lighten the mood before going to bed,

“You’re not going to believe this Rose.” Lily held a banana in her hand. “The bomb perfectly skinned a banana.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“I swear. It jumped out of the fruit bowl, skinned itself and lay there on the kitchen floor asking for someone to eat it.”

“So now we have not only a walking but a talking banana.” Father Anthony winked at Rose over a rim of his cup of tea. “What’s your Aunt Lily like?”

chapter 2

Saturday 1st January 1972

E
ileen cut a slice of white lard and placed it on the hot frying pan. She fried six slices of bacon, the edges shrivelling and kissing each other. She prised them apart, pressing them flat against the spitting fat. They bubbled up and the edges gradually browned. She turned to the six thick Cookstown pork sausages, stabbing each of them twice with a fork. Fat squirted into the pan as the sides burst open. She turned them round, watching the stripes of crusty brown spread over pink flesh. Bacon and sausages were placed into a Pyrex dish in the oven while she fried soda and potato bread, eggs, tomatoes and black pudding.

She rustled among the ironed shirts to find a white cotton tablecloth with which she covered the table. She found a small red candle, lit it and placed it in the centre of the table with a few sprigs of holly. A cuckoo jerked out from the clock hanging on the wall beside the door, calling its punctuated song for nine o’clock.

Upstairs, Cedric washed and shaved, splashed himself with Old Spice before carefully putting on a striped blue and pink
cotton shirt with a white collar. He fingered the perfect crease Eileen had ironed into the sleeves and then fiddled with the gold dolphin cufflinks.

“Why do they always make the bloody button holes too small?” He muttered under his breath, before opening the drawer filled with neatly rolled ties and finding a smaller set of blue crystal cufflinks. He sat on the bed to pull on a pair of navy corduroy trousers and a matching soft navy blue cashmere jumper. His dark hair curled onto the white collar of his shirt. He chose a pink silk tie spotted with blue hearts. He reached into the drawer for Eileen’s present.

Cedric ambled into the kitchen, one hand behind his back.

“Morning Mum. Happy New Year. How did you sleep?” He kissed her on the cheek.

“Not bad. What about you? What time did you get in?”

Eileen plucked a stray black hair from his shoulder.

“Not much after midnight. I thought you would still be up.”

“I was in bed for 11. Did you have a good New Year’s Eve?”

“Not a lot changes in the Black Beetle for New Year’s Eve.”

“I take that for a no then? Made any New Year’s Resolutions?”

“I’ve nothing to improve. You know that.” He gave Eileen a second kiss.

“You smell nice. What’s that you’ve got?”

“A New Year’s present for you.”

Cedric handed Eileen the long narrow box covered in silver wrapping paper with a red satin bow.

   “Thank you.” Eileen removed the wrapping paper meticulously, folding it in four and setting it on the table. Inside the box lay a string of pearls like a row of small moons on red velvet.

“You shouldn’t have. You’ve already given me a Christmas present. They’re beautiful, though.”

Cedric took the pearls from his mother’s hands and placed them carefully around her neck. The clasp snapped closed.

“They look great.”

Eileen laughed, rolling the pearls in her fingers. “Sit down you big softy. Breakfast is nearly ready. Tell me about Jenny. Have you got around to asking her out?”

“No.”

“You should do. She’s a lovely girl from what you’ve told me.”

The kitchen door squeaked open as William limped into the room.

“Morning all.”

“Happy New Year. Ready for breakfast?”

“Fed the cats?” William looked around the kitchen.

“Of course. Here’s Bouncer looking for you.”

A mop of a striped tiger cat jumped onto William’s knee, turned around twice and settled comfortably on top of his brown corduroy trousers. William stroked his head, feeling the long soft silky fur beneath his fingers. Bouncer looked at him through half closed eyes, digging his claws into William’s thighs, gently swishing his tail.

“Honourable creatures aren’t they?” William smiled at Eileen.

“Why do you say that?” Eileen buttered the toasted wheaten bread.

“They don’t lie. Not like human beings.” Eileen blushed slightly red but William didn’t notice.

Five minutes later Peter was last to appear for breakfast. Wrapped in a green cotton dressing gown and brown leather slippers he sat down facing Cedric and held his head for a few seconds in his hands.

“What’s the matter?” Eileen placed a mug of tea beside him.

“I hate this time of year.”

“Oh dear, will a fried egg make any difference?”

Eileen tweaked his hair. Peter held out his plate.

“You’ve too much time on your hands, that’s what’s wrong with you,” Cedric mumbled through a half-eaten pork sausage. “Remember that you’ve work to do tomorrow. That will stop you feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Don’t be mean Cedric.” Eileen topped up Cedric’s tea.

“What’s happening tomorrow?”

“Nothing special.” Cedric tapped a dollop of tomato ketchup onto his plate.

“We have a visit to do.”

Eileen helped Cedric to a second piece of potato bread.

“What kind of visit?”

“Showing Peter the ropes in case he wants to stay in the family business rather than waste his time at University next year.”

“Cedric – if you can’t say something nice, say nothing.” Eileen spoke in a gentle voice, resting a hand on Cedric’s shoulder and smiling at Peter. “Peter’s not going to waste his time. He’s going to be a doctor and help people. You help people too in your own way don’t you?”

Cedric returned alone to the Black Beetle at two o’clock. He sat with a pint of Guinness watching Jenny. She was laughing with Sammy P who was propped up on a stool at the bar. From a distance he couldn’t hear what she was saying, he only saw the playful way she threw a bottle of Guinness in the air as though it was a cocktail shaker catching it behind her back. She opened it and the Guinness went everywhere. Sammy P wiped foam from his face. Jenny helped him dry off with a paper tissue. She was wearing a long pink wraparound skirt with cream crocheted top. Her brown hair waved down to her waist. Over her fringe
she wore a braid of artificial daisies. She had pink tights, yellow leg warmers and yellow platform shoes.

Cedric carried the empty glass to the counter.

“Hi Cedric. What will you be having?” Jenny smiled.

“Nothing thanks. I’ve had enough.”

“Is this a change for the New Year?” Jenny leant on the counter. Cedric noticed her gently glossed lips; the blue eye shadow, eye-liner and rose blusher across the top of her cheeks.

“Could be.” He coughed. His face reddened. “Jenny.” There was silence.

Jenny looked at Cedric. His eyes were deep blue with a circle of black around the iris. His face was lean – not a trace of fat or loose flesh, smooth wrinkle free skin.

“Would you like to go out for dinner?”

Silence.

“Is this an official date?”

“You could say so.” Cedric wiped at his forehead with a cotton handkerchief.

“When have you got in mind?”

“What about Tuesday … around eight?”

“What about tonight? I’m free at six? I’ve got a few days off now after the holidays.” Jenny held her head in her hands, elbow on the counter. “See – I’m keen.”

“Tonight is not so good. I’ve got to talk to Dad … You know William.”

“Of course I know William. He’s almost a resident here.” Jenny laughed. “Like yourself. I’ll see you Tuesday then. Where are we going?”

“Not here. The Queen’s Head. I’ll drive.”

chapter 3

Sunday 2nd January 1972

W
illiam was born in 1910 in Belfast around the time that Lord Carson was made leader of the Ulster Unionist Party. His father served in the Ulster Volunteers under Carson and James Craig. In the womb he heard ‘No surrender’ and angry arguments around the dinner table between his father who did not support Home Rule and his mother who did. Even in the womb, his tiny foetus was flooded with ‘flight or fight’ chemicals and the patterns were laid for William’s so called ‘unknown thoughts’ – called ‘unknown’ because they are formed before language. Baby William, traumatised even before being born, feeling threatened and insecure, created a protection system which became his cage, his prison. “I exist but only under the threat of not existing.” Baby William in the womb and in the early years of life wanted an answer to the “big” question – “Will you always be there for me unconditionally?” William’s parents didn’t answer “yes” because no-one had ever been there unconditionally for them. So, the answer was “no”, even if it was never stated explicitly. William learnt that the love he received was conditional – he never felt himself loved.