The Twelfth Day of July

by Joan Lingard

  ‘That sounds like fighting talk.’

  Brede sipped her tea and watched the fair-haired girl. She would have been terrified if she had been in her position. Sadie seemed quite at ease, sprawled in a chair with her limbs slack and relaxed. She had been afraid when she was first brought into the house: Brede had seen it in her eyes. People were frightening when they gathered in crowds and started to shout. Hysteria mounted so quickly it engulfed a group like a plague.

  ‘You’re walking on the “Twelfth”, aren’t you?’ asked Kevin. ‘I bet you are. You’re the type that starts young.’

  ‘You bet I am!’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Brede interested. She had once or twice watched an Orange procession from afar but had never gone too close, mindful of her parents’ warnings. She was amazed to think that this girl was going to walk in the midst of all those dark-suited, bowler-hatted men.

  ‘I’m a drum majorette.’

  ‘Get that!’ said Kevin. He swaggered up and down pretending to be one. ‘You took that from the Yanks. “Yankee doodle came to town…”

  ‘We did not!’

  ‘Of course you did! That was never an Irish thing, you can’t tell me that. Fancy that now, she doesn’t even know the facts about her own organization.’

  Sadie shrugged. ‘Well, what if we did get it from the Americans? There’s Orange Lodges all over the world: Canada, Australia, New Zealand, even Africa…’

  ‘Aye, there’s nuts in every country.’

  ‘Like Roman Catholics!’

  Kevin laughed. ‘There’s plenty of us right enough.’

  ‘Rome sees to that. That’s why we Protestants have to be on our guard.’

  ‘And what do you think you’re going to do?’

  ‘There’s plenty we can do,’ said Sadie knowingly. ‘And you just do what you’re told, like a pack of sheep.’

  Kevin and Brian laughed.

  ‘This is great crack.’ said Brian. ‘I’m glad I thought to bring her here.’

  ‘Give us another cup of tea, Brede.’ Kevin put his cup on the table, then turned back to Sadie. ‘You’re fed a pack of lies, do you know that? And you’re so gullible you take them all in. Dear help you, you just be a poor halfwitted cratur!’

  ‘And dear help you, for you’re brainwashed from the day you were born so that you don’t even know a lie when you see it!’

  The clock on the dresser pinged three times.

  ‘Save us all!’ exclaimed Brian. ‘Three o’clock. I’ll need to be getting home or ma’ll send out the vigilantes.’ He laughed.’ ‘What are we going to do with her then?’

  ‘We can’t keep her here all night,’ said Brede. ‘We’d have the police round looking for her.’

  ‘I think perhaps this time we might let her go,’ said Kevin.

  ‘That’s big of you,’ said Sadie.

  ‘She should clean the wall by rights,’ said Brian.

  ‘We’d to clean ours last night,’ said Sadie sharply.

  ‘You’re never stuck for an answer, are you?’ said Kevin.

  Sadie stood up and stretched herself. She wanted to yawn but suppressed it. No sign of weakness must be shown to the enemy.

  ‘Can I go, then?’

  ‘You can go.’

  Sadie took a step towards the door and hesitated.

  ‘Don’t you think you should take her through the streets, Kevin?’ suggested Brede. ‘It’s not nice for a girl to be walking out alone at this hour.’

  Kevin laughed. ‘Listen to that! Brede, you’ll be the death of me yet. Sure, didn’t she come alone and with a pot of orange paint?’

  ‘She had her brother.’

  ‘Who ran off and left her.’

  ‘How dare you say that?’ Sadie pounced on him. ‘We agreed not to wait for one another. He’s not a coward. And neither am I. I’m not afraid to go alone through your dirty old streets.’

  ‘Now, now, don’t be nasty!’

  ‘I’ll walk half-way with her,’ said Brian. ‘It’s on my road home.’

  ‘On second thoughts,’ said Kevin, ‘perhaps I should escort her. See her off our territory. We don’t want any more harm done this night.’

  Brede put the dishes into the sink, hiding her smile, Kevin had a good way of giving in without losing face.

  ‘Thanks for the tea,’ said Sadie.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Brede.

  The boys walked on either side of Sadie. The streets were deserted. They passed the gable wall where Sadie and Tommy had been at work and saw that it had been cleaned.

  ‘We don’t let the grass grow under our feet,’ said Kevin.

  ‘I thought you did,’ said Sadie. ‘I thought that was what was wrong with the lot of you. Bone lazy!’

  ‘You watch it or you’ll not get out of here in one piece.’

  Brian left them at the next corner. They continued together, walking a foot or so apart, both feeling suddenly quiet now that they were alone.

  They reached the edge of no-man’s land and stopped.

  ‘Will you be all right now?’

  ‘Course. I’d have been all right anyway.’

  ‘You’d better watch yourself. Next time you might not be as lucky.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Sadie tossed her head. ‘We’ll see about that. We don’t give in so easily. You’ve seen that before. You’ll see it again.’

  ‘Away home to your bed. You’re needing your beauty sleep. You’ll look like an old hag by the time you get out there on the “Twelfth” twirling your silly wee stick.’

  ‘Silly wee nothing!’

  She moved off. He watched her go. When she was halfway across the street she paused and looked round. She called back: ‘I’m right sorry for you – slave to a man in Rome you’ve never set eyes on!’

  ‘And I’m right sorry for you – slave to a man who’s been dead near on three hundred years!’

  A car came along the road. She ran quickly to the opposite pavement. Kevin turned and walked back through the streets to his own house. Brede was already in bed and asleep.

  In the morning Brede and Kevin slept late and awakened to find the younger children playing in the yard.

  ‘That was some night,’ said Brede as she put rashers into the pan. ‘Maybe it’s as well da’s coming home the day.’

  But in the middle of their breakfast there was a rattle on the door and a post-office boy appeared with a telegram from their father. It said: ‘Granny better. Car broken down. Staying day or two longer.’

  ‘It was a wonder the thing ever got to Tyrone at all,’ said Kevin.

  Brede said they mustn’t get into the habit of staying up late every night their parents were away or they would lose half of the days. Here they were sitting over their breakfast at midday and the sun shining outside.

  ‘Ach well, that’s how it goes,’ said Kevin. ‘Some nights it’s worth staying up late and some mornings it’s worth getting up early. I don’t like doing the same things every day.’

  ‘I know that.’ Brede collected the plates. ‘I hope that girl got home all right.’

  ‘Her. She’d get home all right. She can look after herself. Cheeky brat, too.’ Kevin looked thoughtful.

  ‘I thought she was very brave sitting here, in the enemy camp, as it were, hardly batting an eyelid.’

  ‘She’s a hard case. I wouldn’t put it past her to try coming back here again.’

  ‘And I wouldn’t put it past you to go over there again. I wish you wouldn’t. What’s the point?’

  Kevin shrugged. It was a waste of time explaining some things to Brede. He dried the dishes for her, then went off with a clear conscience. He found Brian eating bread and jam in his pyjamas and his mother screeching at him for coming home in the middle of the night. Brian’s mother was a real screecher. She had it off to a fine art and nobody in the district could better her.

  ‘I’ll wait for you outside,’ said Kevin. He leant against the wall with his hands in his pockets and enjoyed the warmth o
f the sun on his face.

  Brian came out still chewing and grumbling. ‘You’d think I was two years old the way she goes on at me.’

  They ambled oft together, going, with unspoken agreement, down towards the Protestant area. The dividing street looked different in the middle of the day. It was busy with traffic and pedestrians. It looked like an ordinary street.

  They waited for a gap in the traffic, then sprinted across. They loitered for a few minutes in front of a newsagent’s window reading the cards. Prams for sale, single bed, radio. Room wanted by young gent. Two soldiers passed chatting to one another.

  ‘Shall we go for a daunder around?’ said Kevin.

  They turned down one of the side streets. It was like all the other streets in the district: bedecked with red, white and blue.

  ‘We’d better not go too far,’ said Brian.

  ‘We’re doing no harm. We’re out for a walk on a sunny day. We’re carrying no explosives.’

  ‘Or pots of paint!’

  They walked further into the quarter than they usually did. Brian glanced uneasily about but nobody was paying them any attention.

  ‘We don’t have Micks written on our backs,’ said Kevin.

  ‘Where are we going anyway?’

  ‘Returning to the scene of our crime. Aren’t criminals always supposed to be drawn back?’ Kevin began to whistle softly ‘The Soldier’s Song’.

  ‘That’s asking for trouble,’ said Brian.

  They found the gable wall, and there on its side was a patchy King of Orange looking like some prehistoric cave painting that had just been discovered, the kind that people go into raptures about because it is old, even though they can only make out a hand here, an eye there. Kevin had never had much time for that sort of stuff. Brede said he had no feeling for history. Perhaps he liked the present too well. He shook his head.

  ‘Dear-a-dear, that’s a sight for sore eyes. ‘Twas a pity we didn’t finish him off entirely.’

  There was a flurry of feet and round the corner came Sadie, her hair flying. She stopped, rested one hand on each hip. Her eyes sparkled.

  ‘Come on here, all of you!’ she called.

  Chapter Seven

  A Fight and a Fire

  Tommy, Linda and Steve came quickly when Sadie called. They had been cleaning a neighbour’s car. They dropped their cloths and arrived drying their hands on their jeans.

  ‘Look at these two jokers,’ said Sadie. ‘And from the grins on their faces you’d think they were right pleased with themselves.’

  ‘We’ll soon wipe the grins off,’ said Steve.

  ‘You don’t say so?’ said Kevin. He had his hands in his pockets and one shoulder against the wall.

  ‘What a nerve coming here in broad daylight,’ said Linda.

  ‘Why shouldn’t we?’ demanded Kevin. ‘We’re allowed in these streets. It’s a free country. Or so we’re told.’

  ‘There’s no notices up: Catholics Keep Out,’ said Brian.

  ‘There should be,’ growled Steve.

  ‘You’re only over here to make trouble,’ said Sadie. ‘And well you know it.’

  ‘We’re returning the visit you paid us last night,’ said Kevin. ‘That’s all. We like to observe the social niceties.’

  ‘Get him!’ said Linda, elbowing Tommy in the ribs.

  ‘I go to school, too, you know,’

  ‘We wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t told us,’ said Sadie.

  Kevin took a few paces around the pavement. The six children eyed one another warily, waiting for any sudden movement. Sadie rested on the balls of her feet ready to spring if it was necessary and she did not doubt that it would be, at some point or other.

  Kevin moved into a position where he could look down their street.

  ‘What a sight! All those tatty bits of red, white and blue ribbon. Heaven help you, for nobody else will.’

  ‘Nothing tatty about them,’ said Linda. ‘They’re the best out Mrs McConkey’s shop. We’re having a competition with the next street to see whose is the best. Tommy here bet a lad ten bob –’

  ‘Shut up, Linda!’ Sadie snapped.

  Sadie glared at her. Linda had no idea how to talk to the enemy. Here she was chatting away confidentially as if they were the best of friends. Any minute now she’d be giving away street secrets, such as that the woman in number ten was barmy and kept ten cats that were the curse of the street. Linda was nice but dumb and there were times when Sadie found it hard going propelling her in the right direction. She was eyeing Kevin now as if she rather fancied him.

  Tommy shifted his feet restlessly, wondering how long they were going to stand around for. He would rather get back to the car and finish the job. He liked cars and enjoyed the chance of messing about with one. Sadie looked determined that they were going to have a fight. Her chin was stuck out at an angle he knew. He could hold his own in a fight and was not afraid of being hurt, but he couldn’t say he enjoyed fighting. There were other things to do. Steve was readier than he to get in with his fists and throw his weight about.

  Steve was edging nearer Brian, who showed no sign of being aware that the other boy was closing in. Linda went to the wall and rested her back against it. Sadie and Kevin both stood on the edge of the pavement.

  Steve began to chant softly:

  ‘Do you think that I’d let

  A dirty Fenian cat

  Destroy the leaf of a lily-o,

  For there’s not a flower in Ireland,

  Like King Billy’s orange lily-o.’

  Both Steve and Brian moved together, met head-on. Kevin came for Tommy. Sadie danced like a referee round boxers in a ring.

  ‘Now, now, that’s enough!’

  The voice was loud and authoritative. It was the voice of the law. The four boys fell back from one another, gasping. Blood poured from Brian’s nose. He staunched it with his handkerchief.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked the constable.

  ‘Nothing.’said Sadie.

  ‘Aye, that’s what it looked like!’

  ‘We were just messing about,’ said Tommy.

  ‘Can you kids not find something useful to do instead of beating one another up?’

  ‘We are doing useful things,’ said Linda. ‘We’re getting the street ready for the “Twelfth”.’

  ‘It’d be better if you got on with it. You’ve only a couple of days left.’ The constable looked at Kevin and Brian.’ I don’t know you two, do I?’

  ‘We’re just visiting round here,’ said Kevin.

  ‘From across the way, are you? Thought so. So that’s why you were fighting. What are you doing here anyway?’

  ‘Just visiting, like I told you.’

  ‘You know well enough it’s better for you to stay in your own streets. Go on, get moving. Less trouble that way.’

  As Kevin and Brian were about to move, the local minister came round the corner. He was a brisk little man with a red face. He greeted them all effusively, calling each one by name. He stopped at Kevin and Brian and frowned.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.’ He held out his hand to Brian. ‘I’m the Reverend Gracey.’

  Brian took the hand and mumbled his name in reply. He was not sure if he was supposed to shake the hands of Protestant ministers; he knew his da wouldn’t care for the sight of him doing it. Kevin put his hands into his pockets.

  ‘I’m Kevin McCoy,’ he announced.

  ‘McCoy?’ The minister wrinkled his forehead.

  ‘I’m a Catholic.’

  ‘Sure wouldn’t you know it just by looking at him?’ said Sadie.

  ‘Well, that is nice,’ declared the minister. ‘I’m glad you two boys should feel free to come over and have a look at us, isn’t that right, Constable? They’ll see we’re not really monsters, eh? It’s most encouraging to see you young ones getting on together. Most encouraging.’

  Linda tittered, but he did not notice. He was beaming happily upon them.

  ‘What’
s happened to your nose?’ he asked Brian.

  ‘I tripped over the kerb.’

  ‘We’d better be going,’ said Kevin.

  ‘It must be near dinner-time,’ said Brian.

  They began to edge away.

  ‘It was nice meeting you,’ said the Rev. Gracey. ‘Come again.’

  ‘We’ll be seeing you,’ Sadie called after the two boys. ‘We’ve unfinished business.’

  ‘Never you bother finishing it,’ warned the constable.

  ‘They seemed nice boys,’ said the Rev. Gracey. ‘How did you get to know them?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ said Sadie.

  ‘Too long to tell,’ said Tommy hastily. ‘But we’ve something else to ask you about.’ And he went on to tell him about the competition between the two streets.

  ‘I suppose there’s worse things you could be doing,’ sighed the minister. ‘But there’s better, too. Like visiting the old folk.’

  ‘I visit me granny every morning,’ said Linda.

  ‘That’s a good girl, Linda.’

  ‘I get in all her messages.’

  ‘There’s no need to fill us in with all the details,’ said Sadie.

  The minister, before he left them, agreed to adjudicate. The night of the eleventh, he said. ‘Bonfire night!’ said Sadie, and her eyes lit up as if the reflection of the fires was dancing in them already.

  Sadie had a new idea for raising money that day: to make and sell chips. Her mother was going to visit a friend on the other side of the town for the afternoon and her father was going to Ballymena to look at greyhounds. He’d always had a notion to own one, but Mrs Jackson had no notion at all, so every now and then he went and looked at them. Mrs Jackson gave Sadie a long list of instructions before she went off, things to do and not to do, which did not include any reference to chips. As soon as she had turned the corner of the street, Sadie had the chip pan off its shelf and on the cooker. She peeled two enormous potfuls of potatoes and dictated a notice for Tommy to write, CHIPS FOR SALE. 4d. A BAG. QUEUE THIS SIDE. That was tuppence less than the chip shop, a fair enough bargain. Linda arrived giggling and was given the potatoes to slice. Sadie stood over the chip pan, watching the fat heat.

  ‘Ma’ll kill you if she catches you,’ said Tommy.