Free Under the July Sun by Barbara Jones Page A

proof, Neddy. I can’t go questionin’ a priest about his movements, especially if he’s Paddy’s alibi; there’s no tellin’ where that one would lead. And anyway, even if ’twas Paddy, there were others too accordin’ to Cat.’ Brendan lifted his glass. ‘Sláinte.’
    â€˜Sláinte, Brendan.’ Ned sipped the whiskey. ‘I see the way the land lies with these fiends. They’re too slippery for the likes of us, especially if they’re hidin’ behind a priest’s cassock.’
    â€˜Maybe. But as a policeman I won’t just look the other way, they’ll thrive on that kind of inaction, to be sure. I shall have to find other means of discoverin’ the truth. They’ll slip up eventually.’
    Ned got up and walked over to the window; his eyes welled with tears.
    â€˜Do what ye have to Brendan. I won’t be expectin’ miracles. Cat’s leavin’ and I feel we’ve lost the battle already.’
    * * *
    The railway station was full of people boarding the boat train.
    â€˜All aboard,’ the guard repeatedly called as he walked along the platform slamming doors. Young folk were hanging out of the train windows saying their last tearful goodbyes to families, reminding each other to write as soon as they could.
    Ned watched it all as though in a dream. He saw the family huddling around Cat, pressing rosaries and medals of Our Lady into her hands, and he couldn’t speak. He thought Maeve looked pale as she tearfully kissed Cat goodbye.
    â€˜Lord above,’ he heard her say, ‘I never thought I’d see ye go, mo chuisle.’ 12
    He wanted to say so too. Wanted to shout out, ‘Don’t go Cat,’ but an appalling grief had gripped him and he could find no words to ease his pain.
    The guard was shouting for everyone to stand back when Ned suddenly snapped out of his reverie. He pushed his way forward and elbowed the girls, Tom and Maeve aside. He went to Cat; pulled the collar of her coat straight; held her face in his hands and kissed her. Then his face wet with tears, he stepped back and watched her climb into the carriage and close the door.
    A whistle blew and the train eased its way out of the station, swaying along the track until, smaller than a pinhead in the distance, it disappeared from view.
    Footnote
    12 mo chuisle – my darling (pronounced ma cooshla)

9
Plumstead
November 1914
    Cat walked briskly along Benares Road until she reached No. 29. This is it , she thought, opening the gate and walking along the path to the front door. When she knocked, the hollow-sounding echo suggested to her that the house was empty.
    Standing on the doorstep as it began to rain, panic gripped her. Everything rested on the promise of accommodation with Louis’ sister, Eliza.
    She drew Louis’ letter out of her bag and re-read it. He had assured her she could go to his sister, but the letter had been written a couple of months ago! There was only one thing to do she decided, and looking round to make sure no one was watching her, she pushed the letter box open and peered through.
    The hallway was empty; there were no signs of life and the coat hooks on the wall were bare, so she went to look through the front-room window. Cupping her hands against the glass she saw the room was completely bare.
    Perhaps the people next door may know something she thought, so slipped through a gap in the hedge. As there were children in the garden playing ball, she asked them if their mother was in.
    â€˜Mum!’ one of them bawled out, ‘someone to see yer.’
    A woman appeared wiping her hands on her pinafore, looking annoyed. She eyed Cat up and down.
    â€˜Yers, can I ’elp you?’
    â€˜Yes. I’m sorry to bother ye, but I was wonderin’ if ye knew where the family next door are; only I’ve just arrived and was expectin’ to stay with them?’
    â€˜They moved yesterday.’
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