Eden Burning by Deirdre Quiery Read Free Book Online

Crumlin Road. Before he knew it the back door of a black taxi swung open. The front door followed. Cedric jumped out from the passenger seat wearing a black leather jacket, black gloves and blue jeans. He stood in front of Paddy, his arms by his sides – deep blue eyes, shoulder length black hair. He looked calmly at Paddy, smiling. “Where do you think you’re going?”
    “Work,” whispered Paddy, hands in pockets, fingering the rosary beads in the right pocket and Molly’s solitaire in the left.
    “Not till after we’ve had a little chat. I don’t think you told us everything we needed to know. Get in the back.”
    Paddy’s stomach heaved as he stumbled into the back seat beside Peter, sturdy, pale faced with balding strawberry blondehair – some might call red – light blue eyes and almost no eyelashes or eyebrows giving his face a babyish look. Peter wasn’t there the week before when Paddy was picked up and interrogated by Cedric and William. Now a voice in his head screamed, ‘Let me out of here.’
    He tried unsuccessfully to swallow, struggling for air. It wasn’t fear in his body, but terror. His body tingled all over, confusing terror with bliss, or awe – every nerve in his body vibrated with anticipation. Currents of electricity shot up and down from his toes to the top of his head. He sensed Peter beside him looking at him then quickly looking away. William, the driver pressed the accelerator to the floor. The car sped past the Mill where Paddy was due to clock in, down the Crumlin Road, past the Mater Hospital, slowing to the speed limit as it approached the Crumlin Road jail. William swung the taxi sharply right, almost lifting it onto two wheels at Carlisle Circus and headed for the Shankill. Peter was thrown against Paddy. He pulled himself away, shrivelling as though Paddy was acid. Paddy wondered for a moment whether it was worth opening the door and risk throwing himself from the taxi at forty miles an hour. If he tried to escape, would it make matters worse? After all, didn’t they let him go last week? Maybe he could make a run for it when they stopped – that’s if they didn’t kill him first.
    He couldn’t block the memory of Brendan McKee’s nineteen stab wounds. Nineteen. Why did he not die from the first one? They said that Brendan didn’t die in the taxi. Worse was to follow.
    “I’ll run for it when they stop,” Paddy whispered to himself. “I’ve nothing to lose.” He gripped the rosary in his right pocket. He searched in his left pocket for the heart solitaire. Without moving his left hand from his trouser pocket, he managed to squeeze the ring over his small finger. He got it all the way upto his knuckle but no further. He touched the diamond with his thumb.
    Paddy knew what happened to people taken by the drivers of black taxis. Few escaped. He tried not to remember the Ardoyne gossip about how they died. “This is what it feels like,” he thought. “It’s not real,” he told himself, “someone is going to stop the film. There’s going to be a commercial break. I’m going to get out of this car and I’m going to be told it’s a bad joke or a nightmare.”
    After Molly died, Paddy had nightmares almost every night. He dreamt that he was trying to lock up and go home from the Mill, but he couldn’t get the front door to close. He didn’t want anyone to think that he had left it carelessly open. That would cost him his job. He rushed to find Andrew, his boss, to explain that the door wouldn’t close. Andrew walked with him in the darkness to the front door of the Mill, tried to close it and saw for himself that what Paddy was saying was true. It was simply impossible. They nodded at each other, shrugged their shoulders, left the door open and walked away.
    The dream morphed. Paddy was alone on his way to work, walking towards the front door. The glass door swung slowly open outwards. He stopped. Something was inside waiting for him – he saw a