Fromelles Anniversary: An Odyssey Books Bundle

Chapter 5

‘What’s mine Pop doing now? Can mine go too?’

Nora glanced at her husband’s retreating back. ‘I think he has to go by himself, sweetheart. He has to water the tomatoes, or maybe he’s taking Nugget for a walk. I’m not sure. But I’m going to make scones. They’re Aunty Kath’s favourites. Would you like to help me, little Kate?’

‘Mine Pop looks funny.’

Yes, thought Nora. That’s because he’s crying. ‘He’ll be all right, you’ll see.’ He always is. ‘He’ll be back soon. Now, what else shall we make for when Aunty Kath gets home from work?’

‘Pafflova,’ answered Kate promptly. ‘That’s mine favourite and mine Pop’s too.’

‘So it is.’

Harry was gone for hours. When he put his head into the drawing room, he found his wife and his sister sitting close together, talking quietly. They both looked up, falling silent. He noticed Kate sleeping on Nora’s lap. Stepping into the room, he gently lifted the child into his own arms. At nearly four, she was getting to be all arms and legs. She’d be tall, like Nora. Like her father Alex. Harry closed his eyes, holding the child close against his shoulder. Her hair smelled like jam and he looked up in surprise. Sure enough, there was a sticky patch among the soft dark curls, and a matching stain on his shirt. He gave a short bark of laughter, cut off before he could wake her.

‘Been cooking, has she?’

‘Helping,’ answered Nora. ‘Harry, sit down. Let me get you some tea.’ She looked at Harry, and then at Kath. ‘You two need to talk.’

‘We don’t,’ Kath said briskly. ‘If Harry doesn’t want to tell me anything, that’s fine by me.’

‘Talk,’ Nora said and left the room.

Harry sat, settling little Kate comfortably against him. It made him feel better, having her in his arms. He’d avoided this conversation long enough. He couldn’t avoid it any longer. He spoke quietly. ‘I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’s the right thing to do. After all this time, Kath.’

‘All this time! That’s the point, Harry. All this time I’ve been alone. Oh, I’m not making light of what you’ve done for me. You know I’ve loved living with you and Nora. I’ve loved helping out with Alex and the girls, and now little Kate. It’s been a blessing to me. You and Nora have been so generous, sharing your family, sharing your life with me. I’m very grateful.’

Harry shook his head a little. ‘Kath, we’ve loved having you. We wouldn’t have been nearly so happy without you, you must know that. We love you.’

‘But you still keep secrets from me.’

‘I don’t mean to. I just, well, it’s not really my secret.’

‘No. It’s Eddie’s. He’s dead, Harry. Dead more than thirty years.’

Harry stiffened and then visibly relaxed. ‘Kath, it’s not even his secret, it’s hers. Peggy’s. Peggy wrote and told him she was married. That’s the last we heard of her. He was pretty upset at the time, I remember. But it was their business, not mine. He never even knew there was a child.’

‘I don’t believe you. He must have known. She didn’t fall pregnant by wishing! And you knew, you knew they were, they were …’

Harry sighed. ‘Lovers. Yes, I knew that. And when I saw Peggy’s boy Jim, well, I thought he had a look of Eddie. But her husband Seamus had red hair too. I didn’t think much about it.’

‘You didn’t want to think about it!’

‘No. Not if I could help it.’ Harry shut his mouth hard. He closed his mind against the knowledge that he had failed Eddie. Letting Kath know there was also a child—children—in France, would be even worse. That is if they lived. He’d never know. So much he’d never know. So much to protect her from. Now Jim Ryan, Peggy’s tall red-haired son, father of a hopeful half-dozen little gingernuts himself, had opened a bar called Flanagan’s. The coincidence was too great to be one. Seamus was dead, and it looked like Peggy had told her eldest child who his father was. ‘Kath, it won’t help to talk to Peggy. What can she tell you?’

Flanagan’sKath dropped her head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know. I just want to talk about him. About Eddie. You never do. Never.’

Harry’s breath hissed through his teeth. ‘What would I say? That I lost him at Passchendaele?’ he asked bitterly. His thoughts ran on, unspoken, as they had now for over thirty years. I couldn’t find him. I let him down. I couldn’t get back to him. He counted on me and I failed him. He’s in a million mashed b****y pieces in France and he died without me. He probably expected me to come. He probably lay in the cold mud for hours. Or, God help him, for days. Waiting, and I never came. He probably called me. He maybe died calling me. ‘He’s lost,’ he said aloud. ‘He’s dead!’ As if voicing it could make it real, make it certain. ‘Is that what you want to hear?’ He threw the words at Kath, his bitterness curdling to unreasoning anger.

I couldn’t find him. I let him down. I couldn’t get back to him. He counted on me and I failed him. He’s in a million mashed b****y pieces in France and he died without me. He probably expected me to come. He probably lay in the cold mud for hours. Or, God help him, for days. Waiting, and I never came. He probably called me. He maybe died calling me. He’d grown too loud. Nora appeared at the door, breathless from her run down the corridor. ‘What is it? Kate’s asleep for heaven’s sake!’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘It’s where we gets the passionfruit, is it, Pop?’ asked Kate, woken by the loud voices.

‘Yes, sweetheart,’ said Harry. ‘Passion Dale, where the passionfruit comes from.’

‘Really, Harry!’ said Kath, but the look Nora gave her was enough to stop further comment.

‘Come, sweetheart, time you had your bath and then bedtime.’ The child passed between them trustingly. If she ever remembered a time when her father and mother had cared for her, it never showed. Pop and Grandma and Aunty Kath were all she needed.

In the quiet room, Kath bowed her head. ‘The answer is yes, I would. I want to know it all. I want to know what happened.’

‘It’s no good asking me. I don’t know what happened. I’ll never know.’

‘You know more than I do!’ insisted Kate. ‘All we ever got was the telegram. Father Fitzgibbon brought it to the house. Missing believed killed. And six months later, Missing, no trace. Then nothing.’

Missing believed killed.Missing, no trace‘There’s nothing else to know. That’s all there is.’

Kath glared at her brother. Then she noticed that he was crying. Sometimes it was difficult to read his expression. The scarring on one side of his face masked so much.

‘Oh, Harry,’ she said penitently. ‘I’m sorry.’

He sighed. ‘So am I. I didn’t realise, you know, how much you loved him. How you loved him. I didn’t know that till I got home. And even then, not for a long time.’

‘No. I know.’

‘I only ever thought of you as brother and sister.’

‘I know,’ Kath repeated tonelessly. She didn’t tell him how she had prayed that the telegram wouldn’t have Eddie’s name on it. Anyone else; yes, Joe or even Harry. Not Eddie.

But perhaps he already knew that.