Friend or Foe (3 page)

E
mer felt slightly guilty. She was sitting in the sun on the kerb outside her house on Ardmore Avenue with Gladys, and had just persuaded her to join the swimming club. It was typical of Gladys to be agreeable, even if before now she had shown no great interest in improving as a swimmer. Emer didn’t like manipulating her, but she told herself that it would be in Gladys’s and Ben’s interest to be better swimmers.

Jack and Ben were round the corner in the Waltons’ house on Glenard Avenue, and with Joan Lawlor away visiting her granny, Emer had grasped the opportunity to get Gladys on her own. ‘You can tell your parents that I’ll look out for you and that Jack is joining too,’ said Emer now, wanting to reassure her friend.

‘OK,’ agreed Gladys, ‘I’ll say that to Mam.’

‘Great.’

‘Ah, here come the boys,’ said Gladys as Jack and Ben came down the lane in good spirits.

‘Close your eyes and open your mouth, and see what God will send you!’ Ben said to Emer. She hesitated, knowing the mischief that Jack and Ben sometimes got up to, but Gladys spoke reassuringly.

‘It’s OK. We got you something on our day trip yesterday.’

‘Some day trip,’ said Ben as he and Jack sat down on the kerb. ‘Dad said it would be a surprise, and I was sure it would be the seaside – somewhere good, like Bray.’

‘The Meeting of the Waters is still nice,’ said Gladys.

‘Two measly rivers joining forces,’ snorted Ben. ‘If Tom Moore hadn’t written a song about it, who’d even go there?!’

‘Anyway, give Emer her souvenir,’ said Gladys.

‘Is it a stick of rock?’

‘That would be telling,’ answered Jack. ‘You have to close your eyes and open your mouth, like Ben said.’

‘This better not be a worm or something,’ Emer warned, then she did as she was bid.

She felt something hard and round being slipped into her mouth, and she opened her eyes in alarm. The others all laughed, and Emer realised that it was a shiny black stick of liquorice.

‘They didn’t sell sticks of rock,’ explained Gladys, ‘so you’ll have to settle for that.’

‘It’s great,’ said Emer. ‘Liquorice lasts for ages, and I love the way it makes your teeth look like they’re rotten! Thanks, Ben, thanks, Gladys.’

‘You’re grand,’ said Ben.

‘Did Gladys tell you the comedian’s jokes from yesterday?’ asked Jack.

‘No,’ answered Emer.

‘Sure I’m no good at telling jokes,’ said Gladys.

‘Neither was the comedian,’ said Ben.

‘Neither are you. All you’re good at is cricket,’ said Gladys.

‘At least I’m good at something,’ retorted Ben to his sister, before turning to the others. ‘We ran into a Works Outing yesterday,’ he said, ‘and this fella from the company was telling all these fish jokes – just because they were at the Meeting of the Waters.’

‘Like what?’ queried Emer.

‘Like … what’s the best way to catch a fish?’ asked Ben.

‘What is?’

‘Have someone throw it at you!’

‘That’s not bad,’ said Emer. ‘And talking about water and swimming …’ She looked enquiringly at Jack, who gave her a thumbs-up.

‘We talked it over,’ he said. ‘Ben’s on for joining the club.’

‘Great!’ said Emer. ‘Gladys is too, aren’t you, Glad?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So we can all be in it together,’ said Emer. ‘I’ll ask Joan too when she comes back from her granny’s.’

‘So we each hit our parents with the Old Reliable then?’ asked Jack.

Ben frowned. ‘What’s the Old Reliable?’

‘Emer’s trick for winning over parents,’ answered Jack. ‘Will you explain it, or will I?’

‘You tell them,’ said Emer smilingly. ‘I want to stuff my face!’ Then she broke off a length of the liquorice and slipped it into her mouth, pleased at how things were working out.

‘You’re in trouble with Da!’ Jack’s sister Mary was unable to keep the glee out of her voice as she entered the kitchen.

‘Why?’

‘You tell me. But he wants to talk to you in the parlour, and he looks dead annoyed. I wouldn’t like to be you.’

‘It’d be worse being you!’ snapped Jack. Mary was the youngest of his sisters and although sixteen now, four years older than Jack, she could still be childish. She claimed that he was spoiled, but he didn’t think he was, and sometimes – like now – he found her really annoying.

Before Mary could think of a retort, Jack made for the hall, then stopped outside the parlour. Da sometimes retreated there when he wanted to do police paperwork without interruption or play his violin. It was also the room, however, to which he occasionally summoned family members for a talking-to. Jack hesitated, then nervously tapped on the door.

‘Come in.’

Jack took a breath to steady himself and stepped into the parlour. His mind was racing as he tried to figure out what might have him in trouble.

‘Sit down, Jack. We need to talk,’ said Da.

Jack studied his father’s face, unsure if Mary had been exaggerating or telling the truth about him being annoyed. He certainly looked serious, but his voice didn’t sound furious.

Jack sat in an armchair, then looked at Da, whose big frame completely filled the opposite armchair. He hadn’t seen much of his father in the last couple of days – there had been a serious incident in A Division of the DMP – and he hadn’t yet had the chance to ask about joining the swimming club. And now that he was in trouble, once again the time wouldn’t be right.

‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’ asked Da.

Jack shook his head. ‘No, Da.’

His father continued in a calm voice. ‘When you grow up you want to be a policeman like me, don’t you?’

Jack had read all the Sherlock Holmes stories, and it was his dream to be a detective rather than a uniformed sergeant like Da. But he didn’t want to hurt his father’s feelings, so he simply answered, ‘Yes’. He had no idea where the conversation was going, but he forced himself to concentrate as his father continued.

‘To be a policeman you have to be trained in drill, and observation, and how to give evidence. You have to learn the geography of the city, the correct way to patrol, the handbook of police regulations. But the most important thing is integrity. You must be honest and straight-forward in all your dealings.’

Jack nodded, sensing that he was being charged with dishonesty but still unsure of what he had done.

‘Honesty isn’t just
not lying
,’ said Da. ‘Sometimes saying nothing about what’s happened is a form of dishonesty. Do you see what I’m getting at?’

‘I … I think so, Da. But I’m not sure what I did wrong.’

‘You put me in a position where I felt like a fool. Mr Lawlor sympathised with me over the fright you must have gotten when you nearly drowned – and I had no idea what he was talking about.’

Joan Lawlor and her big mouth!
thought Jack.
Wait till I see her!

‘You should have told me that Emer Davey saved you from drowning. I shouldn’t have heard it from a neighbour.’

‘I’m sorry, Da, I …’

‘You what?’

Jack hesitated. ‘I was afraid if I told you I’d get in trouble.’

‘Why would you get in trouble? Were you trick-acting in the water?’

‘No! No, my foot got caught in weeds or something and I swallowed water, and all of a sudden I was in trouble.’

‘So why didn’t you just tell me that?’

‘I don’t know,’ answered Jack, then he remembered Da’s instruction to be completely honest. He sighed before continuing. ‘Maybe … maybe I was afraid you’d ban me from swimming in the river. And I love it. We’ve great fun when we all go up there.’

His father said nothing.

‘I’m really sorry I put you on the spot with Mr Lawlor, Da. I … I suppose I didn’t think it all through.’

‘You certainly didn’t!’

Jack looked at his father nervously. Da was a reasonable man and not easily given to anger, but once he decided something there was no swaying him. Would he ban swimming trips to the
Tolka now as a punishment? Or, if not as a punishment, then as a safety measure?

‘As a policeman, Jack, I have a certain standing,’ said Da. ‘That gets undermined if I’m made to look foolish – so I can’t have that. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Da.’

‘So, what would you do if you were me?’

This was a question that Da often asked, though usually it was about police matters, as a way of preparing Jack for the day when he too entered the force. Jack thought carefully, and the germ of an idea sprouted in his mind.

‘I’d do what you’ve just done, Da,’ he answered, ‘and explain it like you have – so now I’ll know to be more honest in future. And, eh … the other thing I’d do …’

‘Yes?’

Jack gathered his nerve, then spoke. ‘The other thing I’d do is to see that I became a better swimmer. Joan and Ben and Gladys are all asking their parents to send them to Emer’s swimming club. If I were you, I’d send me too. That way, if we all get trained, we’ll be much safer in future when we go swimming.’

His father looked him in the eye, and Jack wondered if he had pushed his luck.

‘So you don’t think I should punish you?’

‘I didn’t
deliberately
do anything wrong, Da,’ said Jack nervously.

His father seemed to consider this, and Jack prayed that he wouldn’t be banned from the swimming hole.

Suddenly Da nodded. ‘All right then. We’ll leave it at that.’

Jack felt a flood of relief but decided to go for broke. ‘And, eh … the swimming club?’

‘Well, if all the others are joining, you’d better learn too.’

Jack wanted to shout with joy. Instead he kept his voice normal and smiled at his father.

‘Thanks, Da. You’re … you’re a great da!’

‘Less of your aul’
plámás
,’ said his father, but there was a twinkle in his eye. ‘Be off with you now, before I change my mind.’

‘OK!’ said Jack, then he grinned at his father and made for the door.

‘T
here’s a boy over there staring at us,’ said Gladys.

‘Where?’ asked Joan.

‘Over there in the trees.’

‘Let him,’ said Emer. ‘Sure aren’t we worth staring at?!’

They were having a picnic under a cloudless sky on the grassy banks of the Tolka at the swimming hole. Today there were just the three girls, with Jack and Ben away at a football match. Emer had been listening to Joan tell of how her despairing violin teacher had given up on her and called round to her father.
‘I can’t take your money any more, Mr Lawlor, there’s no point!’
Joan had mimicked.

Emer sometimes found Joan a bit silly, but she could be entertaining too, and Emer had been enjoying the story when Gladys had interjected that the boy was watching them. Now the rest of the anecdote was forgotten as the boy stepped out from the trees and began to approach.

‘He’s coming straight for us,’ said Gladys.

‘Relax,’ said Emer. ‘I think it’s that boy that Jack knows.’

The three friends watched as the figure came closer, and Emer realised that it was indeed the schoolmate of Jack’s. Sometimes the boy had spoken to Jack when they were all at the swimming hole.
He had never joined their group, however, and Jack had never introduced him, simply mentioning once that he knew him from school.

As the boy drew near Emer could see that his clothes were worn and tatty, and he had a look that her mother would describe as ‘rough’.

‘Howayis?’ he said in a strong Dublin accent.

The three girls politely returned his greeting, then the boy cocked his head to one side. ‘You’re friends of Jack Madigan, aren’t you?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ answered Emer, ‘but he couldn’t come with us today.’

‘OK.’

There was a short pause, then Emer remembered her manners. ‘I’m Emer,’ she said, ‘and this is Joan and Gladys.’

‘Right,’ said the boy.

Emer waited for him to introduce himself, then realised that he wasn’t going to.

‘And what’s your name?’

‘Gerry.’

‘Well, Gerry, it’s nice to meet you,’ she said.

He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement, then spoke haltingly. ‘I was, eh … I was wondering …’

‘Were you?’ said Joan cheekily. ‘About what?’

‘If you might like to swap. Some of your picnic for apples I have.’

‘No, thanks,’ said Gladys.

‘They’re good apples.’

‘I’m sure they are,’ said Joan. ‘But I’d rather have my sandwiches and cake.’

‘They’re really juicy, and I’d give you a good swap.’

‘I don’t care if the juice is running out of them,’ answered Joan. ‘I’m not swapping my lunch.’

‘All right,’ said the boy, and Emer sensed that he was trying to hide his disappointment.

Now that he was up close, she could see that beneath his shabby clothes he had a lean, wiry build. Emer realised that he might be one of the thousands of hungry people in Dublin who struggled every day to get enough to eat. ‘OK, Gerry,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t mind a few juicy apples. What would I get for a chicken sandwich and a piece of lemon cake?’

Emer could see that her friends were taken aback, but she ignored them and looked instead into the eyes of the ragged boy. She had expected him to look pleased, but his face gave nothing away.

‘I’ll give you four apples,’ he said.

Emer suspected that Gerry’s lack of pleasure at her offer was a tactic and that he was someone who had to bargain hard for everything. She hesitated, trying to think on her toes. She didn’t actually want the fruit, but she thought he looked hungry and she felt sorry for him. ‘How about six apples?’ she suggested, deciding that the best way to prevent it looking like charity was to bargain a bit.

He shook his head. ‘Too much.’

‘Supposing I throw in a biscuit as well?’

He considered, then nodded. ‘With the biscuit, we could split
the difference. I’ll give you five apples – big, juicy ones.’

‘OK,’ said Emer. ‘Done!’

‘I have them up at the cottage,’ said Gerry, indicating a ramshackle building in the distance. ‘Back in two minutes.’

‘Fine,’ said Emer as he abruptly turned on his heel and made off up the slope of the valley.

‘Are you mad?’ said Joan. ‘Giving away half your lunch!’

‘I’m not giving it away, I’m trading.’

‘For five juicy apples!’
said Joan, viciously taking off Gerry’s flat Dublin accent.

‘I don’t think we should have anything to do with him,’ said Gladys.

‘Why not?’ asked Emer.

‘He’s … well, he’s …’

‘What?’

‘He’s common, Emer. Our parents wouldn’t want us talking to him. It looks like he lives in a shack.’

‘Come on, Gladys. It’s not a crime to be poor.’

‘It’s not a crime,’ said Joan, ‘but that doesn’t mean we have to be his friend.’

‘Did either of you think that maybe he’s hungry?’

Gladys looked surprised. ‘Is that why you swapped?’

‘Yes. You don’t think I really wanted the apples, do you?’

‘If you don’t eat them, and you give away half your lunch,’ said Joan, ‘
you’re
the one who’ll be hungry.’

‘Even if I am, I won’t be hungry tonight when I have my
dinner. But maybe he will. And I won’t be hungry tomorrow night either. But maybe he will then too.’

‘Even so, Emer,’ said Gladys, ‘I don’t think our parents would …’

‘For God’s sake, Gladys!’

‘What?’

‘There are babies dying, and children sick, and people starving all over Dublin. And you’re worried about me giving a sandwich to a boy who’s hungry – and what our parents might think!’

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Emer breathed deeply to dampen her irritation. Why could her friends not see that the world needed to be changed? That it
had
to be changed, so that nobody lived in shacks or went hungry? She rarely discussed politics with her friends, however, and now wasn’t the moment to give them her theories. But she thought yet again that if Ireland became an independent republic, as Dad wanted, then there could be a new kind of country where everyone was looked after.

‘Sorry, Emer,’ said Gladys. ‘You were just being kind.’

‘It’s OK. And I didn’t mean to snap at you. But when he comes back with the apples, let’s not be snooty, girls. All right?’

Gladys nodded. ‘All right.’

‘Joan?’

‘I’ll greet him like the Prodigal Son!’

They all laughed, and Emer was pleased that peace had been restored. Then she saw the approaching figure of Gerry in the distance, so she began wrapping up the agreed food, glad that she had done the right thing.

‘Did you ever wonder what it’s like being a cow?’ asked Ben.

‘No,’ answered Jack with a laugh, ‘I never, ever imagined myself as a cow!’

They were walking past the huge cattle market on the North Circular Road, with its pens full of lowing animals. The evening air was warm and scented with the smell of animals and fodder, and as they walked on Jack was amused that his normally sensible friend had come up with such an idea. Usually Ben was the least imaginative member of the gang – apart from his dream of being a professional cricketer – but tonight he was clearly in an inquisitive mood.

‘What goes through their heads, do you think?’ Ben continued. ‘I mean, they’re standing there all day eating grass – what are they thinking about?’

‘Their next meal, probably!’ suggested Joan.
‘Is the grass in this field going to run out? Is the farmer going to move us into the field with all the nettles?!’

‘Would you say that’s all they think of?’ persisted Ben.

‘No,’ answered Emer, ‘the musical ones probably think it’s a shame Chopin died so young!’

‘You’re all very smart,’ said Ben good-humouredly as they left the cattle market behind, crossed the North Circular Road and entered Ellesmere Avenue.

Jack liked it when everyone was in good form like this, and
tonight had been particularly enjoyable. They had all sung the music hall comedy piece ‘I’m Henry the Eighth, I Am’ while queuing for a tram in town, having attended their second week of swimming lessons at Emer’s club in the Tara Street Baths. Even after two lessons Jack felt that he had made real progress, and Gladys and Ben were enthusiastic too. Joan had been told off by the swimming coach for trick-acting in the pool, but even that had been entertaining, when she had accurately mimicked him afterwards on the upper deck of their home-bound tram.

Now Jack said goodnight to Emer and Joan, who both lived on Ellesmere Avenue. He had been a little surprised the previous week when Emer had told him about his classmate Gerry Quinn approaching the girls at the swimming hole. Emer had asked a lot of questions about him, and Jack had explained that Gerry’s parents had died in an accident, after which he went to stay with his impoverished Uncle Pat, who lived in the ramshackle cottage near the Tolka. Gerry was a classmate rather than a friend, so Jack didn’t know all the details, but he told Emer that he imagined Gerry preferred living with his uncle to being sent to an orphanage.

Jack thought it was sad that Gerry had approached virtual strangers looking for food, but his opinion of Emer had gone up when he heard that she had swapped part of her lunch. Poverty and wealth sat side by side in Dublin, and many comfortably off people hardened their hearts and looked away from the needy. All of Jack’s friends had fathers who earned a good living: Mr Walton was an
electrical contractor, Mr Davey a shopkeeper and Mr Lawlor a clerk in an insurance company. It was all the more reason to admire Emer, that despite her background she hadn’t turned away from a boy like Gerry.

Jack reached his doorway and said goodbye to Gladys and Ben, with Ben bidding him farewell by bowling an imaginary cricket ball at him. Jack smiled, then entered the house. After swimming Ma usually gave him a biscuit and a glass of milk, but as soon as he entered the kitchen to put down his rolled-up towel and swimming togs, he encountered an argument in full spate. His mother and father were sitting at the table with Maureen, his twenty-year-old sister, who was visibly angry.

‘I can’t believe this!’ said Maureen. ‘It’s so unfair!’

Jack was intrigued, and he discreetly sat in the corner.

‘We don’t mean to be hard on you, Maureen,’ said Jack’s mother. ‘It’s nothing personal against Tommy–’

‘It’s nothing personal?! You just want me to break it off with him!’

‘Only if he persists in this foolishness with the Volunteers,’ said Da.

Jack’s mind raced. He liked Maureen’s boyfriend, Tommy, a friendly young man who worked in the deliveries section of the city-centre store where Maureen was a sales assistant. But Tommy had joined the Irish Volunteers, and Jack wasn’t surprised that this caused a problem for his father.

‘I can’t force Tommy to leave the Volunteers,’ said Maureen.

‘Then he can’t come to this house,’ answered Da, ‘and you can’t be seen with him.’

Jack watched as his sister went to argue, but Da held up his hand. ‘You’re a policeman’s daughter, Maureen. You’ve had all the benefits that go with that, but there’s a price as well. And a policeman’s daughter can’t be with someone in an illegal organisation.’

‘But thousands of men have joined the Volunteers,’ countered Maureen.

‘That doesn’t make it legal.’

‘But they haven’t been arrested.’

‘The DMP is a police force. We don’t make policy; that’s the government’s job.’

‘The government didn’t move against the Ulster Volunteer Force in Belfast,’ said Maureen. ‘So why would they move against the Volunteers here in Dublin?’

Even though Jack was sympathetic to his sister’s plight, he thought this was a poor argument. The Ulster Volunteer Force had been formed to prevent Home Rule for Ireland by force of arms. The Irish Volunteers had been formed partly to counter-balance the UVF, but also to force Home Rule or even total independence for Ireland. It was naïve to think that the British government would be even-handed in dealing with the two organisations, one of which was for, and the other against, British rule.

‘Forget the government!’ said Da. ‘They don’t run this house – I do, along with your mother. And you can’t be with someone
who’s mixed up with the Volunteers. I’m sorry, Maureen, but that’s how it is.’

‘Why is that how it is for
me
?’ demanded Maureen. ‘It’s not how it is for Jack!’

Jack was taken aback, but before he could ask what Maureen was talking about, she pointed at him.

‘Jack is friends with Emer Davey, and her father is in the Volunteers. How come that’s not a problem?’

Jack was really surprised to be drawn into the row. His mother, however, immediately intervened.

‘That’s not the same thing at all, Maureen,’ she said.

‘How isn’t it?’

‘First of all, Jack’s still a child. Second of all, he’s known Emer since they were toddlers, but it’s only recently that her father joined the Volunteers.’

‘It’s only recently that Tommy joined the Volunteers.’

‘But Tommy is an adult making his own choices,’ answered Ma reasonably. ‘Emer is a child, and she’s not responsible for what her father decides. It’s completely different.’