BUSINESS AS USUAL

Nicholas Farrell finds Dockland and City

workers in defiant mood after the South Quay bombing

AS IT happens, barmaid Mary, from Dublin, was on duty in the City Pride pub a stone's throw from South Quay the night the bomb went off. She said beer glasses fell to the floor and doors flew open — as if a poltergeist had hit the joint.

While politicians wrestle, the ripples of the bomb continue to be felt in odd ways — particularly in Docklands. They cause, among other things, rows, traffic jams, punch-ups even. Tonight was no exception.

Mary smiled as she recalled the bomb. It was not, necessarily, that she approved. But she was Irish, and the Irish do smile a lot. And, like Gerry Adams, president of Sinn Fein, Mary, smiling, would not 'con- demn or condone' the bomb.

Now, three days after the event, she was off duty and sitting at the bar with an Englishman, 'born and bred' (though he did not look it) and very keen on Mary. He said, 'What about the loyalist paramili- taries, then? They're just as bad . . This was a pick-up line, I am sure, rather than his true opinion.

I tried to change the subject and asked Mary if she collected Gratis cards, which you get with packets of Benson & Hedges cigarettes. If you collect enough you can get free trainers, bumbags and hi-fi equip- ment. But I had forgotten that you cannot travel far in the Isle of Dogs, the heart of the old East End, without hitting trouble, whichever side you are on. Before Mary could answer, her companion hit the roof. He said, 'Piss off out of the pub.' And that was that. I had, presumably, insulted him by not giving his own solution to the Irish Question 'the full monty'.

Mary and her beau, however, were in a minority in the City Pride, as elsewhere in Canary Wharf and the City of London. The message, as Ulster Unionists say, is 'No surrender'. For some it was an affront even to mention the subject of the bomb. One man in the City Pride said, verging on vio- lence, 'Not on my birthday, mate.'

Locals on the Isle of Dogs, it must be said, are a pretty rough lot. It is, after all, the turf of pigeon-fanciers and various gangsters with connections in Marbella. But their parents — and this is crucial — lived through the worst of the Blitz. This IRA bomb was 'nowhere'. Neil Gynn, 33, a local and something in security, was much more typical than Mary. He remembered history — well the war, at any rate, if not Drogheda. He said, 'This area was one of the most thoroughly bombed places in London during the war. Fifty years ago this place was almost flattened. It was the main target of the Luftwaffe throughout the period. Why should anyone care because of one half-ton bomb? I don't think we should give in to them. And if they want to play rough, I don't see why we shouldn't play rough as well. I only wish we could go over there and do the same to them.'

So why don't we on the mainland play rough then? 'Because we're bound by a legal system. They're not playing demo- cratically. We're not playing unfair.'

Debate about the IRA and its tactics in the bars of Canary Wharf and the City was like discussing foreign and local foot- ballers. Mr Grin asked, 'Where does the IRA's money come from? Racketeering. And as long as the Troubles go on the money flows.'

His younger brother Keith explained, 'Don't you think it's just that they get a kick out of violence? It's fun. They were suffering from withdrawal symptoms. That's why they did it. Isn't it just another form of gangsterism — like the Mafia?'

What effect would such bombs have on the everyday lives of the Gynn brothers? Would they stop them, for example, work- ing there? 'Never,' said Neil. 'I never let non-democratic ways of life rule.'

Was not might right? He said: 'In 1940 and 1941 there was always something hap- pening every night. Look at this pub here: we're only a couple of hundred yards away from the bomb, and it's no different to a normal Monday night — people carrying on with their lives.'

Whichever way you look at it, money looms large in the debate. Would it, most wondered, be the Government or the insurance companies picking up the bill for the damage to the bombed buildings? What effect would bombs have on whether a company relocated to Canary Wharf or left it? And just what was it that kept the IRA alive and kicking financially anyway?

Both brothers felt that the motive for IRA terrorism was not the cause but money. Neil said, 'The majority of the pop- ulation over there are on the dole, so basi- cally we're financing this terrorism one way or the other. And then everything else they have comes through racketeering.'

Keith said, 'When was the potato wars? Three hundred years it's been there, this business. And all of sudden, come the ceasefire, they've got nothing to do any- more. They're sat there playing cribbage or dominos. What the hell are they going to do?'

The old Isle of Dogs residents and the metal and glass of new DocIdands — the target of the bombers — are like chalk and cheese. Surprisingly, perhaps, the reactions of the smart set, the ones with jobs to go to, who travel to and from Canary Wharf from places like Clapham and so on, were very similar to those of the Gynn brothers in the City Pride. Not far away, at the Cor- ney & Barrow wine bar in Canary Wharf, watering-hole of the new islanders, the mood was not as violent as that in the City Pride, but it was nonetheless defiant. Amanda, a secretary at a bank, said, 'If they blew me up I'd hop to work.'

Even before the ceasefire in autumn 1994, security at Canary Wharf was not as, tight as it might have been. There were road blocks, manned by private security guards, but the guards only ever asked the names and destination of the drivers. Now, however, Canary Wharf bristles with secu- rity checks — some manned not just by security guards but by police officers as well. This causes inconvenience. It was well past eight p.m. and Amanda and her friends were still boozing. This, they said, was to avoid the inevitable traffic jams caused by the increased security and the bomb scares in places like the Blackwall Tunnel. Their destination was Bromley.

Amanda said, 'They always bolt the sta- ble door after the horse has done a run- ner.' Her friend had been driven to work that morning by her husband. But he was more worried about the safety of the car than her, it seemed.

What was their message to the IRA? She said, 'It's sad they've got to have a go at British people who have nothing to do with it. We'll never give in to the IRA. What they're doing is . . . wrong.'

So what was the solution? 'The SAS should go in and take them out. They know who they are.' One gets used to women being violent about boyfriends and husbands. But it is odd to hear them talk of sending in the SAS to sort out the IRA. Amanda's friend added, 'People say forget the war. But look at VE Day. The British became so passionate, so British. The British people are fighters.'

But many people working in Canary Wharf are not British, including Linda, a relationship manager with one of the banks, and her friend Jayneen — both Australian. The non-Britons, by and large, appear to have swallowed the IRA propa- ganda line that the struggle is for indepen- dence from a colonial power. Convenient- ly, they forget that Britain could not pay the Republic to take on the North. Both Australian women thought that the aim of the IRA was similar to that of their Prime Minister, Paul Keating, who wants to turn Australia into a republic and get rid of the Queen. They even thought the IRA want- ed Northern Ireland to be an independent country — independent from the Republic as well. The bomb had forced them to think a bit more deeply about things. Both were in Canary Wharf Tower when it went off. How frightened were they about another bomb?

Linda said, 'Enough to close the blinds on the window next to my desk just in case. That stops the windows splitting and throwing shards of glass out. I sat at my window seat and thought, What if it had happened here? Where I come from we only have mass murderers. We don't have terrorists.' But she added, 'The girl sat next to me has been through four bomb attacks and she was the one saying we shouldn't give in to terrorists. We shouldn't pull the blinds down. I just said fuck it.'

Good for her. But would it stop them working in Canary Wharf? 'No. It's like rape. It's like murder,' said Jayneen. 'It'll never happen to you.'

Jayneen, who believes in both the Irish and Australian republican causes, said, 'When the bomb first went off and people said it was the IRA I said, No, no, they always give a warning.' But she had to admit that `the IRA seem to run a very good public relations campaign, which is why I thought they didn't plant this bomb'.

Her verdict now? 'I think they just want to perpetuate themselves. If people in power do perpetuate themselves, what are they going to do? I feel very passionate about things but that would never drive me to kill anyone. In Australia what's going to make us a republic at the end of the day is not taking up arms but the democratic process.'

Across at Corney & Barrow's branch in Royal Exchange in the City, the television screen on the wall showed that the FTSE index stood at 3737.7, oil at $17.60 a barrel, and gold at $403.40 an ounce. The bomb had had little effect on the markets — except for a soupcon of trouble for leisure groups with Northern Ireland interests. True, travel would be difficult from now on in the Square Mile because of increased security at the 'ring of steel' checkpoints controlling the entrance roads. But Kari Lawless, a secretary who commutes from Brighton, commented, 'British Rail is more irritating than the IRA.'

Money, in the end, counts. Insurance broker John Woodhead worked in offices in the Baltic Exchange and Bishopsgate when they were blown up in 1992 and 1993, before the ceasefire. He manages risk — government risk in Third World countries. Mr Woodhead — currently wondering about whether to risk a risk in Serbia — thought the effect of the IRA bomb in insurance terms on the City and Canary Wharf would be a mere drop in the ocean.

He said, 'The message is they can't impact the City. I've just had some over- seas clients come in today and ask me, "Has the bomb impacted?" The answer is no. We have continued and we will contin- ue. British Joe just gets on with it. They're not going to interfere with what we're doing. The fact is, international trade and commerce continue and the IRA's not going to stop it, not in the slightest. I don't think the British mentality will allow it to triumph. The IRA can bomb all day long. but it's not going to prevent me acting for my clients. If I have to do it by telephone, I shall. It's not going to impact because we're probably the one nation in the world who won't allow it to.'

Meanwhile, in the City, the word is: Sell insurance; buy glass.

Nicholas Farrell works for the Sunday Telegraph.