Free Friend or Foe by Brian Gallagher

people want something, and they’re getting what they want – is that not democracy too?’
    Emer had never thought of it like that, and she didn’t have a ready answer.
    ‘You can say that every citizen should be equal,’ continued Miss Clarke, ‘and that you shouldn’t have dukes looking down on earls, and earls looking down on barons, and all of them looking down on ordinary people. But with a king, there’s an aristocracy, and most people in Britain aren’t clamouring to be rid of that system. So it’s a democracy, Emer, even if it’s not the kind you and I might choose. All right?’
    ‘Yes, Miss.’
    ‘Good question though. And a good example of the fact that in history few things are black and white. The Romans were brutal conquerors, but they built wonderful roads and aqueducts. The Egyptians were great astronomers and mathematicians, yet they worshipped the sun and believed in slavery. History is full of contradictions, girls, and things are rarely all good or all bad – you’ll usually find lots of grey areas. And if we’re wise, we adjust to that.’
    Miss Clarke looked around the class. ‘Now, next question?’
    ‘What was the Boston Tea Party all about, Miss?’ asked one of the other girls, but Emer wasn’t really paying attention as she tried to process what the teacher had said. Miss Clarke was certainlyright about life being full of contradictions. Even in her own circle there was Jack, who was the son of a policeman and who believed in Ireland staying in the British Empire, yet who was a really good friend. And there was Catherine O’Flynn, the poorer girl whom Emer had welcomed to the class, but who, in the intervening weeks, had turned out to be ungrateful and a bit stand-offish. Even Sister Assumpta, whom Emer disliked as a snob and a stickler for all the petty rules, was also a highly dedicated teacher who put in many extra hours of tuition to ensure her pupils got the best possible education. And there was Miss Clarke herself: she had previously told the class that her father was a green-keeper at a golf course in Hoylake and that she had had to rely on a scholarship to go to teacher-training college, yet now she argued that Britain’s class-conscious society was still democratic.
    Emer tried to look interested in the Boston Tea Party, but her mind was racing. If everyone accepted all of life’s contradictions and grey areas, how could anything ever be changed? And how could Ireland gain its freedom if there weren’t people like her father, who didn’t get bogged down in shades of grey but had a clear vision of independence?
    Emer’s train of thought was broken by a nudge from Joan. ‘Well done,’ she whispered. ‘You gave Clarkie a run for her money!’
    ‘Thanks, Joan,’ she whispered back, then she sat up straight in the desk and tried to still her buzzing mind.

Chapter Eight
    J ack surged through the water, kicking hard as he did a fast Australian crawl. Emer was leading the way in a race at the swimming hole on the Tolka, but Jack was ahead of Ben, Gladys and Joan as they navigated the improvised course. It involved crossing the narrow river several times and rounding a nearby rock in the water, and now Jack reached the finish in second place after Emer.
    She was already out of the river, and she complimented him as he hoisted himself up onto the grassy bank. ‘You’re getting faster, Jack!’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘You have to be in with a good chance of making a team for the gala.’
    Jack was pleased, knowing that Emer didn’t pay false compliments. ‘I really want to make it,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll keep training hard.’
    ‘Oh my God, I’m frozen to the marrow!’ cried Joan as she hauled herself out of the water, followed by Ben and Gladys.
    ‘Yeah,’ said Ben, ‘it’s like the time our dad took a course of cold baths – pure torture!’
    In the last week the temperature had dipped, and the friends had agreed that today would be the final river swim of