Northern Spy Berry, Flynn (books for 9th graders .TXT) 📖

wipe the liquid with my palm as the door opens. I recognize the man from outside the chapel earlier. He was standing shoulder to shoulder with Cillian Burke.

“What’re you doing in here?” he asks.

Marian holds up the bottle. “The other bar won’t do shots. Do you fancy one?”

26

Finn stands at the sliding door with one hand pressed to the glass, like a king greeting his people. I kneel behind him, my arms around his waist, and consider the garden with him. His snub nose touches the glass, as does the rounded curve of his forehead. He makes a series of short, urgent sounds, and I long to know what they mean. Past the garden wall, sheep move through the drizzle. Finn turns from the door and pats his hand, cold from the glass, against my face.

Raise the drawbridge, I think. Finn will be one year old soon. He will never be this small again. Everyone needs to leave us well alone. No more informing. No more work, no commuting, no day care, no friends, no answering texts or calls or WhatsApp messages.

I carry the baby, balanced on my hip, to the sink to boil water for tea. Through the parted window, the air smells like leaf loam and rain. This afternoon, I’m taking Finn to pick mushrooms in the woods, gold chanterelles with billowed edges.

Last night, I might not have left the Balfour. I might have died in that room. When the man came inside, I was so scared my body seemed to be molting, like my skin was turning inside out. Apparently he didn’t see any of that, he saw two wedding guests in nice dresses and a bottle of silver tequila. “Do you fancy one?” asked Marian, and he said, “So I would, a double, now.”

The listening device is in place inside the bar. The first word it transmitted was my voice, saying my sister’s name. If he’d opened the door seconds earlier, it might have transmitted our interrogations, or beatings, or executions. We’ve been lucky once. It might be time to stop. I pour water for the tea, thinking how if I were taken away now, Finn wouldn’t remember me, or any of this. He’d grow up without any idea of how much I loved him.

—

Seamus thinks you’re sound,” says Marian.

“Oh, good,” I say, then notice her expression. “Isn’t it? What’s wrong?”

“He wants to recruit you.”

“No.” The bus is only at Comber Road, miles from Greyabbey, but the panic makes me want to run out at the next stop. Marian says, “Seamus has wanted to recruit you for years. He thinks you’re a sympathizer.”

“Is that what you told him?”

She nods, and I clasp my hands to stop myself from slapping her.

“He can’t use me as a scout anymore,” she says, “since the police know my face from Templepatrick.”

“A scout?”

“Someone to drive ahead of the car on an operation, to warn them about police or army roadblocks,” she says. “And he needs someone for surveillance.”

It’s good, actually, that we’re having this conversation on a public bus and not, say, in my kitchen, where I would have thrown a pot at her by now.

Marian says, “He wants a woman.”

“That’s not my problem,” I say, and Marian looks down, twisting a thread on her sleeve. “What is it?”

“I’m so sorry, Tessa,” she says. “If you say no, he might wonder why. He might look at you more closely.”

“Then I’m moving. I’m done with this, Marian. It’s too much.”

“All right,” she says. “Of course. It’s your decision.” She presses the button for the next stop, and I watch her disappear into the crowd on the pavement.

Before collecting Finn from day care, I stop at Spar to use Eamonn’s gift card. I make a purchase for over ten pounds, so he will know we need to meet immediately. Then I bring Finn round to Sophie’s house, apologizing for interrupting her dinner, making an excuse about a work crisis, and drive to Ardglass.

We’ve never met on the beach at night before. I wait for Eamonn on the crest of sand, trying not to be scared of the darkness, reminding myself that this beach is just as safe now as in daylight. I don’t know how long Eamonn will take to arrive. He might have been an hour away when he received my signal.

I huddle in my coat, watching the lines of white foam as the waves break. When I hear footsteps, I turn to the figure coming toward me, narrowing my eyes against the darkness. But this man is the wrong height, he’s walking differently. It’s Seamus. Of course he wasn’t going to let me leave. I scrabble backward away from him, then Eamonn says my name. He crouches on the sand in front of me, resting his hands on my knees. The vision of Seamus fades. I can just make out Eamonn’s face in the darkness, his grave expression. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“Seamus wants to recruit me,” I say. “They need a scout.”

He lets out a long sigh, rubbing his jaw. I remember my attraction to him, the feel of his knuckles against my bare back, with a surge of annoyance for both of us, acting as if we had time for that sort of thing. “Did Seamus ask you at the wedding?”

“No, he told Marian. I’m not doing it, Eamonn. I wanted to tell you I’m moving. I’m going to pack tonight and leave with Finn in the morning.”

“That won’t look good,” he says.

“I don’t care. We won’t be here anymore.”

“Not for you,” says Eamonn carefully. “For Marian. If you leave now, he’ll be suspicious of her.”

“Marian didn’t mention that.”

“She was probably trying not to influence your decision.”

I bury my face in my hands. The frustration makes me want to claw at my face. I feel like Finn, in the grip of a tantrum. “This isn’t fair.”

“No,” says Eamonn.

“Did you know this would happen?”

He shakes his head. “You must