Katie’s Hero (16 page)

Katie knew the reason. “You want to hear about the child.”

“A man likes to know, when his life’s in danger, if he’s got a son or a daughter to leave behind.”

“You left that chance behind a long time ago.”

“I’m only asking if it was a boy or a girl, Katie.”

She reeled away from him.
Her own little girl. Tiny little hands and feet. Her hair, in damp curls, stuck to her tiny fragile head.

“I can’t talk about it, not even to you.”

“Hey, Katie, love. You’ve gone as white as a sheet,” he said. “Sit down and I’ll get you a drink.”

Hastily, anxiously, he made a place for her by the fire, and she let him push her down onto the seat. There was real concern on his face, and her attitude toward him softened. He checked the change in the pocket of his new khaki trousers before heading to the bar. Katie watched him go, shambling along in his army boots, and she felt sick at heart. He leaned forward on the bar, his large frame looking out of place.

He looks like a brute, thought Katie, so different from Michael in almost every way. A handsome brute though.

Tom returned with a gin and tonic, the drink he used to buy for her back in their hometown. Mother’s ruin, Katie thought immediately. It’s what you were supposed to drink if you didn’t want the baby.

But she had wanted her baby, desperately. If only Tom had faced up to his responsibilities and asked her to marry him, she could have given birth in Ireland, kept her little baby and watched her grow.

Tom’s fingers touched hers as he passed her the drink.

“I think I made a stupid mistake letting you go, Katie.

“I think you did, too.”

“We need to discuss things properly. I’ve got a room upstairs.”

She shook her head. “I’m not going up there with you.”

“Finish your drink. Then we’ll talk.”

• • •

Michael rolled into the kitchen where Roy was sitting alone at the kitchen table, struggling with his homework. It was unusually quiet and tranquil, apart from the occasional epithet from Roy’s lips as he frowned his way through a long list of words to learn for a spelling test tomorrow.

“Where is everyone?”

“The little kids are in bed, and Alfie’s just gone up, too, with one of your old comic books. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not that much,” said Michael.

He had a look over Roy’s shoulder. The boy’s method of committing words to memory was to write them out, over and over again in the back of his rough book with a heavy, inky hand.

“Where’s Katie? She usually helps you with that, doesn’t she?”

“Dunno. Sorry.” The answer was meant to sound nonchalant, but it immediately rang alarm bells for Michael, who knew the sound of a cover-up when he heard one.

“Her hat and coat are not on the hook,” Michael observed. “Roy? Where’s Katie?”

Roy looked up and gave a sigh. “Gone out.”

“At this time of night? On her own?”

“Well, I don’t think she’ll be on her own for long, mister. She went to the Dog and Whistle.”

“She’s gone to see O’Brien?”

Roy gave up the pretense and shut his book. “You should go after her, Mister Lord. Don’t let that paddy fella get her.”

Michael stared at the boy. A great, ugly looking fellow he was going to be with his shaggy dark curls and his chubby face. It would be easy to believe Roy had some gypsy blood in him. “If only it was as easy as that.”

“Well, just wait then. He’ll be stopping bullets before long, won’t he? Maybe one of us will get her in the end.”

It always came as a shock to Michael when Roy said something that clearly indicated that he saw himself as a
rival
for Katie’s affections.

“Don’t pass judgments on things you don’t understand, young man.”

“I understand you’ll let her slip through your fingers unless someone puts a grenade underneath you. Do you want me to take you down there so you can get her back?”

“What?”

“You’ve got petrol in the car,” said Roy. “I could wheel you out there, stick you in the car, and we could be down at the Dog and Whistle in no time.”

Michael was silent for a moment, thinking fast. The idea rather appealed to him. “Can you drive a car, Roy?”

“I drove a van once in London. I drove it fast too, coz it was nicked.”

Michael felt a flare of surprise, but then accepted this tidbit philosophically. He should have known with Roy. “There won’t be much traffic on the roads, so I suppose we could risk it.”

“Grab your hat and scarf then, Mister, and we’ll get going. At least she’ll see that you mean business.”

• • •

Katie knew she shouldn’t have agreed to go upstairs with Tom. But how could she tell him about their little girl when it seemed the whole village had turned out downstairs — boozy old men telling jokes and wheezy stories, laborers throwing darts and spilling beer on the floor, village busybodies listening in.

Tom’s room was much too small for a big, loose-limbed chap like him. It was an attic room, with a low sloping ceiling, and a little gabled window. Katie felt safer in front of it, looking across the green and through the trees to a nice view of the river beyond. It would be getting dark soon.

She turned back and glanced awkwardly at Tom, who seemed lost for words, too.

Tom sat down on the bed and patted the space beside him.

“I’m all right where I am,” she said stiffly.

So Tom joined her at the window, stooping to look out over the village green.

“Lovely place,” he observed. “I shall think about you here in this peaceful place while I’m in the war. Will you write me?”

She didn’t want to say yes, but wasn’t sure she ought to say no, either. What harm would a few letters do?

Except that she hated receiving his letters, full of mixed messages and references to broken promises. Instead, she skirted his question.

“Where will they send you?” she asked.

“How would I know? I suppose it won’t be Greece now. I’d rather have liked a look at Greece.”

Katie smiled. That was the Tom she had known in Ireland. Full of mad schemes to see the world and enjoy himself at somebody else’s expense.

He was right behind her now. He put his hands on her shoulders and she didn’t stop him. He was an old friend, and perhaps he did have a prior right. Seeing him made her realize how out of place she was here in this English village and even more so at Farrenden Manor with Michael. Who was she trying to fool? Herself?

She could feel Tom’s body close to hers, though she would not turn around to embrace him. She could feel him leaning closer, his warm breath on the side of her face, and she sensed the very moment when he decided to lower his lips onto the curve of her neck.

• • •

The red sports car drew up right outside the Dog and Whistle.

“I’ll go inside and find her,” Roy said as he jumped out and dashed into the pub. Michael had no choice but to wait in the passenger seat, since they had left the wheelchair at home.

Roy was gone for about ten minutes, while Michael waited impatiently wishing like hell he had not entrusted any part of this mission to a surly, twelve-year-old boy. He should never have allowed Roy to interfere in his troubled romance with Katie, if that’s what it was. Michael glanced uneasily at the pub, with its jolly hanging baskets of flowers and its shabby thatched roof. The old gray straw was shedding in places, making the place look like it needed a trip to the barber. Michael sighed. Could he, with any degree of legitimacy, say that he was
romantically involved
with Katie? His feelings had run high when he met that O’Brien fellow, that’s for sure.

He must be. Romantically involved, that was.

Roy came hurrying out of the pub alone and Michael frowned as he leaned over the door to hear the news.

Roy’s face was grave. “She’s gone upstairs with him, Mister.”

Michael swallowed hard and glanced away. “Dear God.”

“Shall I ask the landlord to go upstairs and tell her you’re out here waiting? Or do you want to try to get in there yourself?”

Michael stared at the walnut dashboard, as if the answer should be written there for him. “I can’t face people laughing at me. And I don’t want that Tom fellow to know I can’t walk.”

“So you’re gonna just wait here until she comes out,” Roy challenged. “What if she’s in there the whole night?”

Michael glanced up at the inn’s gabled windows. He knew where the guest rooms were — he’d been there with a girl himself on more than one occasion. Roy glanced up, too, and they both saw the curtains being drawn in one of the upper rooms. They couldn’t see the face, but the arm was definitely male.

“Bloody hell,” Roy cursed. “She’s in that room with him, sir!”

Michael gave a heavy sigh. He ran a hand over his face.

Think fast, man, think fast.
That’s what he always used to will himself to do when he was up above the clouds in his Hurricane.

The enemy has made his next move clear — decide on a course of action and carry it out, straight away.
The image that came to Michael was of Katie, kneeling beside the broken plate on the scullery floor, tears in her eyes and drops of blood on the floor. She was scared of this man O’Brien, scared of the power this man had over her. And he would hurt her again if he got the chance.

“Come on, sir. Make a decision,” Roy begged.

She needs rescuing, Michael realized, and he was the man to do it. If only he had his legs, he be in there in a trice. But he had to think laterally now.

“Honk the horn,” he instructed Roy.

“What?”

“Just sound the horn, for heaven’s sake!”

But Roy still looked flummoxed and Michael became impatient. He reached over, and started squeezing the horn like the whole village was on fire.

The landlord came running out, wiping his hands on his linen apron. “Do you need me to bring you a drink, sir?”

“No,” said Michael, still blasting away on the horn. “I’m trying to attract my housemaid’s attention.”

People came to the doorway while others stared out the tiny windowpanes. Some stopped what they were doing on the village green to stare in amazement.

“Looks like you’ve got the attention of the whole bleedin’ village,” Roy observed.

The landlord wiped sweat off his anxious forehead and gave Michael a bewildered look “Your housemaid, sir?”

“Yes. She has been lured into your drinking establishment by a young Irishman of ill repute,” Michael said with as much lordly aplomb as he could muster.

Roy tugged at Michael’s sleeve. “Look, Mister, there she is. Up there!”

Katie stood in the window of the upper room, and was struggling to open the casement itself. She finally forced it free and leaned out. She clapped a hand over her mouth in surprise when she saw Michael, but she looked delighted to see him.

“Katie!” he yelled. “He’s had his chance. He’s not good enough for you, darling. Come away with me!”

She looked thrilled, and Michael saw her chest heave with emotion. She was tearful but vindicated.

They could all hear Tom in the background, the rise and fall of his Irish accent begging her not to make a fool of herself. They all saw Katie turn to him and ask, “So I can make myself into a fool with you instead?”

Katie’s face reappeared at the window, and she waved at Michael and Roy. “I’m coming down, right now.”

She appeared moments later, running across the yard outside the pub, with Tom O’Brien in hot pursuit.

“So, Kathleen. Is that how it is? Some rich bloke takes an interest — and all he has to do is beep his horn and you go running. It’s all lies and promises, no doubt.”

Katie turned to face her old flame, for what Michael hoped would be the last time. “You were the one good at the lies and promises, Tom. He hasn’t made me any promises. But he’s come to fetch me home.”

Michael opened the passenger door. “Hop in then,” he commanded. “Plenty of room if I budge up.”

“I know. It isn’t the first time we’ve had to share,” Katie reminded him and flung herself into his arms. Michael gave her a rather flashy kiss. He knew perfectly well he was making a meal of her not just for himself, but for Tom.

Roy tooted the horn to get their attention again.

“Where to, milord?”

Katie was the one who answered. “Home, James, and don’t spare the horses!”

Michael sat at his desk, preparing to order some more horse feed so they wouldn’t run out again. Determined to set the whole farm running like a well-oiled machine, as it had done in his father’s time. It was a noble goal, but unfortunately, he was in no mood for it. Last night, he had felt on top of the world. The girl of his dreams had left that great dolt and stepped merrily into his car — into his arms, no less. She’d been overflowing with gratitude.

But this morning he was full a doubts and dark thoughts. What would she have done if Roy hadn’t driven him to the village? Would she have managed to free herself from that man’s clutches? He rather doubted it. Anyone could see that Katie still carried a torch for O’Brien, despite his appalling treatment. This morning, he’d watched Katie at breakfast this morning as he always did, and she had been absent-minded. When the radio broadcast came on with news about the war progress, she had turned up the wireless and paid a lot more attention than the day before.

She cared about Tom, that was obvious. Michael’s stomach clenched. Perhaps she would have been touched deeper still in the bedroom at the Dog and Whistle if Michael hadn’t interrupted things. He tossed his fountain pen down onto his desk. What did he care about running the farm when it was only pure luck that Katie woke up here at Farrenden instead of in the arms of her unreliable Irishman?

Michael hated luck. It was luck that he had landed on that roof and broken his back, and it was luck that he survived to tell the tale. Luck led him to meet Katie in the first place, and luck could just as easily steal her away from him again.

Unless he did something about it.

If he could only get well again he was sure she’d stay. And not just because she was sorry for him, either. If
he
could stand on his own two feet, strong and virile like Tom, then perhaps she would allow herself to fall in love again. He realized with a heart-searing pang through every part of his body that could still feel pain, that he longed for Katie to forget Tom and fall in love with him.