Families Part 2 Copyright Robert Fullarton 2007

 Families Part 2

Copyright Robert Fullarton 2007

Chapter 2

The green grass of Ireland

Thousands of catholic people had fled in terror from north to south as sectarian tension looked ominous to rise again. The Boundary commission between north and south had apparently collapsed with no agreement made on either party.

Nestled 10 miles to the west of Ulster’s largest lake, lough Neagh, lies the town of Cookstown in Co.Tyrone. In 1641 insurrection broke between the native Gaels and the settlers, who were slaughtered particularly in the neighbouring town of Dungannon. The repercussions of this, resulted in the destructive Cromwellian campaign ten years later. A pitched battled occurred across Ulster between General-Major Henry Monro leader of the Ulster-Scots and the confederate catholic rebels.

The rain fell in a torrent and the black clouds above hovered carrying with them the weapons of their bitter fury. The thunder was like a manic drum beating to the tune of war and the lightning flashed in a blinding ray striking the trees where ever it pleased.

Streams and rivers of water flowed into the gutters and the gutters could barely hold the water in such a desperate flood. People ran quickly to escape the downpour on the streets of Cookstown. The main street is known as the one mile street because of its enormous length and famous for being the longest in Northern Ireland alone. Cookstown is famous for its produce of renowned sausages, which are imported all over Ireland.

On the corner in one of the backstreets there lay a small old traditional pub, it predated back to the time of 1798. It was originally known as the United Irishmen, but the name was forcibly changed and it became known simply as O’Brien’s pub.

The floor was made of wood and the walls had several windows on which the light shone through. There was a musty smell in the hallway and the clouds of pipe tobacco could be seen wafting through the afternoon light. Old men were lost in conversation talking about Gaelic football and the talent of the Tyrone team. The bar man and the lounge boy were pushed hard all day serving whiskey and pulling pints. On the wall in the corner hung a deer’s head which was stuffed by a taxidermist and placed on a plaque and beside it lay a portrait of the four flags of provincial Ireland.

At the back of the bar lay two young men, in their mid twenties. They spoke quietly and drank their half empty glass of Guinness down, while they eat a roast beef dinner, chatting all about the nightmare of employment and chatting privately all about family affairs.

The two men were Patrick Donnelly and Gerald Ryan. Patrick and his family were well respected members of the local community. Patrick worked in Donaghadee in Co. Down

to the east of Belfast. Patrick worked five days a week for a construction company as a builder and wielder on the building of a block of flats. Out of the 400 men who were employed on the construction only 25 were of Roman Catholic background. Patrick himself lived in a small but comfortable little apartment in Donaghadee, he lived across from an entirely Protestant Loyalist estate. Gerald Ryan was his cousin from his mother’s side of the family, the relationship between them was of a mutual and long lasting friendship that originated out of childhood.

They both sat and munched on their food and chatted quietly.

“Work for me gets harder and harder, living in Belfast is like living in the lions den.

  I get tremendous hassle from the workers on the building sites. If it wasn’t for the few Catholic workmates I hang out with they’d kill me for sure!” , said Patrick with an aggressive tone.

“How is you’re da keeping pat” said Gerald trying to change the subject

“He’s still crippled with arthritis in both his legs and his back, and to make things worse he caught an awfull dose of flu, he’s lying in bed with me mam looking after him.

Da can’t run the shop at the moment so Declan and Sean are running the business.”

“Feck, the weather is just bleedin awfull!, you can’t have the sunshine every day”

They both laughed and drank the last of their drinks and left their plates to the side of the wooden table.

“You’re brothers are not as lucky as you, at least you’re working for a successful construction company and you’ve got a good education, you’re the only son in the family who didn’t leave school early, you’ve got to appreciate that,”

Said Gerald, trying to cheer him up.

“There is little employment for the likes of us here, something’s going to have to change whether through politics or with the gun.

Common lets leave, we’ll head back to my home, I’ve already paid the barman.”

They walked across the wooden floor’s of O’Brien’s pub and out onto the cobbled streets. The rain had stopped and there seemed to be a brief pause in the bad weather.

Two Ford cars drove by slowly through the streets, then suddenly the cars screeched,

Out came three RUC men. One of them was carrying handcuffs. They literally pounced on a man up the road, grabbing him holding him. They knocked him to the ground with the force of a hard punch to the face.

They promptly grabbed the poor man, and lifted him around the arms. Then they carried him into a car and sped off up the road. It was the last anyone saw of them.

Gerald and Patrick strolled calmly up the long main street through the damp grey pavements. Then Gerald spoke with a tone of concern in his voice.

“The police around the county are interning and arresting suspected republican activists, so says the paper. Five nights ago a family on a quite rural farm in Pomeroy was brutally murdered.”

Patrick looked surprised of the recent events and he watched Gerald Quizzically while he spoke. He thought in disbelief at the news.

Gerald continued.

“A farmer, his spouse and children were asleep in their beds, and then a group of men proceeded across the victim’s farm to the back door of the house. They tried to break the lock on the door, but accidentally I assume, the perpetrators smashed the glass on the door and then opened it. The farmer heard the sound of the glass shattering and he went down to confront the intruders with a shotgun he gripped in his hands. He was knocked over, and then stabbed over twenty times through the chest fatally puncturing his lungs. His innocent family were shot in their beds while they slept. The barn was burnt to the ground and the killers looted and robbed whatever they could get from the house. They escaped unseen as quick as a flash. A horrified and traumatized neighbor discovered the bodies and the scene of the burnt out barn the next morning. Police reckon four men in their mid twenties carried out the atrocities. The papers say they are republicans from East Tyrone and South Armagh.”

“The Protestant community must be going mental with news like this coming out of east Tyrone. There’s going to be an upsurge in violence, mark my words.

I would never get involved with the Irish Republican army, it’s a bloody state of affairs we now live in. huh? Do you agree with me?” Said Patrick

“Yeah” said Gerald,

 “It is”

“Come on back to our place for a drink before you go, Gerald, stay for a bite to eat,

to soak up the alcohol. I think I’ll make a few more sandwiches, I’m not completely

full. ”

Gerald shrugged his shoulders, nodded slowly and finally agreed with Patrick.

They walked quickly down the high street past the locals who were out busy purchasing fruit from many stalls near the side of the road. The weather was beginning to prosper, becoming humid and there were now enormous gaps in between the ugly grey clouds.

They walked down the high street wearing large navy coats in case the rain returned, but instead the sun came out, so they took them off. At the end of the street they stopped at a medium sized decent looking semi-detached bungalow. It appeared that one was in.

Patrick opened the door and they both proceeded into the hallway. On the wall there were old faded family portraits and school photographs from Patrick’s childhood.

They sat down on two wooden chairs in the kitchen. There was a fireplace on the left hand corner of the room and shelves with old books and vases made of old Waterford crystal given as a wedding anniversary present from his father to his mother.

Yes the Donnelly family lived comfortably, not well of, but with good standard’s and 

Not like many other families in the surrounding areas. They were lucky to have their own shop, and blessed that it was passed from Patrick’s father to his grandfather.

Patrick gave Gerald a piece of cooked chicken left over from earlier, it wasn’t stale for he kept it fresh, covered in tinfoil. They sat and eat chicken putting it in between two slices of bread mixed with lettuce and tomatoes then Patrick poured a small measure of whiskey for Gerald and himself and gulped it down quickly.

Suddenly the door opened Albert and Mary entered the room, the door swung open.

Albert and Mary looked at the pair of them

“What about ye, Gerald” said Albert

Then he looked at Patrick

“How long have you both been in the house for?”

“Only fifteen minutes” said Patrick

Mary smiled and greeted them both politely.

She discovered the whiskey bottle.

“Son, how much have you been drinking, it’s only Tuesday why aren’t you working

I didn’t expect you here, have you had anything to eat, if you had have let me know you were dropping up with Gerald I would have gone to the fishmongers and picked something for your tea.”

She spoke excitedly.

“I have got two days off work, today and tomorrow because they told me that there weren’t many workmen needed until Thursday to work on another site.

So I came back and met up with Gerald in town, he got the day of work as well.

The school sent in a replacement teacher, because Gerald said he had Severe Pneumonia.” 

Patrick laughed and messed about.

“Not very believable when you see him smoking a Woodbine,”

Mary joked.

“Well, I just wanted to meet you all and have a relaxing day off teaching English and Gaelic in the school.” Said Gerald

Albert sat in an armchair in the corner of the room

Mr. Donnelly was about 70 years of age and he had thin grey hair. He was about 6ft tall and he was slightly overweight. He gave off the impression that he was a heavy drinker from his bright red face. He suffered from an awful smokers cough and now he

had a lethal dose of the flu and he was plagued with exhaustion.

“My health is fading with age I’m leaving the shop to you and you’re brother’s son.

  Make me a happy man one day. You’re doing well with you’re job working for that construction company outside Belfast. I’m so happy with you son, I really am.

You’re a bright spark in the family too; you were the only one of the children to finish school with good results. Luck is on your side, son.”

Albert spoke softly and drank a glass of water while he coughed and spluttered.

Mary was in the small living room outside reading a book while the three others talked

Patrick put his arms around his father, and said goodbye to both his parents. Albert handed Patrick some money. He refused to take it, but Albert insisted, so he took it in the end. They walked out saying farewell.

The rain began to fall again and the dark clouds snatched the light around them like a thief in the sky

The next day after Gerald and Patrick parted company, Patrick paid his fare for the train journey back to Belfast. The train had plenty of empty seats available. Patrick watched the landscape as far as his eye could see. He could see farmers herding sheep and cows, he watched the hills in the distance, which rose and dipped into many valleys filled with beautiful evergreen trees. The train clanked and beat as it moved at a quick pace down the railroad tracks. The train stopped slowly at Dungannon, people boarded the train carrying with them suitcases while others departed. Several men wearing buttoned coats, one wore a pinstripe suit underneath, while they all wore hats on their heads.

They looked like detectives or serious businessmen. In one hand they carried a briefcase

and in their other either a paper or an umbrella.

They sat down two seats to the right away from the other passengers to speak in confidence to each other.

The one with the pinstripe suit seemed to be talking more than the others.

Four of them sat two were facing each other on either side with a small wooden table in the middle.

“David, I have a reliable source, with good information, he will testify to everything, he knows the perpetrators involved. A witness has come forward. It’s the next door neighbour. The old lady has come forward stating she recognized one of the killers.

She gave me a name as well; he is a catholic man in his mid twenties from outside the Stewartstown area not far from Cookstown. He spoke quietly looking forward at the man directly opposite him.

One of the other men then spoke.

“Who’s the source?

Who’s this man you speak of?” He said

The man in the pinstripe suit opened up his suitcase and handed him a file.

“Show it to the others when your done.”  

He said quietly.

On the file there was a photograph of a man with a criminal record and it gave his whereabouts. It stated clearly in black and white, that he had a history of republican activity.

“The source lives in Tyrone in the same town as this republican killer. I paid him and now he’s singing like a budgie.”

“He’s an informer then. Is he reliable, can you trust that lot?”

Said the other man

“I certainly can, I questioned him yesterday and his information could lead me to two of the other killers. I m going to shoot them all right between the eyes and when it’s done I’ve got some work to deal with back in Antrim.”

Immediately in the middle of the conversation the train driver stopped at a station, a good distance past Dungannon and announced, a problem with the train’s coal powered engine. He spoke politely asking for the passengers to leave the train and wait for another, while engineers worked on it. He apologized for the inconvenience.

“Grab your belongings, we’ll catch another train, I’m going to the washroom for a minute.” Said the man in the pinstripe suit the others agreed and waited at the entrance of the train station.

Meanwhile Patrick grabbed his belongings, stepped of the train and noticed it said Lurgan on the sign outside. He was frustrated with this nuisance occurring, the passengers tickets were compensated for another fare, said the driver and those who worked on the train.

Patrick strolled into the washrooms. He splashed his face with cold water from the tap, several times to cool himself down. It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon, so he washed the sweat from his brow and drank from a bottle of water he carried in his bag. He glared at his appearance in the mirror and he combed back his slick blonde hair.

When he walked out the door he noticed that the man with the pinstripe suit from the train, then he spotted that his left shoelace was untied. The man tripped going down the stairs of the bridge to the other platform he fell over and his briefcase landed with the files emptied out. He uttered an obscenity in pain his arms and legs were stiff and a swelling bruise appeared on his forehead.

Patrick was astonished and with a thought of Goodwill, he grabbed the brown briefcase gathering up promptly the files from the red-bricked floor.

“Sorry sir! Are you alright”, said Patrick

“You took a nasty fall.”

Patrick pulled him by the arms and sat him down on a bench.

The man looked at him and smiled in gratitude.

 “Here’s you’re case with all its content.

You were lucky that I saw it, before something bad could have happened,”

 said Patrick laughing.

“Yes, I’m lucky,

You didn’t happen to see anything in my briefcase did you?”

he said.

“No, I only picked up the loose pieces of paper off the ground.”

Replied Patrick.

His mood changed from being suspicious and cold to being warm and friendly.

“Well that’s alright then, I’m sorry if I sounded indecent to you just then, it’s just that I need everything in the briefcase for work.”

“My legs are in pain, but I will recover, I have too much to get done to be lying about.

 I have to catch a train in about fifteen minutes. Would you like a cup of tea, there’s a café right here in the station and I’ll buy you a piece of cake if you like.

Only problem is that I’m with company and there waiting outside for me.”

Patrick interrupted and spoke modestly.

“No, No, I’m grand, thank you I won’t delay you any further, I have to get to Belfast myself, and catch another train. Thanks for the offer, but I must decline.

The man stood up with his case and newspaper, on rather shaky legs.

He shook Patrick’s hand

“My name is Andrew, thank you for helping me out.”

“I’m Patrick,

 I spotted you on the train Andrew, with your good pinstripe suit.

It’s a shame the train broke down.

You can’t keep good company waiting, Andrew, you better go and tell them what happened.”

“Well their not good company, but I won’t keep them waiting.

Goodbye Patrick.” Andrew joked.

He walked off and out of the train station.

Patrick sat down for a few moments taking fast gulps out of his bottle of water.

He looked at the clock in the station.

He went over to the ticket office and enquired about the next train to Belfast central station.

Patrick pondered constantly on the time and waited patiently.

Twenty minutes later another train arrived, so he got on board and sat tired and restless.

The train moved off out of the station and houses could be seen on either side over the walls past the tracks. Union jacks waved in the wind from people’s back gardens.

Many houses were huddled together tightly knit and children were out playing in their back gardens on a sunny, truly impeccable summer day.

Later that day Patrick did some shopping in Donegal Place and caught a tram to take him on the Newtonards road across to Donaghadee in Co. Down