Through The Barricades: Winner of the SCBWI SPARK Award 2017

by Denise Deegan

  He grabbed her then and lifted her up. A great cheer rose from the Pals. He lowered her to his face and kissed her, carrying her forward to keep his place in line. She looked at the officer to see if Danny was in trouble. He winked at her. She remembered then that they were going to war. That changed everything.

  At the train station, they clung to each other.

  ‘I must go,’ he said but made no effort to leave her.

  ‘I know.’ She didn’t move either.

  It took an order for them to pull themselves apart, their eyes still holding each other.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him,’ Michael promised gravely.

  ‘Do.’

  She kept her eyes on him as they boarded. She searched the windows, willing him to get to one. Then he appeared, waving. She waved with both arms, crazily until they were laughing. A whistle blew. The doors were slammed. And the train eased out of the station, taking him from her.

  She stayed on the platform long after he’d gone. It did not matter what she did now for nothing would be the same without him. And yet she could breathe. She could walk. She could find her way home. It shouldn’t be so.

  ‘I’m engaged to be married,’ Maggie announced at dinner. For that was how she was going to deal with this. She was going to think, only, of the happy future that they would have when they were back in each other’s arms. For they would be. And that was that.

  ‘Oh, Maggie,’ her mother said sadly.

  ‘Oh, Maggie!’ Lily enthused at the same time, clapping her hands with ferocity. She jumped up, ran to her sister and threw her arms around her.

  Maggie smiled and kissed the top of her head. ‘You always make me feel better, Lil. Always.’

  ‘Congratulations, Maggie!’ David said. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Of course, I predicted this.’

  ‘Have you all lost your minds?’ Tom demanded. ‘You are sixteen years of age, Maggie Gilligan.’

  She turned to him calmly. ‘I said I was engaged, Tom. I didn’t say I was getting married this very minute.’ Though she would have given anything to do exactly that.

  ‘You’re too young by far to be even considering such things.’ Tom glared at their mother as though she had single-handedly brought about the situation.

  ‘I’m too young to be considering many things, Tom. That is the world we are living in. You of all people should know.’

  ‘It’s this Daniel fellow, isn’t it?’

  Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, it is this Daniel fellow.’

  ‘I must speak with him,’ he said as though it was a matter of life or death.

  ‘Well, that’ll be tricky given that he’s gone to war,’ Maggie said merrily. He was only improving her mood with his melodrama.

  ‘Are you saying that you are engaged to be married to a British Army soldier?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’ She put her hands up. ‘Shoot me.’

  ‘Maggie!’ her mother uttered in shock.

  Maggie turned to her pleadingly. ‘He’s being ridiculous!’

  Tom squinted at her. ‘Are you still in Na Fianna?’

  ‘Yes, Tom,’ she said trying to be patient. ‘I’m still in Na Fianna.’

  ‘Then be very careful what you say to your British Army soldier.’

  ‘Do you think I’m an utter idiot?’

  ‘And be particularly careful what you write,’ he continued. ‘The army will be censoring all mail – especially from their Irish regiments. On that you can rely.’

  ‘I know that,’ she said though the thought had not occurred. He was, after all, far too bossy for a brother.

  twenty-one

  Maggie

  Maggie avoided newspapers and all talk of war. She shared stories of happy princes, selfish giants and swallows. She waited for his words. Then came news that no one could escape, the sinking of the British ocean liner, the Lusitania, off the coast of Cork, torpedoed by a German U-boat with the death of almost one thousand two hundred men, women and children. Maggie saw them in her dreams, struggling in the water, children calling to mothers, then going under. The images haunted her. Sometimes, at night, she dreamt them there, Lily and herself, struggling to stay afloat. She could no longer keep the enemy clear in her mind. Perhaps there were two. Nothing was simple any more.

  At last, an envelope arrived carrying the insignia of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers. Maggie ripped it open. Her eyes raced through his words, hungry for news of him, starving, but at the same time not wishing to reach the end, for the words to stop.

  My dearest Maggie

  There is talk of America joining the fight in the wake of the Lusitania. How could she not? God rest their souls, every last one.

  I hope that I did not put you on the spot with my proposal. I was gripped by a moment of madness and you should feel no pressure whatsoever to stand by your answer. It was thoughtless of me to ask under such circumstances – but if you would still have me, I’d be the happiest man alive.

  Good news. I have received a letter of apology from my father. How his words have lifted my heart.

  Write soonest and let me know if you are still happy to, one day, be Missus Daniel Healy. I will understand...

  Your dearest, darling Danny

  Maggie snatched up pen and ink.

  Dear Daniel, do you have any idea how many times I have written the words Missus Daniel Healy? Let me write them again: Missus Daniel Healy. Of course I will still have you. You have made me the happiest girl in Dublin.

  I am so glad to hear of your father’s letter. We only ever get one father – and not forever.

  Life here carries on as normal, which does not feel right at all. I live for news of you. Tell me more of Basingstoke. You have begun to see the world!

  Your beloved fiancée, The Future Missus Daniel Healy

  She kissed the envelope and posted it immediately, not wishing him to be in limbo a moment longer. She needed his letters like air but the next one she needed even more for it would be confirmation that he had received hers and that their engagement continued uninterrupted.

  Maggie felt as if she had, at last, taken a giant step towards adulthood. She longed to keep stepping in that direction, to let her hair grow, to let her body develop as was happening to some of the girls at school. For the first time in her life, she wished that she were just a normal girl with no expectations on her shoulders, no dead father whispering to her at night to make a difference. She wished she were free to just live.

  His letter took days to arrive. When it finally did, Maggie accidentally tore it in two when ripping open the envelope. She hurried the halves together and devoured his words.

  Dearest Fiancée!

  Hurrah! It seems that we are the two happiest people on earth!

  When I am out on a route march, my tongue parched from thirst, my feet aching to the point of pain and miles more to go, I repeat these words in my head with every step: Missus, Daniel, Healy. Missus, Daniel, Healy. Missus, Daniel, Healy. The thought of you would get me through hell.

  We saw our first airplane, Maggie. All of us stopped what we were doing and stared up in wonder. It was a sight to behold, a miracle of engineering. Luckily, it was one of our own or I would not be penning this letter! It does not seem that America will be joining us after all. No matter. The war will soon be over, with or without them.

  I miss your laugh. I miss your eyes. And the rest of you just as much.

  Write soon,

  Your loving fiancé, Daniel

  PS I am one of twelve from the 7ths to have been selected as a sniper!

  twenty-two

  Maggie

  The more Maggie longed to be a woman, the harder she had to try to remain a boy. She had begun to starve herself, having noticed that it was the heaviest of girls who developed first. Now, as she looked in the mirror, she knew that she would have to wear an extra vest – or two. She tried stooping her shoulders forward. It helped. But for how long?

  Arriving at the hall, she was
deep in thought – she could perhaps bandage her chest – when she noticed that the room was almost empty. Those present looked pale and shaken – except for Patrick who looked murderous.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  He looked at her in disbelief. ‘Have you not heard of Ypres?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then you are alone.’

  ‘Patrick, what is it?’

  But at the top of the room, Con Colbert was already speaking. ‘A moment’s silence, please, for the brave Irishmen who have fallen at Ypres. To all the boys here tonight who have lost family or friends – you do them proud to turn out here this evening. To those that cannot be here, please pass on our deepest sympathies. There will be no drill tonight. Now, let us pray.’

  Heads bowed, they blessed themselves and prayed in Irish. A sob broke through the unified voices, a pair of shoulders shook and a tearful boy raced out.

  When the prayers ended, the young rebels began to leave in silence.

  Maggie turned to Patrick. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Thousands have been gassed to death, my father and two uncles included.’

  She covered her mouth.

  He spoke as though in a trance. ‘The Germans sent poison out on the air to do their dirty work for them. My father didn’t even go down fighting.’

  She longed to hold him, comfort him but she was a boy. And he was Patrick. ‘You’re good to come out.’

  Fury raged in his eyes. ‘Na Fianna is the only way I have to avenge their deaths.’

  She didn’t understand. ‘But we’ll be fighting the British not the Germans.’

  ‘Yes, the British who push the Irish troops up to the front-line before their own. Cannon fodder, that’s what we are, over there. Cannon fodder.’

  She held her head. She could not hear this.

  ‘If I do nothing else in this world, I’ll get revenge.’ He turned and stormed out.

  His horror was hers now. Jolted back in time, another enemy climbed into her lungs, stealing the air from them. She rushed to the window. Tearing at her collar, she sucked in great gulps of air. This is what he faced. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. Nothing.

  Maggie’s mother held her.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she demanded.

  ‘Maggie, you asked us not to speak of the war.’

  It was true.

  Her mother rubbed her back. And Maggie wanted to be comforted. But she also wanted to be alone. She didn’t know what she wanted. She broke free and ran to her room.

  Lying on her bed, she wept for all those who had been killed so horrifically, for all their loved ones, and for Daniel and the Pals who had marched, erect and proud towards war.

  She ignored the weight on the bed as someone sat down. She ignored the hand that brushed her hair over and over. But she could not ignore the tiny voice that said, ‘There, there.’ Lily was mothering her as she’d done her own mother. Maggie cried harder, then, at the pain of the world.

  ‘What you need is a story,’ Lily said firmly, like a doctor prescribing a cure. ‘A happy one. First, you must blow your nose.’ She passed Maggie a handkerchief. And when Maggie did as she was told, Lily bossed, ‘Now, sit up.’

  Maggie smiled through tears and did as instructed. Lily brought the pillows from her bed and placed them on Maggie’s. Then the two of them sat side by side.

  ‘I’m going to have to make up my own story, Maggie,’ she said with gravity. ‘Yours are just too sad altogether.’

  ‘Don’t I know it?’

  And so Lily invented a story of a lost dog that, after a series of terrifying adventures, returned safely home with a slight limp. When that made Maggie cry, Lily told the story of a little girl who had been lonely and lost but who found a family that told sad stories and made her happy.

  Maggie enfolded her in a hug. She rested her chin on her tiny blonde head. ‘What would I do without you, Lil?’

  ‘You saved me, Maggie. I’m only saving you back.’

  part three

  twenty-three

  Daniel

  Summer 1915

  At the end of June, the Pals received orders to ready themselves for Gallipoli, not France, after all. Daniel agonised over his letter to Maggie, rewriting it over and over. At last, he had to let it go. He placed it in an envelope for posting the following day.

  In the early hours, he woke with, suddenly, so much he needed to say. By the light of the moon, he found his pen and paper and, at the window, he began again.

  My dearest Maggie,

  We are off. To Gallipoli, in the end. But do not fear. They say that the Turks are poor fighters!

  I love you, Maggie, more than you love your country, more than Lily loves stories and your mother loves education, more than the sun, the moon and life itself. You are a fire that springs from an empty hearth. You are a bird that bursts from a tree and startles a horse into a gallop. You are the pulse in my veins, my reason for living. I will come home to you, Maggie Gilligan. I promise you.

  With my fondest, fondest love always, your future husband, Danny

  He read it over and wondered at himself. A fire that springs from an empty hearth! Was he losing the run of himself altogether? And yet that was what Maggie had brought to his life – fire. Until she had entered it, had he even been living?

  ‘I wish I had a girl to write to.’

  ‘Jesus, Michael!’ He’d come out of nowhere.

  ‘Sorry.’

  Daniel moved to make space for his friend on the windowsill and they sat side by side.

  Michael sighed. ‘If I’d a girl to come home to, I imagine I’d try harder to stay alive.’

  ‘You have a father who is proud of you,’ Daniel said without envy.

  Confidence drained from Michael’s face. ‘Are we doing the right thing, at all, Danny?’

  ‘Damned if I know!’

  They laughed because what else could they do?

  Daniel prayed that Maggie’s return letter would reach him before he left for Gallipoli. As the days passed, it became an omen. If he received it, he would survive the war.

  To his immense relief, it arrived on his last day in Basingstoke. The paper was bumpy and some of the words blurred. He was sorry for causing her pain.

  My darling Danny,

  You have promised me that you will return. So you must. That’s all there is to it.

  And now for the advice (I have given this much thought): Never underestimate a man with a gun, Turk or no Turk. Stay close to Michael. Two pairs of eyes are better than one. Two pairs of arms, legs, two spirits. Two is better than one, Danny. This I have learned from you.

  Forget what I said and write to me every day. I need to hear that you are well. You are in my prayers every night, every morning, every minute. Stay safe, stay safe, stay safe. Come home to me, Danny, so we can live happily ever after.

  Maggie

  He loved her for her practicality. He loved her for her concern. He loved her for her vulnerability. He loved her and he was leaving her.

  twenty-four

  Daniel

  On July 10th, they left England under cover of darkness. The ship’s captain was the same man who had been in command of the Carpathia when she rescued survivors from the Titanic; another omen, Daniel hoped.

  Life was good as they inched towards war. The food was better than army fare and included oranges chilled by refrigerator and gin cocktails they called ‘Gallipolis’. They swam and raced in saltwater baths and began each day with a run around the deck. Daniel learned poker and made a hesitant stab at bridge. He wrote to Maggie of sunsets like paintings and porpoises that seemed to guide them safely along.

  They called to Gibraltar, Malta, Egypt.

  ‘A bronzed Irishman is a fine-looking specimen,’ MacDonald said as they sat on deck, one evening.

  ‘Even Hegarty looks half-decent,’ Wilkin teased.

  Michael flung an orange at him.

  In a flash, he raised an arm, snatching it out of th
e air.

  ‘Jesus, where did you learn that trick?’ Lecane asked.

  ‘What trick?’ he asked casually as he peeled and subsequently ate Michael’s orange.

  In Greece, they landed to await further orders. Out in the harbour, alongside colourful native boats, they watched minelayers, battleships and torpedo craft. And when Red Cross boats came ashore with hundreds of wounded from the very place they were headed, the rumours about Turks as fighters changed. All cockiness vanished.

  MacDonald turned to Daniel.

  ‘Have you ever wondered what it’ll be like to take a life?’ he asked quietly.

  Daniel’s smile was sad. ‘Every day.’

  Then, on August 6th, orders came that they were to set sail for Suvla Bay, two words that meant war. Daniel and his friends hugged, all manliness forgotten. As they boarded a barge, Daniel noticed bullet holes on the bridge and blood stains on the deck. No one said a word but many blessed themselves. Daniel silently prayed for all those who had died before him – and all those who would die beside him. He prayed that, if that were God’s plan for him, death would be swift. He prayed too for forgiveness for whatever he would have to do in the name of war.

  The quartermaster issued a ration of cigarettes donated by the ‘Friends of Ireland.’

  ‘Whoever they are, I fecking love them,’ Michael said.

  Then they were away, taking a westerly course to escape Turkish submarine and coastal observation. All day they sailed in increasing silence. Daniel thought of Maggie and his family. It comforted him that he had made up with his father. It was important, suddenly.

  As night fell, all cigarettes and pipes were extinguished. Portholes were boarded up to contain light, creating a furnace below deck. The men slept under the sky, side by side like tinned sardines.