The Bogside Boys Read online

  McClean pulled up outside the Doherty house in a red Ford Cortina. They’d been waiting, watching for him since the phone call ten minutes before. Mick hugged his brother. “Let’s do this.”

  “We’ll be home in a few hours. Let’s just not do anything stupid.” Pat replied.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Patrick got into the front seat, with Mick behind him. McClean started the engine without a word. They were on the road when he finally spoke. “There’s a pub we’ve been monitoring in Limavady for a while. We want to hit it, tonight. You boys are ready for this. That’s why we got the job.”

  “We’re ready,” Mick said, his response hollow, devoid of the fear that he was trying to suppress.

  *****

  Clive was slightly older, about twenty-two, and he was handsome, not beautiful like Mick, but handsome. She cursed at herself for thinking about Mick, even as Clive was talking to her. She fought to get him out of her head to listen to Clive and his smooth southern English accent.

  “…it is beautiful. I just wish I could get a proper chance to see it.”

  He didn’t seem to notice that she’d not heard a word he’d said. Melissa took advantage of the break in conversation to look around. Victoria and her other friend, Jenny, were alone at the bar. Norman and Robert were talking to some other girls she’d never seen before. One of them was cradling Norman’s head. The other girls motioned to Clive to come over. He looked at Melissa as if to ask should he go.

  “I’d rather stay here and talk to you.”

  A thousand thoughts flew through her head, most of them to do with Michael. She had no idea what she wanted. “You go and talk to your friends. I’ll be over here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll see you later on.”

  Clive smiled and walked over to the other group, where one of the girls greeted him with a flirtatious arm around his shoulder.

  *****

  McClean stopped off at a farmhouse as the night began to edge in. The boys didn’t talk as McClean went inside, the fear within them wrenching their lips tight as scars on their faces. Two minutes later he emerged carrying a black plastic bag, bulging under the weight of its contents. He placed it into the trunk of the car, and they started out again. Both wanted to ask what was in the bag, what they were doing, where exactly they were going but knew better. They drove on.

  *****

  Melissa’s gaze wandered over to where Clive and the others were talking. The girls seemed to find everything that the boys said hilarious, their raucous laughter scything through the air even over the loud music.

  “I’ve never seen them before,” Victoria said. “They’re not from around here.”

  “They certainly seem to be enjoying their first time here,” Jenny answered. “They’re all over the soldier boys like a cheap suit.”

  A bead of jealousy simmered inside Melissa even though she wasn’t ready for anything, and knew that she wouldn’t have acted on any feelings. It just felt good to move on, or at least try to. She turned around and ordered more drinks.

  *****

  The sign for the town of Limavady flashed past. No one spoke in the car, the silence weighing on each of the boys. Pat’s hands were clammy and cold, Mick’s nerves jumbling his stomach into nausea. Both had their hands in their pockets – anything to hide the shaking. The narrow, clean streets of the town were lively, and there were people outside all of the pubs taking advantage of the warm night. There was no rubble strewn around from rioting, no burnt out cars or IRA men brandishing weapons. Union Jacks hung from lampposts, limp in the light breeze. They passed the Royal Arms pub and pulled into a parking space on the main road. McClean turned around. His face was granite determination.

  “Three operatives are in the pub at the moment. This pub is a popular spot for soldiers from the local British Army barracks to come for a drink on a Saturday night. There should be several off-duty soldiers in there. We’re going to make contact with the operatives inside to find out what our next move is. I can’t show my face in there. It’s a long story. I need one of you boys to make contact.”

  “I’ll do it,” Mick said. Pat felt the words of protest forming in his throat but swallowed them back. He patted his brother on the shoulder. “How am I going to recognize them?” Mick asked.

  McClean reached into the glove compartment and took out a brown envelope. He opened it and took out three black and white photographs, each of a young girl, about their age. “This is Maggie,” he said, pointing at the attractive blonde girl in the photo. “Got it?”

  “I got it,” Mick said and got out of the car.

  *****

  “Why don’t you go over and talk to him?” Jenny said, nudging Melissa. Before she could protest, Jenny had taken her by the elbow. “I’ll go over with you. Come on Victoria, we’ll all go.”

  The three bustled their way through to where the soldiers were standing. The Irish girls looked them up and down as they melded into their circle. The boys were drunker now, Norman barely coherent. Melissa returned Clive’s smile and took the opportunity to begin.

  “Hi guys, you never introduced us to your new friends.”

  Robert answered her. “Oh, hello, great to see you ladies again. This is Sharon, Diana, and Maggie. Say hello, ladies.”

  An icy hello came back from aloof lips, daggers from sharpened eyes.

  “Are you from around here?” Melissa asked Maggie, a pretty blonde with far too much eye makeup.

  “No, just out for the weekend, you know?” Robert had one hand around Maggie’s waist, and Sharon seemed to laugh at every word that came out of Norman’s mouth. The girls had marked their territory. Clive slithered out of Diana’s grasp and moved to Melissa.

  “I was wondering when you were going to come over,” he said.

  “Can you hold my drink for a minute please?” she asked. The beer was starting to have its effect. She needed the bathroom and a few minutes to think. He took the pint glass she handed him.

  “I’ll guard it with my life,” he assured her.

  “You off to the loo? Victoria asked. “I’ll come too. Come on, Jenny.”

  Mick undid the top button on his shirt as he neared the pub. Around twenty people stood on the patio outside. His nerves were jangling like wind chimes in a hurricane, but he forced one foot in front of another until he was inside. The pub was packed. Saturday night. Finding them wasn’t going to be easy. He kept the picture of Maggie in his mind as he scanned the tops of heads in the crowd for her blonde hair. Several English accents stood out as he pushed through the throng of people. He was leaning against the bar, dismissing the thought of ordering a quick pint when he saw them, talking to three young men. Maggie was laughing with a guy who looked about twenty, had her hand in the back pocket of his jeans. Suddenly it was real. Every decision he’d made since his father died had led him to this moment. He could pretend he didn’t see them, walk out of there and drive back to Derry with the others, or he could do his duty, what was perceived to be his duty. It was his choice to make, here and now. He began to move through the crowd, holding up his arms as he neared them.

  “Maggie, how the hell are you? Long time no see.”

  Her eyes flicked up to him, offering no recognition until she realized. “I’m doing great, how are you?” She stepped forward to hug him. It felt bizarre, to embrace a stranger like that. “You remember Diana, don’t you? But I don’t think you’ve met Sharon.”

  He held out a hand to Sharon. “No, we’ve not met. Nice to meet you, my name’s John.” He could feel the weight of the stares from the boys standing around them.

  “Who are your friends?” Mick asked.

  “These lovely boys are, Clive, Robert and this wee fella here is Norman.” Norman raised his hand to say hello, a ridiculous, cartoon-drunk haze veiled across his entire face. The other two just looked on. Mick thrust an arm forward and shook each of their hands.

  “Nice to meet you,” Clive said in return.

  Mick pointed a finger t
oward Maggie. “Can I speak to you for a second? Something happened with Charlie Smith, your neighbor.”

  “Oh no,” Maggie said. Her acting was good. “Poor old Charlie. Let’s have a chat, come on.” She put a hand on Mick’s shoulder as he led her back in the direction of the door.

  “So, what do you think of Clive?” Jenny asked. The three girls were at the mirror in the bathroom, fighting for space.

  Melissa stared into her own eyes for a few seconds. No answers there. “He’s a nice guy.”

  “He’s gorgeous, and he definitely likes you.”

  “Maybe.” She applied a little more eyeliner and pushed out a deep breath. “I just don’t think I’m ready for this. I’m still hurting from…”

  “Ah come on, would you? The only way to get over the last fall is to jump back on the horse and keep riding.”

  The two girls exploded with laughter. Melissa did too, despite herself. “Come on, let’s get back over there and see what happens.”

  “I fancy a wee bit of fresh air. I’m just going to pop outside for five minutes. I’ll see you girls back there.”

  “Clive’s holding your drink,” Jenny answered.

  “He’ll wait another five minutes for me. If he doesn’t, he’s not worth it.”

  The night air was cool, the sun only finally succumbing to darkness at almost eleven o’clock. It felt good outside, fresh, invigorating. Maggie took Mick away to the side and, once she’d made sure no one was listening, lowered her voice to speak.

  “Who are you here with?”

  “There’s three of us, parked a hundred yards up the street in a red Ford Cortina.”

  “Where?”

  Mick pointed toward the car. “Just up there.”

  “All right. We’ve got three Brits inside. They’re pretty well oiled, so this shouldn’t be too difficult. We’ll get them in the car, you boys follow us, we’ll pull over out of town and leave the rest up to you.”

  Melissa arrived outside and found a bare patch of wall to lean against, a few feet from the main entrance. She didn’t know what to think, her thoughts like glue. She wished she’d brought her drink outside. Her love for Mick was pointless now. It would never amount to anything. It could only bring her pain, so why couldn’t she leave it behind? She didn’t smoke but thought of asking one of the people beside her for one. She looked at the crowd around her until her eyes fell upon him. Electricity surged through her body. Her bones seemed to turn to granite within her, her stomach a boiling sea. Mick. It was definitely Mick, and he was talking to Maggie. Melissa was soaked in shock, her knees about to buckle. What the hell was he doing here, talking to Maggie of all people? She was frozen.

  Mick’s blood was ice in his veins. Maggie’s eyes were utterly convincing and left no room for the doubt in his heart. He went to speak but found himself unable to form the words. He thought of McClean and his brother in the car, the republican history lessons, the lectures, the constant reminders of the march, of the injustices concreted into the system, of the intentions of the unionists to subjugate his people. He thought of his father, dead on the asphalt, murdered outside the Rossville flats.

  “Are you OK?” Maggie asked.

  “Yeah, sure I am. I’ll relay the message.”

  “Right,” she nodded. “Give us a few minutes to get them into the car. It’s a powder blue Vauxhall Viva. Be ready.”

  “Got it.”

  Melissa watched as Maggie walked back towards the door and inside. Mick brought two hands to his cover his face, letting his head drop into them. Maggie had stopped inside the door, was still watching him. And Melissa was in front of Mick, before she even realized she’d made the decision to go to him. He pulled his hands from his face to reveal red, desolate eyes.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” His whisper was tinged with panic.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” She wanted to ask him how he knew Maggie, but at the same time didn’t want to seem as if she cared.

  “I’m in town visiting some friends. I heard that girl was in the pub and decided to come down and see her.”

  “Is she your girlfriend? You looked pretty upset after she left.”

  “You were watching me?”

  “I was just standing there and I saw you. You expect me to look away?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. There’s been no one else.”

  She was beautiful. More so every time he saw her, more so now than ever before. He still loved her, still thought about her every day. Shouldn’t he tell her? The only antidote to what he was feeling was standing in front of him. Was there a chance left to leave this behind, to honor the love he felt for her over the duty he felt to his brother, his father, his community? He reached his hand to hers and she took it.

  “I can’t be with you anymore, not with the life you’ve chosen,” she said, immediately grabbing her hand back, annoyed at herself for letting him hold it in the first place.

  “There was never any choice about it. I never wanted it like this. The only thing I ever wanted was you.”

  The anger in her began to boil over and just for a second she had the thought to go back inside and kiss Clive just to get back at him. “You can’t just breeze into my life. You’ve made your choice. Did you think I was going to wait around for you?”

  “I never thought you would. I just hoped that…” The words dissipated and died. “I love you. I always will.”

  A single tear burst out and fled down her cheek. He was amazed he didn’t cry himself, but the truth of it was he was dead inside already. The moment of being there, of seeing her, was like a memory. It was as if it had happened already and he was reliving it, unable to say or do anything to affect the outcome.

  “You can’t say that to me. You can’t just say that to me outside a random pub in Limavady. You can’t just reach inside of me and pull my heart out like that.” A few feet away Maggie was leading the off-duty English soldiers out of the pub, her arm around Robert. Sharon was holding Norman’s hand, leading him. Maggie glanced over before laughing out loud at something Robert said to her. “I know the hell you’ve been through over the last few months but what you’re doing isn’t the answer. It’s only the road to even more pain. Nothing good can come of this,” Melissa continued.

  “I have to go now,” Mick said, his timid voice barely above a whisper, lacking any authority or conviction.

  He was pale now and it took every reserve of strength she had left not to lean forward and take him in her arms. She wanted so much to end his pain. But that could never be. His perverted sense of duty to his brother and to his poor murdered father would destroy him and she couldn’t stay around to see that. It would kill her too. She loved him too much to watch him do that to himself. She turned away without another word and almost bumped into Clive, walking out with Diana.

  ‘The girls invited us to a party. Do you want to come?” Clive said.

  Mick just stood there watching, feeling Maggie’s glare from twenty yards away. He steeled himself and paced away, not wanting to hear the answer. He headed back toward Pat and McClean waiting for him in the car. They were as loyal to him as he was to them and the cause. There was no escape from the duty that had been thrust upon him. It didn’t matter what he wanted. All that mattered was what he had to do. He walked on.

  “You’re leaving?” Melissa asked, her eyes on Mick as he walked away.

  Diana was dragging Clive now, his arm outstretched, but he stopped in front of Melissa.

  “You should come along,” he said.

  “There’s no room in the car. Come on,” Diana said before giving Melissa a look she’d rarely experienced before. “Leave that bitch here, did you not see her talking to that other fella? And look she’s been crying too.”

  Clive stopped for a second, his face tight. “It was nice to meet you, Melissa. It seems like you've got a few things on your mind.”

  Diana dragged him along after her. The vacuum within Melissa’s chest deepened as they walke
d away. Questions came like bubbles in boiling water. She went back inside to look for her friends. Why were the girls throwing themselves at those soldiers like that? And why was Mick talking to Maggie? Why would Mick go to a party that British soldiers, the IRA’s sworn enemies, were going to? It was all so strange. She continued into the tussle of bodies inside.

  Mick tapped on the car window. Pat rolled it down, and Mick got down on his haunches to speak.

  “They’re moving with the soldiers now, in a powder blue Vauxhall Viva. Shouldn’t be more than a few seconds.”

  “Get in,” McClean ordered. Mick felt the drag in his legs before his brother motioned to him. He opened the door and sat in the back. They waited in stony, terrified silence, their eyes like limpets on each car as it drove past.

  Melissa found her friends quickly, but the questions still abounded in her mind. She could still feel the stabbing pain from seeing Mick. What had Maggie said to upset him so much and why would someone he knew be picking up British soldiers? And then she realized.

  Outside, Mick was watching through the rear window of the red Ford Cortina as the soldiers packed into the Viva. Maggie was driving, with Clive already in the front seat. Norman was so drunk he could hardly get into the car, his body like putty. Robert was helping him, holding his head as he arched one leg inside.

  Melissa ran outside and saw Norman squeezing into the back seat, and then Robert after him. She called out, but the roar of the engine cut through the air and the car pulled out. Melissa ran on, red-faced, her arm in the air, screaming after them, but it was too late. The Viva sped into the darkening night and up ahead a red Ford Cortina pulled out after it.

  McClean lagged back a hundred yards or so, not seeming to care when another car pulled out between them and the Viva. Mick’s heart was beating so fast he could almost see it rippling through the skin on his chest. Pat shifted in his seat, wiping sweat from his palms on the jeans he wore, fully aware of what was about to happen. He thought back to his training, and what they’d told him about the war. And it was war, he told himself. This was necessary. Sacrifices would have to be made. This was the only way to forge a better future. He was so nervous he felt like he might vomit.