Blackwatertown. Paul Waters
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she did explode. With laughter – so strong, Macken almost ducked.
‘Mandear, you should have seen your face! You’d have thought I was about to ate you up! Come in, come in and take your ease.’
Macken smiled with relief as she came round the counter for a closer look. She put her hands on her hips and craned forward. As she came closer, Macken maintained his smile and, hoping it wasn’t too obvious, gradually leant back as she leant forward. With a bit of luck she’d stop before he fell over.
Just in time, she completed her inspection and drew back again.
‘Call me Lena. Alena Williamson, to be prim and proper about it. But Lena to my friends. And you’ve given me the biggest laugh since I don’t know when. There’s been no excitement here since the cotton mill shut down.
‘I thought those giddy women were telling me stories when they began twittering on about you and the vicar. But it’s high time yon boy was brought down a peg or two.’
‘Well…’ faltered Macken, not saying anything.
‘Let me take off my glasses so I can hear you properly. What do you call yourself?’
‘Macken… No, just Macken.’
‘Well then, Mr Just Macken. What on earth possessed you to bring down the force of the law on our vicar and his harem? Are the police all mad over there in County Down?’
Macken’s face fell as he realised the whole village had probably known who and what he was long before he had arrived.
‘There’s an operation ongoing against cycling offences…’
She barged over him. ‘Didn’t they tell you that was reserved for them Fenians out beyond? Oh, it’s the funniest thing ever!’
Though tears were flowing from her, she did not miss Macken stiffening. She waved a hand to implore a moment to recover herself.
‘Ah now, don’t take me wrong. I meant no offence. I have no quarrel with any Roman. Well, no more than with anyone else. I could show you Romans with more honesty than the worshipful master of an Orange Lodge, and more spirit too. Not that that’s saying much, mind. Sure take yon Aoife Penny. She’s got spirit to bottle.’
She noticed Macken reacting to the name.
‘Oh, yes. Did you not realise you scored an own goal with that one?
‘But wait now, wait now. What I want to say to you is that any man who wears your uniform, any man who’s prepared to hold the line for Ulster – then I do not care whether he’s Protestant, Presbyterian, Catholic or… or… or even a Jew. You’ve proved your loyalty as far as I’m concerned.’
Macken was not used to being so warmly welcomed into the Protestant fold. Everyone accepted that there were schools, pubs, churches, jobs and businesses for Protestants, and the same for Catholics. And each to their own, cradle to grave, most of the time. Shops too. Which led to an awful lot of duplication.
‘And I apologise for nearly drenching you, Mr Macken. You caught me at an hour long before I have the power to be civil to man or beast. But I can tell you now, you are sincerely welcome. Especially after this morning.’
Macken was not sure how to follow such an effusive reception.
‘Thank you very much. But I may have shot myself in the foot already.’
‘It’ll blow over. It’s just one of those times of year when people get a bit het up.’
She nodded towards a pile of newspapers. The headline on an opened copy shouted about an election. Macken decided to test the waters further.
‘Did you know the man I’m replacing?’
‘That was a bad business. Quiet boy. Very sad.’
Macken murmured agreement.
‘They say it was an accident,’ she went on. ‘And sure what else could it have been?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ach, too many lonely hours spent with only animals and liquor for company drives some old farmers to hasten their end. But wee Danny? He was too young to know life’s troubles. Sure he’d hardly lived. And he had Cedric, his great buddy.’
‘They were friends?’
‘Aye, surely. I take it you’ve met Cedric then. Was the meeting not a happy one?’
‘Well…’ said Macken.
‘It’s a terrible blow when someone close to you passes like that. Cedric may still be angry about it. And with you for stepping into Danny’s place.’
‘I thought it might be something else,’ said Macken.
‘Oh I see,’ said Lena. ‘You have to understand, Cedric is like the rest of us here, and I daresay across most of our wee country. We have our prejudices bred into us.
‘We may seem settled here. But at the back of your mind, there’s always that worry. About them. You could have the most trustworthy and decent neighbour who’s a Roman, but there’s still that fear of them all together. That they’re out there.’
Macken shrugged.
‘I’d better be on my way. Thanks again for the welcome.’
‘Believe you me, I have harsh words to say about people here sometimes – and them me,’ Lena smiled. ‘But I suppose they’re no worse than anywhere else, and maybe better than some. They can be friendly when they get to know you.’
Macken nodded. ‘Isn’t that what people say when their dog bites you?’
Lena laughed again. ‘Aren’t you the sharp one? Well, what can’t be cured must be endured. Give it a while and you’ll soon settle.’
She looked out the window. ‘Though your day may hold more excitement yet.’
Macken saw Constable Bull half walking, half running to the door.
‘I’ve never seen that man shift himself so fast,’ said Lena. ‘Don’t forget, you can take refuge here any time.’
Macken knew it must be something serious to have forced Bull from his cosy nook.
‘Mandear, have you gone completely off your rocker?’ Bull spluttered, bursting through the door. ‘Gracey was almost for driving to the nearest chapel in retaliation and dragging out the priest for offences against the state. Get back to the barracks quick.’
CHAPTER 9
‘Where is that eejit?’ Sergeant Gracey’s voice blared.
‘Sir?’ Macken tried to adopt a posture that indicated contrition but not guilt. Gracey grabbed him by the front of his tunic and shoved him against the wall. He pointed the rolled-up newspaper in his other hand at Macken’s throat.
‘Have I embraced a viper to my bosom?’
‘Sir, I was given to understand there was a crackdown underway and…’
‘Understand this Jolly Boy. You came highly recommended, but we’ve had enough trouble here. Real tragedy. But messers like you… Buck up, or you’ll feel my boot up your arse on the way out.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I suppose you’ll go running off to your priest now. He’ll probably make you a saint for wrecking our wee campaign against his flock of Fenians.’
Gracey’s face screwed up as if he had eaten something almost intolerably unpleasant.
‘I’ll tell you, boy. Don’t go getting carried away with your cleverness off the back of this exploit. I’ll be watching you.’
After such a disastrous start with the vicar,