Freedom First, Peace Later

by Jeanette Hewitt

  “Yes!” she shouted, pulling him up and hugging him hard. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

  Their fellow diners, watching the scene unfold, broke into spontaneous applause and their waiter, who had been waiting discreetly, came over with a tray of champagne. Rosina fell back into her seat and slipped the ring on her finger.

  “I can’t believe this…did you have all this planned?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he replied. “It took some talking to get them to make you a pie with no filling in it!”

  I’ll bet. Oh, Connor, you don’t know how happy I am.” Tears filled her eyes as she leaned over the table to kiss him. “I love you.”

  Later, as they walked to the taxi rank, Rosina stopped and turned to Connor.

  “What would you have done if I’d ordered a different dessert? Ice cream, say?”

  “Oh, well, babe, I know your tastes too well, see,” he replied. She laughed along with him, for the first time feeling confident they would get through the hatred that they faced, and they would come out of the other side stronger than ever.

  * * * *

  When they arrived at the army barracks, Bronwyn stopped and looked at her watch.

  “Right on time,” she said.

  It was close to midnight and Stu wasn’t looking forward to another eight hours stuck in the tower.

  Bronwyn wandered up to the gate and looked at the flowers that had been laid in the memory of the man who had died there a week ago.

  “Were you here when it happened?” she asked Stu.

  “Yeah, I was the one who spotted it and called the alarm.”

  She shuddered and turned away from the shrine of the man whom she hadn’t known.

  “Well, thanks for walking me. Maybe I’ll see you in the bar again?”

  He nodded and watched her walk away. She stopped and turned towards him.

  “Merry Christmas!” she called and started to walk again.

  He was still standing there when the beam came on from the tower and he turned around.

  “Come on, Jackson!” he heard someone up the tower call. He raised his hand in acknowledgement and went into camp.

  As soon as he was alone in the tower, Stu switched on the infrared alarms and sat back to mull over the events of the evening. Bronwyn had handled herself well in the wake of her boyfriend’s attack, and he had liked her a lot. Standing up and making sure that there was no activity on the

  screen, he made his way over to the bank of phones on the far wall. It was late to make telephone calls but he felt the need to speak to Ellie, maybe to wash away the impure thoughts of Bronwyn. He had Ellie’s telephone number memorised and he dialed it, keeping one eye on the computer all the time.

  “Hello?”

  His heart did a little jig as it always did when he heard her voice, and he pulled over the chair he had just vacated.

  “Hiya, it’s me,” he said.

  They spoke for two hours, about everything and nothing. Bearing in mind that they didn’t really know each other, were just two strangers who had liked the look of each other, there was a lot to do in the ‘getting to know you’ department.

  When Stu spotted a movement on the screen he leapt up from the chair.

  “Ellie, I gotta go,” he said and hung up the phone.

  He raced over to the window and flicked the beam on full. He could see a couple of shapes out there by the fence but, thankfully, no car had been driven up to the gates. He flipped the switch that triggered the alarm and within seconds the camp was a hive of activity. He watched anxiously from the window as half a dozen men ran out of the barracks towards the gates.

  “Why does it have to be when I’m on duty?” he whispered to himself. “Gimme a break.”

  * * * *

  When Bronwyn arrived home she wondered if she could sneak upstairs without her mother or brother witnessing the rapidly swelling bruise on her face. Glancing in the mirror as she slipped in the front door, she realized the bruise wasn’t going to fade any time soon and she might as well get it over with. As she entered the lounge, both Alia and Barry turned around, their expressions quickly changing to shock when they saw the state of her face.

  “What happened?” they cried out simultaneously.

  On the walk home with Stu, she had been so distracted by his company that she had almost forgotten about her black eye. Now it throbbed as if to remind her and she lifted her hand to it.

  “Danny done it,” she said sullenly.

  Barry stood up, his face like thunder.

  “Where is the bastard?” he asked as he reached for his coat.

  “No, Barry.” Bronwyn stopped him as he attempted to get past her. “I sorted it. It’s over, okay?”

  “Fucking hell, Bronwyn, you can’t let him get away with this!” yelled Barry.

  “I didn’t! I just told you it’s sorted, so leave it!” she shouted back. Alia pulled the warring siblings apart and pushed them both on the couch.

  “Stop shouting at each other!” she snapped and turned to Bronwyn. “If I see you with that boy again I’ll give you a black eye myself.”

  “It’s done! It’s fucking finished, like I keep saying!" exclaimed Bronwyn. “Let’s just forget about it all right?”

  She turned to include Barry and he nodded and sat back, his eyes fixed firmly on the television.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rosina and Barry’s Decline

  Christmas day dawned early for Barry. He had managed to stay awake in front of the television until 2:45 a.m. Now, he was awake. He turned over to look at the clock and was aghast to see it was 4:30 a.m. He’d had less than two hours sleep.

  Brilliant.

  That was one experiment he wouldn’t be trying again.

  Knowing that there was no point in trying to get back to sleep, Barry decided to go out for a jog. Prior to becoming an informer he had been heavily into fitness, but lately he had been letting that slide. As he dressed, he realised that he felt strangely refreshed. Maybe a couple of hours’ sleep was all he needed; after all, Margaret Thatcher existed on only six hours sleep a night. Who are you kidding? said the voice.

  “Shut up,” he said, pulling on his jacket.

  Half a mile across town, Barry’s day took a turn for the worse. He stopped jogging as he saw a man across the road standing at the bus stop, reading a paper. It was Christmas day; there were no buses for the man to be waiting for. His heart began to flutter and he gripped at his chest.

  “Jesus,” he croaked breathlessly and stumbled on past.

  Was someone watching him? Had Andy sent him? Or, was he one of Johnny’s henchmen?

  His heart rate was almost back to normal when a white Ford Escort cruised slowly past him, the driver turning his head to look at Barry.

  Barry straightened up and turned back towards home, his heart throbbing against his rib cage, the sound of his feet pounding the pavement echoing in his ears as he broke into a run. All of a sudden it seemed as if every person on the street was watching him and he moaned as he ran along. When he reached home he crashed through the door and slammed it shut. He closed his eyes and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

  “Barry? Is that you, love?” Alia came out into the hall, holding a ten-pound turkey on a baking tray.

  Barry stared at the turkey and cringed back against the door. Who had sent the turkey to spy on him?

  Suddenly his vision cleared, and he almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of that thought. Turkeys couldn’t spy, especially not one that was skinned and headless on a baking tray. It might be bugged. The voice spoke up and Barry balled his hands into fists and banged both sides of his head.

  “Shut up!” he muttered.

  “Barry!” Alia was staring at him. “Don’t tell me to shut up!”

  “Oh no…” Barry went towards her with his hands outstretched. “Not you, Ma. I wasn’t talking to you…”

  “Well, I don’t see anyone else here!” she said and stared, waiting for an explanation. He start
ed to gesture to the turkey and then thought better of it.

  “Never mind,” he said. “Can I help you?”

  “If you like, the potatoes need peeling,” Alia said as she disappeared back to the kitchen. Barry took a moment to get himself together before he followed her.

  * * * *

  Stu watched the sun rise from the tower on Christmas morning and felt a wave of depression wash over him. What a lousy place to be spending Christmas. He checked his watch and saw it was only six o’clock; still another two hours to go. At least the rest of the night had been free from unwelcome visitors, after the other soldiers had chased away the intruders. The hatch opening startled him, and Carter hauled himself up into the room.

  “Merry Christmas,” Carter said, putting a bottle of brandy on the table.

  “Hey, cheers, mate.” Stu picked up the bottle and poured a hefty shot into two mugs. “How in hell do you manage to stay so cheerful? I mean, it’s Christmas day and we’re stuck here.”

  “Well, when you ain’t got nobody pining for you at home, it’s just another day.” He clinked his mug against Stu’s. “But anyway, what happened to you last night? Did ya get lucky?”

  Stu laughed and pondered the question.

  “I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “But anyway, Happy Christmas to you too, mate.”

  * * * *

  Rosina woke up early to the smell of the bird roasting in the oven and smiled to herself as she pulled her hand out from under the quilt to look at the ring on her finger. What a wonderful Christmas present that had been. She heard Connor and Mary talking in the kitchen, so she jumped out of bed and grabbed the parcels that she had collected the day before. When she got to the kitchen, she stopped in the doorway to watch Connor and his mother laughing together. She felt a moment of sadness as she realised that this was what a normal family should be like, not the cold and lonely twenty-odd years she had spent with her mother. They spotted her then, and Connor’s face lit up as it always did when he saw her.

  “Hey!” He reached out and pulled her into the room. “Merry Christmas.”

  She returned his kiss and turned to Mary.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said shyly, handing her a wrapped parcel.

  “Goodness.” Mary took it and smiled. “Come on, let the turkey be, and let’s get these gifts unwrapped!”

  They retired to the lounge where Connor promptly handed out all of the gifts that had appeared, as if by magic, under the tree. Mary unwrapped her gift from Rosina and smiled at the red dressing gown. It had a monogram of Mary’s initials on it. Mary immediately wrapped it around herself.

  “It’s perfect,” she said, looking warmly at Rosina. “Thank you.”

  “It’s real nice, Rosie,” said Connor, casting a mischievous glance at his mother. “She does spend most of her time in her dressing gown.”

  Mary swiped at Connor playfully.

  “Cheeky git,” she said. “Anyway, Connor, what have you got Rosina?”

  Rosina and Connor exchanged glances and Connor moved onto the couch next to Rosina.

  “Show her,” he said.

  Rosina held out her left hand.

  Mary gasped and took Rosina’s hand for a closer look.

  “Oh, Connor,” she said and shook her head. “You don’t do things by half, do you?”

  She smiled but her expression was sad, wistful, and worried, all at the same time.

  Rosina knew that Mary was thinking about her own lost love and curled her fingers around Mary’s. Mary pulled herself out of her reverie and squeezed Rosina’s hand.

  “I’m pleased. God help me, and God help you two. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I am pleased.”

  Rosina nodded and turned back to Connor, dropping her present into his lap.

  “It’s not a patch on this, I’m afraid,” she said and waved her hand at him, admiring the way the sapphire gleamed in its gold setting.

  Connor eagerly ripped the wrapping away and opened the box to reveal a white gold bracelet. He held it up and pulled Rosina to him.

  “I love it,” he said, studying it. “Oh, it’s engraved!”

  “What does it say?” asked Mary.

  “Connor and Rosina, forever,” he read it out before slipping the bracelet on. “This is the best Christmas ever!”

  Later, as Connor sat in the lounge and Rosina helped Mary to clear away the dinner plates, she thought about Kathleen.

  “I have to see my mother,” she said suddenly.

  “Well, I’m sure she’d like to see you, too, today of all days,” replied Mary.

  “No, I mean, if me and Connor are going to be married, I’ll need my birth certificate, won’t I?”

  “Oh, well, yes, you probably will.” She touched Rosina’s arm. “Why don’t you see her anyway? Today is a day for forgiveness and peace, after all.”

  Rosina nodded and thought about it. The certificate she would need, and Mary was right, today was as good a day as any to extend the olive branch.

  Before she could change her mind, she dried her hands on the tea towel and went to tell Connor where she was going. When she saw that he was sleeping, she crept out again and said goodbye to Mary.

  “Good luck,” said Mary and watched her leave.

  It took twenty minutes to walk back to her old home and she grew more nervous with every step that she took. When she found herself standing on the doorstep, she almost fled with the fear of facing her mother again. But she steeled herself, thought of her pending wedding, and rapped hard on the door.

  Kathleen opened the door, glass of sherry in one hand and an almost empty bottle in the other.

  “My baby girl!” she exclaimed and raised her arms up in a welcoming gesture, not noticing the sherry that slopped over the edge of the glass and onto the carpet. Rosina cringed. She had never seen her mother drunk, and, in fact, Kathleen had never shown herself to be anything other than in complete control.

  “Mam, can I come in?” she asked, edging through the door.

  “What in hell is that?” Kathleen barked suddenly, making Rosina jump. She realised that her mother was looking at the ring on her finger and she guiltily put her hands in her pockets.

  “Oh, that, er...that’s sort of why I’m here,” she replied.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna marry the bastard!” Kathleen said with a look of incredulity on her face. “Good luck, sweetheart, you’re gonna need it.”

  With that, Kathleen staggered off down the hall, leaving Rosina with no choice but to follow her.

  “See, Mam, it’s my birth certificate I need. To apply for a marriage licence,” she called after her mother.

  Kathleen slumped into her chair and regarded Rosina with narrowed eyes.

  “And why the hell would I give you anything you ask for?” she said and poured another sherry. Rosina felt on the verge of tears as she looked around the house that she used to call home. How very different it was to Connor’s home, or Bronwyn’s. No Christmas decorations adorned the house, no bird in the oven, in fact there was nothing here to say it was the festive season at all.

  “I’ll just find it myself then,” Rosina said quietly and made her way into the front room. Where to start? She knew where Kathleen kept all of her important papers; it was an old shoebox, blue in colour if she remembered correctly, but where Kathleen kept the box itself was anybody’s guess. She started on the sideboard, and the third drawer down proved successful as Rosina pulled out the shoebox. She sat on the carpet and opened it up, spilling all the papers it contained onto the floor. Finally, she located a birth certificate and she picked it up to make sure it was hers, and not her mother’s. It was. Her name, Rosina James, mother’s name…well, that was strange. The father’s name was blank.

  Rosina stood up and looked over the piece of paper again. Why wouldn’t Kathleen have put her father’s name on the certificate? She put the rest of the papers back in the box and placed the box back where she had found it. Still clutching the certificate, she wen
t back into the kitchen.

  “Mam?” she asked and pulled a chair up opposite her mother. “Why is my father’s name not on this?”

  Kathleen flinched as if she had been punched as she looked up at Rosina.

  “What are you doing with that?” she whispered.

  “I told you, I need it for a marriage license. Answer me, Mam, why is it blank here where my father’s name should be?”

  Kathleen stood up, her chair scraping on the tiled floor as she clutched at her chest.

  “You shouldn’t have gone through my things! You should have left it alone!”

  Rosina had a strange feeling. This was something new, something about her past that she didn’t know, and she stood up so she was on the same level as her mother.

  “What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice sounding stronger than she actually felt.

  “You have no father,” Kathleen said without expression.

  Rosina laughed and shook her head.

  “Everybody has a father. There was only one Immaculate Conception, and it wasn’t me.” A thought struck her and she stared at Kathleen. “Are you telling me he’s not dead?”

  Kathleen sagged against the counter behind her.

  “I don’t know,” she said quietly.

  “What? What do you mean?” Rosina realised that she was shaking and she waved the certificate in the air. “Tell me what the hell is going on. This is obviously something you’ve kept from me all my life. I have a right to know!”

  She was shouting now. Suddenly Kathleen slammed her hands down on the table and hissed out words that would change Rosina’s life as she knew it.

  “I was raped!” Kathleen spat the words out. “I was raped, and you were the result, you…you…devil’s spawn!”

  Rosina sat down heavily and her mouth fell open in shock. It all became clear; the way her mother had treated her all of her life, never showing love or affection to her.