Katie's War (11 page)

‘There's a fine view from here; we can see uphill and
downhill
and each way along the road, and we will know if anyone is coming.' There was something in the way he spoke, as if she were grown-up and equal, that finally pushed Katie's
indignation
off balance.

‘Katie, before you knock the head off my son here, there are two things you ought to know. The first is that I brought the subject up first, not him. The second is that we have only spoken about it in Welsh.' Katie stared ahead, so Dafydd
had
told him – and had told him about her silly game with the Welsh.

‘It was a game,' she said sullenly.

‘I'm not laughing at it, Katie. The world would be a better place if people learned the importance of games. Think what it means now. No words have been said here that anyone, other than us three, can understand. If you like, Dafydd and I will go away and never speak about it again. If you can let us in to share it with you, it will be just between us three and can stay that way. Your secret is safe.' Katie opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She had been betrayed once, she needed to know more.

Mr Parry went on, ‘I have seen your father in action in the war, Katie, and I can tell you that everything that Dafydd said about him is true. He is one of the bravest men I know, but his bravery is nothing compared to yours, especially as you were no more than a child when so much of it happened. I don't
think you have any idea of how brave you have been. I take my hat off to you, Katie O'Brien, because without you your father would have been sitting staring at the wall in an asylum long since. Your father was far, far worse than I ever imagined. You haven't cured him, not yet, not completely, but you have to all intents and purposes saved his life.'

Katie felt she was in a bubble that surrounded her in a clear but tremulous film. She wanted to reach out to touch it but dared not in case it burst. The film was made of words, in Mr Parry's sing-song accent. Inside the bubble she was safe, Mr Parry and Dafydd were there beside her. How they had got in there she could not imagine. But now the bubble was expanding and expanding, freeing her in ever widening circles. The meadows below blurred as the meniscus passed, then the village swam briefly out of focus, the lake heaved and the film spread out, stretching to the horizon until it enclosed the whole world. She could feel the tears which had welled in her eyes moving down her cheeks. The pain of relief was almost unbearable. When Mr Parry put an arm around her shoulders it was all she could do to stop herself from turning and crying her heart out on his shoulder. This was the one thing she had resisted all these years – sharing – now she was lurching from pain to joy to pain.

Dafydd stared fixedly out over the lake.

‘And now?' she managed to say, using her sleeve.

Mr Parry passed her a handkerchief. ‘And now … we have to move on, we must somehow make sure we don't lose it all.'

‘All?' she asked.

He was slow to answer. ‘Yes. All, Katie.'

I didn't believe him, Megan, Dad that is – not till he told me about Will Morgan. You remember Will Morgan? Went barking mad in Bangor when he saw a dead horse on the road. Dad says that was shell-shock. With Will it was horses; loved horses Will did, and couldn't bear the way they were killed in the war. It took just this one dead horse to bring it all back. Will couldn't cope, see, he'd never talked about the war to anyone, then it was too late. Dad didn't mention Will Morgan to her of course, real gentle he was with her. I was proud of him.

M
r Parry had stopped speaking. They sat together on the bank, the three of them. Dafydd and Mr Parry spoke in low voices as the sun sank behind the mountains. For a moment the vanishing rim appeared to detach itself and hang like the segment of an orange above the crisp line of the hill. Then, with unexpected suddenness, it was gone. Katie picked up a twig off the road and started levering off the loose bark. She was only half-listening to their voices; they might have been speaking Welsh. They had told her about the depth of her father's shell-shock. In a way it came as no surprise. Deep down inside she had known, but what she hadn't known was how much she had needed friends, people like these to share it all with. For the first time that she could remember, she was
not alone. What would she do when they were gone?

‘So, what is it that sets him off, Katie?' Mr Parry asked. ‘Is it words, like Seamus's outburst or the man who spoke out in the cave, or is it the fear of guns?'

Katie came back to the present with a jolt and old fears surfaced. For a moment the black dogs were ranging the hill behind her, then she pulled herself together. She saw Father's face again, pale and distorted, as he yelled at that piece of metal beside the road years ago.

‘No!' she said, ‘that's not it. It isn't the
fear
of guns that sets him off but
hatred
. He only has to see them to feel the hatred. Hatred of what guns do to people.' The stick she had been playing with snapped in her hand.

Mr Parry took her hands between his for a second. ‘You know, child, I think you could be right. It hangs together, doesn't it? He had to stop that machine-gun before his men went over the top. I remember how he talked to them that night before the attack. He hated that gun because of what it would do to them. He often said he could never hate the Germans – it was the machinery of war that turned them into our enemies.' Mr Parry pulled a sprig of heather and began crumbling it in his palm, like someone rubbing tobacco for his pipe. Katie watched the pieces getting finer and finer. Eventually he held up his palm and blew the dust away. She noticed that his hand shook. ‘You know, if it wasn't for the fighting here, he'd be all right. Probably never see a gun again. It's cruel – all he wanted from the war was to bring peace back with him. Did he ever tell you about the poppies in Flanders?' Katie nodded. ‘We never could understand where they came from, but suddenly in spring, wherever the fighting had eased, sheets of red, red poppies would appear.' Katie remembered Father's
description
. ‘Perhaps the seeds had been lying there for years waiting
for this moment. Beauty and hope and life out of all that death. We used to collect the seeds from the little pepper canisters and scatter them far and wide. I remember your Father put some in a screw of paper one day. Said he would take them home to Ireland as Ireland needed a little hope too. Red poppies sown in a green field.'

‘He must have lost them. We never found them in his things.'

‘I think he found that he already had a poppy growing here.' Katie wondered what he meant but he did not elaborate. After a while Mr Parry asked, ‘Your brother, Seamus, he's deeply involved, isn't he?'

It wasn't really a question but Katie nodded. ‘Yes, and in a way, Mother is too.'

Mr Parry's next question caught her by surprise. ‘Could you do without your father for a while, Katie?'

She jerked her head up. ‘What … what do you mean?'

‘I mean you've nursed him for – what is it – five years. I know about it, Katie, he talks about you constantly. It's not just what I from got Dafydd here under torture.'

‘To hospital … to an asylum?' she whispered.

‘Good God! No, child. No, no, no! With me and Dafydd to Wales. Do you think he'd come? We'd look after him. It's not just our being in the war together, it's chiefly the slate quarry. He could see how we do things in Wales.'

‘I thought the quarry idea was dead.'

‘Well, for the moment it is. It will take a lot of work to push all of that waste down and start again; there's no magic wand.' Dafydd made to say something, but seemed to think better of it. ‘Really, the problem at the moment is that people here have other things on their minds, haven't they, with the fighting? Your Dad would be a born manager, I saw him in the war. His
heart's not in the farming, not without his hand. Think of it, Katie, no guns, no Crossley Tenders. I promise we'd look after him.' The prospect seemed bleak but Mr Parry went on, ‘Could you manage the farm between you if he came?'

‘There's Peter. Marty would love it, and anyway it's holiday time. I'd help Mother, I suppose. It would be like it was in the war.'

‘Seamus?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Perhaps he'd come back if your father was away.'

‘Perhaps,' said Katie, but without conviction.

‘Think about it, Katie. Dafydd and I will have to go once the trains are running again. Your father would be here, his quarry plans scuppered, nothing but Seamus to worry about, and the fighting to brood over.'

Katie knew she had no choice. ‘Take him if he'll go,' she said.

‘Good girl.'

By the time Katie was climbing the stairs to bed the first glow of relief was beginning to spread through her. Rather to her surprise she realised she would miss Dafydd when he'd gone. She did not hear Seamus return in the night.

He had a gun – I'm sure of it – or I think I am. Something woke me. There was a trickle of light from the little lamp they keep lit under the holy picture. Gave me the creeps at first, that picture – all blood and thorns. It wasn't Marty, but a man. I could hear him breathing. He was just by Katie's door. What should I do if he went in? The temptation to close my eyes and pretend I wasn't there was terrible. Your Dafydd is not very brave at heart. Then the man seemed to change his mind and turned towards me. It was when he turned that I'm sure I saw the gun. It was Seamus, her brother. I had to close my eyes then or they would have stood out like dinner plates in the dark. I wonder should I tell her, Megan? Or has she enough to worry about?

K
atie had volunteered to get breakfast but when she got down the men were already tying their bootlaces in the porch. Tying his own laces with one hand and his hook had been one of the triumphs of Father's recovery. But Katie was apprehensive.

‘Morning, Katie, another beautiful morning,' called Father. Katie's heart lurched. It was too loud, far too loud. She went to the door and watched. Father seldom raised his voice,
especially
when people might be asleep. ‘We're just going to block up the entrance to the cut, far too dangerous in there. Must keep
people out. We'll need paint, Griff, for a sign.' Katie wanted say Shhh! She even raised her hand as if to put a finger to her lips, but Mr Parry saw her and gave her a wink. The delicious feeling of being reassured spread through her. It reminded her of her soldier friend in Nenagh. She managed a weak smile and then listened to the scrunch of boots as they crossed the
farmyard
. Was it only a week since she had met Mr Parry and Dafydd at the station? She smiled, remembering her horror when she had seen Dafydd first. He was looking less sick now – with a bit of sun and feeding he was filling out visibly.

She put the porridge on and stirred, staring into the pot as she did so, remembering that trip to Nenagh. She thought about the soldier boy once more. Small chance of ever seeing him again.

Heavy steps on the stairs woke her from her day-dream. She turned, and Seamus was standing at the foot of the stairs easing on his jacket. She'd had no idea he was in the house – when had he come back? She hadn't seen him since … when was it? … Sunday, when he had been talking to the man in the trench coat. She could hear again that sarcastic, fanatic voice denouncing Father. She had actually touched the man as he passed her in the cave. She wiped her fingers on her apron at the memory. Seamus must have known the man was going to say those things! She could feel anger rising in her again like a blush. Who was it who had brought Trench Coat into their lives? Seamus. Who had started all this? Seamus and his blessed guns. Damn Seamus! she thought. Damn him! She turned back to the pot but the oatmeal was seething just as she was. She must think before she spoke.

Suddenly Seamus was behind her and was putting a firm arm about her shoulders.

‘No “Good morning”?' he asked.

‘Get off me!' she snapped, pushing him back.

‘I just wanted to thank you for patching me up the other night,' he said, stepping back. ‘There's no need to bite.'

‘Bite!' spat Katie. ‘Have you any idea, any inkling of what you have done? You, and that man in the trench coat, have destroyed Father's future, you've ruined his reputation, and you've brought back his shell-shock …' She ran out of words.

Seamus shrugged and turned away. ‘Grow up, Katie. Nothing was done on Sunday that wouldn't have happened anyway. Father's all right. I've never heard him so cheerful. He woke the whole house just now.'

‘That's the point, Seamus!' said Katie in exasperation, letting a stream of porridge fall from her spoon on to the
hot-plate
where it hissed and bubbled. ‘Anyway, what are you up to now?'

‘Watch your spoon, Katie. Hush, here they come.' He added, in a lower voice, ‘I want no more questions,
understand
?'

Katie blinked and stared at Seamus open-mouthed. Where had this sudden authority come from? Seamus had never shown authority over anyone.

Father was at the door, still talking with that booming
artificial
voice. As far as she knew, Seamus and he hadn't met since Seamus's outburst at dinner last week. What would happen now?

‘We've been walling up the cut into the quarry, so nobody gets hurt in there …' Father started. At that moment he caught sight of Seamus. Katie watched, holding her breath. For a moment Father seemed to be having difficulty in getting his eyes to focus, then he said loudly, ‘Nice to see you, Seamus.' Had he really forgiven Seamus the things he had said that day at dinner? But Father was not acting normally. As if to confirm
this, he threw back his head, stretching out the tension in the muscles which stood out like ropes in his neck.

‘Something burning, Katie?' said Mother. Katie started; the porridge she had spilled on the hot-plate had hardened and pungent smoke was streaming up. While she scraped at the crust with a knife she tried to listen to what Seamus was saying.

‘I've asked some of the neighbours – and some friends – to help with drawing the hay up from the wet meadow, Father,' he announced. ‘Barney will need a push up the hill as those cocks are always heavy. We'll make the stack in the quarry yard, as we did last year, it's a grand place.' Katie could feel the tension in the room. Mother had stopped in the middle of putting out the cups. The only person who didn't seem to notice the change in Seamus was Father.

‘That's a grand idea. Some haymaking would do us all good. Yes, yes, let's move it then. I was down in the meadow with Marty only yesterday looking to see if it was dry enough. It will be good to get some use out of the quarry yard. Are you feeling strong, Griff?'

Katie looked at Seamus. Things were moving too fast for her. She'd always wanted him to stand up for himself, but now that he was doing it she wasn't sure she liked it.

‘I'm game!' said Mr Parry, sidling up to Katie with a bowl for some porridge. ‘I'll need some strength though, Katie, so slap it in for me!' Then he dropped his voice, ‘I'm working on your father, Katie, he's nibbling. It's the idea of seeing a Welsh quarry working that's drawing him. We'll get him away all right in the end.' She opened her mouth to thank him but Seamus was talking again. ‘It shouldn't be too hard, I have plenty of help lined up.'

‘Marty will be upset if we do it without him – he's gone to get me some nails,' Father said. ‘But help is not to be sniffed
at. Let's make a day of it. Mother,' he called, as if she were in the yard rather than cutting bread at the small table, ‘will you organise a kettle of tea for the helpers at twelve?'

‘Of course I will, but I'll have to bake, we're out of bread.'

‘I'll help,' said Katie, without much enthusiasm.

‘No you won't. You look worn out after the washing yesterday, a spot of haymaking will do you good as well.'

Barney was already harnessed into the hay-float when Katie went out. It was a low flat cart like a huge pastry board on wheels. Peter sat on a sack with his feet over the front and drove, while Father sat on the opposite side. Katie, Dafydd, Seamus and Mr Parry rattled about on the back.

‘Hold tight there!' called Father as the float tipped down the steep road.

‘There's nothing to hold on to!' wailed Mr Parry. Katie watched, laughing, as he and Dafydd were gradually shaken closer and closer to the edge; in another moment they would be tipped on to the road.

‘Hitch yourselves back up,' she laughed over the clatter of the iron wheels. ‘Don't slide or you'll get splinters in your bottoms.' The road levelled out and Katie decided she might as well enjoy the day.

‘That must be the most uncomfortable cart ever for riding on, I'm bruised blue.'

‘Well, don't show us now, Griff,' said Father, laughing and pointing ahead. ‘Will you look at the army Seamus has lined up for us.' The ‘army' consisted of five men, Seamus's friends, presumably. Uncle Mal's Josie was the only one Katie knew by name.

‘Hello, Josie,' she called as the cart swung in at the gate and the rattle of the wheels was suddenly hushed. ‘Dropped
anything?' Josie looked at his feet, then, remembering his dropped shotgun, looked up, grinned, and put his finger to his lips. They jumped to the ground as Peter backed the float towards the first cock.

‘Back, Barney, back boy, whoah whoah.'

‘That'll do,' said Seamus. The back of the float was almost resting against the cock.

Josie heaved on the lever which allowed the flat top of the float to tip up. The men pushed it down so that it formed a sloping ramp ready for the large haycock to be pulled up. Father was jumping up and down to test the softness of the field.

‘It's fine and hard now,' he said.

Peter was looking at the haycock. ‘What in the name of God have you been doing to this! Sliding down it like children?' he asked. The cock did look a bit ragged, but the men just laughed and crowded around, pulling out chains, unwinding them from the drums at the top of the ramp, talking among themselves and hooking the chains together at the back of the haycock. Then they came around to the front of the float and started working the levers back and forth, which tightened the chains around the cock. The oiled ratchets clicked and the haycock began to move. It was great having all these men. Seamus directed, but the men had all carted hay before.

‘Isn't that a lovely sound?' Katie said to Dafydd, forgetting Seamus for a moment. ‘The sound of summer and of carting hay.'

Slowly the haycock slid up the ramp until the moment came when the ramp tipped forward and, with a snap, became the flat top of the float again, only now the huge haycock was standing proudly on top. There was a cheer from the men.

‘God above! Would you look at those wheels,' exclaimed
Peter, pointing. Even as they watched, the wheels were visibly sinking into the soft meadow.

‘Come on, everyone,' Seamus urged, ‘push. We'll be all right if we keep going. Either the field is wetter or that hay is damper than it looks.' Katie found a place at the side of the float and added her weight to the push. She avoided the circle of pale moist grass where the haycock had stood, as it usually crawled with slugs and beetles.

‘Stay back of the wheel,' she warned as Dafydd thrust himself in to push in front of her. Barney strained, the men heaved and the cart lurched up on to the road.

‘You'd all better come,' commanded Seamus. ‘We'll need a push on the hill.'

‘Please God they'll not all be as heavy as this,' said Father in wonderment. The meadow was almost directly below the quarry but the cart had to follow the road which circled round, then climbed the steep hill up to the farm and on to the quarry yard.

With so many helpers they took the hill at a rush. As they drove into the quarry yard Father said, ‘A little help is worth a wagon-load of pity. That was great work.'

‘We'll start by putting the cocks out by the quarry edge,' said Seamus, pointing to a place near the rim. ‘We can build the stack over there then, close to the shed.'

‘Go ahead,' said Father. ‘Griff and I will put away the slates we had out yesterday.' Katie glanced towards Mr Parry who raised his eyebrows. Was this wise? A reminder of yesterday's failure – but in a short while she heard them both laughing. Well done, Mr Parry! If he could just keep Father on the laughing side of an attack everything would be all right.

Peter backed Barney up till they looked perilously close to the edge of the quarry.

‘That'll do!' called Seamus from behind. The chains were undone and two of the men stood up on the back of the float to tip it up again.

‘Take her away,' Seamus shouted. Barney lurched forward, as if he knew exactly what was needed from him, and the haycock slipped off the float.

‘Like butter off a hot knife,' said Josie with satisfaction.

Katie, recalling the bumpy ride on the way down, called to Dafydd, ‘Come on, take a twist of hay to sit on,' and pulled a hefty wisp out from the haycock.

‘Hey!' came a shout from among the men. ‘Leave that cock alone.' Katie turned in amazement. Whose hay was it anyway? Seamus snapped something at the men but she could not make out which one of them had spoken. Then one of them called out, ‘Just a joke, Miss,' but it didn't feel like a joke to her.

‘Come on,' she said to Dafydd. ‘We'll walk straight down through the fields – it will be quicker. I'm not going on the float with that lot.'

They had reached the first gate when Seamus caught them up.

‘What was all that about?' Katie asked, as they walked down. ‘Which of them was it?'

‘It doesn't matter,' said Seamus. ‘The lads are all a bit edgy.'

So that's who they were, ‘the lads'. Of course. But why would the lads take time off to cart hay for Father? She looked up at Seamus who was walking beside her, face set.

‘Why are they here, Seamus?' she asked.

‘No questions, Katie, remember?' he said. Katie bit back a tart reply. This was a different Seamus, he had to be handled differently.

‘I want to talk about Father,' she said, but Seamus only
increased his pace slightly. ‘Seamus!' she challenged. ‘He has shell-shock. He has it so badly that Mr Parry says if he gets another attack like the one you gave him last week he could be in an asylum for life.' She overtook her brother, turned, and backed down the hill in front of him. ‘It's guns that set him off, Seamus. Guns! do you understand?' No response. ‘What are you up to now? Why are these men helping us all of a sudden?' Seamus moved to one side. ‘Don't you push past me! You're going to collect the guns from somewhere, aren't you, going to attack the barracks? Kill more people for Ireland?'