For King and Country. David Monnery

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СКАЧАТЬ by a clergyman named Tim and two old ladies.’

      ‘What do you do?’

      ‘Everything. Cook, clean, visit people, help people sort out problems, try to trace missing relatives…’ She giggled. ‘I even helped Tim write his sermon last week.’

      Farnham laughed. ‘You were an atheist last time we talked.’

      ‘I still am. But Tim says it doesn’t matter as long as your heart’s in the right place.’

      ‘Right,’ Farnham said drily. ‘You’re not sweet on this clergyman by any chance?’

      ‘He’s older than Father,’ she said indignantly. ‘And anyway I don’t have time to be sweet on anyone. Oh, Robbie, I’m so glad you’re here because I need a big favour.’

      He sighed. ‘And what might that be?’

      She kept him waiting for an answer until they were safely across Knightsbridge. ‘I don’t want to go back to school until after the war’s over,’ she said as they entered Hyde Park. ‘I’m much more useful where I am. And I’m learning so much more!’

      ‘Yes?’ Farnham asked, knowing full well what was coming.

      ‘So will you talk to Father for me?’ she pleaded.

      ‘I’ll try, but I doubt he’ll listen.’

      ‘Just soften him up for me, then I’ll move in for the kill.’

      ‘Don’t get your hopes up too high, Eileen,’ he warned her.

      She turned her blue eyes on him. ‘I won’t. But I have to ask, don’t I?’

      ‘Yes, of course,’ he agreed. Something in the way she said it set off an alarm bell in his mind, but she left him no time to think it through.

      ‘So what are you doing?’ she asked.

      They had reached the edge of the Serpentine. ‘Playing Cowboys and Indians in the Scottish hills,’ he said wryly. ‘Getting ready for the big day, like everyone else.’

      ‘And when will it be?’

      He grunted. ‘You’d better ask Churchill that. Or Eisenhower.’

      ‘It’ll be soon though, won’t it?’

      ‘I should think so.’

      ‘And you’ll be part of it?’ She sounded worried now.

      ‘Me and a million others,’ he said lightly, but she wasn’t to be put off so easily.

      ‘Robbie,’ she said, ‘I know it’s been awfully hard for you. Since Catherine died, I mean. And I know you can’t bear the thought of working for Father when all this is over, but there are lots of other things you could do.’

      ‘I know,’ he said. For some reason he felt close to tears.

      ‘I suppose I’m being really selfish,’ she went on, ‘but I need my brother and I just want you to be careful.’

      He put an arm round her shoulder and squeezed. ‘I promise I will,’ he said.

      By the time McCaigh had taken the Circle Line to Liverpool Street and the LNER stopping service to Stoke Newington he felt as though he’d seen enough trains to last him several lifetimes. Three hundred and sixty miles in twenty-four hours, he told himself as he took the short cut through Abney Park cemetery. Fifteen miles an hour. He had always been good at arithmetic.

      His mum’s welcome more than made up for the rigours of the journey. She plied him with another breakfast – his Uncle Derek had apparently been present when certain items fell off a lorry in nearby Dalston – and went through all the local gossip. One family they all knew in Kynaston Street had been killed by a direct hit only a couple of weeks before.

      ‘Has it been bad?’ he asked her.

      She shook her head. ‘Nothing like the real Blitz. And everything’s much better organized these days. We quite enjoy it down the shelter these days, what with bingo and all that. Or at least your dad and I do. When the siren goes Patrick’s usually nowhere to be found.’

      ‘He’s at school now, isn’t he?’

      She shrugged. ‘Supposed to be, but I doubt it. He’s been helping out with the fire wardens lately – real proud of himself, he is. He must have lied about his age – either that or your mate Terry took pity on him. At least it’s stopped him moaning on and on about how the war’s going to end before he has the chance to join up. Way he talks you’d think it was like being in the films. And I don’t want you encouraging him, either,’ she added with a threatening look.

      ‘I won’t,’ he promised.

      She believed him. ‘When you came home last time I thought you were keeping something back, but I didn’t like to pry.’

      ‘Nah,’ he said, ‘not really. We were on this op in Italy – eight of us – and four got killed. Felt a bit close to home, I suppose.’

      ‘Not surprised.’ She got up to pour them both another cup of tea. ‘Bloody Eyeties,’ she muttered as she put the cosy back over the teapot.

      He laughed. ‘Matter of fact it was Eyeties who helped the rest of us escape from the bloody Krauts,’ he told her.

      She looked at him. ‘But you’re all right?’

      ‘Yeah, you know me.’ He changed the subject. ‘How’s Dad?’

      ‘He’s at work, if you can call gazing at trees work.’ Donal McCaigh was the head park keeper at nearby Clissold Park. He’d been a trainee teacher just before the last war, but several exposures to mustard gas in the Ypres salient had left his lungs permanently impaired, and forced him into an outdoor career. ‘He’ll be home for lunch. So should Patrick, though I think he’s got a game this afternoon.’

      McCaigh’s sixteen-year-old brother had been an above-average footballer since he could walk, and most of the family were hoping he’d get a chance to turn professional after the war. The exception was his mother, who wanted him to go for something with a future. ‘If he hasn’t,’ she added, ‘he’ll just be bouncing that damn ball against the wall out the back all bloody afternoon.’

      McCaigh grinned.

      ‘You should be thinking about going to university when the war ends,’ she told him, the bit now firmly between her teeth.

      ‘I’ll probably be past thirty!’ he said.

      ‘Won’t matter,’ she said emphatically. ‘They’ll be taking all ages after this. And you’ve got most of the family’s brain rations – why waste them? I tell you, Mickie, there’s a lot of things are going to be different after this war, and a lot of opportunities. You want to be prepared.’

      ‘I’ll give you another lecture tomorrow,’ she said, laughing. ‘Now why don’t you catch up on your kip. I’ve made up the other bed for you, and I’ll wake you for lunch.’

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