Irish Lady by Jeanette Baker

Author:Jeanette Baker [Baker, Jeanette]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Fiction, General, Historical, Legal
ISBN: 9781402255922
Google: C4yzuN3ExBQC
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc
Published: 1998-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

Meghann remembered other riots in the Falls, the later ones much worse than the bombing of Cupar Street. But none affected her as much as the one that had left her orphaned. In 1972 the loyalists had gone on a rampage, evicting Catholic families, burning schools, and bombing churches while the British Army watched from the sidelines. This Rape of the Falls, as it came to be known, caused such devastation that entire streets were leveled to the ground. The Housing Authority erected high-rises that forever changed the flavor of the community and became slums far worse than the tenements and row houses had ever been.

Cupar Street was never again inhabited by Catholics or Protestants, and eventually the row houses were torn down and a twenty-foot brick wall known as the Peace Line was erected. There was no more shopping in the Shankill for Catholic mothers, and never again did Protestants and Catholics socialize outside their own neighborhoods. Wrapped in the secure cocoon of the Devlin family and later in the haze of her feelings for Michael, Meghann healed, or so she thought. Bernadette Devlin had brought out the truth on their last walk through the Falls. Meghann had never reconciled Cupar Street. Perhaps it was time.

She unplugged the kettle and slipped on her shoes. There were very few personal belongings in her office. Except for her books, which she would have packed and delivered later, one trip to the car would do it. Tucking Michael’s files into her briefcase, she walked out of the office, through the beautiful mahogany doors, and down the steps to the car park without encountering anyone.

Placing her things in the back, she slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine turned over. Maneuvering the car down the exit ramp, she stopped at the guard tower and waited until the gate opened. A crowd carrying banners had gathered outside the building.

Perplexed, Meghann inched the car forward and tapped her horn, hoping the people would disperse. Instead they surrounded the car, shouting, pressing banners painted with horrid slogans against the windows and pounding on the bonnet.

Two guards rushed out from behind the gate, brandishing billy clubs at the crowd. In seconds they cleared the driveway and Meghann quickly drove through the angry demonstrators. She turned back briefly and stared at the white banner draped below the impressive logo advertising the offices of Thorndike and Sutton. In gaudy red letters three feet high, the words IRA Murderer leaped out at her through the rain.

Grimly she concentrated on her driving and moved ahead with the traffic. Her press conference had ended little more than an hour ago. The British Broadcasting Networks hadn’t wasted any time. She wondered if Michael would see it or if this, too, would be banned in Northern Ireland.

Turning down the elegant streets of the Mayfair district where she kept her flat, Meghann drove into her garage, gathered her belongings, and walked through her back door to find Mrs. Hartwell in a state of distress.

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