Allegiance: A Dublin Novella Read Online Free PDF Page B

slid him a plate and produced two small brown bottles from her apron, passing one to him with a grin.
    “Don’t tell my father,” she said. “He doesn’t like me to be drinking this stuff.”
    “Your secret is safe with me,” said William, and took a swallow from the curved bottle. He’d forgotten how much he liked Coca-Cola.
    “How is it, then?” Mary asked, not referring to the beverage.
    “It’s fine,” William replied. “It’s better than I could have asked for.”
    “No one’s been giving you any trouble, have they? And I don’t mean Andrew talking before he’s thinking.”
    William swallowed a bite of shepherd’s pie. “No, no trouble.” He took another spoonful, then added, “There is one bloke who gives me odd looks now and again, so I just make sure to stay out of his way. A dark-haired fellow, my age I think, only taller with a black jacket.”
    “Oh, Shane Kelly,” said Mary. She made a vague gesture with her bottle. “He’s a crotchety thing, your typical good-for-nothing troublemaker. I don’t know why my da keeps him in the
—
” She shook her head. “Well, don’t take notice of him, William, he’s sour on everyone.”
    William ate his peas, thinking. He did take notice of Shane Kelly. He took nearly as much notice of Shane Kelly as he took notice of the Elliot lad, though for completely different reasons. The man was clearly full of anger, and already had a proven history of violence. William had dealt with his type before; if he did not tread lightly things could get ugly, and that was the last thing William wanted. It would be best to keep Kelly at arm’s length and try at least to gain his tolerance, if not his trust. If he was the loose cannon Mary described him to be, that was all the more reason for William to get this thing over and done with as quickly as possible before anything could come to fruition. Before any more blood could be shed.
    “Does it hurt?”
    William started a little. “What?”
    “Does it hurt?” Mary repeated.
    Looking down at himself, William realized he was rubbing at the scar on his neck. He put his hand back in his lap and drank his Coca-Cola.
    “I’m sorry,” Mary said. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
    William looked out through the freshly-cleaned windows. The sky was cloudless blue above the rooftops, rare this time of year, the winter sun sharp in his eyes.
    “I was fourteen,” he said. “My father was in the Labor movement – everybody was. He settled down when Meg and I were born, but then things got bad again later, while we were still small – strikes, street fights, things like that. Nothing too bad, at first anyway. It was just what we did.
    “One day we had a march, a parade, like. We all marched in it, the wee ones carrying paper signs next to their fathers carrying rifles. The police came, and then the army. There was a lot of pushing and swearing, and then the lads started throwing rocks. One hit Meg in the face and she started to cry.”
    “William,” Mary whispered.
    “My father started shouting, everyone was shouting, and then someone fired. I don’t know who – I don’t think anyone ever knew for sure. Da threw me and Meg to the ground right before the army opened fire. My mother got between us and them, but I didn’t know that until later. I just saw my father run and jump on a soldier, and I tried to help him. The next bullet went through us both.” He ran his finger down the red trail on his skin. “I was lucky.”
    Mary reached down and took his hand. Her fingers intertwined with his, long and slim around his knuckles. Her eyes shone a soft, sympathetic blue. William smiled at her.
    “After that it was Meg and me, and I’ve taken care of her ever since. Whether she likes it or not.” He grinned and gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s all in the past.”
    “The past never dies,” Mary said.
    William stared at her. She opened her mouth to go on, but then her eyes moved past him and she jumped