his mouth had begun to sag.
‘Didn’t you fancy a pint, Daddy?’ she asked softly.
‘No, child, I’d be no company for anyone this day,’ Eamonn said sadly. ‘I let the young ones go.’
‘Don’t need much of an excuse, do they?’ Bridie said with a nod at Kathy. ‘Any excuse for a drink.’
‘They’ll be talking over the declaration from this morning,’ Kathy said. ‘It’s what they always do, you know that.’
‘Talking, my arse. Tipping it down their necks, more like.’
‘Oh, Bridie, give over,’ Kathy said. ‘We’ve a lot to be thankful for in our husbands.’
‘Speak for your bloody self.’
Stung at the implied criticism of her favourite brother, Kathy snapped, ‘Pat’s a good man and a good provider. I don’t know why you’re always on at him.’
‘Oh, of course, you won’t hear a bloody word against him, will you?’ Bridie said. ‘Bloody saint, your Pat.’
‘That will do!’ Eamonn said. ‘Haven’t we enough troubles facing us without turning on one another?’
‘I’ll make a drop of tea,’ Mary said. ‘Sure, the news is enough to make anyone a bit edgy.’
Kathy glared at her sister-in-law, but didn’t reply. She wished Maggie was in, and wondered where she’d gone, for between them they could have lightened the atmosphere that grew stiffer and stiffer as they sat together, almost in silence. Carmel was too young and her father too saddened by the news.
None of the children had spoken, and Lizzie had sidled up to Carmel. She liked to have someone at her back when Sheelagh was in the room, or in fact anywhere near her at all. Sheelagh put out her tongue as she passed and Lizzie elected not to see it, though her hands tightened into fists. If she ever hit Sheelagh again, she thought, she’d make a better job of it and really hurt her, and she reckoned it would be worth having the legs smacked off her afterwards.
Mary had just come up the cellar steps with the tray when the front door opened and the men almost fell into the room. At first Kathy thought they were drunk, but there was no smell of alcohol and she realised it was a forced gaiety, and yet she could also feel the exhilaration flowing through them all. Suddenly she knew what they’d done and understood the look that had passed between Barry and Pat earlier that day. Yet still she asked, ‘What is it?’
‘We’ve enlisted.’
‘You have, begod!’ The exclamation was torn from Eamonn. Mary stood with the tray in her hands, staring at them.
‘We wanted to be together,’ Barry exclaimed, and crossed to Kathy. ‘I’m sorry, love, we agreed between ourselves to say nothing till it was done.’
Kathy felt the tears in her eyes, but held them back. She knew they didn’t have to join up at all, being Irish citizens, but all she said was, ‘It’s probably better this way.’
‘Not Michael,’ Mary said, and she turned to her youngest son. ‘Not you?’
‘Aye, me and all, Ma.’
‘But you’re not eighteen yet, you’re too young.’ Mary’s complaint was almost a moan.
‘I’ll be eighteen in January, Ma,’ Michael said. ‘Ah, don’t cry, I had to do it.’ He crossed to his mother, took the tray from her and placed it on a table, then put his arm around her shaking shoulders.
‘We’ll look after him, Ma,’ Pat promised. ‘We’re all in the Royal Warwickshire Fusiliers and we can look out for one another.’
‘You knew what they’d do,’ Eamonn said. ‘They made no secret of it.’
‘Course they didn’t,’ Bridie snapped. ‘They couldn’t wait to get into uniform and be given guns to play with.’
‘Shut your mouth,’ Eamonn snapped, and the family was shocked into silence, but it was to Bridie he spoke. ‘You know nothing about it,’ he said, ‘and I hope you never will, but there’s no playing in war.’
Bridie said nothing. Eamonn had never spoken to her like that before and she was shaken. Perhaps she might have retaliated, but before she had a chance Pat said, ‘Someone else enlisted with us today too. He’s waiting outside.’ He opened the door and Maggie came in, leading Con Murray by the hand.
‘He enlisted, Daddy, like he said he would,’ Maggie cried. ‘Like he would have got a decent job if there had been any to be had. Now will you let us bloody well get married?’
Eamonn looked at the man before him whom he’d previously dismissed and refused even to talk to, and liked what he saw. Con’s face wasn’t exactly a handsome one, but it was open and, for all his shady dealings, looked trustworthy and honest. His eyes were clear blue and his hair was almost blond, he had a wide mouth and a determined set to his jaw, and one hand was holding Maggie’s as if it belonged there. Certainly, Eamonn thought, the fact that the lad had enlisted put a different complexion on matters. ‘Well, young man?’ he said.
Con stepped forward and grasped Eamonn’s hand. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, sir, and I hope you will allow Maggie to become my wife.’
Mary had tears in her eyes again, and the room was so blurred she couldn’t see, but she knew from Eamonn’s voice that he was moved, as he said gruffly, ‘Well now, I see no reason why not, but it will have to be done speedily. We must remember that your time is not your own any more, so we’ll have to see about it without delay.’
Con swept Maggie into his arms and a cheer went up from the men. ‘Stupid bloody sod,’ Bridie said, but only Kathy heard; everyone else was too busy congratulating the young couple and welcoming Con to the family, while Maggie was kissing her parents and expressing her thanks.
Eventually Eamonn said, ‘I have a bottle of ten-year-old malt put away for just such an occasion, and we’ll drink a toast to the young couple and a speedy outcome to the God-awful mess the world is in.’
‘I have tea,’ Mary said.
‘Ach, tea, what good’s that, woman?’ Eamonn said. ‘Sure, this is a celebration.’
As the glasses were raised a little later, Kathy’s silent prayer was, ‘Keep them safe, God, please, bring them all home safe,’ and she caught her mother’s eye and knew her sentiments would be exactly the same.
Lizzie missed her father greatly, and the man who came home on a week’s leave in October didn’t seem like her daddy at all. He was dressed all in khaki that was rough against her legs when he pulled her against him. ‘How’s my little girl then?’ he said, and she wanted to put her arms around his neck and sob into his shoulder because she was scared that everything had changed in her young life, and yet she said nothing, knowing without being told that she shouldn’t spoil her daddy’s leave with a list of complaints.
The second day of the leave was Con and Maggie’s wedding day, which both were anxious to have finalised before Con went overseas. Lizzie was quite disappointed in the sober cream suit Maggie wore, though she had to admit it looked good on her as she walked down the aisle of St Catherine’s Church on Eamonn’s arm. She’d expected a long, flowing white dress, but her mother said there wasn’t time to go to so much trouble and anyway it wasn’t right in wartime.
It seemed the war affected everything. The local pub, The Bell, put on a spread for the few friends and family who called to wish the couple well, and the landlord Johnny McEvoy said it was the least he could do.
No one could deny Maggie’s happiness, Kathy thought; it shone out of her and affected everyone, even Mary and Eamonn, who’d have liked their girl to have had a better send-off. Con went round with a proud smile on his face and his eyes followed Maggie’s every move.
There was no time or money for a honeymoon, but the newly-weds had one night together