Transgressions, Volume 4 Page 3

  But when Connor came in quarter of an hour later his face was white and his body rigid, shoulders stiff. “They’re not there,” he said angrily. “Damn it, they must have walked over to the pub in the village.” His mouth closed in a thin line and there was an icy rage in his eyes.

  For the first time Bridget was touched with real fear, not of his temper but of something new, and far uglier. “They won’t be far,” she said aloud, and the moment the words were out of her mouth she realized how pointless they were.

  He spun round on her. “They’re out of earshot!” he said between his teeth. “If you screamed now, who’d hear you? For God’s sake, Bridget, use your brains! They’re supposed to be bodyguards! We may not be in Belfast, but we’re still in Ireland! I’ll have them dismissed for this.”

  Bridget felt the heat burn up her face, for Ian and Billy who had taken trouble to help, and even more for herself. She knew her words had been foolish, but he had had no need to belittle her in front of Liam. His lack of regard for her hurt more than she wanted to face. It was probably part of growing up, separating the man from the boy. But she was losing him, and each new widening of the gap twisted inside her.

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” Liam said awkwardly. “No one else knows we’re here. We’ll be okay. We can always fry them up tomorrow.”

  Connor hesitated, his anger easing out of him. “Of course we will,” he agreed. “It’s a matter of discipline, and loyalty.” He turned to Bridget, no warmth in his eyes. “You’d better put the extra fish in the fridge, and do ours. It’s late.”

  She did as she was told, and they ate in silence. It was a long evening. Connor and Liam talked a little, but not to her. She did not intrude, she knew she would gain nothing by it, and only invite them to make her exclusion more obvious. She saw Liam glance at her once or twice, anxious and a little embarrassed, but he did not know what to say.

  She went to bed early. She was still awake an hour later, and heard Connor come in, but she made no movement, and he did not attempt to waken her, as if it had not even occurred to him.

  She woke to hear a steady banging, and it was several minutes before she understood what it was. There was someone at the door. It must be Billy and Ian back, probably full of remorse. They were wrong to have gone, but she wanted to protect them from Connor’s anger. In theory it could have cost him his life, but actually no harm had come of it. They wouldn’t have been gone any more than that brief half hour of suppertime. And no one had ever attempted to harm him physically. It was all just threat.

  She swung her feet out of bed, slipped her coat over her nightgown, and went to answer before Connor heard them. She closed the bedroom door softly and tiptoed across the hall to the front door. She opened it.

  It was not Billy and Ian there, but three men she had never seen before. The first was tall and lean with fair brown hair and a slightly crooked face that looked as if he laughed easily. The one to the left of him was darker, his features more regular, but there was a seriousness in him that was heavy, almost brooding. The third man was thin with bright blue eyes and hair with a strong tinge of auburn in it.

  “Good morning, Mrs. O’Malley,” the first one said with a smile. “It’s a beautiful day, is it not?” But he did not look at the sweep of the bay, glittering in the sun, or the dark headland behind them.

  It was a moment before the chill struck her that he knew her name. Then it came with a cold, tight knot.

  He must have seen it in her eyes, but his expression altered only fractionally. “My name’s Paddy.” He gestured to the dark man. “This is Dermot.” He motioned the other way. “And this is Sean. We’ve brought some fresh eggs with us from the farm over the way, and perhaps you’d be good enough to cook them for us, and we’ll all have breakfast together—you and Mr. O’Malley, and us—and the boy, of course.” He was polite, still smiling, but there was no question in his voice, no room for refusal.

  She backed away from him. It occurred to her for an instant to close the door on him, but she knew he could force his way in if he wanted. “Come back in half an hour, when we’re up,” she said quite sure even as she spoke that he would refuse.

  “We’ll wait in the sitting room.” He took a step towards her, holding out the open box of eggs, smooth and brown, faintly speckled. There were at least a dozen of them. “We’ll have them fried, if that’s alright with you? Sean here has a fresh loaf of bread, and a pound of butter as well. Here, Sean, give it to Mrs. O’Malley.”

  Sean held them out and Bridget took them from him. She needed time to think. She was angry at the intrusion, but she dared not show it. As she led the way to the sitting room and watched them go in easily, as if they had a right to be there, she thought how often she was angry, and suppressed it because she was afraid of making it worse, and losing what she already had. She had done it for so long it was habit.

  Connor was sitting up when she returned to the bedroom.

  “Where have you been?” he said irritably. “Did you go out to warn Billy and Ian? I know you!” He swung his feet out of bed and stood up. “You’ve no idea of the gravity of it. I don’t tell you of the threats I get, there’s no need for you to know, but going off as they’ve done is a betrayal of me—and the cause.”

  “No, I didn’t!” she said curtly. She was frightened and angry, and the accusation was true in spirit. She would have, had they been there. “There are three men in the sitting room to speak to you …”

  For an instant he was motionless, frozen in time and place. Then slowly he turned to stare at her. “What men?” His mouth was so dry his voice was husky. “What men, Bridget?”

  She swallowed. “I don’t know. But they won’t go until you speak to them. They’re waiting in the sitting room. They told me to get them breakfast.”

  He was incredulous. “They what?”

  “I don’t mind!” she protested, wanting to stop him from quarrelling with them needlessly. She was used to men with that hard, underlying anger in them, and the threat of violence close under the surface. Religious politics always seemed to be like that. She wanted it over as soon as possible. Let the wind and the sea wash them clean from the taste of it. She started to dress.

  “Where the hell are Billy and Ian?” She heard the first cutting edge of fear in his voice, higher and sharper than the anger. It startled her. She swung around to look at him, but it was gone from his face, only fury remaining.

  “Don’t you dare make their breakfast!” he ordered. “Tell them to come back when I’m shaved and dressed … and I’ve eaten.”

  “I already did, and they won’t do it,” she replied, fastening her skirt. “Connor …” she gulped. She felt separate from him and she needed intensely to have the safety, the courage of being together. “Connor … they aren’t going to go until they want to. Just listen to them … please?”

  “What are they going to say? Who are they?” He demanded it as if he believed she already knew.

  It was ridiculous, but her throat tightened as if she was going to cry. “I don’t know.” This time she went out, leaving him alone to shave and dress. In the kitchen she started making breakfast for five. Liam was still asleep, and perhaps he would stay that way until after the men had gone.

  By the time Connor appeared she had laid the table and made tea and toast and was ready to serve the eggs and bacon.

  “Very civil of you, Mrs. O’Malley,” Paddy said appreciatively, taking the seat at the head of the table. The other two sat at the sides, leaving spaces for Connor and Bridget between them.

  A flicker of annoyance crossed Connor’s face, but he accepted and sat also, and started to eat. It was a race against time until either Billy or Ian should appear, or better still, both of them. They were armed and would get rid of Paddy and his friends in moments. Then Connor would crucify them for not having prevented it in the first place. She dreaded that. They were lax, but years of physical safety had left them unprepared for the reality of such intrusion. They would be horrib
ly ashamed, and she would have given them a second chance.

  “Now, Mr. O’Malley,” Paddy said, putting his knife and fork together on his empty plate. “To business.”

  “I have no business with you,” Connor replied, his eyes level, his voice flat.

  “Well that’s a shame now.” Paddy did not lose his slight smile. “But I’m not easily put off. You see, I’m after peace, not all of a hurry, because it’s not a simple thing, but just a beginning.”

  “So am I,” Connor answered. “But only on my terms, and I doubt they’re yours, but put them, if you want.”

  “I doubt that we can agree, Mr. O’Malley. I know right enough what your terms are. It’s not as if you were backward about it, or had ever shifted your ground.”

  “Then where have you shifted?” Connor asked. “And who do you represent, anyway?”

  Paddy leaned back in his chair, but the other two remained exactly as they were, vigilant. “Well I haven’t shifted a great deal either,” Paddy said. “And that’s the trouble. We need to have a change, don’t you think?” He did not stop long enough for Connor to answer. “This is getting nowhere, and sure enough, I don’t see how it can. I’m a moderate man, Mr. O’Malley, reasonable, open to argument. And you’re not.”

  A shred of a smile touched Connor’s lips, but Bridget could see half under the table where his fists were clenched and his feet were flat on the floor to balance if he moved suddenly.

  “That’s the change I propose,” Paddy went on.

  “You’ve already said that you know I won’t change,” Connor pointed out, a very slight sneer on his face.

  “Perhaps I haven’t made myself plain.” Paddy said it as a very slight apology. “I’m suggesting that you step down as leader, and allow a more amenable man into your place.” He stopped as Connor stiffened. “Someone who’s not tied by past promises,” Paddy went on again. “A fresh start.”

  “You mean I should abandon my people?” Connor’s eyebrows rose. “Walk away from them and leave the leadership open to someone of your choosing, that you can manipulate! You’re a fool, Paddy—whoever you are, and you’re wasting my time, and yours. You’ve had your breakfast, now take your friends and get out. Leave my family alone. You’re …” He stopped.

  Bridget was certain that he had been going to say that they were lucky the bodyguards had not come in and thrown them out, then he had realized that they had been here half an hour already, in fact thirty-five minutes by the kitchen clock, and neither Billy nor Ian had come. Why not? Where were they? The flicker of fear was stronger inside her and more like a bird’s wing than a moth’s. Was that why he had stopped, because he had felt that as well?

  Paddy made no move at all, he did not even straighten in his chair. “Give it a bit of thought now, Mr. O’Malley,” he persisted. “I’m sure you don’t want all this trouble to go on. If there’s ever going to be peace, there’s got to be compromise. Just a little here and there.”

  “Get out,” Connor repeated.

  There was a slight movement in the hall doorway and as one man they all looked at Liam, in his pyjama trousers, blinking at them, his face half asleep, confused.

  “And you’ll be Liam,” Paddy remarked. “Wanting your breakfast, no doubt. Come on in, then. Your mother’ll lay a place for you. There’s plenty of food left—eggs and bacon, fresh from the farm, they are.”

  Liam blushed. “Who are you? Where are Billy and Ian?”

  “My name’s Paddy, and these are my friends, Dermot and Sean. We just dropped by to have a word with your father. Have a cup of tea.” He gestured to Sean. “Get up now, and let the boy have your place.”

  Wordlessly Sean obeyed, taking his used dishes to the sink.

  Bridget stood up. “Sit,” she told Liam. “I’ll fry you some eggs.”

  Connor’s face was white. “You’ll do no such thing!” he said furiously. “Liam, go and get dressed! You don’t come to the table like that, and you know it.”

  Liam turned to go.

  Sean moved to the door to block his way.

  Liam stopped.

  Connor swivelled around in his chair.

  “Come back to the table, Liam,” Paddy said levelly. “It’s a fine morning. You’ll not be cold. Get him his breakfast, Mrs. O’Malley. Feed the boy.”

  Connor drew in his breath sharply, his face now twisted with anger. Bridget dreaded what punishment Ian and Billy would get when they finally showed up. It would finish their careers, perhaps even finish them ever getting work in Belfast. Connor would never forgive them for allowing him to be humiliated like this in his own house.

  Then like having swallowed ice water she realized that Billy and Ian were prisoners somewhere else, just as they were here. They had not come because they could not. She turned to face Paddy and he looked across at her. She tried to mask the knowledge in her eyes, but it was too late. He had already seen it. He said nothing, but the understanding was like a rod of iron between them.

  Liam sat down, looking at his father, then away again, embarrassed.

  Bridget relit the gas and moved the frying pan over onto the heat.

  “Are you sure you won’t think again, Mr. O’Malley?” Paddy asked gently. “There are men just a little more to the centre than you are, who could afford to yield a point or two, and still hold to the rest. You’ve had your day at the top. It’s not as if you’d not made it …”

  “You arrogant fool!” Connor exploded. “Do you think that’s what it’s about—being leader?” His voice burned with contempt. He half rose in his seat, leaning across the table towards Paddy who still lounged in his chair. “It’s about principle, it’s about fighting for the freedom to make our own laws according to the will of the people, not the Church of Rome! I don’t care that much,” he snapped his fingers, “who’s leader, as long as they do it with honour and the courage to yield nothing of our rights, whoever threatens them or promises money or power in exchange for the surrender of our birthright.”

  Liam straightened up in his chair, squaring his bare shoulders.

  Bridget put bacon into the frying pan, and two eggs. She had known that was what Connor would say, and there was a kind of pride in her for his courage, but larger than that, overtaking it, was pity and anger, and sick fear.

  “That’s right, Mr. O’Malley,” Paddy said calmly. “You’re hostage to all the fine speeches you’ve made one time or another. I understand that you can’t go back on them. You’ve left yourself no room. That’s why I’m thinking it’d be a fine idea for you to step down now, and allow someone new to take over—someone who has a little space to move.”

  “Never!” Connor forced the word between his teeth. “I’ve never yielded to threats in my life, and I’m not beginning now. Get out of my house.” He straightened up, standing tall, almost to attention. “Now!”

  Paddy smiled very slightly. “Don’t be hasty, Mr. O’Malley. Give it some thought before you answer.”

  Bridget had the frying pan in her hand, full of hot fat, the eggs and bacon sizzling.

  “I wouldn’t do that, Mrs. O’Malley,” Paddy said warningly.

  Connor swivelled around, his jaw slack for an instant, then he realized what Paddy meant. He leaned across the table and picked up the teapot and flung it not at Paddy, but at Sean standing in the doorway. It hit him in the chest, knocking him off balance and he staggered backwards.

  Suddenly Dermot was on his feet, a gun in his hand. He pointed it at Liam.

  “Sit down, Mr. O’Malley,” Paddy said quietly, but there was no gentleness in his voice any more. “I’m sorry you won’t be reasonable about this. It puts us all in an unpleasant situation. Perhaps you should consider it a little longer, don’t you think? When you’ve finished the boy’s breakfast, how about another cup of tea, Mrs. O’Malley.” It was an order.

  Connor sank to his chair. It seemed he had only just grasped the reality that they were prisoners. He was shaking with anger, his hands trembled and the muscle in his jaw flic
ked furiously.

  Bridget picked up the spatula and served the eggs and bacon, using two hands because she was shaking as well, and she thought of the mess she would make on the floor if she dropped the plate.

  Liam seemed about to refuse it, then met Paddy’s eyes, and changed his mind.

  Bridget returned the teapot to the stove, and cleaned up the spilled leaves and water on the floor. She boiled the kettle again and made more. Paddy thanked her. The minutes ticked by. No one spoke.

  Liam finished his meal. “Can I go and get dressed?” he asked Paddy.

  Connor’s temper flared, but he did not speak.

  “Sure you can,” Paddy answered. “Sean’ll go with you, just to make sure you don’t forget to come back.”

  When they were gone he turned to Connor. “We’ve got all week, Mr. O’Malley, but it’ll be nicer for everyone if you make the right decision sooner rather than later. Then you can have a nice holiday here with your family, and enjoy it just as you intended to.”

  “I’ll see you in hell first,” Connor replied.

  “Now that’s a shame,” Paddy answered. “Hell’s surely a terrible place, so I hear the preachers say. But then you’re a preacher aren’t you, so you’ll know that already.”

  “You’ll know it yourself, soon enough!” Connor returned.

  Dermot rose to his feet. “That’s your last answer, is it?”

  “It is.”

  He shrugged. “Sean!” he called out.

  Sean reappeared, Liam behind him, fully dressed now.

  “Mr. O’Malley’s not for changing his mind,” Dermot said. “Leave the boy here. You and I have a job to do.”

  Sean pushed Liam, nudging him forward into the kitchen.

  “What?” Connor demanded.

  “You’re staying here,” Dermot told him. He signalled to Sean and the two of them went outside. Paddy stood up, revealing the gun in his hand also. He lounged against the door post, but it would have taken less than a second for him to straighten up and raise the barrel if one of them threatened him.