• Across the Barricades
  • Chapter 11



would be like lying in prison.

There were not so many people around tonight either. Of course it waws adel> Monday night. Sundays
nights brought out the young couples. One or two passed him, glancing
at him as they passed. He knew he must be a fine looking sight for
sore eyes: head bandaged, a black eye, arm in a sling.

He looked back along the path searching for any sign of Brian
Rafferty in case he had been followed. But he was sure that he had
not. He had sent out Gerald earlier to see what Rafferty was up to,
and Gerald had come back to say he had seen Rafferty and his friends
heading out towards another district. His family knew who had
beaten him up but they also knew as he did, it was better not to tell
the police. When they had questioned him at the hospital he had
said that he had no idea who had jumped him. He would be jumped
again if he had told: that was a certainty.

An elderly man came along with his dog. He was throwing a stick
for the dog and when the dog brought it back his owner clapped
him and said, ’’Good boy, Jack. ' They looked happy, the man and
his dog. As he drew level with Kevin, the man stopped.

"Are you all right, son?" he asked, coming closer.

"Yes. Thanks."

"Are you sure? YouDo you want me to help you along the path ?"
No, no, Kevin assured him, he was all right, he would not pass
out. The dog stood panting between himbeside them, the stick between his
teeth, waiting to be praised.

"All right, Jack, all right," said the man.

Joan Lingard
Black eye, District
Linen Hall Library, "Lingard102", Northern Ireland Literary Archive, accessed Sun, 06/16/2024 - 07:56, https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/lingard102