by Anne Doughty
Alex paused for breath and finished his mug of tea.
‘We’re well organised for fire in the mills. We have to be, as you know,’ he began again, his voice still steady, ‘but the turn out that night was a credit, though I say it myself. The four engines, fully-manned were on their way in no time.’
He stopped, shook his head and dropped his face in his hands. When he looked up again his eyes were full of tears.
‘Sam, you might as well have taken a child’s bucket and spade as our four engines. The place was an inferno, the fires beyond anything any of us had ever seen, and when we did get into the city there was no water pressure. They’d bombed the reservoir and the water mains were gone. Even where there was a fire point still standing our hoses didn’t fit.’
‘Ach man dear, I’d no idea you were in Belfast,’ Sam said, his face suddenly looking old and lined as he recalled that night himself. ‘Sure we heard what was happening from the guard on the last train up. He told the Stationmaster at Richhill and he walked over to the farm and told us. Apparently the train was leaving Belfast just as it started. Our Jack went up to Cannon Hill to tell the Home Guard patrol up there, but he didn’t have to tell them for you could see it from up there, the whole city on fire, the sky for miles around lit up with the flames. He said when he came back about all we could do was pray for the poor souls.’
Sam looked down at his hands. They were broad, thick-fingered hands, not the kind you would think best-suited to make the fine adjustments that were such a part of his everyday work.
‘So what did you do when you couldn’t fight the fires?’
‘We got out the spades and the tackle and started digging people out of wrecked houses. And we brought a few out alive from under the stairs. But most were dead. Some of those poor wee houses wouldn’t give shelter to a mouse. Those people in the government up at Stormont have a lot to answer for,’ he went on bitterly. ‘I’d heard it said they spent more time in Cabinet discussing how to protect that statue of Carson they’re so proud off than protecting the people of Belfast. I saw for myself that night. It was absolutely true.’
‘Aye, I’m afeerd yer right about the Government. I’ve seen m’brother James a few times recently. He’s still in Economic Development, but he says there’s no go in them at all, bar one or two labour or socialists like Tommy Henderson and Harry Midgley. Sure, they only meet now and again for a couple of hours when there’s so much they could be doin’ to help people. I think James would resign, but then he knows that wou’d only make it worse. At least in his Department he can do somethin’… Maybe, Alex, all we can ever do is somethin’. Who knows what value any action of any one of us, however small, might be. It could be far more important than we could ever imagine. We must live in hope, man, and with God’s help we’ll come through,’ he said strongly.
Alex had never found any reason to expect God to help him or anyone else, even if He did exist, but then he had always recognised that Sam’s God was a different matter. Now in his late fifties, Sam had become a Quaker many years earlier. He’d practised his religion quietly and firmly and now had a steadiness and assuredness about him that Alex found quite enviable.
‘You’re right, Sam. We can only do our best. I only hope that best will be good enough,’ he said honestly, looking up at his friend as he watched him get to his feet.
The bright April evening was paling towards dusk and shadows were lengthening in the fire-lit sitting-room. Although the journey was only some fifteen miles, Alex knew well the possibility of a delay if a convoy was moving somewhere between Banbridge and Richhill.
They walked down the avenue together, the fresh foliage above their heads now fluttering in a small, evening breeze, long fingers of light spilling across their path as the sun dropped to the horizon.
‘I mind Sarah and Hugh planting these two trees here after a big storm,’ Sam said suddenly, looking up into the interlacing branches as they tramped along together. ‘That must have been a couple of years before Hugh died and you arrived back from Canada. And I mind too, you and young Hugh down there on the hill planting out wee oaks he grew from acorns,’ he added, as they came through the gates and gazed down the hill at the mature trees which stood in the hedgerow opposite the single house on the right-hand side of the road, the well-loved home they had both known, Sam as a child, Alex as a young married man.
‘Great oaks from little acorns grow. Isn’t that one of the saying in these parts?’ Alex asked.
‘Aye, and your wee friend Hugh Sinton is doing great work down on Lough Erne I’m told. James had to go to Enniskillen on business and went to see him. He’s moved there to test out some new plane he’d been working on at Shorts in Belfast. Sarah could only drop me hints in her last letter, but James told me it’s to do with spotter planes. Give the same man a while longer, he said, and we’ll not be losing all this shipping to the U-boats.’
They stopped by Sam’s lorry and Alex asked the question that had been in his mind since the moment he’d seen it.
‘Are you short-staffed at Fruitfield?’
‘No, thank goodness, we’re not. Most of us are too old to join up. It’s mainly the girls from the office that have gone, so our Jack tells me. Why d’ye ask?’
‘Well, I was wondering why the senior man who keeps the whole place running was out delivering jam.’
‘Ach, now I see what yer gettin’ at,’ replied Sam, laughing. ‘Sure I don’t mind the odd wee run out. It’s Security. If you deliver to the forces, you have to be cleared. They wouldn’t let a couple of young fellas anywhere near Chinauley House or the Gough Barracks in Armagh or anywhere else where there’s troops for that matter. It’s the same with delivering war materials. Shell-Mex in Armagh have only the one man allowed to deliver petrol. They have to be certain they’re trustworthy. Sure there’s a black market in everything.’
‘Well, they couldn’t pick a straighter man than you, that’s for sure,’ said Alex, now laughing himself, as Sam swung himself up into the cab.
‘Except perhaps yourself,’ Sam came back at him promptly. ‘Let me know how things go with the girls and young Johnny and I’ll maybe get another chance to come over in another month or two when they’ve eaten what I brought today. God Bless,’ he added, as he raised a hand in farewell.
Alex watched him move down the longer, gentler slope towards the main road, the noise of the batcher at the quarry now loud on the evening air. Breeze blocks for building. Crushed rock for hard standing. Gravel for mending overburdened roads. The quarry was working all the daylight hours, the dust from the crushers throwing a white mist over the nearby hedgerows until the next heavy shower came to rinse the foliage and leave it shining again.
He turned away as the lorry became a small moving object in the green landscape and walked back up towards his own gates, his stomach rumbling vigorously, reminding him of his supper in the oven.
The sun had gone now, down behind the low hill at Lisnaree, but there was still quite enough light to see two figures walking up towards him. One was clearly Emily. Beside her, carrying her shopping bag from which came the small chink of milk bottles, there was a man he did not recognise. From this distance, he could not even guess whether he was a friend or a stranger.
CHAPTER TWO
There was no doubt there was something familiar about the figure that moved easily up the hill, matching his pace to Emily’s shorter stride. A man about his own height, but carrying more weight, comfortably dressed in a tweed overcoat and a soft cap. He was talking so animatedly that it was only when Emily interrupted him by the gates of Rathdrum he realized Alex was standing there waiting to greet him.
‘Isn’t it lovely to see Brendan again,’ said Emily helpfully, assuming that Alex would never remember his name after so many years and so few previous meetings.
But Alex surprised her.
‘Brendan Doherty, you’re welcome,’ he said with a broad smile. ‘We haven’t seen you for many a long day. I’m afraid it was your
Aunt Rose’s funeral when we last met and that must be seven years ago. What brings you up to the North?’
‘Well I haven’t come to spy, though there’s those looked distinctly dubious when they heard my Southern accent,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘Believe it or not, there are still books to be bought and sold, especially where the owners are handing over their houses to the military. Though on this occasion it was maps. Sixteenth century, I hasten to add, as I was just explaining to Emily. I didn’t dare mention the word “map” in the hotel in case I ended up in jail, so I told a lie and said “books” instead.’
‘Is it as bad as that?’ asked Alex as they rounded the house and came in through the kitchen door.
‘Oh dear, yes. The North can’t forgive de Valera for remaining neutral. Churchill goes on at length about the loss of the Treaty ports and some of the Northern papers are saying there’s a thousand or more German spies in the South and they’ve brought dozens more into the Legation in Dublin.’
‘And have they?’ asked Emily solemnly, as she took her shopping bag from him and put the milk bottles in their bowls of water in the larder.
‘At the last count, six staff, three typists and an old fellow to look after the boiler,’ he replied, his dark eyes twinkling.
Alex laughed and led their guest through the kitchen and into the hall.
‘Now Alex,’ said Emily firmly, as she hung up her coat and reached out her hand for Brendan’s, ‘have you had your supper?’
‘No, not yet,’ he said quietly. ‘But what about Brendan’s supper?
Brendan laughed.
‘The hospitality of the Hamilton’s is legendary, as I have no doubt told you on one of our rare meetings, but I have indeed been fed. Your local hostelry couldn’t give me a bed, they being full of officers having a conference about gas, the poisonous sort, not the domestic variety. But good Ulster folk as they were, they wouldn’t turn me away hungry. I had a rather good chicken casserole with plenty of vegetables and more milk to drink than I’ve seen in months. At least, I think it was chicken. It’s a long time since I met chicken on my plate.’
Emily wondered why Alex smiled suddenly, but the moment passed as she led them into the sitting room, added another log to the fire and told Alex why Brendan had not been able to go straight back to Dublin as he usually did after one of his buying trips across the border.
‘An Army lorry clipped his car,’ she explained. ‘Wasn’t he lucky they didn’t run him off the road?’
‘They were pretty decent about it,’ Brendan added quickly. ‘At least they stopped and sent two squaddies to help me get the car to the garage. And by further good luck the garage was only down the road so I just watched the pair of them push. But I’ve lost a headlamp and the wing mirror and have a big dent in the offside. There’s a leak too by the smell of it. Couldn’t risk driving her till she’s checked out.’
‘I didn’t fancy sleeping in a ditch,’ he went on cheerfully, ‘though I’ve done it in my time. So I set out for Ballydown. The Cooks were just telling me you’d moved up in the world when Emily herself appeared. I said a blanket on the sofa would have done but your good lady says I have a choice of rooms with all the girls gone,’ Brendan continued, addressing himself to Alex, as he stretched out comfortably, his legs directed towards the leaping flames.
At that moment the telephone rang in the hall.
Alex was on his feet and out of the room before Emily or Brendan had registered the first strident ring.
‘Oh dear,’ said Emily, her face dropping. ‘If that’s what I think it is, it’s bad news and Alex will have to go off right away.’
‘Are ye expecting bad news?’ Brendan asked soberly.
‘It’s nearly the full moon,’ she said quickly. ‘That’s when we had the awful blitz in Belfast last year. There’s been rumours going round that they’ll have another go because the aircraft factory and the shipyard are more or less back to normal working. I don’t know whether Lord Haw Haw said something on the wireless, for I refuse to listen to him, or where the idea came from, but Alex is responsible for the four fire engines and he was told to stand by.’
‘Aye, that was a bad go ye had last year,’ said Brendan, his lively, mobile face subsiding into a solemn mask. ‘At least de Valera had the decency to send the fire engines up to help. We heard some grim stories in Dublin when they got back …’
He broke off as they heard the door open behind them. Alex moved quickly across to the fireplace, his face transformed, relief and joy bringing a sparkle to his dark eyes and softening a face that had always had a sombreness built in to it.
‘It’s all right,’ he said quickly, a slight catch in his voice. ‘We’ve been told to stand down. No details and we don’t even know who sent the message, only that the code was right. If they’d been coming this far, they’d have taken off from France by now and been picked up on the south coast of England.’
‘Maybe now you’ll eat your supper,’ Emily said, standing up. ‘You’ll drink a cup of tea, Brendan, won’t you and we’ll keep him company with a piece of cake.’
‘That would be most welcome, Emily. I’m just sorry I’m not provided with the traditional bottle. I fear I’ve come with one hand as long as the other.’
Alex laughed delightedly. It was an expression he’d hadn’t heard for ages, one he’d never forget. Emily had had to explain it to him, long years ago, when she was no more than a schoolgirl and he still the lodger, only recently returned from Canada.
‘Sure we’re all empty-handed these days, Brendan,’ she said, pausing by the door, ‘as far as bottles go anyhow. We try to keep up a bit of hospitality for these young lads billeted all round the place, but I’m afraid tea and cake is the best we can do. You could count the raisins in my cakes these days. Few and far between, as they say.’
Alex was grateful for the covered plate Emily brought him from the oven. She was a good cook and he always enjoyed what she gave him, but tonight even bread and margarine would taste wonderful. However little meat in the pie, the rich gravy was appetising and he dug into the mound of creamy potato with vigour. Brendan watched him with pleasure and a certain twinkle of amusement.
‘As I said earlier, Emily,’ he began, as she handed him a cup of tea and a generous slice of cake, ‘the Hamilton hospitality is legendary. Did Alex ever tell you about my visit to his friend Sarah Sinton when she was unavoidably detained in Dublin during The Rising.’
‘No, I don’t think I ever heard that one,’ said Emily cautiously.
Alex grinned broadly as he finished his meal and wiped his plate clean with a fresh crust of bread.
‘I’m afraid Brendan, Emily and I had a slight difficulty at that time over my relationship with Sarah.’
‘Oh,’ said their visitor, ‘is that so?’
His eyes sparkled as they moved rapidly from husband to wife.
Alex grinned and glanced across at Emily who was now smiling too.
‘You see, Brendan,’ Alex began, ‘when I first came to Ballydown, Sarah was a very handsome young widow. Not that I noticed what she looked like. The fact was, she was kind to me. She understood how I felt about not knowing who I was or where I’d come from. And she was sad and lonely herself. She said that without Hugh she didn’t think she could go on running the mills. She couldn’t stand the bitterness between Catholics and Protestants and the labour troubles and people never willing to listen to the other side of the story. So, to cut a long story short, as they say around here, Sarah and I made a pact to help each other and I made up my mind I’d not marry till Sarah herself married or went away.’
‘And what happened?’ said Brendan slowly.
‘Well, you probably know that Sarah met Simon Hadleigh when she was over in Gloucestershire visiting Hannah and Teddy. She’d actually met him years earlier at their wedding when Hannah asked her to take the wedding pictures, but as she told me once, she was so busy photographing her sister and new brother-in-law that she’d not even noticed him. How
ever, as soon as Sarah and Simon were engaged, I made up my mind about Emily. But I didn’t say anything to her. Then, that Easter of 1916 when Sarah was in Dublin, Simon goes missing. He’d been in St Petersburg, in the diplomatic service,’ he added quickly, when he saw Brendan looking puzzled.
‘Anyhow, he was coming home from Russia on a Swedish packet and it hit a mine near the Dogger Bank. Luckily, he was picked up by a destroyer but because it was a destroyer he couldn’t send her a message. There wasn’t a word from him for weeks until finally the destroyer was able to land him in Scotland. Sarah was beside herself. I was with her when the telegram came to say he was safe. I knew then she’d go over and marry him as soon as she could, so I came and proposed to Emily.’
‘And Emily was furious,’ said the lady herself, laughing. ‘I thought Sarah was the woman he wanted and now she was going away to marry Simon, I was second best. So I told him to go and jump in Corbet Lough.’
‘Ah, women,’ said Brendan raising his eyes to the delicate mouldings on the ceiling, ‘Is it any wonder I never took the plunge.’
Working away at the sink next morning, her fingers already rippled with the continuous immersion and the scrubbing of Alex’s dungarees, Emily thought what a splendid evening they’d had. It had been so lively and so completely unexpected. She hadn’t seen Alex laugh as much for months. But then there was very little to laugh at these days. Just bad news and more bad news.
