Free Behind the Walls by Nicola Pierce Page A

only reason for doing it; some people enjoy drama and attention.’
    Robert breathed heavily. ‘Are you talking about theCampsies and my friends?’
    Mr Sherrard welcomed the return of his wife. She had been eavesdropping in order to barge in at the appropriate moment. Ignoring the tension and the fact that her eldest was struggling to contain his emotions, she handed her husband his beer and smiled brightly at everyone.
    Robert turned away and made for the door. ‘Just remember,’ his father called, ‘no matter what happens, form your own opinion. Calmness is strength.’
    It was only Daniel who said, ‘Yes, Father!’
    There was a curt nod from Robert as he opened the door and dived out onto the street.
    It occurred to Robert that he was beginning to feel more at home outside the house. He was heading to take his place on the wall, where he’d be sure of decent conversation and of being treated with respect. That’s the trouble with Mother and Father, he thought. They still think of us as children . He thundered along, hardly noticing the greetings that were being thrown to him. He was too caught up with his silent monologue. If it was left to Father, these streets would be covered in our blood.
    His battle for independence with his unimaginative parents was proving to be more demanding on him than the one brewing between James II and William of Orange. Well, at least I realise now that nothing I do will ever be good enough for them , he thought, meaning his mother and father.
    Back at the house, the air still sparked with Robert’s anger. Daniel wished he had made his excuses and followed his brother, but he had missed his cue and so found his parents staring at him quizzically. What do they want me to say?
    Finally his father said, ‘You know that we only want the best for you and Robert, don’t you?’
    Daniel squeaked out a ‘Yes, of course!’
    His mother sighed. ‘There is enough rage in this city without it being brought into our home.’
    Mr Sherrard sat down on a stool and sipped his beer. ‘Very nice!’ he said to his wife. There was silence again until he said, ‘This city is like a cauldron that has been sitting on a pile of dry twigs. Only one person is needed to set the twigs alight. The soup in the cauldron gets hotter and hotter as more twigs are added. If there is no proper care, too much firewood will be added and the contents will bubble up and be ruined.’
    Daniel found his voice. ‘But we have to stand up for what we believe in, Father.’
    Mr Sherrard swirled the beer in his mug. ‘Yes, we do. I think maybe I just don’t fully trust who is building the fire.’
    Baby Alice began to wail, letting the whole street know that her nap was over and she was hungry.
    ‘Time to get back to work,’ said Mr Sherrard with asmile. ‘Come on, son, I want to show you my new book.’ They both went into the workroom while Mrs Sherrard headed upstairs to her daughter.
    Alice’s face was scrunched up like her fists, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Mrs Sherrard peeled off the small hill of blankets that she had piled on top of the infant. Next she did something she always did. She lifted up the baby, placed her nose in the crux of her daughter’s neck and sniffed. She felt better immediately: Nothing – not even freshly baked bread –smells half as nice as a newborn.
    A few miles away Gabriel Murray was sitting in front of his fire, watching the flames flicker and strain, marvelling at the multitudes of oranges and reds. Adam, his son, had just left after a brief visit, during which he had updated Gabriel on the recent goings-on: Enniskillen fighting back and the skirmishes that Adam was currently organising against Jacobites who strayed too far from their camp. Gabriel had listened but said little.
    His son was passionate and intelligent with plenty of courage. Apart from his animals, Adam and this house were all the old man had in the world. His wife had died when Adam was two years old.