Katie's War (7 page)

D
afydd remained silent as they climbed up into the trap and started on the road home. He avoided her eyes. Katie looked at him with appreciation and was grateful. When they reached the cross-roads she turned right up the steep hill into the village of Portroe. She hitched Barney to a ring in the wall and they went into the shop. It smelled of brown paper, stale bread and porter. She liked the smell. She bought two pounds of sugar, some cards of grey darning wool and, with her own money, a quarter pound of bullseyes.

Mrs Gleeson thumped the bag of sugar on the counter till it settled, bound it with twine, and wrote the messages into the book for Father to pay later. No, she told them, the
Nenagh Guardian
had not come in nor the
Independent
either.

But, and she lowered her voice, had Katie heard that
they
had felled a tree right across the road not two miles down the road? The way she said ‘they' made Katie wonder if Mrs Gleeson wasn't rather pleased. It felt strange that she no longer knew what someone in her own village was thinking. She backed towards the door, avoiding sacks of hen feed and the blue crystals used to spray potatoes. She didn't want to talk about the tree; there might be questions.

‘I could learn to type and keep his books,' she said without
warning as Barney plodded up the hill. Dafydd looked so surprised Katie thought he had swallowed his bullseye.

‘Where? On the farm?' he asked.

‘No, you mutt. When the quarry opens.'

Dafydd took his bullseye out and examined it to see if the stripes went right through.

Katie went on defensively. ‘I can't do sums, but I'm sure I could if I had to.'

‘I thought you wanted to lead a revolution,' said Dafydd, popping the sweet back in.

‘Bad Frog! Don't tease me. I must settle down, go to the nuns.'

This time Dafydd really did look startled. ‘Nuns! Become … become a nun?'

‘No! Secondary school, the Sisters of Mercy in Nenagh next year. Perhaps they have typing classes.'

‘I can't imagine you as a
nun
.'

Katie ignored that. ‘Father's right, what Ireland needs is economic development.'

‘Long words!'

‘They're Father's, but he's right. We'll get the quarry going and then there will be lots of jobs and money for people to spend.'

‘What about stopping the war?'

‘I don't seem to be very good at that, do I? If everyone had jobs they wouldn't bother. You'll see, the men will come up tomorrow and your Dad will tell us how to get started. We could be up and running by the end of the summer. The fighting will be over by then and we can throw our guns into the lake and have done with them for ever.'

Peter was waiting anxiously when they drove into the yard.

‘I thought you'd never come. I should never have let you go. Your Dad will skin me.' He ran his finger along the line of
dried foam on Barney's flank. ‘Will you look at the lather you have on him.'

‘He was a bit fresh,' said Katie, climbing down. ‘We went down to Garrykennedy. Would you have had us walk?'

‘It would have done you no harm at all,' Peter said as he unhooked the trap. ‘Hold Barney there now,' he said, and rolled the trap in under the shed. ‘Now, let's get him out of sight.' Katie led the horse into the stable while Peter followed, grumbling.

‘I bought you some bullseyes. There's nearly a quarter there. Dafydd and I had one each on the way up.'

‘You're a good girl,' said Peter, pocketing the paper bag. ‘Just give me a hand with rubbing Barney down now. There's no need for him to look like he was at the races.' Peter hissed soothingly through his teeth as they worked away with
handfuls
of hay until he shone.'

‘I'm going to learn to type, Peter,' said Katie
conversationally
. ‘Won't that be grand.'

‘Like a secretary? And what would you want to do that for?' Peter, who groomed Barney just as he milked the cows, with his head against the animal's flank, straightened up and pushed his cap back on his head.

‘To help Father with the quarry when it opens.'

‘That'll be the day.'

‘What do you mean?' asked Katie indignantly.

‘He's looking for money from people. What they want is to be paid.'

‘But that's how a co-operative works. Everyone chips in a little and then you share out the profits.'

‘It's not for me to say.' Barney shifted uneasily. ‘Whoah there, Barney or I'll make meat of you. Anyway, they have other things on their minds, old grudges.'

‘You mean Father going to the war?'

‘Could be.'

‘That's stupid! Father'll win them over. You'll see.'

Peter chuckled. ‘And you learning to type, that'll be the day.'

Katie threw her screw of hay at him and skipped out.

There was work to be done in the house after dinner. Marty took Dafydd and a couple of hurleys down to the flat field where his friends were playing. Katie wanted to tell her mother about her plans, but Mother was distracted – worried about Seamus perhaps, so Katie decided not to mention the felled tree or her little brush with the army. Father and Mr Parry did not come back till late having walked over to see some of the old slate quarries down by the Shannon. Katie went to bed early feeling more at peace with herself than she had in years.

Frantic tapping at her door woke her. It was quite dark.

‘Yes?' she said, fumbling for matches. There followed an unintelligible mumble. ‘Come in!' she called in irritation. The door opened a crack and Dafydd's head appeared. He was carrying a candle at a dangerous angle. ‘For God's sake, Frog, watch that candle. What's the matter?'

‘Seamus is back,' he whispered hoarsely. ‘He's hurt.' In a second Katie was out of bed and across the room, snatching the candle from Dafydd.

‘Look!' he said as he retreated in front of her, pointing to a dark spot on the floor, ‘that's blood.' Without knocking, Katie opened the door of the boys' bedroom. There was sudden movement from the direction of Seamus's bed where he appeared to be tucking in the blankets.

‘What's the matter, Seamus? Are you hurt?' she said, relieved that he wasn't prostrate on the bed. He turned and sat down on it. He looked pale, but he was smiling, and there was a bright spark of excitement in his eyes.

‘Keep your voice down,' she warned. ‘If you're not dying don't raise the house.'

‘I'm fine,' he said, but he swayed a little.

‘No you're not, you're bleeding. Let me look at you.'

‘It's just a scratch … I think.'

‘Hold this, Frog,' said Katie, thrusting the candle at Dafydd. ‘Where?' she demanded. ‘Where does it hurt?'

‘Across my back and shoulder.'

‘Turn round.' Katie could see a ragged tear in the shirt. ‘You'll have to take your shirt off.'

‘Ouch, it's stuck.'

‘I'll get some hot water.' She took the candle from Dafydd and went downstairs. She was anxious, and that made her cross. If only she could call Father – he knew about wounds – but that was out of the question. Things were bad enough between him and Seamus. She filled a basin with hot water from the kettle at the back of the range, and got iodine,
cottonwool
, lint, a bandage and some sticking plaster from the cupboard under the stairs.

‘This will hurt,' she said grimly as she dabbed at the wound with iodine. She had got it as clean as she could without starting it bleeding again. She had been relieved to find that the cut was not too deep. The iodine made a dark stain, and had a sharp smell. Seamus drew his breath in sharply.

‘Ouch!'

‘I told you.' Only the deeper cut on his shoulder was still bleeding. She bandaged this tightly.

‘Does it look like a bullet wound?' he asked.

‘It's very ragged.'

‘Probably a ricochet,' he said with satisfaction.

‘What happened?' Katie asked as she eased his night-shirt over his head.

‘We were fired on. Katie, it was so exciting! After all these years of waiting and wanting to be in action, then I was, and I managed!'

‘What did you manage?'

‘You remember the mutiny I was telling you would happen in Nenagh? Well, on Friday the lads from the Kenyon Street barracks came out on our side and took over the whole town and occupied the post office –'

‘Yes, and shot poor Mrs O'Malley in the process.'

‘How do you know about that? We don't know who shot Mrs O'Malley. She was standing in her porch, which was silly.'

‘There was a soldier shot too.'

‘Who's been telling you all this? That was a Free State officer, when they took over the Hibernian Hotel.'

‘But why, Seamus? What was it all for?'

‘Listen to me,' he dropped his voice, ‘during the fuss, the lads got away with whole a load of guns and ammunition from the barracks, that's why! They had them covered up in a cart and were escaping out of town when the horse went lame. They knew the government troops would be after them and were desperate to find somewhere to hide the stuff. So they took the first farm they came to and hid cart and all in a barn. They told the farmer he'd be shot if he breathed a word about it, and took to the fields. That was Friday.'

Marty stirred, asked what was going on, but went back to sleep again before any of them could answer. Katie sat down on the edge of the bed. Seamus's eyes glinted in the light of the candle Dafydd was holding. She knew he wanted to talk, and
she wanted to know. Outside the circle of candlelight the whole house was quiet.

‘Go on,' she said.

‘Well, yesterday, when the lads had pulled out of the town, one of the girls in Nenagh who knew where the stuff was hidden happened to see the farmer in question hovering about the police barracks. She put two and two together and went up to him and asked about his health and remarked on the sad shortness of life. He went away in a hurry then, but it was decided that the stuff would have to be moved at once, and our column was called on to do it!

‘Katie, it was beautiful to see how it was all organised. A group of the lads were sent off to cut through a tree ready to drop behind us if we were followed. The rest of us requisitioned a horse and hied us off down the road to the farm. There was a light upstairs, and someone in the farm moved the curtains, but no-one came out. It was just getting dark – perfect timing – and we were harnessed up when all at once there was a clatter like forty tin cans on the road and there was this girl from the town on an ancient bicycle she'd grabbed that had no front tyre.

‘“They're coming!” she said, “You've got twenty minutes at the most.” The old fellow must have split on us after all. That set us hopping like fleas, I can tell you, but the horse was fresh. Twenty minutes seemed a fair margin.'

‘Did you shoot the farmer?'

‘Never gave it a thought. We had to get going, but I bet he'll have some sleepless nights for a while.

‘We were cracking on, taking turns on the shaft, or running behind, when disaster struck. I felt the gust of wind myself, just before we heard the crash. You see, the lads had the tree cut through, and left it held up by a whisker. They said later they could actually hear us on the road and were ready to give a
cheer, when one of those blessed night gusts that blows on to the lake, took the tree. One eejit even tried to hold it back and nearly got squashed. As I said, we heard the crash, and when we arrived there it was across the road. And the government troops expected behind us!' Seamus paused. ‘Would you ever get me some water?'

‘Dafydd, take the candle,' said Katie. ‘And miss out the second-last step before the landing; it creaks. The spring water is in the enamel bucket in the porch.' Katie waited until he was gone. ‘Seamus, have you thought? Those rifles and bullets were made to kill people?'

‘I'm not a barbarian, Katie, I have been thinking of that. But if we don't throw the English out
now
, and completely, there will be fighting in Ireland until they're gone. Mark my words, there's a passion out there that nothing will quench.'

Katie could feel that passion in his voice and it frightened her. ‘But it's not even the English you're fighting now, it's us. If there were no guns we could get on with living.'

‘The guns would just come from somewhere else.'

‘But still, one bullet less, one life more.'

The stair creaked. Dafydd had forgotten the loose step on the way up. The wavering light approached, then they heard a door open.

‘Shhh!' Katie hissed, and held her breath.

‘Is everything all right there?' came Father's voice. Katie's tongue seemed stuck to her mouth.

‘Sorry, Mr O'Brien, I was getting a glass of water.'

‘Oh! all right, Dafydd, sleep well.' They all breathed again.

‘Father must know
nothing
, Seamus!' Katie whispered as Seamus drank.

‘That's better,' he said with a sigh. ‘I shouldn't be talking to you either.'

‘What did you do then?' Katie was anxious that he shouldn't stop.

‘For a while there was pandemonium, everyone blaming everyone else, then the commandant got us sorted out – you saw him, the man up at Uncle Mal's. Josie was to take the horse and find a way around through the fields if he could. The rest of us were to unload the cart. You've never felt anything so heavy as an ammunition box, Katie. There was a big machine-gun too, a beauty, with shining ammunition in belts. When it was all over we got everyone pulling and lifting and pushing until somehow we got the empty cart over the tree.