Under the July Sun (7 page)

‘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
.

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 solitude 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.'

‘Huh, what, again? D'ye think I care?'

‘Look, he's mixin' with a mean bunch now. That's what bothers me.'

‘Birds of a feather! All pretendin' they're fightin' for a cause. Stupid! All of 'em.' Just a bunch of little boys with big mouths.'

Tom re-entered the barn and stood thoughtfully before tying up the next cow.

‘Ye know Dada I've been approached by them to join up.'

Ned stopped milking. ‘Ye
what
?'

‘I've been asked to join them.'

‘And ye didn't tell me?'

‘No.'

‘Why?'

‘Because I didn't want to worry ye.'

‘So, what's the verdict?' Ned looked irritated.

‘Ye should know without askin'.'

‘Do I have a feckin' fool in me midst or not?'

‘Of course not Dada, I was careful and said I'd think about it. But I was just stalling. 'Tis not for me.'

Cat saw Ned's face relax.

‘So, when're ye goin' to tell them the good news?'

‘Tonight. They've told me to meet them at Crampscastle.'

‘Jesus! All this goin' on and I don't know anythin' about it. I'm beginnin' to wonder if I know me own family at all these days. One of ye's liaising with a band of murderers and the other's sendin' cigarettes to a foreign soldier! Where will it all lead to?'

Cat and Tom exchanged glances as Ned turned his back and continued milking, muttering to himself.

* * *

After leaving the bar that night Cat stopped on the humpback bridge spanning the Clashawley River, and stared up at the sky. She marvelled at the number of stars and wondered whether Louis was looking up at them too. She took no notice of the motorcar stopping on the other side of the bridge and did not hear anyone approaching her from behind.

Suddenly something was pulled over her head and she was dragged backwards into the waiting car. Through the fabric a mouth pressed against her ear.

‘One word. One shout and ye're feckin' dead.'

Then she heard what she thought must be the click of a gun being cocked

‘Where're ye takin' me?'

‘Shut yer mouth.' It was a man's voice, but because he hissed the warning she couldn't tell if she knew him.

The car drove off quickly along the bumpy road and someone tied her hands together, so she knew there were at least two of them. The twine bit into her wrists as she was thrown back and forth by the motion of the speeding vehicle.

After a while she was told to get off the seat onto the floor of the car. She slid onto her knees and a hand pushed her down forcing her to remain in position. She felt someone's boot then rested on her back, pinning her down. Her mind raced.

She tried to memorise how many bends in the road they took and guess where they were, but her thoughts were scrambled and she was unable to assemble her sense of reason. Panic set in – the hood was suffocating her. She began to scream.