The Wake - Table of contents

The Wake - afters (26)

“We’d better let the marchers know,” I said and it was Aisling I was thinking of.

“Hold on, they won’t be here for another while yet.” And he stopped near the top of the hill, pulling into the left where we could see the men talking to the cops. The thing was, if we could see them then they could see us.

“They can see us,” I said. “Maybe we’d better go.”

“Take your time. Here, I’m going to get out of the car now to look at the engine. You come with me.”

He leaned forward and pulled a lever somewhere and the bonnet gave a nervous jump. The cops and the guys holding the sticks were only about a hundred yards away. Was he mad? We got out of the car and he lifted the bonnet, fixed it carefully on its stand and peered down at the engine.

“Looks all right,” I said standing there on my nerves.

“Looks anything but all right. Turn your head round a bit past me. Two o’clock. See up behind where the jeeps are? Can you see? Two o’clock. Can you see the people up there?”

I gave a quick look. The ones I saw were more like matchstick men, hurrying back and forward carrying things. I didn’t know what they were until this big jagged-looking stone, more like a middle-sized rock it was, dropped out of one of their arms.

“Christ, that’s ammunition. That could kill somebody. And the police know I’ll bet you. They must know. We have to stop the march. ”

“Right, we’ll go now. No point in delaying.” He dropped the bonnet with a crash and I nearly wet myself. We got back into the car. I sat waiting, wondering why Frank wasn’t starting the engine . Then I understood why. One of the jeeps was crawling up the hill towards us. Time seemed to slow to the speed of the thing.

The music was still playing. Brahms’ Lullaby, unmistakable. Must be a tape. The jeep took a breather, then changed down a gear. Funny the things come into your head. I was sitting there quaking waiting for the front of the march to come over the brow of the hill behind where the cops were and at the same time I was embarrassed for Frank because I could hear the frightened wheeze in his chest but then when I held my breath to check for certain I realised it was coming from me. 

“The marchers will be here any minute,” I said.

“It’ll be all right. They couldn’t possibly make it in that time. We have to wait anyway to see what our friend wants.”

The jeep juddered to a stop right in front of us and a cop got out in stages, deliberately maybe, maybe he was trying to put the shits up us, one leg, then the big bottlegreen ass, then the other leg, gun in holster swaying, baton tucked handy. I couldn’t see right but I think there was someone in the passenger seat.

Frank touched my arm. “Say nothing.”

“Having a spot of bother there?” I didn’t see the face, didn’t look at it to tell you the truth.

“No, we’re fine,” said Frank. “We were just about to head back to Claudy.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I left something behind there, at the petrol station.”

“What would that be then? What did you leave in Claudy?”

“My gloves.”

“Gloves?” Pause. “Would that not be them there now?”

“Sorry?”

“On the dashboard. Them look like gloves to me.”

In case we couldn’t see them he reached his hand in the window and touched a pair of leather gloves sitting in front of Frank’s face.