Allegiance: A Dublin Novella (7 page)

Adam laughed again. “A bargaining man!” He picked up his pint and drained it, swaying on his feet at the last swallow. He picked up the tray as William hung his discarded apron on its peg. “You and I shall get on just fine, I can tell.”

9.

February 9, 1922

It took William a week or two to realize he spent more time in the pub than was really necessary. His duties required him to help set up for the day, run the occasional errand, man the bar in the evenings, and help clean up after hours, but it wasn’t long before The Flag and Three had more or less taken over his existence. More and more frequently he found himself up at daybreak with Gerald, polishing fixtures or picking up deliveries; he helped with the cooking and often did the marketing, and most of the pub’s regulars greeted him in the streets now when they saw him. The day he found himself curtain-shopping with Mary was the day he knew he was becoming too invested in this place. Allowing himself to grow too attached would only make things more unpleasant in the end. It was a mistake William had never made before this assignment, and by the time he noticed it was too late.

He tried to pull back, keep himself distant when not on duty and stick to gleaning information for the report which was rapidly filling his notebook, but it wasn’t long before he was back in the kitchen, peeling potatoes or reorganizing the pantry shelves. It was sort of inevitable around the Sullivans – you were a part of them whether you wished it or not. William’s attempts were half-hearted at best, and soon he gave up altogether. No sense doing things halfway, after all. Making the best of things wasn’t exactly sleeping with the enemy.

This morning, however, William was at his work barely after sunrise on a Sunday morning not out of a sense of community pride but because he needed the distraction. He stood behind the bar with the morning sun streaming in on him through the windows, cloth in hand and rubbing at a scratch on the lacquered bar top. He wasn’t sure how it had got there, as he had just waxed and polished all the wood in the house the week before, but he had a sneaking suspicion it had something to with David’s fondness for sliding his pints down the bar like he had seen in the nickelodeons. William scrubbed at the scratch with his cloth until the countertop squeaked, his nose moving closer and closer to the surface, his brow knitting into a scowl, refusing to accept defeat.

“Hard at work?”

William looked up, having bent himself nearly prostrate over the offending blemish. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled.

“Early to rise, and all that.”

Adam leaned on the jamb of the kitchen door, munching an apple. “Good luck with the early to bed part.” He brushed a string of hair beneath his cap and stepped forward into the room. “Ready to go?”

William dropped his cloth on the counter and wiped his hands across his thighs. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Adam met him at the end of the bar and threw an arm about his shoulders. “They’ll like you fine, Glasgow – they already do. Nothing to fret.”

William followed him to the doorway by the loo and down the stairs to the basement. He had assumed they would meet in the storeroom; it seemed the most logical place. At least he hoped it would be the storeroom – he had no wish to be cloistered with Adam in the liquor cellar, forced to sit on one of those christened crates. Adam walked with one hand in his pocket, jingling the coins there and chomping on his apple like he was on his way to the dance hall on a Friday night. The church bells for Mass rang outside, growing quieter as they descended the stairs and turned to the corridor. The light in the storeroom was on, and William exhaled gratefully.

The storeroom was empty when they entered. William looked at Adam, confused, but Adam merely smiled and walked over to the metal bracket shelving on the nearest wall. He
set his apple core on a barrel and leaned forward, reaching between two boxes of baking soda and Dr. Shannon’s Digestive Biscuits, his arm disappearing to the shoulder. A few groping movements, tongue poking between his teeth, and there was a loud
click
which was abruptly matched in William’s brain. Adam saw it and grinned.

“Wouldn’t be a secret meeting without a secret room, now would it?”

He withdrew his arm, gave the shelf a good tug, and the section pulled open to reveal a narrow passage. Adam leaned on the doorway and gestured with his free hand. “After you.”

William ducked his head and walked through the arch – into utter darkness. He stopped up short as the door closed behind him and cut off all light. He barely had time to tense before a hand on his back made him jump and Adam’s breath touched his ear, voice low and amused.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Hang on a sec.” Light shone in William’s eyes and now Adam was in front of him, opening a second door.
Get it together, Young,
William thought, and followed him inside.

The room was long and narrow, sandwiched as it was between the storeroom and the wine cellar, low-ceilinged and cramped with unfinished walls and a single naked light bulb hanging in the center. Most of the space had been taken up by a long wooden table, around which sat four men William knew and one he had never seen. They looked up as he and Adam entered, their conversations ceasing, and Gerald stood up to greet them.

“Ah, there you are boys, there you are. Come in and sit. Lads, you all know William, I’m certain.”

William nodded at each man in turn – Gerald, Andrew, David, a young man with a tanned face and thick black hair, and finally Kelly, who pointed a finger and scowled out his greeting.

“What the bleedin’ hell is he doing here?”

“You know exactly what,” snapped Adam, “and exactly why, so shut your
—
”

“Hold your tongues, both of you, or leave my house,” said Gerald. His glare silenced them both. “I will not have fighting in this room.” He waited until Kelly gave a grudging nod, then turned to William.

“You already know Andy and Davie,” he said, “and the ever-pleasant Master Kelly. The lad on the end there is Daniel Fisher. It’s his family owns the bakery shop that you’re so fond of.”

“Well then,” smiled William, as he shook the boy’s hand, “Very good to know you indeed.”

“Pleasure to meet you, William,” replied Daniel.

Gerald smiled. “Have a seat, lads,” he said. William and Adam took their places at the nearest chairs, across from Andy and David. Gerald resumed his spot at the head of the table.

“You’ll know why we’ve asked you here, William,” he said. Turning to the others, Gerald peered at each face in turn.

“You lads all know William. You know of his story, I’m certain. He may not be Irish, but he’s a fighter sure enough, and his father before him.” He crossed himself quickly, then went on, “He’s as much reason to strike against the English as we, and I mean to give him the chance. Any who oppose that should say so now. That includes you, Kelly – if you can’t be civil, I need to know it now.”

Beside him, William could see Adam gazing coolly at Kelly from under the shade of his cap. For a moment, no one spoke; then Andy leaned across the table and gave William a slap on the shoulder.

“Right then, Glasgow,” he said. He and David and Gerald and Adam and even the Fisher lad were all smiling. And so was William.

“Aye,” Gerald said. “Aye. Right.” He settled back in his chair.

“You’ll know that Andy runs a cargo barge on the Liffey? Young Danny here has a friend or two, hears a bit of news from time to time. When he gets word of a need for transport on the quiet, he comes to us and we move what we can down river, sometimes through the town, sometimes through this room. Nothing complicated – just get things from one set of hands to another, like, to spread the trail a bit.”

William tilted his head and looked confused. “Like what kinds of things?”

“Munitions, money, food, supplies
—
”

“You keep guns in the pub? Isn’t that dangerous?"

“Jesus lord, no, I don’t keep guns in my pub!” Gerald laughed. “Parts, aye, and ammunition, money a time or two, but gun shipments never stay in one place long enough to be stored here. We run them, sure, but they’re needed elsewhere.”

“We’re not soldiers, Glasgow,” said David. “We’re not running the IRA from the back room of a pub. We’re a few working men doing what we can. No one here is particularly anxious to get himself hanged.”

“Well, maybe Kelly,” said Andy, and everyone laughed. Kelly cracked a dark grin.

“I just like to see things done myself,” he said.

“You just like to see things blown to Kingdom Come,” said Adam, and his face had shaken off its wary shadow. Kelly gave him a sly wink, and the two of them grinned at each other.

Gerald shook his head. “Don’t take no notice of those two. These young hotheads today are itching to get themselves on hero’s posters. It isn’t enough that every lad around this neighborhood craves a kind look from any of them, and young Elliot here swaggering about like the Second Coming.”

Adam laughed with the rest of them, but William saw a faint flush touch his cheeks as he stuck his hands in his jacket pockets.

Gerald looked at William plainly. “So that’s the way of it, Glasgow, and now you know. We’ve got a job needs doing – it’s not much, but it’s all we can do. And we would have you with us.”

At this point, Daniel leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. “There’s a large shipment of munitions arriving from Germany on the second of March. It’s far too large to avoid the wrong eyes, so it’s being divided into small batches. Andy’s to pick up a share on the night of the fifth – we’ll be meeting him at the docks with my father’s lorry.”

“What about the police?” said William. “Won’t they be patrolling the docks?”

“Nah, we’ve no worry from the police,” said Adam. “They don’t care what they see – hell, half of them would aid us if they could. Anyway, there
’
s men loading and unloading at all hours down there. There’s no reason to look any closer at a bakery truck and a couple of lads.”

“Tis the army you have to look out for,” said David. His gentle face crinkled with disgust.

“Irish fighting Irish,” said Kelly. “Fucking shameful.”

Gerald raised a hand for quiet. “There’s nothing to it, lad,” he said to William. “But aye, I won’t lie, there’s always a chance. And I won’t be going with you – I’ll be waiting here. So you’ll have to go alone with this ragged lot.” He smiled at the men around the table with open affection, which they all returned; and then he looked toward the door and raised his voice.

“With not even Mary to protect you.” There was a tiny thump from outside, and the second door creaked. “Aye, you may as well come in, lass, you’re fooling no one.”

William turned to see Mary’s blue eyes blinking from around the corner. She stepped into the room, cobwebs on her face and her shoes in her hand. Her hair was slowly escaping its braid; she brushed it back from her freckled forehead and tried to look nonchalant.

“Er, aye, well, I
—
I thought to see if you lot were wanting some tea, or some such.” Her cheeks growing pink, she avoided Adam’s eyes as well as her father’s and said instead, “Hello William.”

“Mary,” said William, thoroughly amused.

“No daughter, we’re all fine here, though it’s touched we are at your concern.” Gerald was smirking, but his brows were creased a little too deeply. “You’re supposed to be at Mass, girl.”

“Well it got out early, then, didn’t it?” Mary said, her composure returning. “The good father hadn’t as much to preach about without his target audience.” She grinned pertly at the boys as they laughed.

“Lord help us, I don’t know where I got such a saucy minx for a daughter,” said Gerald. “Do you run upstairs where you belong and see about some lunch. We’re finished here, anyway, so there’s naught else for you to hear.”

They all stood, chairs scraping on the concrete floor, and began to file out of the cramped little room. William stepped back against the wall to let them pass; Daniel nodded politely, Kelly ignored him entirely. David and Andy were searching for the cigarettes in David’s jacket. William followed them toward the brighter light of the storeroom. On the other side of the doorway, Mary touched his sleeve.