Border Crossings by Carole Bellacera

Author:Carole Bellacera [Bellacera, Carole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Women's Fiction
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1999-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Kathy stood with Erin outside the gates of Castlereagh Interrogation Center, shivering in her raincoat, her face damp from a fine mist of rain. Exhaust fumes from passing traffic saturated the humid air, making it difficult to breathe. Her mouth tightened and she held the sign higher, determined not to let the discomfort of the cold summer drizzle and the stench of Belfast defeat her. The other women were holding out. So could she.

In the three days they’d been standing vigil, protesting the inhumane treatment going on inside those dank gray walls, Kathy had become acquainted with several of the other protestors. Maeve O’Doherty had an eighteen-year-old son in there, along with three other women whose sons had been lifted after a bombing in Belfast’s city center.

And Sinead Mulligan who, like Kathy, was there to protest her husband’s arrest. Ellen Coggin. Maureen O’Reilly. And many, many more whose names Kathy couldn’t remember.

All of them were in the same situation; their husbands, sons, and brothers were being held by British authorities, either here at Castlereagh, or like Erin’s John, at Long Kesh Prison.

Pearse’s arrest had torn Erin from the semicomatose state she’d existed in since John’s imprisonment and galvanized her into action. In the last days, she’d been the old Erin, fiery and vehemently vocal against the British.

This time Kathy understood where she was coming from, having firsthand knowledge of life under British rule for the last two years. This time, she felt aligned with her instead of alienated.

Since they’d arrived in Belfast on Sunday afternoon, Kathy had heard no significant news of Pearse and his situation. Cormac McCordie had arranged for them to stay with his family in Falls Road so he could keep her informed of what little information he managed to wheedle out of the RUC. So far, his only news had been that Pearse was still being “detained” at Castlereagh.

Kathy didn’t fool herself that their vigil outside the interrogation center was really accomplishing anything. But she had to do something. She couldn’t sit home in Enniskillen just waiting. Like these other women, she had to find a way to fight the system—even if it was only to protest with signs and verbal reproaches against passing British officials and the RUC.

Although Erin hadn’t said anything, Kathy sensed her approval. They might never be friends, but at least they were no longer enemies.

A government car pulled up to the curb, and immediately, the small crowd howled in outrage. A dapper man in a three-piece suit stepped out of the car and opened an umbrella. He wore a sour look on his hawklike face, and Kathy guessed that he held a high position in the British government, if not a minister of Parliament, an aide. Two men exited the car after him, one of them carrying a camera and lighting equipment.

Kathy eyed them. They were dressed casually in jeans and weatherproof jackets. The tall dark-haired man appeared to be in charge, directing a stocky photographer with a long blond ponytail to set up his tripod on the sidewalk.

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