Free Taken Away by Celine Kiernan Page A

I’d die from relief. I thought I’d bloody faint.’
    His eyes filled with tears then, and I was a bit lost as to what to do. I hadn’t expected this; I hadn’t expected Dom to be upset. Afraid, maybe; scornful, definitely – but not emotional, not upset . It shocked me that I hadn’t even noticed how scared he was.
    â€˜That soldier is a terrible person , Pat. He’s terrible. He makes me . . . ’ Dom pressed his fist to his mouth. I could see the skin whitening where he was pushing his lips against his teeth, but he didn’t let the tears come and when he spoke again his voice was steady. ‘He’s done something awful, I just know it.’
    â€˜How do you know?’
    He shook his head. ‘It’s like someone told me. I just . . . I just know .’
    â€˜Well, he’s not half as scary as that boy thing. At least he isn’t living in our bed.’
    Dom moaned. ‘Stop. That’s not funny.’ He pushed his fingers in under his eyes, then looked at me sideways, knowing what way I’d react when he said, ‘Maybe we’re going the way of Nan.’
    I huffed an impatient breath. ‘Don’t start that rubbish again,’ I said. ‘This is real.’
    â€˜Oh yeah,’ he whispered, pulling the blanket tight around him and looking bleakly out into the room. ‘Real. I’m afraid of bad men and you’re seeing demons. No way we’re losing our minds.’
    A knock on the door made us jump like frogs. Dad stuck his head around the corner to find us saucer-eyed and clutching each other, wrapped in our blankets on the windowsill. He was momentarily surprised, then his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
    â€˜What are you two up to? You look like Sitting Bull and Tonto perched there.’
    We just kind of gaped uselessly at him, and he rolled his eyes to heaven and directed us to bed with a jerk of his thumb. ‘Into the leaba , the two of you. Your mother’ll have your guts if you catch a cold.’
    We complied and he went downstairs singing ‘Waterloo’ quietly to himself. We heard him and Ma go into the sitting room. When the sounds of their voices were safely muffled by the sitting-room door, Dom crept down the ladder and stood wrapped in his blanket by the side of my bunk.
    â€˜Can I sleep in with you?’
    I shifted all the way over to the wall without a word of complaint. Truth be told, I was never so grateful for the warmth of my brother crawling into bed beside me. He lay with his back to me, wrapped head-to-toe in his blanket and looking out across the room to the dressing-table mirror.
    â€˜Pat?’ he said.
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜I wish I believed in God. Then I could say a prayer.’
    â€˜Say one anyway.’
    â€˜Will you?’
    I always say my prayers.’ ‘
    â€˜I know. Say one now, okay?’
    â€˜Alright . . . Dom?’
    â€˜Yeah?’
    â€˜Just go ahead and say one anyway. It couldn’t hurt.’
    â€˜Alright.’
    But I don’t think he did. Dom was no hypocrite, not even when he was scared out of his wits.

    JOLLY HANDS ME a mug of tea. He has a knack with tea, does Jolly. Of course it tastes of petrol – that’s unavoidable – but somehow Jolly always gets the tea good and hot. I seal my letter and tuck it into my breast pocket along with my pencil. Shamie is watching me from his niche across the trench, his pale-blue eyes the only colour in the dry mud-mask of his face.
    I nod at him and he understands. I’ve asked my darling Lacy to talk to May for him, to try and get May to stop returning Shamie’s letters. I doubt it will make any difference. I don’t think Shamie understands how much May meant it when she said he’d have to choose: he could have the British uniform or he could have her, but not both. I think he still believes he has a chance of getting her back. I’m less than sure of that – beneath