Under the July Sun (11 page)

‘Yes 'tis indeed,' Ellie smiled, ‘'Tis nothin' short of a miracle, Cat.' She stood for a little while taking it all in. ‘Now, let's set about unpacking, I've brought some things with me to make it feel like home.'

Ellie fetched her bag from the hallway, lifted it onto one of the beds and rummaged about between the clothes; then after carefully placing a statue of Our Lady on the mantelpiece, she pulled out something wrapped in muslin and handed it to Cat.

‘Mummy made it specially for ye and it comes with her love.'

Cat unwrapped the bread, closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. It smelled of home and she saw in her mind's eye Maeve kneading dough, her strong arms up to the elbows in flour. Suddenly her eyes filled with tears and Ellie, seeing she was upset, put her arm around Cat's shoulders.

‘C'mon now, don't let's get downhearted. We're together and 'tis all that matters now isn't it?' Ellie looked down then at the bed and changed the subject. ‘One thing, Cat where did ye get the beds from?'

‘Ah. Well, Lize had some spare furniture she didn't need and got someone to bring it over on a cart early today.'

‘That was kind.'

‘Yes. I had thought she'd be annoyed I was leavin' 'cos I only told her yesterday, but she didn't seem to care. Then she offered me some furniture she was glad to be rid of. She surely is a queer one.'

‘Ye're confident that she wasn't just glad to be rid of ye? Ellie laughed. ‘When I told old Mrs. Connell I was leavin' The Grange, all she gave me was the benefit of her tongue.'

Cat grinned. ‘Ye were obviously goin' to be missed, whereas I clearly was not! C'mon now let's get the place sorted out.'

***

As darkness fell, Cat lit a fire and they pulled up a couple of boxes in front of it, where they sat chattering over endless cups of tea roasting the fronts of their legs, their skirts pulled up above the ankle.

‘D'ya have any candles to light us to bed, Cat?'

‘Oh, I can do better than that – I've bought an oil lamp. There's gas laid on, but I'm too scared to light it, so we'll make do with the oil lamp and cook on the range. 'Tis safer that way otherwise we may blow ourselves sky high.'

At last having decided they really must get some sleep, the girls undressed and climbed into bed. But they continued calling out to one another until finally they decided it was stupid sleeping in separate rooms. They tugged Ellie's bed into Cat's room and gossiped until the watery winter sunlight filtered in between the slit of the bedroom curtains at dawn.

Louis screwed up his eyes, scouring the horizon. For hours there had been no movement from the other side; sniper fire had ceased and in its place an eerie silence hung in the space between his battalion and the enemy.

Knee-deep in a muddy trench, he eased his weight from one leg to another as he stiffened in the cold. He tried not to move too much as it encouraged little gushes of freezing water to trickle between the stitching of his boots, soaking his socks.

Soldiers to his left and right puffed hot vapour into the freezing air, giving the only visible signs of their presence above the trench line. It was quiet. Too quiet, he thought, and wondered what the enemy were doing. Somehow it was better to be on the move dodging bullets and running for your life, rather than the unnerving feeling of standing there in silence waiting to kill, or be killed. He found that too often his mind began to wander in moments like this.

He thought about a letter he had received from Lize. It gave him no pleasure to learn from his sister that he was now a house owner, not when it had been at the expense of young Private White's life. Lize's letter explained how Mrs. White had died, and had left Louis the house because of his kindness to her son. Apparently she had nobody else in the world, and having lost her only son had also lost the will to live. She had written her Will, Lize explained, and then had simply slipped away.

The only feeling Louis had about the inheritance was bewilderment. It did not seem real and he could not summon up any enthusiasm. Standing there amid filth and body parts with rats running over him when he tried to sleep - that was his reality.

Lize's letter had depressed him as she had included the fact that she had fallen out with their mother. He wished she had not written and burdened him with the news; it sounded so petty. Family disputes, lovers' quarrels, world wars, what was the difference he wondered?

He decided it all amounted to the same thing; the inability of people to listen to one another and work out their differences. It seemed to him people just ran headlong into conflict and he was sick of it all.

Then another thought crossed his mind. Now that Lize was in what was now ‘his house', it may not be so easy to ask her to leave if he wished to marry. The thought had bothered him when he first read her letter but other things soon took priority and he knew he could not afford to think about anything - except staying alive for the time being.

Fighting a war was enough for him to contend with and it was made worse because his heart just wasn't in it. This was not a fair fight – they were all just cannon fodder.

As scores of men died, more arrived to take their place. It went on relentlessly. An all-too-familiar wave of depression swept over him; a feeling he knew they all felt increasingly of late.

Highlights of his life were letters or little gifts from home and he turned his mind to the letter he had received before Christmas from Cat. He pulled the letter from his pocket. It was now quite wrinkled from the many times he had read it.

The opening of her letter, My Dear Louis, had moved him. He had never received a letter before beginning My Dear. She described her days and how she looked after the children for Lize, who was working in a hospital. He thought she sounded fond of Iris and Reggie. That was nice. He thought they were nice children too.

In his mind he played games with the children and planned how he would take them to the seaside when he returned, have picnics in the park, play cricket on the common and - suddenly his mind switched back to Cat.

He recalled her walking towards him in the field that day in Fethard last summer, and felt once more the reaction of his heart quickening as it had when she stood before him laughing. He remembered the top button of her blouse had been undone, and he checked his thoughts, not wishing to sully his memory of her with lewd imaginings.

He supposed he ‘had a girl' now, and it felt good. He said to himself, ‘My Dear Louis,' and decided he liked the sound of it.

Later, he would write back to her. He folded the letter and slid it back in his tunic pocket and gave it a little pat for reassurance.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the crack of gunfire, and immediately his horse, tethered a short way off, reared up in fright pulling wildly on the bridle. He turned to look and saw blood streaming down the horse's flank so he quickly crawled out of the trench, and crouching low, worked his way across the clearing. He tried to undo the rope tethering the animal while fighting to keep hold of the bridle but the horse repeatedly reared up onto its hind legs, kicking out in fear.

Then another round of gunfire followed as a mortar shell exploded illuminating the scene. In the instant flash of detonation, black figures silhouetted the skyline and they were cut down by gunfire.

Louis continued frantically trying to untie his horse as another shell exploded and the terrified, animal reared up, its hooves thrashing wildly. As it rose time and again into the air Louis fought to keep a grip on the reins but the ground was slimy and the animal losing its foothold, slid horizontally and pounded down on top of him.

Assailed by unimaginable pain in his leg, he only momentarily felt the impact of the horse's weight before sinking into unconsciousness.

He was unaware of being pulled away from the horse; or the medic ripping his trousers away from his smashed limb. His leg was tied to a wooden plank wrenched quickly from the trench wall, and he was taken away from the war.

The sound of Cat's heels resonated on the ward's polished floorboards until she stopped at Louis' bed where he lay asleep.

She stood in awe looking at him, noticing something beneath the covers to keep the blankets away from his injured leg and a kidney bowl under his chin containing a little vomit.

She watched him for a while unwilling to disturb him, but her thoughts and emotions were in turmoil.

Until then her memory of him had been of a healthy young man with a brilliant smile and strong weather-beaten complexion, but this person looked shrunken beyond belief and his skin looked kind of green. A feeling of immense pity rose inside her and tears pricked her eyes.

The man in the next bed said, ‘He was in the operating theatre four hours so he won't wake up today, Missis.'

Collecting herself, she turned to him. ‘No. I don't suppose so. I just brought him in some apples, but I'll leave them on the locker. Perhaps you'll tell him I came.'

‘You his missis?'

‘No.'

‘Sweetheart then?'

To avoid answering the man Cat leaned over and gently kissed Louis on the forehead. She was surprised to see him stirring, and his eyelids fluttered open briefly; but to her disappointment they closed again.

‘Louis,' she whispered, ‘'tis me, Cat.' She took his hand in hers and stroked the back of it until almost imperceptibly, she felt a slight pressure from his fingers.

Alarmed that she could have done such a bold thing as to kiss him and take his hand in hers, she released his fingers quickly. His breathing slowed, and satisfied he had drifted off to sleep again, she quietly tiptoed away.

Outside the ward she saw through an open door a nurse sitting writing. Cat tapped lightly on the door to attract her attention and the nurse looked up.

‘Come in,' she said, closing a book.

‘Sorry to bother ye, but I wondered if ye could tell me how Captain Ross's operation went?'

‘Are you his wife?

‘No.'

‘Oh. Well we don't normally give out information to anyone other than next of kin, but these are peculiar times.' She waved at a chair. ‘Sit down' she said, and went to close the door. Cat sat down and waited.

‘His leg was in a bit of a mess. The bones were badly fractured, some parts shattered beyond repair. We've had to put plates in to hold the bones together.'

Cat winced at the thought of it.

‘Oh don't worry he'll be as good as new, well almost, after a while. He's lost a little length in the leg and will probably have a bit of a limp, but otherwise he'll be alright.'

Unexpectedly, Cat's eyes brimmed with tears and feeling very foolish, she opened her handbag, searching for a handkerchief.

The nurse leaned forward and patted her hand. ‘Come on now don't get upset, he's not going to die. He really is one of the lucky ones. You should see some of the injuries we get in here. It's a wonder they make it home at all. The field hospital did a good job on his leg, but not good enough; that's why the plates had to be put in. At least he still has two legs.'

‘Yes, of course. I'm sorry. Ye must think me an awful fool.' Cat stood up, apologised for keeping the nurse from her work, and left.

She hurried along the corridors eager to escape the atmosphere inside the hospital. Once outside she could not control her tears at the thought of Louis being injured in some foreign land, travelling home in pain, being operated on and finally ending up in hospital with a shattered leg held together with iron plates. She thought he looked awful, not the Louis she remembered at all, yet something was stirring inside her and she could not understand her feelings. She wanted to turn and run back to the hospital, fling herself on the bed and cry into his chest, Louis, ye could've been killed. But all she could do was wipe away the flow of tears as she walked toward the tram stop.

***

At home that evening with Ellie, Cat was subdued. Her thoughts persistently turned to Louis. In her mind she thought about their time in Fethard, and the night he had played the intermezzo on Breda's violin. He had looked so tall and strong, but now he lay like a broken doll in hospital with a leg that would always be held together with ironmongery. The thought appalled her.

She felt she could not share her thoughts about him with Ellie, because Ellie would love to have her fiancé Jimmy Connolly beside her, legs or no legs, but that would never happen now. She stood up and lit a couple of candles, yawned and told Ellie she was going to bed.

‘Don't forget yer prayers then,' Ellie reminded her.

‘I never do.'

‘Well, don't forget yer extra special prayers tonight.'

Puzzled, Cat asked her what she meant and Ellie smiled mischievously. ‘Ye love him don't ye?'

‘No!'

‘Sure ye do. Ye moon about whenever his name is mentioned and ye haven't said a word about yer visit to the hospital.' She rose and went across to Cat and hugged her. ‘He's a nice fella, Cat. I like him. I'm sorry to hear of his misfortunes and with God's help, he'll be up and about soon, ye'll see.'

‘Praise God, he will,' Cat murmured.

* * *

The next day Cat and Ellie went to the seven o'clock mass, then after lunch they caught a tram to the hospital. When they arrived, Lize was already there waiting for visiting time to begin.

‘Oh hello, Lize.' Cat smiled. ‘I didn't know ye'd be here. Where are the children?'

‘My mother-in-law is looking after them for an hour, so I won't be able to stay very long.' Lize looked directly at Ellie. ‘You will wait out here with your sister while I go in, won't you? It should really be relatives only, you know.'

‘Sure. Ye go right ahead now; we'll just wait out here,' Ellie said, but Cat noticed there was an ironic edge to her voice.