Belfast Girls Read online

  “Help! Let’s keep out of this!” gasped Phil.

  Sheila was in full agreement.

  The girls drew back and to one side as more people, those who had been at the front of the Mandela Hall, emerged into the corridor and began to push their way forward and upstairs to the ground floor to find out what was going on. A familiar voice behind Phil’s back said, “Let me through, there, can't you?”

  She turned round and found herself looking directly at Davy Hagan.

  For a moment he failed to recognise her. Then his eyes widened and his mouth broke into the reckless grin Phil remembered so well.

  “Who'd have believed it? Little Phil – after all this time.”

  “Not so much of the little,” Phil retorted, nettled. “I’m a big girl now.”

  “So you are – indeed you are,” said Davy, his eyes raking her thoughtfully. He seemed to come to a decision.

  “Don’t go away, sweetheart,” he said, “I’ll be right back. I’ll take you for a drink or something. But right now I need to get out here and teach these guys a lesson.”

  He pushed his way on down the packed corridor to the entrance.

  Phil watched him go. Part of her wanted to run – but even if she tried to, it would be impossible to get away just now. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to get involved with Davy Hagan again, but she knew that she didn’t want him to get hurt in whatever was going on outside.

  There were renewed noises, shouts and jeering from the front of the building, then came the sound of cars screeching to a halt, sirens, a voice over a megaphone. The police had arrived.

  Relief flooded through Phil. It didn’t take the police long to clear the crowd from University Road. The students who had poured out to the front steps came trooping back in. Davy thrust his way over to her.

  “Let's get out of here,” he said. “Come on and I’ll buy you a drink in the Bot.”

  With a whispered word to Sheila, Phil found herself following him outside.

  Did he really think that he could just take things up where they had been two years ago? Did he think that she had forgotten how he had treated her? But it seemed he did think just that.

  And the awful part, Phil realised, was that she seemed to think so, too.

  Chapter Ten

  “Sheila!” called John.

  He stood outside her bedroom window, like Romeo, shouting up. But it wasn’t night time. Instead, it was a beautiful early spring morning at the start of the Easter break and Sheila was still loafing in bed, getting up by slow stages. Her parents had both left for their respective jobs some time ago.

  “Why doesn’t anyone answer the door in your house?” John complained. “I’ve been banging for ages!”

  “Everyone’s out except me,” Sheila said, “and I’m not quite up yet, sorry!”

  “Well, get up now!” John exclaimed impatiently. “I’ve got my Mum’s car for the day. I’m going to take you up the Antrim coast road. That is, if you’d like to go?” it occurred to him to add.

  There was nothing Sheila would have liked better.

  “Oh, brilliant!” she called down to him, hanging out of the window wrapped only in her white fluffy dressing gown, her red gold hair a tangled mass of curls around her shoulders and flopping in uninhibited strands across her forehead. “It won’t take me a minute to get ready. Well, actually,” she added truthfully, “it will, but I’ll be as quick as I can, really! Hang on, I’ll come down and let you in.”

  “No, don’t,” John said sharply. “Not until you’re dressed. I’ll wander about out here till you’re ready.”

  Sheila was surprised. She wasn’t proposing to bring him up to her room after all, or to dress in front of him. Still, she had become quite philosophical about John’s ideas and attitudes by now, and reckoned that the best thing to do was just to take them in her stride.

  “Okay,” was all she said.

  She ducked back into her room and began to drag clothes hastily out of her wardrobe and her cupboards, looking for something good enough. A whole day out with John! It sounded like magic. A quick shower, rubbing her hair and leaving it to dry naturally in the sun, and she was ready to scramble into a sleeveless bright green sundress and to put on a little make-up.

  Suddenly it occurred to her that the short sleeveless dress wouldn’t get John’s approval at all. Quickly she snatched a white cotton jacket from its hanger and struggled into it as she sped downstairs.

  “Ready now, John!” she called, reaching the front door and flinging it open.

  John came across the lawn towards her and Sheila bounced joyfully into his arms, the bright spring sun sending sparkling reflections of itself cascading from her still damp curls. For a moment John held her tightly, his mouth fastening eagerly on hers. Then he detached himself gently from her clasp.

  “Come on,” he said briefly, breathlessly, taking her arm, “let’s get into the car.”

  Slightly cast down, Sheila followed him meekly. She was quite aware by now that John was reluctant to kiss her or hold her more than a very little. He had standards which he was determined to keep. Sheila respected him for it. Goodness knows, it was so much better than the other boys she had known, before she began going out with John, whose only thought was to get into her pants, as the saying went. She had hated that sort of attitude. All the same, she sometimes asked herself, did John take things too much to the opposite extreme?

  But John had his own rules to keep to. When he was younger, he had seen himself as a priest, a strong man gently helping others to keep to the rules he found worked for himself. But it had not been long before he had found that celibacy was something he regularly struggled with. He found himself, quite without meaning to, getting involved with more than one girl, finally sleeping with one.

  He gave up any intention of becoming a priest but, fiercely angry with himself, he clung more firmly than ever to the basic rules he lived by. He would never again, he promised himself, have a casual sexual relationship with any girl. With Sheila, he was determined to be careful. He would resist any temptation to sleep with her as he had done with that other girl, but there were times when it was very hard.

  He opened the door of his mother’s bright red Fiesta and installed her carefully in the passenger seat. Sheila held her skirt tightly round her, edging in hips first. She didn’t want a repeat of the remarks John had made once before, when he considered that she had shown too much of her legs in the course of climbing in.

  Then John turned the key, pressed his feet on the pedals and they were off, heading out of the city towards Carrickfergus with its mediaeval castle, then on through industrial Larne and finally on to the open line of the coast where the road ran beside the sheer white cliffs on their left, and the sea was only yards away on their right, with beach after sandy beach leading away into the clear blue distance as the little Fiesta roared happily round bend after bend.

  Each small bay was outlined in heavy pencil strokes of white or grey rock, and ahead, stretching up the coast, the headlands stood out like giant slices of birthday cake, white and brown with a lush green topping against the brilliant blue of the sky. Sheila drew a sigh of deep content as she felt the heat of the sun caressing her shoulders.

  “This is so good, John,” she said. “What could be better?”

  John smiled at her, a swift sideways smile, before returning his full attention to the road.

  “Some things, I should think. But, yes, this is pretty good.”

  Sheila wasn’t sure what he meant, but was happy to leave it unexplored for now.

  In the early afternoon, they stopped in a small layby, scrambled out of the car, and made their way across to a wide grassy ledge perched over on the far side of the road, but at a lower level, which gave them a certain amount of privacy from passers by. Small yellow and white flowers, which had been scattered by an artist with a generous hand and an eye for colour, peered up brightly amongst the soft greens of the varied grasses. Several large white rocks, probab
ly deposited there by glaciers in the Ice Age, John told her, loomed up between them and the road as guardians of their privacy.

  John had brought a picnic, some egg sandwiches which he had coaxed his mother to provide, although he didn’t tell Sheila this, and a litre of fruit juice. Sheila, who had noticed the picnic in its bag on the back seat, was just a little bit disappointed. She had been visualising something a bit more romantic.

  Sandwiches were nice, of course, but maybe chicken drumsticks, or even smoked salmon, would have been more exciting. Too dear for John’s student grant, she realised, reproaching herself for her thoughtlessness. But a bottle of white wine would have been so much more special than fruit juice and surely one of the cheaper brands wouldn’t have cost so very much more these days.

  They settled down on the grass in the shade of the big white rocks. Sheila lay back and closed her eyes, raising one arm to shield her face from the direct rays of the sun.

  “I thought I’d better not bring any wine,” she heard John’s voice. “I know you like white wine, honey, but, to tell you the truth, the effect it has on you is way too dangerous to risk when we’re here on our own!”

  He was laughing, pretending to tease her, turning it into a joke, but Sheila stiffened.

  “Not much risk when you’re always so careful yourself, John,” she said coldly. Sitting up, she reached for an egg sandwich. The magic of the afternoon seemed damaged. She tried to resurrect it but without much success. Presently they packed up the remains of the picnic and drove on.

  Mile after mile of incredible beauty sped by. It was early evening, though the sky was still blue and bright, when John pulled up the car by a smooth sandy beach visible beyond a short track. The track led down from the edge of the road, weaving its way through the rough grasses of the sand dunes which here were sprinkled with the gentle blush of sea pinks, until it reached the soft golden sand.

  “Let’s go for a walk along the beach,” John suggested. Sheila, who had long since put her annoyance behind her, agreed enthusiastically. Hand in hand they scrambled wildly down the steep little path and raced over the dry sand until they reached the damp firm stretches at the edge of the sea. Slipping off her sandals, Sheila splashed noisily into the shallow waves.

  “Isn’t this great!”

  John, laughing, bent to scoop up water in his hand and splash it over her. Then he in turn pulled off his trainers, slung them by their laces round his neck, and rolled up his jeans, joining Sheila in the shallow water.

  “Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a swim?” Sheila sighed. The heat of the sun still beating strongly on her body made the idea delightful.

  “Well, in the first place, it’s probably as cold as ice a few more feet in,” John remarked reasonably, “and in the second place, we don’t have bathers with us, do we?”

  Sheila thought of suggesting that they could strip to their underclothes. She looked speculatively at John’s face, and decided against it.

  “True,” was all she said instead.

  There were some small smooth pebbles along the sea edge. Sheila and John picked up a handful each and began to skim them, counting the number of jumps in friendly rivalry, making their way slowly along the beach towards the further point, feet sometimes in and sometimes out of the water.

  Sheila was once more ecstatically happy. There was no-one in the world like John. So he had his bad points. So what? She would never love anyone else as much as this.

  The beach led to a low ridge of rocks reaching out into the sea, like an arm encircling the sand. Sheila and John hopped over it easily, eager to explore, to see what was on the other side. The cliffs were sheerer here, rising high and white to many feet above their heads.

  “There’s a cliff path, do you see, over there?” John indicated a narrow, twisty track, rather like the one they had come down but quite a bit steeper, going much higher up. Sure enough, from what they could see, it probably continued along the top of the cliff.

  Taking Sheila’s hand, he led her to the foot of the path. Here they shook the sand from their feet, re-donned their footwear and looked doubtfully at the climb.

  “Well – shall we go for it?” John asked.

  “Okay.”

  John went first. Sheila scrambled after him, John turning every now and then to give her a hand where necessary to make sure that she was managing. Finally they stood on the cliff top.

  The amazing view was their reward. East across the sea, the day was so clear that they could see Scotland green and sharp, the Mull of Kintyre in its greens and browns set against the calm blue of the ocean. To the North lay the nearer islands, first Islay, and behind it what seemed to be Jura. Eastwards, beyond the Mull, John, who was long sighted, pointed out Arran, Ailsa Craig, and the further shore of Scotland in the distance.

  For some time they stood looking out.

  “Worth coming for this alone,” John said presently. He took Sheila’s hand again and they began to stroll gently along the cliff top path. Immediately to their right, Sheila noticed, instead of one of the sheer rocky cliffs there was a less abrupt slope now, well grown over, covered in tall grasses just coming into seed, scattered with golden whin bushes and with gleams of wild flowers, white of daisies, bright yellow of dandelions, purple and white of clover, lighting up the picture. The vanilla scent of the golden whin blossom hung sweetly in the evening air.

  They passed a weather-beaten notice warning of the danger of landslips at the edge of the path, and Sheila noticed that there seemed to have been one recently. At least, there were trails of brown earth across the path occasionally rushing on down over the edge.

  She peered over cautiously and saw that beyond the safer slopes, the cliff turned abruptly into a steep drop. A good idea to walk carefully, she thought. Once over the edge of the path, a slithering slide would take anyone very quickly to the cliff edge and from there it would be the easiest thing in the world to continue on into outer space, ending up on the beach below with at the very least broken bones. She held John’s hand more tightly and stepped cautiously as far from the edge as possible.

  Ahead of them, to the North West, they could see the sky beginning to reflect red and gold streaks from the sun, as it made up its mind to sink gradually lower and closer to the horizon.

  “I wish John would kiss me,” Sheila thought. She turned her face to his and smiled encouragingly and, at that, John leaned towards her.

  It was a kiss, certainly, but such a gentle one. Sheila, while thoroughly enjoying it, could have wished for a little more passion. Still, she supposed she should be grateful for what she had.

  John leaned away again. The kiss was over. It was just at that moment that they both heard it. A faint moan, so weak as to be almost beyond hearing. John dropped Sheila’s hand and rushed to the edge of the path.

  Sheila was just behind him. As the sky wasn’t dark yet, it was still easy enough to see down the grassy slope. Looking over they could both make out a small figure. A child. A little boy, they both thought.

  He was wearing a bright red T-shirt, which was a good thing. It made it that bit easier to be sure he was there. In the fading light, brown or green would have made it harder to distinguish him against the surrounding slope and its grassy ledges.

  He was clinging to the inside branches of a whin bush and seemed to be crying.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Hullo!” John called down.

  The little white face below looked up at once and split into an incredulous grin.

  “Hullo!” the boy called up to them in a wavering voice. “Please, can you help me?”

  “Yeah, sure thing,” John called back. “Just stay still, right?”

  “The path slipped!” the boy called back. He was clearly eager to explain. “I was playing on the beach with Mum and Dad and our Kevin, he’s just a baby, and I thought I’d explore a bit round the corner, and I came up here and walked along a bit, and the ground just flippin’ gave way. I shouted and shouted, but no-one heard. Ma
ybe they’ve gone looking for me the other way, like ...”

  “Yeah, well, never mind all that now,” John said authoritatively. “Just hold on, see? We’ll sort something out.” He fished in the pocket of his jeans and produced his mobile. “If I can just get a signal.” He walked away along the path. For a few moments he pressed buttons, then, with a sigh of relief, began to speak into the phone.

  Sheila watched.

  “Hi, is that emergency? We have a kid here who’s fallen over the cliff. I can give you the rough location.”

  He did his best to identify the cliff path for the listening rescue services, hoping he was being coherent. They seemed to recognise his description.

  “Can you send out – oh, a helicopter I should think it would have to be? You need to hurry, he might slip some more. Good. Right. We’ll do our best here in the meantime.” With a sigh of relief, he folded up the mobile and returned it to his pocket.

  Sheila, who had been trying to keep the child cheerful while John rang for help, turned her face away from the cliff top and spoke in a low worried tone which she hoped only John could hear.

  “John, how long do they expect to be?”

  “Twenty minutes.”

  “But, John!” Sheila’s face wore an expression of horror. “That’s way too long!”

  “It’s the best they can do.” John spoke irritably.

  “John, the ground’s still slipping! Some of it went by while you were on the phone! He might be swept away any minute!”

  “Okay.” John was thinking. “We’ll have to do our best for him, then. We can’t just wait.” As he spoke, he was unbuckling the belt of his jeans. “Look away, Sheila,” he instructed. “I’ll have to see if I can make a long enough rope out of what I’m wearing. It won’t be easy to tie the things together with a firm enough knot, but we’ll see.”

  Sheila spoke indignantly. “Look away, indeed. Give me a minute and I’ll add my stuff to yours.” She slipped off her jacket, and began to unbutton the front of her sundress. Then, seeing the horror in John’s eyes, she added firmly “This is no time for nonsense, John. That kid’s life may depend on it.”