Jason Steed Royal Decree

by Mark A. Cooper

  “No need to be sorry. Laddie. Boys are boys and boys fight; makes you a man. No problem here. I’m glad to hear it, although Maude wasn’t happy to hear you were fighting on your first day of school. Me, Ha, I’m proud of you, fighting with a McGinty. Tough bunch they are. The Creggan Cleaners kneecapped fifteen-year-old Josh McGinty last month.”

  “Kneecapped, what’s that mean?” Jason asked.

  “They blow your bloody knee cap off with a shotgun, and the Eejit deserved it. For months he had been stealing cars, radios from cars, milk from peoples doorsteps, including the elderly, and the last straw came when he stole the purse of Mrs. O’Hara. A week earlier she laid her husband to rest,” Shamus said.

  “So this group Creggan Cleaners they shot his kneecaps? Why didn’t the police just arrest him?” Jason paused. “And the group Creggan Cleaners? They can’t go around shooting people.”

  “Creggan Cleaners is a group of local people, mostly from Creggan, Derry. Some members are police. They take care of trouble makers. Let that be a warning to ya laddie, never break the law if you want to keep your kneecaps. I heard the hospital had to amputate his leg. He was lucky not to die from loss of blood.”

  “Yeah I’ll be sure to keep out of trouble,” Jason said, he was shocked and was sure Shamus knew more than he was letting on about the group.

  It wasn’t long before Maude came home with the fish and chips. They all ate it at the table out of the newspaper. When dinner was done, Shamus left to meet his friends at the Red Bull pub. Bradan went up to his room. Maude and Jason watched television together.

  As Jason lay in his bed that night staring at the ceiling, he reflected on the day. The school had been what he had expected, shy girls acting tough, the local bully throwing his weight around with the new kid, trying to establish pecking order. Something at the house wasn’t sitting right with Jason, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  He wasn’t too surprised Shamus heard about the fight. After all Shamus is well known, if he is who George Young thinks he is then Shamus is just being careful. No it was something else, something was not right with the way the others had acted around Bradan. Maybe they felt sorry for him and tried to make him feel like one of the guys. Yes, Jason thought, it had to be that.

  CHAPTER four

  When the weekend came around, Jason was unsure what he would do. So far he had heard nothing incriminating from Shamus. He had tried leaving Charlie Teddy downstairs to record any conversation, but so far it had only recorded the TV or Maude asking Bradan if he wanted a cup of tea. He still found some of the Irish accent hard to decipher.

  “Have you got any plans for the weekend Jason?” Maude asked. “Are you seeing any of your new friends?”

  “No, well Gober, you know Gobnait O’Grady, asked if I wanted to go to the library Saturday afternoon with him. I guess I could. It would be something to do.”

  “Ah that will be fine. He’s a good boy. You should hang around with him. Will you not be wanting to play football in the park? Most boys play football at the weekends.”

  “Um, I don’t really like football,” Jason said. Shamus walked into the living room and joined in the conversation.

  “Don’t like football? Is it Rugby you like better or are you not liking any sports?” Shamus quizzed.

  Jason paused before answering. He couldn’t tell them about Karate and Judo so he came up with another. “I like swimming. Is there a pool around here with a swimming team?” Jason asked.

  “Shankill Swimming pool. They have a club for children and adults. They call themselves the Shankill Sharks. It’s on Monday nights. Would you be wanting to go Jason?” Maude asked.

  “That place is bloody expensive and full of Royalists. Besides, he has no swim trunks, and you just spent enough money on clothing on him for this month,” Shamus said.

  “It won’t be that much, and I’m sure they will have a pair of trunks in lost property that’ll fit the lad. It’ll do him good to mix with the likes of Gobnait O’Grady and the kids at the library. I don’t want him mixing with the wrong crowd and getting in trouble. The McGinty boys are always in trouble, drive their mother into an early grave they will with worry.” Maude said.

  *

  Jason met Gober at the library on Saturday. He took out a book he thought he would enjoy, The Secret Seven by Enid Blyton. Gober had already read the whole series and had enjoyed them. The library visit was uneventful, but it got Jason out the house for a few hours. After they left, they said they would catch up with each other on Monday. Jason watched Gober walk and dashed back into the library and picked up the pay phone.

  Having no money wasn’t a problem. He had a free call number to contact George Young. The call was picked up on the second ring.

  “Hello,” A voice answered.

  “This is Jason Steed.” The line went dead for a few moments.

  “Jase mate,” Scott said.

  “Scott.” Jason grinned.

  “Have you found out where he gets the weapons and bomb making equipment from yet? And have you—” The line went quiet Jason could just hear Scott complaining to someone.

  “What’s happening?” Jason asked.

  “Hello Jason.” It was George Young. “Scott should know better than to ask questions like that over the phone. Where can we meet you?”

  Jason gave George two possible meeting places, the library on Saturday afternoons or the swimming pool on Monday nights. George said thanks and hung up. At first, Jason was annoyed George hung up so quickly. He wanted to talk to him and Scott. But he realized it was for his own protection. George would not take any chances. The last undercover agent disappeared. Six months later they still hadn’t found him or his body.

  *

  Monday morning felt strange to Jason in a way he hadn’t expected. School now seemed familiar. He was no longer the ‘New Boy.’ Gober waited for him at the gate and walked in with him. A few times Jason had to stop himself from calling him Scott.

  After school, Maude took Jason to Shankill swimming pool. He kept back and hid his face in shame while she asked if they had any trunks that would fit her foster son from lost property. He was given a pair of blue trunks. Maude inspected them. “They should fit Jason. They have a pull cord to tighten them. Will you need help?”

  “No, I can dress myself okay.” He took the shorts and strolled to the men’s locker rooms. He looked around and found a corner where the floor was not wet so he wouldn’t get his socks wet and quickly changed. The room was full of boys aged eight to fifteen. He looked around the room but never recognized anyone from his school.

  Shankill Sharks Youth swimming club was split into three groups. Each group took a section of the pool. They would swim widths in various styles in the groups section. The lower group that occupied the shallow end of the pool was mostly younger swimmers. The middle section was a variety of ages of boys and girls. Being new but able to swim, Jason was first placed in the middle group.

  His group instructor barked orders at the group. They first had to dive in and get to the other side with less than two strokes. Later they swam backstroke, front crawl, and breaststroke. Jason found it easy and was soon pulled out of the group and sent to the deep end of the pool to join Coach Gloria and the advanced swimmers.

  “They sent me up here,” Jason said to the Coach Gloria, a middle age lady wearing a tracksuit that was clearly too small for her.

  “Good we need more boys. We have a competition in two weeks Can you swim the butterfly stroke?” Coach Gloria asked, holding a whistle inches away from her mouth as if it was a microphone.

  “Yes, it’s not my strongest, but I can,” Jason said. He noticed Maude out of the corner of his eye watching him from up in the spectators balcony.

  “Well, let’s put it to the test.” She turned and blew the whistle at the rest of her group. “Cailin Flanagan, I found you a partner for the mixed butterfly relay. I want you two to go to the end of the pool and start swimming widths while I try and g
et a decent breaststroke pair.”

  Jason looked at the girl she called Cailin Flanagan. She was very pretty and looked about twelve with dark brown eyes he could just see brown hair poking under her swimming cap. She looked back at Jason. He paused, and with his head slightly tilted, he smiled at her. His brilliant white teeth enticed her; his wet blond hair seductively fell over his wet face.

  He knew his smile would attract her. His Grandmother once told him his smile was so handsome it could break any girl’s heart, end all wars, and probably cure cancer. Jason just knew he could get a girls attention if he wanted with it. His eyes slightly hidden under his bangs just revealing enough to show off their Sapphire blue color acted like a magnet.

  “I’m Cailin who are you?” She asked.

  —“Jason, Jason Stee.” He paused and corrected himself. “Um. Jason Norris.” The pair did as instructed and practiced swimming widths using the butterfly stroke. After a few widths, they both stopped to catch a breath. The brute strength needed to get the technique correct combined with breathing soon sapped their energy. Both Jason and Cailin knew good technique was crucial to swim this style effectively.

  “You’re quite fast, but you’ll need to be when we compete against the Dunmurry Dolphins. They have an Olympic size pool and normally win most of the races against us Sharks.” Cailin smiled.

  “Dunmurry Dolphins?” Jason asked.

  “Yeah the swimming team from Dunmurry. They call themselves that. We are the Shankill Sharks. Are you English?”

  “No, I was born in Belfast but went to live in England for a while.” Jason’s voice faded. He was keen on Cailin and didn’t like lying to her.

  The next thirty minutes they continued swimming widths. Now and again the group leader shouted at one of them to keep their head up, or push harder, kick harder, and keep ankles together. When the swim was over, they walked along the pool together. An awkward silence and tight-lipped smiles ran across both Cailin and Jason’s face.

  They paused at the ladies changing room entrance. “So I will see you next Monday?” Cailin asked.

  “Sure, I’m looking forward to it, bye,” Jason said. He walked to the men’s locker rooms with mixed feelings. He was on a mission for George Young, but now he was looking forward to meeting a girl again and entering a pointless swimming competition. He thought he might as well enjoy himself while he was working undercover and do what other boys his age did.

  *

  Maude made Jason a hot chocolate to take to bed and passed him Charlie Teddy. “You left him downstairs again this morning. You don’t want to be doing that. Suppose Gober came over or that new girl I saw you chatting with from the pool.”

  “Um, yeah. Habit I guess. When I was younger I didn’t like leaving him alone upstairs so I brought him down. I just grab him when I come down mornings.” Jason blushed. He took Charlie and said goodnight to Maude. She stepped forward and kissed his forehead.

  “Goodnight, Jason.”

  Jason struggled to do anything for a moment. Should he have kissed her back? No he was too old. Does a twelve-year-old boy still kiss his mum? He never kissed his father much, just now and again when they had a rare hug. “Thanks for taking me swimming Mrs. O’Neill and…” he paused lost for words. “Well, you know thanks for everything else. Goodnight.”

  He ran up the stairs. Bradan met him at the top of the stairs. He stood back and let Jason past. He was holding one of his drawings in his hand.

  “Goodnight, Bradan,” Jason said.

  No reply came from Bradan but then again he never did speak. He seemed to keep out of Jason’s way and would often leave the room when Jason was around.

  Jason lay in bed reflecting the day. He was still awake an hour later. He could hear Shamus downstairs talking and coughing. The television was still on quite loud so he couldn’t make out what was said. It gave him an idea. Maybe Charlie Teddy had recorded something.

  Jason swung his legs out of bed. The floor felt cold to his bare feet. He picked up Charlie Teddy and took him to bed. He turned his one eye to the left, pushed his nose twice, and listened. Nothing much could be heard again. After fifteen minutes Jason started to doze off. Then, a voice was speaking. He woke instantly and placed Charlie’s mouth closer to his ear.

  Yes, a man’s voice, giving orders. “Use the map I’ve drawn. These are the look outs. This is where we plant the bomb.” Jason’s eyes widened. Who was the man speaking? It wasn’t Shamus, but Shamus was there. Shamus eventually replied. “Everything would go according to plan.”

  Jason played it over and over. He couldn’t pinpoint whom the other man was, but it was a break-through. Finally, he had something to report to George Young.

  CHAPTER five

  The walk to school each morning became mundane. The British soldiers stood on some street corners. They looked bored to death. A few made eye contact with Jason and smiled. He found it hard not to smile back. Everyone he mixed with hated them and wanted them out of Northern Ireland except for the Royalists and Unionists. As he was at a predominantly catholic school in an area that was mostly for Independence of Britain, he had to blend in and pretend he loathed them as much as everyone else.

  He felt sorry for the soldiers. Some as young as eighteen were just six years older than himself in a place miles away from home and given no thanks for being there. Many soldiers were spat on or cursed at. Some became the targets by local youths who threw stones at them. In many ways, he felt just like them, both believing they were doing something for their country.

  *

  Friday night he was invited to Gobnait O’Grady’s house for dinner after school and to sleep over. The boys would spend Saturday together and go to the library. The O’Grady’s home was just like the O’Neill’s family home without the stench of cigarettes. Mr. & Mrs. O’Grady went to the social club at eight o’clock to play bingo. Gobnait and Jason were told to go to bed by ten.

  Gober surprised Jason as soon as his parents left. “Come on, Jason. Put your coat on; we can go out now.”

  “Where?” Jason asked.

  “Just out. We can go Cherry Knocking,” Gober said.

  “Um. Okay.” Jason never expected Gober of all people to want to play that. He had never played it himself but had heard of it.

  They walked a few blocks and Gober spotted the perfect house. “Look, a nice front garden. They have roses and fancy flowers, so they will be old. That’s an easy win,” Gober said punching the air so hard he could have made a bruise.

  Jason stood back and watched while Gober crept up to the front door, rang the bell, clattered the letterbox, and ran back to Jason. Both boys ducked down behind a parked car on the other side of the street, peeking over the hood of the car.

  The outside porch light came on and the front door opened. An elderly man with a walking stick came to the door. He looked around and asked “Hello?” several times. Eventually, his elderly wife came out as well and also looked. After a minute or so, they went back inside and the outside light went off. Gober was laughing hysterically. The part of Jason that was still a child wanted to laugh. And the part of Jason that was not a child but a maturing boy thought this was cruel.

  “Isn’t that cruel, they’re really old?” Jason said giving a disapproving look.

  “Nah it’s awesome. This is cruel; watch this,” Gober said. He got up and ran back to the house and did the same again. The door opened quicker this time, but Gober had made it back to his hiding spot with Jason. The old man cursed out into the street and threatened to call the police.

  Jason looked at Gober. “I don’t really find that funny, and I’m surprised you do. I had you down for the quiet nerd type.”

  “Who are you calling a nerd?”

  “I didn’t mean anything bad, Gober. I just don’t hang around with trouble makers,” Jason said.

  Gober looked down on the ground and sighed. “I was trying to impress ya. Show you I’m not a nerd. I like being your friend,. You’re tough. You beat Haden McGinty u
p. I thought you’d like Cherry Knocking.”

  “Friends don’t need to impress each other. Be yourself. What would you normally do on a Friday night? Do you normally sneak out when your parents go out?”

  “Yeah, I normally just walk around a bit, watch the older kids at the park; some of them are making out. I just like being out when it’s dark. It’s exciting and much better than watching the TV,” Gober said.

  “We can do that, but we don’t need to do anything that could get us in trouble with the police. And we don’t want to be cruel to old folks.” Jason smiled.

  Both boys wondered to the park. They watched from a distance some of the older kids acting tough around each other. When they got bored, they went to the pond and threw stones, trying to hit a bottle that was floating in the center. Gober looked at his watch.

  “It’s nearly ten. We best be getting back.”

  The boys left Woodvale Park and walked down several small streets when they heard shouting. They rounded a corner and saw Shamus O’Neill drunk, staggering and pointing his finger at two British soldiers.

  “You lot needs to get back to bloody Britain. You’re not wanted here,” Shamus cursed. The two soldiers said nothing. They smiled at him and turned to walk away. “Hey, don’t you walk away from me when I’m talking to ya. Do you know who I am?”

  They started to walk away, leaving the drunk man in the street cursing at them.

  “Isn’t that your foster dad;, Shamus?” Gober asked.

  Jason embarrassingly nodded. “We better keep out of sight.”

  Shamus strolled towards the soldiers and pulled one back by his collar. “I’m bloody talking to ya, dirty British pig.” The solider tried pulling away. Shamus swung his fist and caught him on the side of his face. The other taller soldier swung a punch at Shamus who saw it coming and ducked and came back with a punch of his own he caught the second soldier on his nose.

  Both soldiers fought back, being younger, fitter, and not intoxicated they soon knocked Shamus onto the ground. Once down, they started kicking him, again and again. Shamus curled into a ball and still they kicked him.