Allegiance: A Dublin Novella (6 page)

“Proof of what?” someone asked.

“Of being anti-Treaty, dimwit,” said Andy.

“Since when is it a crime to be anti-Treaty?” cried a voice.

“Since the Brits declared it to be so,” said another.

“Sure they’ll have to build more jails just to hold us all!” exclaimed a third, to loud laughter.

“What do you think of it, Gerry?” asked Andy.

“You all know what I think of it,” Gerald said. He jerked his thumb toward the fireplace, where a large framed copy of the Proclamation hung straight and polished between the flag and the crucifix. Voices cheered in both English and Irish; when the noise subsided Gerald continued, “Tis a poor time, lads, a poor time indeed. We must all be careful if we wish to keep our hard-won freedom. Watch your steps, my boys, and watch your backs.”

“And watch who you trust.”

Heads turned to see Shane Kelly hunched at the end of the bar, a full glass between his palms and his dark eyes looking straight into William’s. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Gerald frowned.

William scooped up the nearest crate of dirty glasses. “I’d better get these to Mary.” He could feel everyone watching him as he turned and headed into the kitchen; as soon as the door closed behind him, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He could easily hear Gerald’s voice from the other side.

“I’ll not have you insulting my staff, Kelly.”

“You’d trust him over someone you’ve known twenty years?”

“Over the likes of you? Too bloody right I would.” A few muffled chuckles told William this exchange had been traded before. “I mean what I say, Kelly. You just keep your blood calm, and don’t go drawing attention to things as what don’t require it. We’ve got enough on our plates without adding conflict amongst ourselves.”

Kelly laughed, a short and ugly sound. “Ourselves? Since when is he one of us?”

“Since he showed up on my doorstep in need of my help,” said Gerald. “And if you’re not satisfied with my judgment, well then, I might just have to take that as a discourtesy, Shane Kelly.”

“Give it a rest, Kelly,” said Andy. “What harm’s the Prod ever done to you?”

“Piss off, Byrne. I’ve got no charity to spare for any goddamned English.”

“He’s not English.”

William’s eyes snapped open.

“He’s Scottish,” continued Adam, “and the Irish aren’t the only people who’ve been downtrodden on this earth.”

“What, the
Scots
? They’ve been London’s fucking lapdogs for a hundred years! Fucking partners, they are.”

“Really?” Adam’s voice was light, but all background noise instantly ceased.

“And do partners make orphans out of fourteen-year-old boys? Do partners leave them lying in the street with bloody gashes in their necks and force them from their homes to send money back to their sisters and serve arrogant Irish bastards like you a pint of beer? Is that what partners do?”

William gripped the crate of glasses until his knuckles throbbed. He did not take a breath until he heard Gerald’s voice.

“You should have been a politician, lad. You make a fine dramatic speech, so you do.”

“The day I become a politician is the day I change my name to Windsor,” replied Adam. “Now take this money and give my friend Shane here another pint. It grieves me to see him so in need of one.”

The tension broke with renewed conversation and fresh calls for drinks, the sound of a hand clapping across a back and a chuckling snort of acquiescence from Kelly. William closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall with a little thump as he let out a sigh.

“William?”

He jerked upright at the sound of Mary’s voice. She stood in front of him, nearly touching his elbow; somehow he had not heard her approach.

“Are you alright, love?” He saw the regret in her eyes, as well as the apology. He gave her a reassuring smile.

“Oh aye, lass, I was just having a wee nap. It’s hard work keeping up with that lot out there.”

She returned the smile and reached out to take the crate of glasses from his arms.

“You do it so well though,” she said. “We couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

8.

February 8, 1922

Mary was doing the singing tonight.

William listened to her clear, lilting voice carry across the pub and into the kitchen, where he stood washing out tap nozzles in a pot of soapy water near the sink. He smiled as he worked, his foot tapping in time with her lively rendition of “Black and Tans!”. She sang like she talked, spirited and strong, and he could hear the room clapping and cheering her on with the occasional heartfelt – if somewhat profane – shouted agreement. William chuckled to himself as he placed a clean nozzle atop the pile and reached for another; soon he was humming the tune under his breath, swirling his cloth with little splashes through the warm, soapy water. Mary really did have a lovely voice. He was contemplating possible requests when the kitchen door swung open and drew his eyes up from his work. He smiled.

“Well hello, then, Adam, what brings you back here away from the adoring crowds?”

Adam strolled over to the sink, one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around a half-empty pint. His face was flushed and sweaty from the evening’s fraternization, but his walk was still steady at least.

“Gerald’s gone downstairs for more whisky,” William said. “He’ll be back up any moment, I’m sure.”

“I wasn’t looking for Gerald,” said Adam. “I was looking for you.”

William cleared his throat. “Were you?”

“I thought I could catch you back here for a moment, whilst everyone else is outside.” Adam took a swallow of his beer before continuing. “I wanted to apologize to you for what happened the other night. I know you could hear all too well what Kelly was saying – Lord knows I’ve spied through that door since I was tall enough to peek through the cracks.”

William shook his head. “No bother, right? The man was only saying what everyone else was thinking. I understand. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not alright.” The tone in Adam’s voice made William’s smile disappear. The merry glint had gone from his eyes, and his voice was quiet but hard. “It wasn’t his right to suspect you in public like that, just as it wasn’t my place to tell your life’s story to all the drunken crowd. I’ll ask your forgiveness for that. It wasn’t right of me.”

William was taken aback. Eventually he said, “It’s alright, Adam. My past is no secret, not from those who’ve been so kind to me. I’m grateful you felt you had to defend me.”

“I never do anything I don’t want to do,” Adam said.

William stared at him in silence. Adam smiled then, and took another gulp from his glass before setting it down on the table. “And that brings me to the other matter I came back here to speak of.”

William matched his grin, glad to change the subject, and returned to his work. “Oh, aye? Did you come back here to help me with the washing, then? Very kind of you indeed.”

“I came back here to proposition you.”

The tap in William’s hand squelched between his fingers and hit the water with a loud
plop.

“Pardon?”

Adam leaned back on his elbows against the table, stretching lazily and crossing his ankles. He regarded William for a moment, a strange, appraising sort of look replacing his usual smirk.

“Gerald meant to ask you himself, so he did, but he felt maybe someone closer to your own age might be better broaching the subject. I tried to tell him you look closer to his age than my own, but he wouldn’t listen.”

William wiped the water from his face with one rolled-up shirt cuff and tried not to look as confused as he felt. Adam seemed supremely amused by his reaction.

“You’ve no clue what I’m on about, have you?”

And then, suddenly, realization blossomed in William’s stomach, and he had to keep his confused look in place to prevent the wave of exultation from showing. Surely he was jumping to conclusions. It couldn’t possibly be this easy. Could it?

Adam reached past him to pluck a nozzle off the pile and began turning it over in his hand, examining it in the electric light.

“You’ve no love for the English,.” It was a statement, not a question.

Primary rule of the cover story: tell the truth whenever possible. “I’m not particularly fond of them, no.”

Adam chuckled. “Well neither are we around this place, as you may have noticed at times.” At that exact moment, Mary’s song ended in the next room with a roar of applause, and Andy’s slurred bellow of
fucking wankers!
came clear and unmuffled through the wall.

“Aye, I’ve noticed.”

Adam tossed the tap nozzle from one hand to the other, watching it arc through the air between his palms. “Well there are those as bluster in the pub of an evening, when their drink is in them…
”
The tap flipped from right hand to left. “And then there are those as are willing to discuss things in the light of day.” The tap hit his right palm with a little pat. “And those as are tired of talk altogether.”

His face had gone queer, his eyes a little too sharp, his grin a little too tight, stretched over something less jovial and more controlled. William’s hands went still in the cooling water.

Abruptly Adam straightened, snatching the tap out of mid-air, face crinkling back into breezy amiability. He leaned forward and dropped the tap onto the stack, and William caught a swift breath of sweat and beer.

“There’s some of us who meet here on occasion, to do what we can, away from prying eyes and listening ears. We’d like you to join us tomorrow morning, if you would. There are things we would want you to hear.”

William wondered who the “we” in that sentence included. Adam himself, obviously, and certainly Gerald as well – likely not many more than that, with the possible exception of Andrew. Who had made the final decision to include him?

At his pause, Adam’s voice grew a little softer. “This isn’t a strong-arm, Glasgow. You’ve but to say the word and this conversation never happened. I ask only that you mention what I’ve said to no one. You understand, I’m certain.” He met William’s eyes and held them. “We want you, William. We want you with us.”

William swallowed. He was caught off guard by the quickness of it all, and William was not a man who was accustomed to being caught off guard. He felt a sudden impulse to drop his eyes from Adam’s gaze. This was something else he was not accustomed to, and it was a feeling he found he did not enjoy at all. In defiance of it, he lifted his chin and nodded.

“Aye,” he said. “You can count on me there. And you can count on my silence as well.”

Adam’s face broke into a beaming smile. “Excellent. Knew it, I did.” He gave William a slap on the shoulder. “Tis all I ask. That, and that you not hold it against Mary for betraying your confidence. We’ve told each other all things since childhood. She’s seen me through many a tough time, so she has.”

“She’s a fine lass.”

“That she is, that she is indeed. She likes you quite a bit, you know. Fancies you a little, I think.”

William’s eyes went wide. “Adam, I would never think of
—
”

Adam laughed out loud until the sound that echoed off the hanging pans. “I know that, Glasgow, I know that. I meant only the positive. You’re an honorable man, that’s as clear as day. Which is more than I can say for myself.” He patted William’s cheek, still chuckling, then gave the strings of William’s apron a tug.

“You need to relax, boyo. You’re far too high-strung. Come out and have a drink with us, yeah? It’s Saturday, and the work can wait.”

William eyed him for a moment, and then tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. “Help me carry these taps out and we’ll call it a deal,” he said. “And I’m not buying, either.”