Allegiance: A Dublin Novella (16 page)

William’s eyes flitted to the darkened stairway. Another high note from the fiddle trilled through the room, followed by a quick practice rhythm from the bodhrán
–
tap-tap-tap.
Gooseflesh prickled down William's arms, and he was untying his apron before he realized it. He stuck it on its peg and ignored whatever comment Andy made as he walked around the bar and toward the stairs, his eyes never wavering from Adam’s face.

Halfway across the room a hand settled on his arm. He turned to see red hair falling from its ribbon, all the way down to the devil’s own hips beneath a thin cotton dress.

“Will you dance, Glasgow?”

William saw Adam’s eyebrows rise – and then it was William’s turn to grin. The bodhrán began to pound, heavy and insistent, and couples paired up across the floor. William looked back at the girl and gave her his most courteous bow.

“Of course."

The music began all at once, fast and furious from the opening note. William’s hand fit neatly around the girl’s waist, as neatly as her own hand fit around the back of his neck. Her thumb brushed his scar and she bit her lip. He smiled at her and, without further warning, swung her into a perfect reel. From the corner of his eye he saw Adam’s jaw drop as he came up off the post. He set his pint down on the table and, looking around briefly, seized Sarah Reilly as she passed, spinning the startled girl into his arms. William grinned wider and tightened his grip.

The rhythm grew faster with each verse, winding tighter and tighter in the smoky, humid air. Adam twirled Sarah flawlessly in his arms, her hair flying out behind them; William spun his own partner just as perfectly, twisting through the maze of bodies to come full turn around the room.

They circled each other, trading glances over the arms thrown around their necks, turning through the crowd from opposite sides of the floor. The music pounded in William’s head, in his blood, in his hands on a slim waist and his head turning to catch every furtive look. He could hear someone laughing, and it took a moment to realize it was himself.

As abruptly as it had begun, the song crashed to an end. The dancers fanned themselves and paused to catch a kiss and catch their breath. William felt a tug on his shirt and turned; his eyes went wide as the girl rose to her tiptoes and kissed him full on the mouth. Her freckled cheeks were pink as she winked at him.

“Not bad, Glasgow,” she said, and gave him a pat on the bottom before she turned and walked away.

The dance floor cleared as quickly as it had filled up. William looked around through the scattering crowd – Adam was gone. He peered across the pub until he saw Sarah fanning herself at a table and giggling with her girlfriends; his eyes searched every face at the tables, in line for the loo, squeezed between the stools in front of the bar, where Gerald and Mary moved double-time to serve their thirsty customers. Behind them, the kitchen door swung subtly on its hinges. William crossed the room in ten strides and burst through the door before it could swing back a second time. He was barely on the other side before a pair of hands grabbed him by the collar and pulled.

Adam’s arse collided ungracefully with the kitchen table; William shoved aside a stack of bowls to pin him where he stood. He could smell the alcohol and the sweat, feel the music still pounding in their veins – Adam’s hands were on him, pulling him closer to grind their bodies together, and William bent him backward and kissed him until the pans began to rattle in the racks above them.

Long fingers sliding into his trousers snapped him back to reality. He drew back abruptly, eyes flying to the kitchen door and the crowd just outside it. He grabbed Adam’s hands and moved them away.

“Don’t,” he gasped. “Someone might see.”

“So what if they did?” Adam reached for William’s hips and pulled. “Let them see.”

William closed his eyes, pushing into the pressure of Adam’s knee between his thighs; but then looked at the door again, and this time he pulled completely away.

“You don
’
t mean that. You really want those lads to see you doing this with a bloke? How do you think they
’
d take to something like that? How do you think Gerald would take to it?”

Adam came up from the table and slipped his arms around William’s waist. His breath smelled of sweet tobacco and sharp whisky., and William’s head reeled.

“Gerald would want to see me happy.
” He pushed up, hard and unmistakable, against William’s belly. “Make me happy, Glasgow.”

William shuddered and gripped the edge of the table. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“I can’t say no to you.”

Adam grinned against his throat. “Aye, I know. Tis a terrible curse.”

William chuckled; the sound vibrated in his throat, against his pulse and Adam’s lips hovering there. He dipped his head back, swearing at the ceiling, as Adam moved down the line of his scar, first with his lips, then with his tongue. William gripped the table to keep himself from falling, his free hand groping for anything he could grab to pull them closer together.

“William, love, could you
—”

William’s eyes sprang open and his head whipped to the kitchen door. Mary stood there, motionless, her blue eyes round and enormous. One hand went to her throat.

“Oh,” she said.

William scrambled backwards, tugging his clothes into place. He ran a hand through his hair and wiped his mouth, painfully aware of the prominent erection straining at his trousers.

“Um,” he said.

Beside him, Adam lounged against the table and cocked his head, smiling. “Hello, Mary my love.”

“I
—” Mary’s voice was a rusty squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I was just…wondering…”

William tried to gather his wits enough to come up with a coherent sentence. He took a step forward and his foot clattered into the pile of bowls on the floor; he stammered a few syllables, trying to blink himself into sobriety while Adam grinned beside him. Finally he gave up and merely stared at her, at a total loss. Mary’s wide eyes moved from one face to the other and back – and then her face lit up with a smile.

Adam stood up straight and adjusted his cap. “Break’s over, Glasgow,” he said. “Best get back to work before you get sacked.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and headed for the door.

“No,” Mary blurted. The shock had gone from her features; her eyes twinkled with mischief as her head tilted in concern. “That is to say, no, William, you do look a tad shaky now I look at you. You go ahead and have a rest in here for a bit. No need to rush back outside just now.” She clasped her hands behind her back and turned to Adam. “Look after him, won’t you? He looks a bit exhausted, truth be told.”

Adam gave William an appraising look. “Aye, he does at that,” he said. “I shall do my best to get him off his feet.”

William gawked at them. Mary’s grin matched Adam’s as she brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“It’s cooler in the pantry,” she said, and her braid flipped behind her as she walked out.

William stared at the swinging door, his blood-starved brain struggling to catch up with what had just occurred. Adam cocked his head and grinned from beneath his crooked cap, and William gave up the effort altogether.

“You heard the lady,” Adam said.

“I did.”

“Well, go on then – you gonna have your wicked way with me or what?”

William glanced at the door, then hooked a finger in his crinkled collar and jerked it fully open. “Too fuckin
’
right,” he said, and ignored Adam’s
oof!
of surprise as William pulled him nearly off his feet and dragged him into the pantry.

20.

April 22nd, 1922

William was out of bed before the second knock sounded, before he was fully awake or even fully aware of the sound itself. He blinked in the darkness – the knocking came again and he snatched up his clothes. He nearly tripped over the loose floorboard as he crossed the room; swearing under his breath, he rubbed the grit from his eyes and pulled open the bedroom door.

Mary stood there. Her hair was unbound, hanging free to where her floral robe tied at her waist. The thin light coming up from the stairwell made her appear ghostly and colorless. She hugged herself against the night air as William fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He took one look at her face and knew exactly what her words would be.

“It’s Adam,” she said.

William only nodded, and grabbed his shoes as he followed her down the hall.

Downstairs it was a little lighter. The first shades of pink streaked the sky as dawn approached, and nearly every window along Wicklow Street was lit from within. Outside William could hear footsteps, streetcar bells clanging and dogs barking; from far away came an occasional crackling sound, like corn popping in the next room. It was a sound William had heard before.

Inside the pub minor chaos had erupted. William entered just as Gerald burst up from the cellar, carrying a box in his arms. The door to the kitchen had been propped open; Daniel Fisher and another young man hurried in and met Gerald at the door. Daniel took the box from Gerald and ran back outside, where a lorry had been parked close to the back alley door with its tarp rolled up. The other boy headed for the basement stairs; Gerald turned to follow him and almost collided with William as he came around the staircase.

“They’ve taken the Four Courts,” he said.

“Who? English?”

Gerald shook his head. He had not stopped moving, and William had to follow him through the kitchen to hear.

“De Valera’s men, about fifty of them. They’ve taken the block, cut off the Four Courts and all the buildings. They say they’ll blow the place to hell if the Brits don’t clear out for good. It’ll be war now for sure.”

William rubbed his face with both hands. “God.” It was worse than he had feared. Worse than he could have imagined. He leaned against the door, using the cold air to sharpen his senses.

“The army will be pouring through this city any minute,” Gerald said. “I have to get everything out of here now. It’s lucky I am I’ve got no
— Lord God, girl, I told you to get back in the house!”

William took the box Mary handed him and put it on the truck with the others. Ignoring Gerald’s rebuke, she touched William’s arm; he took her by the shoulders and spoke quickly.

“Where is he?”

“With them. He knows one of them and they’ve all gone out to help.” Her face hardened with anger. “They’re all out there now, running to their deaths, every goddamned one of them.”

“Hold your tongue, Mary!” snapped Gerald.

This is it,
William thought. The day for which he had spent months preparing had finally come, and he had been sound asleep. The army was on its way, and all of his friends were going to die. He shoved the last box into the truck and turned away toward the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” cried Gerald.

“I’m going to find them.”

“No.” Gerald yanked down the tarp and beat his palm on the back of the lorry; its engine revved as it sped away. “No, lad. Don’t get yourself involved. There’s naught you can do to help.”

“Yes there is.” William reached through the back door and grabbed his jacket from the coat rack. “I can stop them.”

Gerald took hold of his arm. “You don’t have to do this, son.”

William looked at Mary; her face was grim, but her eyes were large and pleading.

“Yes I do.”

Gerald nodded. He had his apron knotted behind his back – he reached into the fastenings and pulled out a small pistol. William took the gun and checked the bullets before tucking it into his belt, safe beneath his jacket at the small of his back.