Songs of Love and War (20 page)

‘I’m not like her,’ said Kitty.

‘You’re not like Papa either. You’re like Grandma. Really, the two of you are like mother and daughter.’

‘Grandma’s been more of a mother to me than Mama could ever be.’

Elspeth took her hand suddenly and squeezed it. ‘I want us to be friends, Kitty,’ she said with passion. ‘I’m sorry I was ever horrid to you. I bitterly regret it. I was
a beast.’

‘I’d like us to be friends, too,’ said Kitty. She smiled at her sister and realized that a person isn’t all bad or all good but a complicated mixture of the two.
‘But I’m afraid I can’t save you from Mother.’

‘Then who can?’ she asked pitifully.

‘A man,’ Kitty replied. ‘You have to fall in love and marry and then, at least, you will belong to someone else.’

‘Exchanging one master for another,’ said Elspeth dully.

‘No, exchanging a master for an equal partner. You don’t have to marry an Eric, Elspeth. You can marry whoever you want to.’ Kitty folded her hands in her lap and sat up
straight. ‘I can assure you, that’s exactly what I am going to do.’

Maud stayed until New Year when she departed with Victoria, Elspeth and Harry on the boat for England, wrapped warmly in an exquisite fur coat. Out of all of them Harry was the
most sorry to leave. Kitty recognized love, for that’s what it was. It wasn’t conventional, but she knew that in his own way Harry loved Joseph like she loved Jack and her heart went
out to him. She hugged him tightly and watched him go, his eyes full of regret. Due back at the front in January he wondered whether he’d live to see his inheritance.

Kitty worried constantly about her father and brother but she took great consolation from Jack, knowing that whatever happened he wouldn’t go off to war. That was until David Lloyd-George,
the British Prime Minister, decided to extend conscription to Ireland. ‘Bloody good idea!’ said Hubert, puffing on his cigar and raising his eyes over his playing cards. ‘Ireland
is part of Great Britain and we have to fight together.’

Kitty’s heart froze. ‘That will mean all young men in Ireland will have to fight?’ she whispered.

‘Absolutely.’

The Shrubs, who had come for dinner and a game of whist, weren’t so sure. ‘I can’t bear to think of more young men being sent out to die,’ said Hazel. ‘Don’t
you agree, Laurel?’

‘I think we should surrender at once and stop the killing,’ said Laurel.

‘Good God, woman, what have you got inside that head of yours? Sawdust?’ Hubert spluttered.

‘If we surrender, those young men would have died for nothing,’ said Adeline from the armchair where she was sipping cannabis tea.

‘But they can’t make the Irish fight, surely?’ said Kitty with forced calmness.

‘Of course they can, and they will,’ said Hubert. ‘Goddamn it, we have to win the war. Right now we’re on the back foot. We need more men. There are plenty here. They can
turn their violent intentions in the right direction. Do them good to know who the real enemy is.’ He turned his attention to his cards again. ‘Now where were we?’

Kitty felt faint. ‘I think I need some air,’ she said, pushing out her chair.

‘Oh,’ said Hubert, let down. ‘I was enjoying myself. Don’t be long.’

Kitty went outside where she sat on the steps leading up to the front door and hugged her knees. She didn’t think she’d survive if Jack went to war. She gazed up at the stars, bright
and twinkling, and wondered what God thought of the mess human beings had made of the world. Her heart ached for Jack. She longed for him to hold her and reassure her that he’d never go to
war. That in spite of the conscription law, he’d refuse. Surely they couldn’t make him? She put her head in her hands and squeezed back tears. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted
and she wondered whether Jack heard him too in his house in Ballinakelly, and whether he was thinking of her.

A while later, when she had composed herself, she returned to the library. At first she thought they were all drunk, but then she realized that it was her grandmother’s cannabis which she
was generously sharing with her sisters. The Shrubs had flopped onto the sofa and were lying back against the cushions giggling inanely. ‘Oh, he was a looker!’ Laurel was saying, barely
able to get her sluggish tongue around the words. ‘Hazel, tell Adeline what you said to me.’

‘I can’t,’ Hazel replied before bursting into a fit of laughter. ‘I truly can’t. Our dear mother would turn in her grave.’

‘You must. We’re all family here.’ Laurel put her hand to her head. ‘I do feel dizzy.’

‘Why doesn’t he come and shoot any more?’ Hazel asked. ‘Hubert used to invite him. He was so dashing and brave, like an old-fashioned knight.’

‘Who?’ Kitty asked from the doorway.

‘The Duke of Rothmeade,’ said Hazel. ‘He was here all the time in the old days. As permanent as this sofa.’

‘A fine-looking young man he was too,’ said Laurel. ‘But he suddenly stopped coming. Now, why was that?’

‘Didn’t he have a thing for Maud?’ Hazel asked, giggling again. ‘I remember the two of them being joined at the hip and the look on Maud’s face—’

‘Now you’re going too far,’ said Adeline quickly, cutting her sister off mid-sentence.

‘What is it we’re drinking, Adeline? It’s very strong.’

‘Cannabis,’ Adeline replied sleepily. ‘It’s a herb I grow for my nerves.’

‘She’s a witch,’ said Hubert from the card table where he was now getting tipsy on a third glass of whiskey. Kitty looked around in astonishment. They were all intoxicated,
every one of them.

‘Oh, we know she’s a witch,’ said Laurel. ‘The three of us are witches, aren’t we, girls?’

‘Why aren’t you named after a shrub, Adeline?’ Hubert asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Adeline replied. ‘Our mother wasn’t a very keen gardener. Perhaps she couldn’t think of one.’ The three sisters dissolved into laughter
again.

Adeline filled her teacup then handed the silver pot to Laurel who poured greedily before passing it to her sister.

‘Kitty, why don’t you have some? It’s frightfully nice,’ said Hazel.

Kitty sighed resignedly. If Jack went off to war there’d be no point in living, she thought. ‘Oh all right, I might as well,’ she surrendered, recalling the delightful feeling
of carelessness it had given her.

‘What about our game?’ said Hubert from the card table. Kitty took a sip and looked at the Shrubs. They looked back at her, and then, as the herb took over Kitty’s senses, they
all burst into a fit of uninhibited, delicious laughter.

The following morning Kitty refused to get out of bed. She sent Bridie up to Mr Trench with the message that she was unwell. Bridie wondered whether they’d had a fight,
but Mr Trench only looked concerned and not at all like a man spurned. ‘I hope she feels better later,’ he told Bridie. ‘If she feels like a gentle walk around the gardens this
afternoon, I am at her disposal.’ Bridie thought him most gentlemanly and envied Kitty the attentions of such a handsome and charming man.

‘They say the Irish are going to have to fight,’ said Kitty dolefully from the bed when Bridie returned. ‘That means your brothers will have to fight.’

‘Michael would rather die than fight for the British,’ said Bridie briskly.

‘So would Jack, I’m sure.’

At the thought of Jack going off to fight, Bridie was alarmed. ‘Jack won’t fight. None of them will. The British will have another war on their hands; here in Ireland.’

‘They already do,’ said Kitty, sitting up and sipping the cup of tea Bridie had brought her. She looked out of the window. The spring sun shone brightly and birdsong wafted on a
sugar-scented breeze. ‘Do you think Jack knows about this?’

‘Of course he does. They all do. They’re talking of nothing else.’

‘What are they saying?’

‘That they won’t fight. They’ll have to imprison the entire male population of the country.’ Bridie sat on the bed. ‘Michael says the British are playing into their
hands. It’s good for the cause, is it not?’

‘Oh it is. I hadn’t thought of it like that,’ said Kitty, cheering up. She climbed out of bed and began to dress.

‘I thought you were sick,’ said Bridie in surprise.

‘I’m feeling a lot better now,’ Kitty replied cheerfully. ‘Must be something you put in the tea.’

‘I put nothing in the tea,’ said Bridie innocently. ‘Shall I tell Mr Trench you’re better now?’

‘Goodness, no!’ said Kitty, laughing.

‘He says if you’re feeling better he’ll walk with you in the gardens.’

Kitty smiled. ‘Oh, I’m not up to that. Anyway I don’t want to give him the terrible bug that I have. No, I’ll walk alone.’

Bridie watched her in confusion. That wasn’t the behaviour of a woman in love, nor was it the behaviour of a sick woman.

When Kitty reached the dining room for breakfast she was surprised to see her grandmother and the Shrubs sitting around the table. ‘We stayed the night,’ said Hazel with a smile.
‘We weren’t in any state to go home, were we, Laurel?’

‘No we weren’t. I don’t know what came over us, but it was delightful.’

‘Your grandfather’s gone fishing,’ said Adeline. ‘I don’t think he could take any more of us.’

‘We never finished our game,’ said Hazel.

‘I do believe we were winning, Kitty. Tell me, why on earth did we stop?’

Kitty sat down and poured herself a cup of tea. O’Flynn shuffled round the table. ‘Would you like some eggs, Miss Kitty?’ he asked.

‘Why not, O’Flynn. It’s a lovely day. I might go out for a ride.’

‘What about Mr Trench?’ said Adeline.

Kitty sighed. ‘I have a headache,’ she lied. ‘I couldn’t possibly concentrate today.’

Adeline smiled. ‘I must say Mr Trench is a saint. I’m sure he’d find more diversion in England.’

‘I don’t think he’d find a prettier pupil than Kitty,’ said Laurel.

‘He certainly wouldn’t,’ Hazel agreed. ‘I’m sure he’s more than a little in love with you.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Kitty. ‘He’s the most serious man I’ve ever come across.’

‘Not dull though,’ said Adeline. ‘He’s a very intelligent young man.’

‘What does he do all day when he’s not tutoring you?’ Laurel asked. ‘He can’t ride with that leg.’

‘He reads,’ Kitty told her. ‘Reads and reads and reads and when he’s done reading, he reads some more.’ She grinned over her teacup. ‘I’ve tried to make
him laugh. Oh, how I’ve tried. But he barely even smiles.’

‘Well if
you
can’t make him smile, Kitty, no one can,’ said Adeline.

‘Give him a taste of your cannabis and I’m sure you’ll find he opens up like a boiled mussel,’ said Laurel.

Hazel laughed in agreement. ‘Like a boiled mussel,’ she repeated.

Kitty ran to the wall. She retrieved Jack’s letter and wandered into the greenhouse to read it. Just as she sat down on the bench she heard voices. They were quiet and
secretive, like mice. Kitty stood up and slipped the letter down the front of her dress. Hiding behind a large fern, she strained her ears but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Their words came in rushed, sporadic whispers. Careful not to be seen she peered through the leaves. There, chewing on radishes, were two scruffy children. Kitty was astonished. She hadn’t
expected to see children. She looked closer and determined that they weren’t tinkers but urchins from Ballinakelly. Their hair was matted and dirty, their clothes ragged and frayed, their
feet bare. Kitty stood in silence as they munched through lettuce, carrots and raw parsnip. She wanted to tell them that they’d have the most terrible stomach ache if they didn’t cook
the parsnip first. But she waited until they had had their fill and run off before she returned to the iron bench and her letter.

After she had read Jack’s message she decided to put out some food for the children in case they returned the following day. Some bread and butter and slices of ham would satisfy them more
than vegetables. It wasn’t right that children should go hungry, she reasoned, when they had so much at Castle Deverill. Mrs Doyle didn’t question her when she asked for the food, nor
did she look surprised when Kitty took it into the garden. She was used to Lady Deverill making up baskets of provisions for the poor. Kitty arranged the food beneath a fly net on the table where
she had spotted the children. Evidence of their snacking could be seen in the radish heads lying scattered at her feet.

As she came in from the garden she bumped into Mr Trench on his way out. ‘Ah, Kitty, I’m pleased to see that you’re feeling better,’ he said. Though Kitty wondered why
his face did not break into a smile to show her
how
pleased.

‘I am, thank you,’ she replied, trying not to look guilty.

‘I’m taking the trap into Ballinakelly. It’s the fair today. Why don’t you join me? The fresh air is clearly doing you good.’

She couldn’t think of a suitable excuse and was left with no alternative but to accept. ‘I would like that very much,’ she replied politely, thinking that perhaps she’d
be lucky and bump into Jack. ‘Let me get my hat.’

As she set off towards the stables she raised her eyes to one of the bedroom windows and saw Bridie’s face peering at her through the glass. Her friend waved and watched as they
disappeared out of sight. Bridie smiled knowingly. It was plainly obvious that Kitty had arranged the whole diversion so that she could spend time in the garden with Mr Trench. But why hadn’t
she confided in her?

It was a warm day. Spring filled the air with birdsong and the fertile scent of renewal. Buds were turning green and beginning to open in the sunshine and the countryside was no longer looking
bleak. It was hard to believe, on such a lovely day, that there was disharmony anywhere in the world.

Mr Mills had got the pony and trap ready and was standing waiting in the stable yard. When he saw Kitty he doffed his cap. ‘Top of the morning to you, Miss Kitty.’

‘Good morning, Mr Mills. Isn’t it a fine morning?’ she replied.

‘It is indeed, Miss Kitty.’ He looked gravely at Mr Trench. ‘Be careful out there,’ he warned. ‘There are people who are none too happy at present.’

‘I will, Mr Mills,’ Mr Trench replied, climbing into the trap and taking the reins. Mr Mills gave Kitty his hand and helped her up so that she could sit beside her tutor. Mr Trench
shook the reins and the pony set off at a gentle trot.