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Under the July Sun Page 5
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'Oh, she’s one of me sisters. She's home for the weekend. She works out at The Grange cookin’ and waitin’ on the lady of the house.'
'So how many sisters do you have, apart from Cat and Ellie?'
‘Three. They run a little shop in Main Street, Peggy, Mary and Breda. They'll be along tonight after closin’ the shop. We're roastin’ a pig. Mummy’s roast pig is the best to be had hereabouts. D'ya like pig?'
'Yes, I do.'
‘Good, then ye’ll enjoy it after a hard day’s work.’ Tom stood up and continued cutting the hay.
Louis could hardly wait. In a few hours he told himself he would be able to see her for the whole evening; spend time with her; savour the vision of her. Such a small price to pay, he thought, for doing a little hard work.
Eventually the long day slipped its way into early evening as the final yield was bundled onto a donkey cart then pulled downhill to the barn. Swaying from side to side the cart wobbled like tea-party jelly, topped with children hitching a lift as it crossed the field and rumbled its way down the dusty boreen11.
* * *
As dusk stole unnoticed by the little gathering in the farmyard, the women carved up roast pig and delivered fat juicy slices to everyones’ plates. Chairs appeared in the yard as bats flew overhead and Ned settled down to play his flute to them. Cat began running through preliminary notes on a melodeon and Breda took her violin from its case.
Louis looked on fascinated by the trio, wishing he'd brought his own violin with him.
The trio played, filling the honey-suckled night air with a sweet sound that wrapped itself around the breeze, and was carried away across the valley.
Later in the evening, encouraged by drinking a large glass of poitín, Louis borrowed Breda's violin and played to the fascinated audience. They saw the arm that had held a rifle and shot men, rise to command the innocent bow; slowly and sweetly drawing it across the strings to produce the poignant notes of an intermezzo.
When he finished playing, he saw Cat was watching him. Their eyes met briefly before she suddenly looked away, but he had seen something in that look.
The moon coasted high in the night sky, radiating its silver sheen earthward, before it slipped slowly away behind Sleivenamon mountain. The fire beneath the remnants of the pig dimmed and people began to drift away home.
Everyone was thanked for helping and all agreed it had been a grand day. Sleeping children were lifted onto shoulders to be carried by parents who wouldn’t bother to go to bed because it was too hot.
Ned insisted Louis stayed on to share a nightcap and they sat talking about the state of affairs in Europe.
Louis sensed Ned was leading up ask him the question he did not want to answer, and eventually he did.
‘Will ye stay here long now or will ye be called back to England?'
Louis shrugged. ‘Anything’s possible,’ he replied, but did not add that in a few days they would be gone.
The men were silent when Cat and Ellie hurried past them giggling, and Louis watched them running down the pathway towards the river. He could hear them shrieking and frolicking in the water and it made him feel an agonising mixture of happiness - tinged with sadness.
Louis did not want this night to end or to leave this place and enter the theatre of war which now seemed inevitable. He sat deep in thought listening to their laughter as dawn broke, watching all the stars in the crimson and sapphire sky disappear, one by one.
Footnotes
10 Poitín - an Irish, highly alcoholic distilled beverage traditionally distilled in a small pot (pronounced potcheen)
11 Boreen - a narrow country lane (pronounced bore-een)
6
Plumstead, England
August 13, 1914
Louis opened the door to 29 Benares Road, Plumstead and called out, ‘I’m home.’
Iris was in the hallway and seeing her uncle, yelled excitedly to her mother. ‘Mummy, Uncle Louis’ home!’
He scooped the child up into his arms rubbing his bristly chin into her neck, making her squeal. Lize appeared, from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and rushed forward to kiss her brother.
‘Why didn’t you let us know you were coming home?’
‘Oh well, you know how it is. The best laid plans of mice and men and all that,’ he began, ‘but I only have a twenty-four hour pass, Lize, then we’re off.’
She gasped. ‘Oh Louise!’ But he held his hand up to stop her coming closer.
‘Not now, Lize,’ he said heaving his kit bag into the hallway, ‘let me just enjoy coming home.’ He closed the door. Home! At least that was how he’d come to think of it.
Louis followed Lize into the kitchen where his nephew Reggie was sitting at the table munching bread and jam.
‘Well that looks good enough to feed a king, Reggie,’ Louis said ruffling his hair. Iris slid onto a chair next to Reggie.
‘Sit down, Louis and I’ll make you some tea,’ Lize said offering him the plate of bread and jam. ‘Here, take a slice,’ she said and added hot water to the teapot. She sat down at the table opposite Louis and began pouring the tea. ‘So what’s new?’
‘Nothing much, really,' he said biting into the bread. He saw Lize looking at his hands.
‘Louis, what happened?’
‘Oh.’ He lowered his hand. ‘Just a little accident, nothing to worry about.’
‘Come on! You’ll have to try harder than that! It doesn’t look like just a little accident. Were you in a fight?’
‘No. There was a bomb outside the barracks and I got hit by some of the flying debris, Lize, that’s all.’ He swallowed another piece of bread before telling her about Private White’s death.
He could see she was upset and it had probably struck a raw nerve as her husband Charlie had already gone to war. She stood up and fetched a handkerchief from her handbag and blew her nose.
‘Rotten Irish. Uncivilised, murdering pigs.’
‘They’re not all like that.’
She studied the back of his head before moving round the table to sit opposite him. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Pardon?’
‘I said, what’s her name?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Come on, Louis, I know you inside out. What’s the name of the woman who’s stolen your wits?’
He ignored her question and continued drinking tea before checking his pocket watch. ‘I have to visit Private White’s mother.’
‘What now?’
‘Yes, she only lives across the common. They were very close, Lize, and she’s a widow. She’ll be finding it pretty hard.’
Lize didn’t answer, but silently cleared away the tea things and told the children to go upstairs and get ready for bed.
In the silence that followed, Lize settled down with her knitting. She poured over the pattern, counting; her lips working silently as her finger pulled each stitch along the needle. Suddenly she stopped, as Louis stood up.
‘I’m going to see Mrs. White now. Need to get it over with.’
‘Oh, I see.’ She sniffed. The needles clicked in the silence as she wound the grey wool round the needle increasing the snake coiling into her lap.
Louis left the house, pulling the front door closed with a soft click, walked to the end of the road, turned the corner and headed towards Roydene Road. He walked quickly, wondering what on earth he was going to say to Mrs. White when he arrived.
Checking the numbers, he stopped outside number seventeen; went through the front gate and knocked on the door. As he waited he noticed that though it was still light, the parlour curtains were drawn across. Mrs. White, in the time-honoured way, was mourning her loss and Louis suddenly felt he was intruding.
He heard footsteps from inside and knew someone was approaching the door. There was a click as the latch was opened, and an eye peered through the crack.
‘Yes?’
‘Mrs. White?’
‘Yes, who wants to know?’
/> ‘Captain Ross, Royal Artillery.’
The door opened wider and Mrs. White began to apologise and asked him to step inside. She showed him into the kitchen and after Louis had offered his condolences she relaxed and began to reminisce about her son. She related how he had won a certificate at school for history, how clever he was with his hands and recounted to Louis at length about the letters he had written to her. She told him she had nothing to live for now, and he didn’t know how to disagree with her so he just listened.
‘He spoke kindly of you, Captain. He wrote often singing your praises. He said you were a good man and looked after the men well. You know, he loved being in the army. Now it’s killed him.’ She began to cry.
‘He died a courageous death, Mrs. White. It was quick… and he didn’t suffer at all. I was there. I can assure you of that.’
‘Thank you. It helps to know that.’
This was proving harder than he had imagined and he decided he should leave. He stood up to go and Mrs. White looked up at him surprised.
‘Going already?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid I have to. My sister will be expecting me back.’
‘Where does she live?’
‘Benares Road’
‘Oh what number?’
‘Number twenty nine. Look, why don’t you call in on her one day? Her name’s, Lize and her husband is away at war. It can’t be easy for either of you. maybe it would give you both some company. I’m sure Lize would love to meet you.’
‘Oh.,. I...err,’ her voice trailed off.
Louis could tell she didn’t know what to say and decided he would ask Lize to call on her instead.
‘Well, goodbye, Mrs. White,’ he said. ‘I’ll look in again next time I’m on leave.’
‘Yes, you do that. Thank you.’ She walked in front of him to open the door.
Louis stepped into the garden, turned and shook her hand, then went through the gate and walked briskly away. He waved to her as he crossed the road to the common and she nodded to him, before closing the door.
He couldn’t erase the image of her lonely little figure and wondered how many times she had waved her son off in just the same way.
* * *
Louis was dreaming. He could hear a tapping noise. But as he awoke, he gradually realised it was the post dropping through the letterbox onto the hall floor. Slowly he eased himself out of bed, pulled his trousers on, and feeling utterly worn out, stumbled downstairs. He had been disturbed by the visit to Mrs. White and when he had returned, he and Lize had spent a difficult evening together. He had suggested she call on Mrs. White but the idea had been rejected when Lize said she didn’t even know the woman let alone go calling on her.
‘For the love of God, Lize, can’t you just visit her? She’s lonely and her son has just died,’ he had pleaded, but she had stung him with her reply reminding him Mrs. White wasn’t the only one to suffer loneliness. Her words were in the forefront of his mind as he went downstairs.
He recognised the familiar brown envelope instantly. The letter was addressed to Lize and the marking across the envelope read, WAR OFFICE. He felt his stomach contract and stuffed the letter into his pocket before going into the kitchen where his hands shook as he filled the kettle and placed it on the range. He needed time to think, but then was aware that Lize was behind him.
‘What was the letter, Louis?
He turned to face her, drew the letter from his pocket and handed it to her. She ripped the envelope open and he saw the colour drain from her face. He knew without asking that Charlie had been killed, just one week after the war started.
* * *
‘Now before I go Lize, I just want to go over things once more.’ She didn’t respond but remained sitting in Charlie’s chair, staring into space, cradling her cup of tea.
Louis pressed on regardless. He didn’t have much time. ‘I’ve made out my Will and everything goes to you and the children if anything happens to me. I’ll make arrangements to have my pay cheque forwarded to you while I’m away. I’ve also got an insurance policy which matures later on and I can’t see myself needing it, so you’ll be looked after…if…well, you know what I mean.’
He got up and pressed her shoulder. ‘Lize, are you listening? It’s important that you know you’ll be looked after. You won’t go short.’
‘Thanks, Louis,’ she said unenthusiastically.
He checked the time, then emptied his pockets onto the table. ‘Here, Lize take this, it’s not much but all I’ve got. I won’t need it. Not where I’m going.’
Lize stood up and looked at him then slowly put her arms around him burying her head into his chest.
‘Take care of yourself, Louis.’
He hugged her briefly then walked quickly along the hallway, opened the door and left without looking back.
Crossing the common he wondered who was worse off, Charlie or himself. At least Charlie was out of this damned war now. He decided that if he survived he would never deliberately hurt another human being. It wasn’t in his nature to be violent. He and others like him, peace-loving, family men were being forced into the machine of war. The only option was to be labelled a coward and receive a white feather. There simply was no way out for most of them now.
As he passed Roydene Road he thought of Mrs. White, alone in her tidy little house. Poor Mrs. White, he thought, and then poor Lize.
7
Monroe, Fethard
September 1914
Ned stood fingering the envelope. ‘There’s another letter for ye,’ he said.
‘Thanks.’ Cat did not look up but carried on eating her breakfast as Ned put the envelope down next to her plate.
‘Ye know,’ he began, ‘’Tis none of me business but ’tis causin’ gossip, him keep writin’ to ye.’
‘I know.’
‘Well, ye’d better think about it, ye don’t want to get a name.’
‘Dada, ’tis only a letter.’ She pushed it across the table. ‘Read it.’ Cat studied his face as he picked it up and opened the envelope, then unfolded the paper. After he had read it he folded it in half and handed it back to her.
Without saying anything he ambled to the doorway, took a cigarette stub from behind his ear and lit it. He stood with his back to her, blowing smoke into the yard.
‘I’m not against the man, ye know that. I’m just worried for ye.’
‘I’ll not be intimidated by gossips, or the likes of Paddy Hogan.’
‘No, I’m not suggestin’ ye should be. ’Twas the best day’s work gettin’ rid of him. ’Tis just that I hear title-tattle and I don’t like what I hear. I think he still hankers after ye.’
’Ha! Well he can hanker on. I’m not interested.’
Ned decided to change the subject. ‘Oh by the way, I almost forgot,’ he said, ‘Auntie Nellie could do with a hand in the bar tonight.’ He flicked the butt into the air and when it landed, stubbed it out with his boot.
‘I’ll go up to Auntie Nellie’s after tea. But Dada, ye know I like gettin’ the letters, they’re interestin’.’
‘I can see that, Pet, he writes nicely.’
‘Anyway, what sort of tittle-tattle d’ya hear?’
‘Ugly talk from people with ugly minds. Now c’mon, ’tis time for the cows and Tom’s already made a start.’ He picked up the milk bucket and walked across the yard. She heard the familiar sound of his boots clashing across the cobbles, the gate creaking open then closed, followed by silence as his footsteps were softened by the grassy boreen.
Cat stopped eating, pushed her dish to one side, slid the letter in front of her and read it. She thought Louis could certainly pen an eloquent letter and though a lot of it was innuendo, she sensed he was always in danger. Why shouldn’t he write to her?
She read it again, savouring every word, looking for clues as to his feelings. Her lips mouthed each word as she read.
Dear Cat
The days are absolutely endless! Though full of people; there is a so
litude that is unbroken amidst all the chaos. I miss your green fields and the people of your homeland who were so kind to me.
Thank you for the cigarettes they were much appreciated. Should you ever find yourself in England please feel free to contact my sister, Eliza. I have written to her about you, so this would come as no surprise. The address is on the back of this page.
Give my regards to your parents, brother and sisters. I have very fond memories of their hospitality, which I hope to be able to return one day.
Yours very sincerely, Louis
She pressed the paper over her face and breathed in, trying to capture his scent, then folded it up and put it in her pocket before following Ned to the barn.
When she opened the door to the barn, Tom and Ned were milking the cows but she heard Tom’s annoyed voice above the noise.
‘That Paddy Hogan should keep his feckin’ mouth shut or I’ll shut it for him.’
Then Ned spoke, sounding just as angry. ‘If he harms a hair on her head he’ll have me to answer to. So he will!’
‘Keep an eye on her, Dada. I think he’s turned into nasty piece of work.’
‘I agree. I thought I’d settled it that day in the hotel but it seems it wasn’t enough. Maybe I should have hit him harder!’
Cat stepped over the straw careful not to disturb the new litter of kittens huddled next to their mother. ‘What’s goin’ on, Dada?’
‘Nuthin’, Pet. Nuthin’.’
‘Aw c’mon both of ye. Somethin’s goin’ on, Don’t take me for a fool!’
‘Leave it Cat.’ Tom said sharply. ‘Ye don’t need to know.’
‘Know what?’
The men continued milking in silence. She heard the milk squirting into the buckets as the cows munched on hay in the darkened barn and nobody spoke.
‘Is somebody goin’ to tell me what’s goin’ on? ’Tis obviously me ye’re talkin’ about?’ Tom stood and moved the bucket away, unfastened a rope and led a cow out without answering her. ‘Dada, what’s happened?’
Ned thought for a moment and stopped milking. ‘Paddy Hogan’s been spoutin’ his mouth off and makin’ threats about ye.’