Allegiance: A Dublin Novella by Heather Domin Read Free Book Online Page B

“And I’m not buying, either.”
    Adam laughed again. “A bargaining man!” He picked up his pint and drained it, swaying on his feet at the last swallow. He picked up the tray as William hung his discarded apron on its peg. “You and I shall get on just fine, I can tell.”
     
     
     
    9.
    February 9, 1922
     
    It took William a week or two to realize he spent more time in the pub than was really necessary. His duties required him to help set up for the day, run the occasional errand, man the bar in the evenings, and help clean up after hours, but it wasn’t long before The Flag and Three had more or less taken over his existence. More and more frequently he found himself up at daybreak with Gerald, polishing fixtures or picking up deliveries; he helped with the cooking and often did the marketing, and most of the pub’s regulars greeted him in the streets now when they saw him. The day he found himself curtain-shopping with Mary was the day he knew he was becoming too invested in this place. Allowing himself to grow too attached would only make things more unpleasant in the end. It was a mistake William had never made before this assignment, and by the time he noticed it was too late.
    He tried to pull back, keep himself distant when not on duty and stick to gleaning information for the report which was rapidly filling his notebook, but it wasn’t long before he was back in the kitchen, peeling potatoes or reorganizing the pantry shelves. It was sort of inevitable around the Sullivans – you were a part of them whether you wished it or not. William’s attempts were half-hearted at best, and soon he gave up altogether. No sense doing things halfway, after all. Making the best of things wasn’t exactly sleeping with the enemy.
    This morning, however, William was at his work barely after sunrise on a Sunday morning not out of a sense of community pride but because he needed the distraction. He stood behind the bar with the morning sun streaming in on him through the windows, cloth in hand and rubbing at a scratch on the lacquered bar top. He wasn’t sure how it had got there, as he had just waxed and polished all the wood in the house the week before, but he had a sneaking suspicion it had something to with David’s fondness for sliding his pints down the bar like he had seen in the nickelodeons. William scrubbed at the scratch with his cloth until the countertop squeaked, his nose moving closer and closer to the surface, his brow knitting into a scowl, refusing to accept defeat.
    “Hard at work?”
    William looked up, having bent himself nearly prostrate over the offending blemish. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled.
    “Early to rise, and all that.”
    Adam leaned on the jamb of the kitchen door, munching an apple. “Good luck with the early to bed part.” He brushed a string of hair beneath his cap and stepped forward into the room. “Ready to go?”
    William dropped his cloth on the counter and wiped his hands across his thighs. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
    Adam met him at the end of the bar and threw an arm about his shoulders. “They’ll like you fine, Glasgow – they already do. Nothing to fret.”
    William followed him to the doorway by the loo and down the stairs to the basement. He had assumed they would meet in the storeroom; it seemed the most logical place. At least he hoped it would be the storeroom – he had no wish to be cloistered with Adam in the liquor cellar, forced to sit on one of those christened crates. Adam walked with one hand in his pocket, jingling the coins there and chomping on his apple like he was on his way to the dance hall on a Friday night. The church bells for Mass rang outside, growing quieter as they descended the stairs and turned to the corridor. The light in the storeroom was on, and William exhaled gratefully.
    The storeroom was empty when they entered. William looked at Adam, confused, but Adam merely smiled and walked over to the metal bracket