CHAPTER 4

  CORNMARKET, BELFAST CITY CENTRE.

Cornmarket was fairly crowded.  The gaudy red bandstand at its centre was empty.  No Salvation Army Band, no orange-clad and sandalled Hare Krishna devotees tinging finger cymbals, and no politicians preaching!  The usual quota of “five lighters for a pound” sellers were there along with their competitors selling socks, plastic blow up hammers, colouring books and whatever else was currently cheap at the wholesalers.

Ruth had seen the children there on good dry days.  In late summer they usually went to Botanic Gardens, but the biting icy winds of early autumn and its frequent rains, made the Gardens less appealing.  Not so many people went there at this time of year.  The tourist season was over and the Victorian Palm House was closed to the public.

The city centre inevitably had its crowds, especially the pedestrianised areas.  There were always people there to beg money from, and when they were too cold, they could go into the shops for a while.   Middle aged women and young men were softer touches than the more wealthy business suited commuters with their mobile phones and fine leather briefcases.  The “respectable” businessman was all too often more interested in getting something for his money, and the boy would keep the girl protected from that!  He knew the score.  Too many runaways turned tricks to live.  She would not become one of them if he could help it.

It was one of those grey days which thought it was night.  At least that was how one of the lighter sellers described it.  Dull…..very dull!  Ruth was wearing a thick Aran jumper under a padded jacket and she still felt the chill.  In the air there was the promise of winter and she felt that time was of the essence.  She walked around looking in shop windows, going into shops to get warmed up a bit, and lurking near their doorways, looking out of their windows incase the kids came.  Time began to drag.  She went for a cup of coffee in the Corner Café, watching all the while out of its large, slightly steamed up picture windows.  From there she could see part of the way down Ann Street and over towards High Street.  Sometimes she would hang around for hours and not get a sighting of them.  Asking traders or adults who lived on the streets questions was never her style.  They would tell the children she was looking for them and that wouldn’t do!  She just had to play the waiting game!