been able to get so much as a whiff of him since. And if he’s not on our radar, then he’s gone very deep underground.”
“You keep tabs on Jamie?” Pat asked.
“To a certain extent, yes. The man is considered either an asset or a danger, depending on whom you ask on what day.”
“An’ what about you—do you consider him a danger or an asset?”
David laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a more dangerous man nor one better placed to help this country to a more peaceable solution.”
“Ye sound like ye got to know him rather well,” Pat said, shocked that David had revealed so much in a simple statement.
“It’s alright, Pat. I don’t have to shoot you for merely telling you that. You know Jamie well enough to know that he has a finger in several pies, politically speaking. It was inevitable that I would be dealing with him at some point. Odds are I wouldn’t be the man for that task anymore though, were His Lordship still in residence.”
“Which begs the question of just what they’ve sent ye back for an’ why yer runnin’ about lookin’ like a hooligan in the streets of Belfast?”
“They couldn’t think of anywhere worse to send me, so here I am, back in Belfast.”
“As punishment goes, it’s severe, that’s for certain,” Pat said dryly.
Pat felt suddenly exhausted and realized that all his adrenaline had ebbed. The heat from the Aga was like a sleeping draught that had filled his limbs with sand. His anger had gone along with the adrenaline.
“Ye’ll take care for my brother, won’t ye? He loved Lawrence like he was a son, an’ he’s been torn up inside since the lad’s death. I don’t want him rushin’ in blindly an’ gettin’ hurt or worse.”
“I will. I’m terrified of him but I find I rather like him as well, now that I’m getting to know him a little.”
“Have ye…” Pat cleared his throat, uncomfortable and yet knowing a friend asked such things, “found someone?”
David gave him a long look before answering.
“I’m not good at celibacy, so yes, I have partners. My life, however, is not conducive to a permanent arrangement of any sort. If you’re asking if I love anyone, well… some things in a person’s life do not change.” He placed his cup carefully on the table and took a measured breath. “I’m afraid, for me, this is one of them. Seeing you on the street that day told me all I needed to know about the state of my feelings. But I—I’d like to be friends again. I know you don’t feel the same way and I understand that entirely. If you could find a small corner in your life for a friendship that’s a bit like a rare plant, you never know where or when it might show up, nor how long it will last in each instance. Well then, I would be grateful for that. Do you think we can still be friends, Pat?”
Pat looked at the man across the table and knew, despite everything, he did indeed value him as a friend and had missed him in this last year. He nodded.
“We never stopped.”
Chapter Nine March 1973 Blooding
Pamela was on her way home from taking pictures of a new baby for a couple down past Drumintree and she stopped in at the wee village market to buy milk and bread before continuing on the last stretch home. She had been to this shop a few times before and the shopkeeper, Mr. Linehan, nodded and smiled as she came in. He was a middle-aged man, father of five and ran a bustling little store that always had fresh produce and milk—something of a minor miracle in this area, where trucks were often at the mercy of the local Provisional IRA, the British Army, and the roadblocks and traffic snarls that occurred as a result.
“Not too much longer then?” he said, nodding at her belly.
“Another six weeks or so,” she said, instinctively rubbing a hand over the occupant, who rewarded her with a firm kick. She headed for the back of the store where the tall old coolers held milk and butter. She was late in the day
“You keep tabs on Jamie?” Pat asked.
“To a certain extent, yes. The man is considered either an asset or a danger, depending on whom you ask on what day.”
“An’ what about you—do you consider him a danger or an asset?”
David laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a more dangerous man nor one better placed to help this country to a more peaceable solution.”
“Ye sound like ye got to know him rather well,” Pat said, shocked that David had revealed so much in a simple statement.
“It’s alright, Pat. I don’t have to shoot you for merely telling you that. You know Jamie well enough to know that he has a finger in several pies, politically speaking. It was inevitable that I would be dealing with him at some point. Odds are I wouldn’t be the man for that task anymore though, were His Lordship still in residence.”
“Which begs the question of just what they’ve sent ye back for an’ why yer runnin’ about lookin’ like a hooligan in the streets of Belfast?”
“They couldn’t think of anywhere worse to send me, so here I am, back in Belfast.”
“As punishment goes, it’s severe, that’s for certain,” Pat said dryly.
Pat felt suddenly exhausted and realized that all his adrenaline had ebbed. The heat from the Aga was like a sleeping draught that had filled his limbs with sand. His anger had gone along with the adrenaline.
“Ye’ll take care for my brother, won’t ye? He loved Lawrence like he was a son, an’ he’s been torn up inside since the lad’s death. I don’t want him rushin’ in blindly an’ gettin’ hurt or worse.”
“I will. I’m terrified of him but I find I rather like him as well, now that I’m getting to know him a little.”
“Have ye…” Pat cleared his throat, uncomfortable and yet knowing a friend asked such things, “found someone?”
David gave him a long look before answering.
“I’m not good at celibacy, so yes, I have partners. My life, however, is not conducive to a permanent arrangement of any sort. If you’re asking if I love anyone, well… some things in a person’s life do not change.” He placed his cup carefully on the table and took a measured breath. “I’m afraid, for me, this is one of them. Seeing you on the street that day told me all I needed to know about the state of my feelings. But I—I’d like to be friends again. I know you don’t feel the same way and I understand that entirely. If you could find a small corner in your life for a friendship that’s a bit like a rare plant, you never know where or when it might show up, nor how long it will last in each instance. Well then, I would be grateful for that. Do you think we can still be friends, Pat?”
Pat looked at the man across the table and knew, despite everything, he did indeed value him as a friend and had missed him in this last year. He nodded.
“We never stopped.”
Chapter Nine March 1973 Blooding
Pamela was on her way home from taking pictures of a new baby for a couple down past Drumintree and she stopped in at the wee village market to buy milk and bread before continuing on the last stretch home. She had been to this shop a few times before and the shopkeeper, Mr. Linehan, nodded and smiled as she came in. He was a middle-aged man, father of five and ran a bustling little store that always had fresh produce and milk—something of a minor miracle in this area, where trucks were often at the mercy of the local Provisional IRA, the British Army, and the roadblocks and traffic snarls that occurred as a result.
“Not too much longer then?” he said, nodding at her belly.
“Another six weeks or so,” she said, instinctively rubbing a hand over the occupant, who rewarded her with a firm kick. She headed for the back of the store where the tall old coolers held milk and butter. She was late in the day
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