by K. C. Finn
“I suppose that’s quite sensible,” I said, though I didn’t believe that was the only reason Bickerstaff had turned in all his worldly possessions. According to our last conversation, the young doctor was completely certain that he wouldn’t survive his post in the war.
“But he actually sold the house!” Blod said in less than a squeak, tears forming slowly at the corner of her eyes. “He’s made it feel like he won’t be coming back.” I put out a hand to pat her knee and to my surprise she grabbed it and held onto me tightly. “You’ll keep an eye on him for me, won’t you?”
“Of course,” I promised, “I’ll tell you everything I can.”
We sat in a silence for a few moments until Blod seemed to realise that she was still latched onto me. She let go and dusted herself down proudly, pushing the water from under her eyes as she stared at the ground thoughtfully.
“Can you find anyone you want to with this psychic lark?”
The sudden question made me stammer. “Well, um, more or less. I’ve been getting better and better at sort of… targeting people.”
Blod paused fearfully, taking a little breath.
“Can you find Ieuan?” she asked.
It wasn’t as though the thought hadn’t occurred to me. In fact it had come to me no sooner than I’d heard he was missing, but I had pushed the idea of looking for him deep down into my head and tried not to feel the guilt pressing in on my thoughts every day. In truth I was scared to do it, scared to search in case the worse had come true. I had no way of knowing what it would be like to put my mind into the head of a dead man and absolutely no desire to find out. Idrys hadn’t asked me to look for him either, some silent understanding between us, perhaps, that it was better to hope than have one’s worst fears confirmed. Blod clearly didn’t have those kind of concerns.
“I can try,” I said, voice trembling. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to, but there was no way that I could say no to Blod, she’d lost so much already this summer.
She sat patient and silent as a child whilst I wrapped myself up warm again and settled, heaving out my shaking breaths. I closed my eyes along with the usual moves, concentrating hard on Ieuan’s ginger head of hair, his low lilting voice, his eyes the same bright blue as the rest of the Price siblings. I thought about the jokes he’d made at the dinner table, the wink he’d tipped me about the rationed chocolate what seemed like forever ago. All around me was blackness for a terrifyingly long time, but I focused harder still on the youngest brother, the long nose and square jaw that smacked of his poor father.
The blackness evolved into something, though it was still a terribly dark place to be. I could see a crumbling, impossibly dark wall before me, I felt cramped, afraid, like I couldn’t breathe. I panicked horrifically as I realised I was underground. Was he dead? Buried? Was this his body, deathly still, laying in the earth forever more?
“It’s all right lads, they’ve moved off.”
Ieuan started to move suddenly, digging something sharp and cold into the wall of earth in front of him. Now that he was moving again I could feel him crouching, his long legs tangled up underneath him, his head craned to the side against the confines of the space he was in. He looked down as a torchlight flashed somewhere behind him. There was a small, metal pan like you might use for cooking which he was filling with earth with a tablespoon. When he’d piled the last bit of soil on top of it he passed it back behind him.
“Pass us another empty, mun,” he said gruffly.
He felt exhausted, but there was something steely and angry coating his heart. When Ieuan looked behind him to find another pan I was shocked to see a huge line of men all crouched in the badly lit passage. They were all kinds of ages and all in vests and underwear, their white garments smeared with the earth that surrounded them. Every man was digging out beside him, making their tunnel wider whilst Ieuan pressed on at its head.
“We’re going to have to stop soon chaps, inspection in twenty minutes.” A posh kind of voice came echoing down the long underground dugout to give the warning. “Five more minutes, then everyone up and back into uniform.”
I wasn’t all that sure about what was going on, but wherever Ieuan was he and the other British men around him were trying to tunnel their way out. He was captured, but alive, and the relief I was feeling would be nothing compared to how Blod would react to the news I could now give her. The old cold shiver hit me as thoughts of Blod sitting in the autumn leaves captured my attention; I left Ieuan in the tunnel and when my eyes reopened at Ty Gwyn, a huge smile erupted before I could even speak.
We consulted Idrys about my visit to Ieuan as soon as we could and he gave us the good news and the bad: Ieuan would be well-looked after, he was in no immediate harm, but he was also in a prisoner of war camp. There would be no way for him to get out until the war was over and the fact that he was tunnelling was a very dangerous sign. If the Germans caught him trying to escape, the consequences would be as severe as we could possibly imagine. It was a wrench not to be able to tell Mam that her youngest son was alive and well, but Idrys warned me that she wouldn’t be likely to understand my gift.
“You young people are more accepting of these things,” he said to Blod and me in a whisper, “It’s best not to burden Mam with talk like this. It might upset her something awful.”
Blod went back to her duties in the household so that I’d have more free time to check on Henri, Bickerstaff and Ieuan during the day. Mam was too grateful for the help to question Blod’s change of heart, putting it down to her ever-altering moods, but she was disturbed by the way Blod kept suddenly running off into my bedroom to ask me whispered little questions. I gave her what snippets I could from my visits to the POW camp and to the Essex barracks, but we had learned very little except for the fact that Ieuan’s camp was located somewhere near Toulouse, which Idrys later informed us was quite far south in France. The fact that he wasn’t in Germany boded quite well, I thought.
Henri’s training days were coming to an end and the evening talks between the boys in the barracks were becoming more sombre by the day. Most of the soldiers and medics in training in Henri’s living space were dressed in the same sandy brown uniforms as him and Bickerstaff, marking them all as ‘Desert Rats’, the new wave of aggression that was supposedly going to get North Africa under control at last. Most of the young men in the barracks were, like Henri, enthused about the prospect of battling alongside heavy artillery and tanks; it seemed like such weapons would offer them a great deal of protection. But there were a few agitators, Bickerstaff included, who were all too keen to remind the others that the Germans had cannons, shells and tanks of their own.
I didn’t know whether it was better to be optimistic like Henri or keenly aware of the dangers like Bickerstaff, so all I could do was urge Henri to stay friendly with the belligerent doctor in case he needed him one day soon. For all the faults in his mood, Bickerstaff was an intelligent man, perhaps too smart for his own good; he would spot problems and risks where Henri might not. Henri wasn’t keen on the idea of palling up with the most cynical and unpopular chap in the barracks, but for my sake he promised he would stick as close to the doctor as he could.
In return, however, I had to promise something of my own. It was going to take the boys two days to cross to their new post in Libya and Henri made me swear I wouldn’t go poking into his head until they got there. Now that he had developed a keen sense for when I was actually there in his mind, I couldn’t even pretend I hadn’t visited him. I swore I’d keep my word and said a strained goodbye and good luck to Henri the night before the departure. He drew another little heart on his page for me, then scribbled underneath:
Tell Blod to look out for the post.
***
The news sent Blod into a frenzy, she practically attacked the postman the next morning asking repeatedly if there was anything for Ty Gwyn, even when he’d already gone past the cobble path that led up to the little white farm house. Idrys was even more anxious for
news of Ieuan; every time he arrived at the house for a meal or a cup of tea he always came to me before anyone else to ask for an update. Mam quite often remarked on how popular I had become with everyone, though I knew she hadn’t the faintest clue as to why.
I wanted to give Idrys more interesting news, but the life of a prisoner of war was not half as exciting as I’d expected it to be. The tunnel Ieuan had been digging had collapsed after a few days, forcing the prisoners to rethink their plans and start over again in another direction. Other than that his life was a series of inspections by official looking Nazis and surly guards interspersed with idle chit chat amongst fellow airmen and soldiers as they smoked and played cards, waiting for their next shift to dig a few more inches out of the ground beneath their feet. I had considered trying to talk to Ieuan to get a message to him from his family, but Idrys forbade it, fearful that the Germans might shoot him as a spy if they heard him talking to an invisible person.
It was a rainy afternoon, the day before I could visit Henri again, when the post arrived. Blod squealed at first, but she stomped into the kitchen and dropped a soggy brown thing into my lap with a huff moments later.
“Typical,” she spat, “It’s for you.” She hurricaned out of the room again instantly.
I looked down at the marred envelope, reading my name and address in Henri’s scribbly handwriting. This wasn’t right; he had told Blod to wait for the letter. I looked up at Mam, her back to me as she did the washing up, and suddenly two and two made four. I wheeled out of the kitchen as silently as I could to catch up to Blod.
“Wait, wait!” I said in a hoarse tone, not wanting Mam to hear me.
I heaved and panted to get to Blod before she could march up the stairs, grabbing the sleeve of her cardigan as I wheeled straight into her leg. She kicked me away with a loud ‘ouch’ but I shushed her, beckoning her to come close whilst I spoke in a low whisper.
“Henri and I speak all the time. We don’t need letters. I think this is really for you.”
Bickerstaff clearly didn’t want to raise Mam’s suspicions, but it would look perfectly normal for Henri to be sending me a note before he was shipped off. Blod’s eyes widened excitedly and she took the letter back, holding it tightly with both hands. Without a word she scampered up the stairs and I heard the door to her bedroom slam behind her. I smiled, proud of Henri and pleased for Blod.
As I made an awkward turn in the black and white hall the wide front door burst open with a bang. I was horrified to find the violent noise was made by Leighton, who was huffing and puffing with a round red face. Before I could even speak he found me and grabbed my arms, shaking his head in amazement.
“Kit! Kit!” he heaved, hardly breathing.
“Close the door Leigh it’s freezing!” I ordered immediately, wrenching myself out of his frantic grip.
Leighton shook his head repeatedly, clutching at his chest and gasping. “Kit it’s… it’s…. I’ve run all the way from… She’s coming! She’s coming now!”
“Who is?” I demanded, rolling my eyes.
My little brother grinned as he got back his breath.
“Mum!”
***
Mam and Mum were a funny sight in a room together. My mother sat upright with her finely curled hair, gripping her tea mug and sipping the liquid gratefully as it steamed against the cold air around her. Mam relaxed, her face rosy from her day’s housework, hair flapping out of her practical bun in wild directions. And yet they smiled together and talked incessantly, like they might have known each other for years. I supposed quietly to myself that if Mum had been visiting us in Leighton’s head, she probably knew a lot about Mam already, perhaps more than she ought to. I watched them together for a moment more before I properly entered the room, my crutches resting on my knees as I wheeled in.
“Go on then,” Mum said, taking in a big breath, “Let me see you.”
Proudly and expertly I rose from my chair and onto my walking aids with relative ease. Shoving the cushioned parts under my arms I was able to walk right up to Mum and look down at her where she sat, beaming my best golden smile. She took my face in her hands and admired me with a grin that matched my own. I knew she had probably seen me on my feet before in her mental visits, but there was something different about the experience of actually being here and feeling her pat me on the back for my success.
“My goodness,” she mouthed, looking to Mam to find her beaming too, “I must thank that doctor of yours, dear.”
My smile flickered away. “You can’t Mum,” I said sadly, “he’s in Africa now.”
“Poor soul,” Mam whispered, “I do hope he’ll be all right. And Henri too, of course.”
Though the mood was a little more sombre, Mum still quirked an eyebrow at me.
“Yes,” she said slowly, cracking a tiny smile, “We mustn’t forget Henri.”
“Brave boys, both of them,” Mam said, suddenly rising to clear away the tea cups. She was holding something back in her voice; it quivered like a dam waiting to burst. It would be a long time before those tense moments were a thing of the past, I knew.
“Shall we go sit in the other room Mum?” I suggested, eyeing Mam carefully where she was scrubbing the life out of a cup.
“That’s a great idea love,” Mum replied, “Come and join us when you’re ready, Gladys?”
Mam nodded, forcing a smile back to her face. “Yeah of course, Gail love,” she choked, “You’ll stay for your dinner tonight, won’t you?”
“If you’ll have me,” Mum answered with a humble smile.
***
It was a well-known fact that Mam would feed anybody who came to Ty Gwyn, so she only bobbed in and out of the sitting room whilst Mum sat with Leighton and me, joining our conversation in between the mashing of potatoes and the roasting of meat. Leigh had run into our mother walking up the big hill to reach the farm house and then run all the way on to be the first one to tell us all of her arrival, so after he had heard the tales of the on-going bombing in London he abruptly fell asleep on the old sofa next to Mum. She put her coat over him and shuffled away a little to be nearer to me.
“I have to go back right away tonight, sweetheart,” she warned quietly, “but I came as soon as I could manage. I know I’ve left you for so long without any answers.” She rubbed her pale hands together slowly. “But it would have been far too risky to put anything in a letter.”
I frowned, trying to organise my thoughts to work out what questions I really needed answering. There was the big one, of course, the D word, the one that I still didn’t think she would tell me about. I decided on building up to that slowly.
“So have you ever worked in a bicycle factory, or was that all a big lie?”
Mum gave me an apologetic grin. “I don’t even know how to ride a bicycle darling, much less manufacture its parts.”
“Who is it you work for then?” I pressed eagerly, “The government?”
She nodded. “Whoever needs me. At the moment that’s the War Office.”
“Why didn’t you ever explain to me? You must have realised I was getting these powers, surely?”
“I was hoping you might stay in denial about them a bit longer, actually,” Mum admitted, reaching out to take my hand, “I assume you’ve been poking around in Norway, what with Henri and all. You’re much more advanced that I would have expected.”
“Am I?” I found myself smiling at that. “Well I’ve been working on it very hard, and Idrys had helped.”
Mum’s face fell. “How many people know about this all together?”
“Three,” I replied.
“Darling you must keep it that way.” She squeezed my hand again before taking it back to tap her own knees impatiently. “This war, this situation… It isn’t a good time to do what you can do.”
“But Idrys knew Granddad Arkwright!” I protested. “He helped in the first war, you’re helping in this one, and-”
“And nothing,” Mum interrupted, her young face
suddenly stricter than usual, “Your time to help will come when you’re older, I’m sure, but not now.”
I folded my arms at her. “You can’t stop me,” I said plainly, “It’s my power.”
My mother’s slim shoulders drooped and she shook her head just the once. “No, I can’t stop you,” she conceded, “All I can do is ask that you be sensible.”
She let out a long, low sigh, reclining on the sofa, pulling away from me. Leighton stirred a little, huffing out a short breath. She started to stroke his hair.
“I’m afraid of the things you might see, Kit.” She spoke quietly, like every word might explode if its volume was too high. “This Henri of yours has been trained, but he doesn’t know what’s really out there, the horrors he’s going to have to face. You shouldn’t be facing them with him; you should be here where I put you, where it’s safe.”
I was sure that Henri and Bickerstaff had both told me about the prospect of what was out there too. I hadn’t listened to either of them and this third warning felt like a record on repeat.