This Irish House (17 page)

“I can hardly wait,” Kevin muttered.

“You're a cheeky lad, Kevin Nolan. Keep that part of yourself under wraps and you just might survive this.”

T
hey met at the corner of Falls Road and Northumberland Street. He was already waiting for her, leaning against his car; jacket slung over one shoulder in a relaxed pose. There was something about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, that separated him from the typical law enforcement agent, a harnessing of emotion, perhaps, beneath his pleasant manners and calm reserve, tension held back, simmering. In that, he was very like herself. She pulled up behind his car and parked.

Kate resisted the impulse to check her lipstick in the rearview mirror. This wasn't a social engagement, after all. She stepped out of the car and walked toward him. “Hello.”

He turned and smiled. “You've brought the sunlight.”

Kate laughed and looked at the faint rays of milky light struggling to pierce the cloud cover. “In a manner of speaking, although I can't say that I had anything to do with it.”

“You're in a good mood this afternoon.”

“I took a nap. Rest agrees with me. Can you give me any news of Kevin?”

“I've heard that he's progressing. You should be able to visit soon.”

Kate drew a deep trembling breath and changed the subject. “This is the park. What do you think of it?”

Neil looked around. “Is this it?”

“I'm afraid so.”

“It isn't much of a park, is it?”

“It's what they're accustomed to.”

He nodded at the youths, all boys, kicking the football back and forth. “Who are they?”

“Lads from the Shankill.”

“Protestants?”

“Of course.”

“Do both sides share the park?”

“That was the agreed upon arrangement, however, it doesn't happen.”

“Why not?”

Kate stared at him in amazement. “Surely you've been here long enough to know the answer to that. This is Northern Ireland, Neil. We don't share anything.”

He let out his breath and waited for a full minute before replying. “What I meant to ask is is there an implied understanding as to which group uses the green at a certain time.”

“No,” Kate said shortly. “There is no time when Catholics are able to use the park safely.”

“Why not?”

“Because the law here is survival of the fittest. The strongest will prevail and, for now, the strongest happen to be Protestants from the Shankill.”

“Are you saying that if it were the other way around, things would be different?”

“If you mean to suggest that I believe Catholics are more compassionate than Protestants, you're wrong. Either way, bullies control the turf.”

“Will they chase us off?”

Kate shook her head. “We're strangers. They have no grudge against those they don't recognize.”

“It's an odd sort of life, isn't it?”

“I wonder if it isn't the rule rather than the exception. ”

“I don't understand.”

Kate tucked her hair behind her ears and sucked in her bottom lip. She had the idea worked out in her mind and she wanted to explain it properly. “We're primates. We may be genetically predisposed to a pack mentality. Those of us who are educated and whose families instilled good manners have suppressed that instinct. But it's there. A bit of encouragement is all it takes to bring it out.”

“Lord
of
the
Flies
?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Why?”

“For most of them, there isn't anything else.”

“I thought Protestants had more opportunity.”

“Generally speaking, they have. But here, as in the Falls and other working class communities, there is no precedent for it. They simply aren't accustomed to thinking they have choices.”

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

The corners of her mouth lifted in the briefest of smiles. “No. I want you to meet Emily Quinn.”

Neil's eyebrow quirked.
“
Why?”

“Humor me, please. I'll explain later.”

He nodded. “All right. Shall I follow you or do we take one car?”

“Neither. It's a short walk.”

Side by side, they covered the distance to the Quinns' small house. Maired invited them inside and led them down the hallway to the room where Emily passed her days and nights.

Neil was shocked at first. Kate could see it in the tightening of his jaw and the ridges that stood out on his neck. He was kind, warm and endlessly patient with the little girl. For the first time, Kate saw the father in him rise above the professional.

After refusing Maired's offer of tea, they walked back to the green, this time in silence.

“I imagine you'll tell me what that was all about in your own good time,” Neil said at last.

Kate ignored the implied question and asked one of her own. “Are you aware that Robbie Finnigan is dragging his feet on Catholic recruitment into the RUC?”

He frowned. “It isn't my area, Kate. Truthfully, I hadn't noticed.”

“It isn't exactly news,” she said bitterly. “Nothing has changed. Crimes against Catholics have always been very normal here in Northern Ireland. Investigations have moved very slowly or not at all. My husband's murderer is still walking the streets. I'm no closer to seeing justice prevail than I was six years ago.”

“What does Emily Quinn have to do with all of this?”

Kate pointed to the group playing on the green. “She's a little girl who barely survived a brutal beating at the hands of those boys simply because she was in the way. Nothing is being done. The police say there is no evidence even though two witnesses have come forward.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Oh, but it does. The witnesses are two Catholic lads from the Falls. Their accounting of the events is suspect because of who they are. Mrs. Quinn called me when she couldn't get satisfaction from the RUC. Her son and husband have been hounded, arrested and released a number of times on trumped up charges, but this time it was just too much. Emily is a little girl. She was taking her baby brother out for some air. She nearly died, Neil, and nothing is being done.”

“Have you filed a report?”

“Of course. I'm not passing this one off.”

He looked at her, cheeks flushed, fists balled in the pockets of her jacket, voice choked with rage. “What is happening here?”

“It's simple,” she replied. “In England if you're different, you're interesting. Here, if you're different, you're wrong and those who are right feel they have a moral obligation to change those who are wrong.”

His eyes, clear gray and thickly lashed, searched her face. What was he thinking?

Finally he spoke. “This is really what you do, isn't it? It's what you were trained for?”

“It's what I've always done.”

“What about your husband?”

“He did the same thing, in his way. We had that in common.”

“Have you always worked with children?”

“Yes.”

His voice went low and soft. “You humble me, Kate. I admire you very much.”

She blushed. “You've given me a great deal of credit. This is what I do. Anyone else would do the same.”

They had reached her car. The green was empty now. He reached for the keys in her hand. “Will you have dinner with me?”

“You needn't feel obligated to repay me, Neil. It really isn't necessary.”

“Obligation has nothing to do with my invitation. Do you have anywhere to go this evening?”

Kate thought of Deirdre. The child had dutifully entertained her for several nights in a row. “Not really.”

“Say, yes.”

She hesitated.

“Please.”

She laughed. “How can I resist?”

“Don't.”

“Yes,” she said. “I'll have dinner with you.”

He grinned and years fell away from his face. “I'll follow you back and we'll take one car.”

Kate slid behind the wheel of her Volvo, negotiating her way back to her guesthouse. He was a take-charge sort of man, like Patrick, the same type she was always attracted to. She reined herself in. Attraction had no place in her relationship with Neil Anderson.

She parked her car and waited for him to pull up beside her. He left the motor running, climbed out and opened the door for her.

“Have you a preference or shall we leave the choice of restaurants to me?”

“You decide,” she said automatically, gratefully. Although she didn't shy away from responsibilities, she was no trailblazer by nature. The last six years without Patrick had been difficult. Her instinct was to allow a man to take the lead. Tonight she would relax, enjoy a glass or two of wine With her meal and dismiss reality for a few short hours. That it was Neil Anderson, a Protestant and an officer of the law awarding her this opportunity, did not escape her. She knew she was doing nothing wrong, but secretly she hoped she wouldn't see anyone she knew.

He turned toward the City Centre and Donegall Square where the better restaurants were located and pulled up in front of the Lime Tree.

Kate had never been here before. The drawing room was charming, dark wood, a cozy fire and deep, high-backed chairs arranged in conversational groupings.

The maître d' welcomed them. Kate ordered a gin and tonic, sank back into her chair and opened the menu. The prices startled her. Had it really been so long since she'd indulged herself at a fine restaurant? She glanced at Neil. He'd chosen the restaurant. Obviously he'd eaten here before. She relaxed and decided on the lamb.

“This is lovely,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Very much.”

“Good.” The drinks arrived and he ordered for both of them, a man in charge, comfortable with his position. “We'll start with the garden salad and then Mrs. Nolan would like the lamb. I'll have the prime rib.”

“Normally those are prepared medium-rare,” the waiter offered. “Is that acceptable, sir?”

Neil looked at Kate. She nodded.

The waiter hesitated. “It is Mrs. Nolan, isn't it? Mrs. Patrick Nolan?”

Kate nodded. “It is.”

“I'm very sorry about your husband, Mrs. Nolan. He was a frequent patron of this establishment. He is greatly missed by all of us.”

“How kind of you,” she said slowly.

Neil waited until the waiter had gone. “You've been here before?”

“No,” she said and looked directly at him. “I haven't.”

Patrick
had
been
here
many
times
and
she
hadn't.
The obvious was left, unspoken, between them.

Neil touched his glass to hers.

“To friendship.”
Friendship,
with
a
Protestant
police
officer.
Good
Lord!
What
would
Patrick
think?
She gave herself a mental shake. Patrick was dead and obviously there were a few things about him she hadn't known. She smiled. “I want to apologize for this morning on the phone. I'm very grateful for what you've done for Kevin. I was terrified for him. Now, at least I can sleep at night.”

He dismissed her words. “No apology is necessary. I'm glad you're feeling better.”

Kate settled back in her chair and sipped her drink. “Tell me about your family.”

He looked surprised. “I have no family, just my daughter.”

“Are you an only child?”

“I've a married sister in Wales and a brother in America. We lost touch after my parents died.”

“I'm sorry.”

He shrugged. “I suspect it's often that way with bachelors. Women tend to keep a family together. My brother never married and I'm divorced.”

“I'm sorry. It must be difficult.”

“It happened a long time ago,” he said comfortably. “I've ceased to feel the wound, although it would help to see my daughter more often. That part is my fault,” he admitted. “My work is hardly conducive to raising a child.”

“My husband was the same,” she offered.

Neil looked at her over the rim of his glass. “But he had you.”

“Yes.”

“I'll wager you never nagged or complained,” he teased her, “not even when the children had the pox, your nanny didn't show and you had twelve appointments scheduled for a single morning.”

She laughed. “I don't believe I nagged, but I did complain. It was completely unsuccessful, however. Fairly soon I realized that Patrick wasn't going to change. I either had to accept him or leave him, and that was out of the question.”

“Why?”

She felt it again, the feeling she could never quite eradicate when Patrick's name was mentioned and the hateful, uncontrollable trembling of her lower lip. “Because I loved him,” she said defiantly. “Whatever else there was between us, we had that.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

She reached into her handbag, searching for a tissue, found it and blew her nose. “How could you possibly know?”

“I know you.”

Her mouth dropped. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know you have taken on an enormous responsibility. I know you have suffered great tragedy. I know how you feel about your children.” His smile lit up his face.

The tension left Kate's shoulders. Suddenly she felt enormously relieved. He was really a very good man. Look what he'd done for Kevin. There was no disloyalty in her sitting across from him, sipping a cocktail, enjoying his company. She would relax and allow her self this indulgence, this escape from the tangle that had become her world. “What is your daughter's name?”

“Erin,” he replied.

“That's an Irish name.”