Katie's War

by Aubrey Flegg

  * * *

  Katie stood outside the harness room with Kieran’s satchel in her hand and her pulse racing. Little fears flitted across her mind like bats. She felt strangely vulnerable in her nightdress under the stars but he wouldn’t see her, it would be dark in the loft.

  She climbed the ladder to be met by impenetrable blackness.

  ‘Here, Kieran, take your satchel. It has some scraps in it.’ She heard him move. He must have felt the satchel because it was pulled away from her into the dark.

  ‘Gosh! you didn’t have to kill the pig for me!’ his voice said appreciatively.

  ‘Just some old scraps that Prince refused,’ she managed to say as she pulled herself up on the opposite side of the hatch to where he sat. It was just like the time they had first met in Nenagh. Words just would not come. Her tongue felt like a great blob in her mouth. She felt shy and awkward. There were still sounds of activity on the hill outside, occasional shouts, a shot. It seemed natural to keep quiet. Eventually a squad of marching feet passed and a deeper silence settled over the farm. She tried to see where Kieran was in the dark. She forced her tongue to move: ‘Have you got the food I gave you? I don’t know how you’ll get the cork out of the bottle.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, I haven’t been a soldier for nothing.’ It came as a surprise to hear his voice and to know that he was smiling. For a moment her confidence flooded back.

  ‘You’ll come back for your shirt, won’t you? I’ll wash it and keep it for you.’ She’d borrowed one of Father’s old shirts for him to wear and had taken his powder-blackened shirt to wash, but really it was as a keepsake, something of his to hide in a drawer till he would come back.

  But time was running out. Barney shifted in the stable next door. In the distance someone was whistling. That would be Marty, keeping his courage up on the dark night. Perhaps Kieran was just waiting for the chance to get away from this crazy girl and her divided family. Just keep talking, she told herself. ‘You know how to go?’ she whispered. ‘Don’t go near the quarry, not the way Mother told you. Keep straight uphill along the townland boundary. It’ll take you straight up the ridge. Follow the ridge to your right then, over the top of the mountain. There’s a little lake up there. Then drop down into the valley and keep on downhill into Ballina, avoiding the lake-side. If they’re really looking for you you’ll be across the bridge and into Clare before they get there.’

  Why was he so silent, she wondered. What was he thinking? She could hear him breathing.

  The whistling was close now. Marty, for sure. The calving must have gone well.

  ‘I must go, Kieran, that’s Marty whistling, I’ll have to slip in with him.’ With a huge effort she got up. The trap-door from the loft showed as a dim rectangle. As she stepped on to the ladder her nightdress caught on a nail. Still he was silent. As she lowered her head and began to free herself she was close to tears. Suddenly there was a movement in the darkness in front of her. She raised her head in surprise. Kieran’s hands were holding her lightly but firmly by the shoulders and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face.

  ‘You crazy, lovely girl,’ he said. She looked up and suddenly their lips were together. Time stood still for Katie then. Later, over the bleak time that followed, it sometimes felt to Katie as if that kiss had only lasted a second, at other times it seemed to have lasted a week. Certainly it would have gone on forever if her nightdress had not torn itself free and she had not half-slipped, half-tumbled down the ladder.

  ‘All right?’ came an anxious whisper from above.

  ‘Yes! I love you, Kieran, come back please,’ she whispered.

  Marty was washing himself in the trough as she flitted across the yard and in through the darkened porch. Mother had left a lamp burning low for him on the kitchen table. Katie had a foot on the stairs when Marty came in.

  ‘Well! What’s this? More trouble?’ he asked, grinning. Katie put a finger to her lips. Mother’s voice called down the stairs, ‘That you, Marty? Put the lamp out, dear, will you?’

  ‘A little Hereford heifer, Mother, a real beauty,’ Marty called, blowing out the lamp with a wink at Katie.

  * * *

  The day that followed passed in a daze of tiredness and anti-climax. There was plenty to do because Mother had planned a special dinner to welcome the men back. It was just like that fateful day nearly a week ago when Seamus brought the war into the house with his sudden outburst at dinner. He was at home this morning looking drawn, tired, and nervous, glancing forever towards the door or watching the road from the cover of the porch. A steady trickle of people passed, going up to peer into the quarry and to wonder at the fall of rock. Many of them would have heard the explosion but none of them called at the house.

  ‘Why don’t any of them come down?’ Katie asked Seamus after a group had passed without a glance into the yard.

  ‘They don’t know where we stand,’ he muttered as he drew back from the door. ‘Nobody trusts anybody now.’

  Katie wanted to talk to Dafydd – perhaps together they could capture again something of the wonder and triumph they had all felt last night. But Dafydd seemed to be avoiding her.

  Marty was full of excitement at what had happened the previous night.

  ‘You should go up, Katie,’ he said. ‘It’s amazing. From the quarry rim right up to the start of the bushes there is just one sheet of shiny rock. It’s as smooth as a baby’s bottom.’

  ‘Marty!’ exclaimed Mother, laughing.

  ‘But it is, Mother. Even I can see it’s good slate too. Then down in the quarry there’s this huge pile of sligins spilling right over the quarry floor. We’d never have moved all that by hand.’

  Eventually Katie made the excuse of going to meet Father and Mr Parry. She wound her way up to the quarry and stood gazing down into the hole in awe. It was quiet now except for the occasional forgotten slate which slipped down the slope and tinkled into the abyss. A noise from one of the sheds caught her attention and she found Dafydd there, poking among the old tools and equipment.

  ‘Dafydd! I never really thanked you. It’s quite a sight isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s that all right.’

  ‘I … I just wanted to say thank you,’ Katie tried again, but Dafydd seemed more interested in his poking. She got the feeling he didn’t really want to talk. ‘It is good, isn’t it? The slate on the hill?’

  ‘Can’t really say till you get into it, but it looks good.’

  ‘I can’t wait till Father sees it, and your Dad of course.’

  ‘Can’t you?’

  What was wrong with him? This was a big moment and he was moping. Katie could hear Father’s voice and see the two men in the distance now. Instead of being glad, Dafydd seemed chilled. Suddenly the conversation they’d had up by the magazine flashed into her mind. What had he said? ‘I want to be a reporter or a mountain climber or,’ and Katie had to smile, ‘go back to school and become a genius.’ So that was it! Here was Dafydd, who had dared to blow half Tipperary into the sky, dreading to meet his father, and all because of a silly misunderstanding.

  He was making for the door literally dragging his feet. This was ridiculous! Katie leapt over a fallen box and ran to cut Dafydd off. She turned and seized him by the shoulders. He seemed to have grown since his arrival. She fought to hold his eyes as she stumbled out her explanation. ‘You pair of eejits, both. Your Dad wants you to go back to school, whatever about becoming a genius. He just thinks you are set on becoming a quarry man. Wake up, Dafydd Parry, Wales is waiting for you!’ As she spoke she saw his eyes widen in doubting comprehension.

  ‘Go on, go out there and ask him,’ she challenged, and stood back.

  She let him go and watched, fingers crossed, as he walked over to the two men who were now staring down into the half-filled pit. She saw Dafydd and Mr Parry turn to face each other like two images in a mirror, then she imagined that she saw Dafydd draw a deep breath. She held hers. Suddenly Mr Parry threw back his head and laughed out
loud, stepped back, scratched his head and laughed again.

  Dafydd turned towards Katie with a grin and a shrug, as if to say: What can you do with a dad like that?

  * * *

  Father was standing alone, looking up first at the bare mountainside, then gazing down into the pit below, oblivious to them all. Katie came up beside him, still smiling to herself, and put an arm about his waist.

  ‘And they tell me no-one was lost in the blast,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It must have been the old magazine up there in the bushes. Katie dear, it’s a miracle – it’s a miracle from God.’

  CHAPTER 20

  The Search

  ‘I think you should go,’ argued Mother. ‘The quarry will keep, and this isn’t the time to be starting it up again. What time did the man with the boat say?’

  Father was polishing his hook on his trousers. ‘I just don’t like leaving you alone with all this army activity.’

  ‘I’m not alone. Seamus says he’ll be at home now, and we have Peter and Marty, and it’s the holidays. Go on, tell me, what was the arrangement?’

  ‘When we were talking to McGrath in Ballina he was saying he would take his barge up to Portumna, possibly even to Athlone if the wind is right. They’re running out of wheat for bread in Nenagh, with the roads and railway being cut, but the lake is open. He thinks he can make a shilling or two if he can get a cargo of wheat and bring it down the Shannon.’

  ‘Well, nobody wants people to starve. Where would you join him?’

  ‘He’ll pick us up at Garrykennedy tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Well, that’s settled then,’ said Mother.

  Father turned to Dafydd. ‘Have you ever been on a sailing barge?’

  ‘No, I’d like that.’

  * * *

  The morning was hectic. Mother was frantically walking about giving orders and knitting, trying to finish a pair of socks she had on her needles for Father.

  ‘I just don’t understand how all the socks in the house could have disappeared,’ she declared for the millionth time.

  ‘Look, Mary, it doesn’t matter if it’s half an inch shorter than the other, just cast off and I’ll wear it.’

  ‘Typical man! It’s not the top that will be short, you eejit, you’ll have no toe!’

  Katie was busy cutting sandwiches and trying to keep a straight face. She glanced at Dafydd who was sitting on a suitcase; he looked happy now that they were going. She looked at him with affection – he was really quite handsome. He must have sensed her attention because he glanced up. He’d been listening to the exchange about the socks too, and winked. She looked away quickly. Hooves were scraping in the yard as Peter backed Barney into the farm cart. Father came downstairs and dropped his old army kit bag on the floor.

  ‘Katie, love, they have food in Wales, you know, and I’m only going for a fortnight!’ She grinned at the mighty pile of sandwiches.

  ‘We’re out of stout,’ she said regretfully. ‘Mr Parry likes it – perhaps you’ll get some on the way?’ She wrapped the sandwiches in stiff brown paper, tied them with twine and crammed them into Father’s grip.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘let’s get loaded up and away. Seamus, would you ever give a hand with the cases now?’ Seamus shouldered the kit bag, dislodged Dafydd from his suitcase, and disappeared out into the yard. Mr Parry followed. Father came up to Mother as she was biting off the end of her wool, and spread his arms to give her a goodbye hug.

  ‘You’ll take care, won’t you?’ he said. ‘You have Seamus back. I’ll only –’

  At that moment Mr Parry appeared in the door, ‘Eamonn, I’m sorry to bother you but there’s … someone. There’s an officer wants a word with you.’

  ‘I’ll just see what he wants, Mary,’ Father said. ‘It will be about the explosion the other night. Thank God it was nothing to do with us.’

  Katie slipped around the table and into the shadow of the porch. Mr Parry came and stood beside her. She recognised the officer at once. He had got rid of the bandage on his hand and replaced it with sticking plaster. Beside her, Mr Parry said in a low voice, ‘I explained to him that your father was badly shocked, he didn’t seem to think there was anything to worry about.’ Katie turned and smiled, ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  But when she looked out into the yard, her smile froze on her face and a chill spread across her back. She couldn’t see at once what was wrong; it reminded her of a scene from one of the plays in the village hall, a stage set – everyone trying to look natural, but not managing it at all. Soldiers were pacing about or standing, some looking at their boots, others up into the trees. They were busy looking casual, but Katie sensed that the real focus of attention was elsewhere. Where was it?

  She scanned the yard. Father and the officer were talking, the officer laughing. Then she saw Seamus. He stood like the soldiers, acting, feigning casualness. Suddenly it was all horribly clear to Katie. The soldiers were after Seamus, and Seamus knew it. She followed the others into the yard. What was he thinking: Run for it? Stick it out? His head was still, but his eyes were alert. She willed him not to move. Those casually-held rifles in the soldiers’ hands were ready. Now Father was walking back, smiling cheerfully.

  ‘That’s all right, everyone aboard. It’s just routine, a quick run through the farm buildings and they’ll be done. The Sergeant will look after that, we’ve nothing to hide. Captain Delany would like a lift down in the cart with us. He wants to arrange the barge to get his men back to Nenagh.’ Katie searched for the sergeant, to find that he was looking at Seamus just as a stoat stares down a rabbit. If they wanted Seamus, they had him, she thought. Why the search? Then, in a flash that actually hurt, she knew – Oh God … the gun. Seamus’s rifle. Was it still in the house?

  She spun around to go back into the house; perhaps she could hide it? But suddenly there was a soldier where there had been no soldier before. He was standing, grinning, between her and the door.

  ‘Say goodbye to Mr Parry and Dafydd, Katie,’ called Father. ‘We must be going.’ She didn’t even try to force a smile as Mr Parry reached down to shake her hand, then she turned to Dafydd, dismay etched on her face. But Dafydd was looking at Seamus. Then all at once he began to behave strangely. Scratching his head, he half-rose as if he’d forgotten something. Then he stood up and clasped his forehead. In a torrent of Welsh he began to clamber over the tailgate of the cart. Katie steadied him as he landed, but he pushed past her towards the house. He waved his arms at the astonished soldier, and still speaking Welsh ducked past him to disappear into the house like a rabbit.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ shouted Mr Parry, laughing. ‘He’s forgotten his hurleys!’ Katie heard the clatter of boots on the stairs. Then there was silence. What could he be doing? Had Marty given him one of his hurleys? Boots sounded on the stairs again and Dafydd appeared, carrying a loose bundle of sacking. A hurley stuck out from the top of it. Surely Marty hadn’t given him both his sticks! Then, at last, Katie tumbled to what he was doing. How had she been so slow? She could sense rather than see the sergeant coming forward. Did he suspect anything? Dafydd had reached the cart. He’d need to pass the bundle up. Katie darted forward. Captain Delany was leaning out to take the bundle from Dafydd.

  ‘I’ll hold it for you,’ she said, grabbing and nearly dropping it. It weighed a ton. The officer reached down and heaved Dafydd up. The sergeant was almost beside her now. No time to pass it up. She bent double and darted under the tail of the cart, then straightened up calling, ‘Mr Parry!’ With the appeal of desperation in her eyes, she thrust the bundle up at him. Then she jumped forward and gave Barney a slap on the backside.

  ‘Gid up!’ she yelled, and Barney moved forward towards the ramp. For one brief second she saw Mr Parry’s astonished expression change to understanding as he pulled the bundle in, then he was gone.

  She could hear the sergeant shouting at the officer to wait a minute, so she shouted Goodbye, then everyone was shouting and waving. For one last moment Katie caug
ht Dafydd’s eyes – they were dancing with excitement as he seemed to call out something special to her in Welsh. She blew him a kiss. The cart lurched up out of the yard and was gone. Between them they will get rid of it, slip it overboard from the barge perhaps, she thought with relief. Then she turned back to the yard and found a scene that had changed dramatically.

  The sergeant was pushing Seamus over towards the barn. ‘Hands against the wall and keep them there. Search him, soldier,’ he snapped. ‘Nobody goes into the house!’

  ‘How dare you!’ said Mother. ‘You said the farm buildings.’

  ‘Me?’ sneered the Sergeant. ‘No, not me!’

  Katie went over to Mother and put an arm around her waist. Going as if to kiss her she whispered, ‘Don’t worry, Mother, the gun’s gone, they can’t accuse him without the gun.’

  The search was thorough. Marty was hauled out of the byre, complaining bitterly that some people had work to do around here, and Katie could hear the thump of furniture being moved about in the house. She thought to herself, Bless you, Dafydd. Thanks to him there was nothing in the house for that beastly man to find. As the soldiers reappeared one by one, those guarding Seamus relaxed and allowed him to lower his hands. Several of them smiled at Katie as they emerged, and she felt that they were relieved too that nothing had been found. Cigarettes were lit and Katie was looking forward to showing her scorn to the sergeant when she heard his shrill cry of triumph. Everyone in the yard turned as one towards the house. Silence. What could he have found?