by Rose Doyle
Allie and I had done the best we could with ourselves and certainly looked no worse than many of the women there. We looked, in fact, a lot better than some I saw. Wealth and fine feathers do not a lady make, my mother used to say, and there were plenty examples, that day at Punchestown, of her wisdom.
The horses at Punchestown were nothing like the horses I'd all my life seen drawing carts and carriages. They were sleek and proud and dangerous-looking. They wouldn't have survived two days on the streets of Dublin.
Jimmy, who'd sworn he wasn't a betting man, put money on three races and won on two of them.
'What sort of soldier would I be if I didn't put something on the Irish Grand Military Steeplechase?' He put an arm about my waist after he'd collected his winnings.
'A prudent one,' I said.
Captain Ainslie bet on every single race, often on several horses. It didn't seem to matter to him much whether he won or lost. Twice, when he put money on animals of Allie's choosing and they won, he insisted she take the winnings.
'But it was your money to begin with,' she protested.
'I was prepared to lose it,' he said, 'it was your choice turned it into winnings.'
Allie, pink in the face, took it. 'A fool and his money are easily parted,' she said.
We picnicked in the late afternoon, under a row of trees a bit away from the hot and bother of the racecourse. There was cold meat and cheese, fruit and sweet cake. There was wine too. Allie had a glass and so had I. All it did was clear my head.
'I've been away from James too long,' I said as I stood, 'I want to go back now to the wren village.'
'All in good time,' said Captain Ainslie, 'there are a few races to go yet.'
He didn't understand. He clearly had no children.
Til take the brougham and send it back from the village for the rest of you,' I said. 'I can't stay here a minute longer.'
Jimmy got to his feet. 'We'll go together.' He put an arm about me. 'My winnings will pay for a horsecar.'
'It's time we were all leaving.' Allie put her wine glass carefully into the basket.
'The little fellow needs his mother,' Captain Ainslie said, and caught her hand, 'and his father. Surely you can bear to stay with me until the end of the meeting?'
'I've seen as much as I care to.' Allie pulled her hand from his. 'And heard as much too. That German band is making my head ache.'
The band was a distant tinkle. 'In that case we had definitely better leave.' Captain Ainslie looked for a moment at the remains of the picnic. 'A pity . . .'
Til pack up, sir.' Jimmy stepped forward, soldier-fashion, and went on one knee by the basket.
'Leave it, Private,' Captain Ainslie's command was clipped and icy, 'it's not important. Time is what matters here and clearly we've spent too much of it.'
Jimmy looked at the food, at the uneaten cheese and fruit, a second, unopened bottle of wine, the scattering of cutlery and napkins. 'I'll be quick.' He lifted the bottle of wine.
'I gave you an order, Private.' Captain Ainslie moved the basket out of Jimmy's reach with his foot. 'We will leave, now.'
Allie had already begun to walk back towards the racecourse. The captain, putting his hat on his head, followed her. We stood, Jimmy and I, for uncertain minutes by the remains of the picnic. Good food, left like that. Alexander Ainslie was either rich enough to be careless or wounded enough by Allie to be angrily indifferent.
'The cutlery's better than anything we have in the nest,' I said.
'Leave it,' Jimmy said.
The brougham was with a lot of other horsecars at the other side of the racecourse. It was a long walk through the crowds,
and a slow one. Allie held her parasol high and spoke in a light voice to the captain, who was equally composed-sounding. They walked about a foot apart.
Jimmy and I followed close behind, so close our shoulders touched. After a while I felt for and held Jimmy's hand, tightly.
'James'll be all right, Sarah,' he said, 'Beezy's a good woman. She'll have looked after him well, you'll see.'
We couldn't have been any more than five hundred yards from the waiting horsecars when a couple of officers stepped from the crowd and hailed Captain Ainslie.
'You've been keeping your charming companion to yourself, Captain.' A black moustache and missing tooth gave a villainous look to the one who smiled at Allie.
'Indeed I have, Captain Fetherston.' Captain Ainslie nodded curtly and would have moved Allie briskly on if the second officer hadn't stepped smartly in front of them.
'I do believe we've met before, your companion and I.' His small, sharp nose twitched as he stared at Allie. 'You interrupted our card game, as I remember, you and some ragamuffin child.' He leaned forward on his cane. 'I've forgotten what you said your name was . . .'
'I remember yours.' Allie spoke in a clear, sharp voice. This was not a good sign. I moved to her side. 'You're a Captain Browne,' she went on, 'you weren't disposed to help me find my way through the camp.'
'I had a difficulty with your free and easy attitude to army procedures,' he corrected, 'but Captain Ainslie would appear to have no problem with your lack of manners.' When he sneered his narrow face turned in on itself and his eyes met by his nose.
'Fortunately,' Captain Ainslie, with a smile, took Allie's elbow, 'and fortunately too we were just leaving.'
He nodded pleasantly to the two men and moved on. Allie, by his side, stared straight ahead and kept step with him. The officers looked at one another, then after Captain Ainslie's retreating back. Jimmy, as we started to follow, gave a brief salute.
'Did you enjoy the racing, soldier?' the officer called Fether- ston asked.
'I did, sir,' Jimmy said.
We didn't stop. The officers fell into step on either side of us, the smaller, narrow-faced one closest to me. He reeked of port.
'Did you enjoy the meeting, Miss . . . ?' He waited for my name.
'Rooney.' I didn't look at him.
'Rooney.' The sound of my name seemed to amuse him. 'Did you enjoy the races, Miss Rooney?'
'Very much.'
'A shame we should meet as you're leaving,' he said, 'we might all have shared a drink and a bet on the last couple of races.' He raised his voice. 'Any chance you and your party could delay your departure, Captain Ainslie? Captain Fetherston and myself would be greatly entertained if you could.'
Captain Ainslie stopped and turned slowly. 'The races will be more to your taste,' he said, 'than any entertainment my friends and I could provide. Private Vance, perhaps you would lead the way to the brougham? I've forgotten exactly where it was we left it.
As Jimmy moved forward, with me by the hand, the gap- toothed Captain Fetherston laughed out loud. 'Not walking today, Ainslie? The word in the camp is that you've taken with great vigour to exercising on the plains . . .' he bowed mockingly toward Allie, 'with your fair friend here. Are you not worried, Miss Buckley, that you will run foul of the wild life in the furze bushes?'
'Au contraire,' Allie said, 'I feel safer there than I did when visiting the camp. I've found nothing on the plains to compare with the rudeness I experienced in the barracks.'
'Indeed.' Captain Browne's eyes merged with his nose again. 'You mistake rudeness for an army officer's natural defence of his realm.' He sniggered, then cleared his throat. 'I'm sorry if you
were offended. A soldier's duty is never done, I'm afraid. Am I forgiven?'
'It would be easy to forgive you, Captain Browne,' Allie said, 'if I thought you were sincere.'
People, all around us, continued to laugh and talk. No one in our group said anything. Captain Ainslie looked amused but Jimmy, by my side, stiffened.
Captain Browne's voice, breaking the hush, was thin and tight. 'Captain Ainslie may have a use for you,' he shrugged, 'but it's my view that he's making a sad mistake encouraging you and your kind.'
'It would be a sad mistake on your part, Captain Browne, to continue with this display of ignorance.' Captain Ainslie, p
utting Allie behind him, looked for a minute as if he might knock his fellow officer to the ground. He didn't, of course. Officers in Her Majesty's army don't do that kind of thing — so Jimmy told me later. Not the civilised ones anyway and Captain Ainslie was, at the very least, civilised.
'The ignorance, Captain Ainslie, is on your part,' Captain Fetherston displayed his missing tooth in another leering grin, 'women like these are fit playthings for India-bound soldiers such as Vance. They are not—'
'What sort of women are we exactly?' My eyes were on a level with his when I faced him and cut him short. He looked shocked.
Allie stood beside me and we faced the Captains Browne and Fetherston together. A small crowd was beginning to gather. Some were army officers.
'Captain Fetherston meant nothing by the remark.' Captain Browne ran a finger round the inside of his collar. 'An idle and misunderstood pleasantry is all . . .'
'Then let him answer Miss Rooney's question,' Allie said, 'and explain what idle and pleasant thing he meant by his remark about "women like these".'
'You know the answer to that yourself, miss,' said Captain Fetherston, who was not so intimidated by the crowd as his
companion, 'you are no lady, madam, and you furthermore do not know your place. Your friend, at least, confines herself to the ranks but you—'
'Oh, be quiet, Fetherston.' Captain Ainslie raised his voice hardly at all. It was enough, though, to raise a couple of supportive 'hear, hears' in the crowd. 'You're boorish and a fool and doing both yourself and your regiment a grave disservice. I'd insist you apologise if I thought Miss Buckley would accept.'
He took Allie's arm and brought her to his side. She looked coldly and silently at the Captains Fetherston and Browne, then turned on her heel. Captain Ainslie, with exquisite courtesy, and a small bow to the rapt crowd, took her arm again and gestured that Jimmy and I should follow them.
'You're amusing yourself with that woman, Ainslie, and you're a liar and scoundrel if you're pretending otherwise,' Captain Browne's voice followed us. 'She is no lady and you, as an officer, should have left her in her dung heap on the plains. It's you, sir, who are doing your regiment a disservice.'
Captain Ainslie didn't turn. His tone didn't change. 'I will not challenge you now, Browne, and nor will I bandy words with you. You are, as too often, inebriated. We will talk again. Good day to you.'
I wished we'd never come to the races and said so to Jimmy.
'I must apologise for my fellow officers,' Captain Ainslie turned, 'it's an unfortunate fact that there are as many fools and knaves in the army as there are in civilian life.'
'That's a matter for debate, sir,' Jimmy said, 'and I'm not so sure how well the army would win the argument.'
As an attempt at temper calming this worked. Captain Ainslie laughed. But if Jimmy meant to assuage the offence felt by Allie and myself then he failed altogether.
The driver, asleep in his seat, was waiting with the brougham. We were on the road when Allie, with apparent sincerity, said, 'That was a most enjoyable day. Thank you, Alex.' She paused. 'I'll certainly remember my time at Punchestown Races.'
'For the best of reasons, I hope,' said Captain Ainslie.
'For all sorts of reasons.' Allie smiled at him, her head to one side.
'We must discuss them,' he said.
The journey back seemed to go on forever. The rhythm of the wheels, as we went along, repeated three of Captain Fetherston's words over and over. India-bound-soldiers, they said, India-bound-soldiers, India-bound-soldiers. When I couldn't stand it any longer I asked Jimmy what he'd meant.
'Are there huge numbers being sent, or what?' I asked.
'There's talk of a regiment or two going all right,' Jimmy said, 'but it's talk only. Just as it was talk only in Beggar's Bush.' His grip tightened on my hand. 'Don't think about it, Sarah.'
I was reassured enough to hear the message change in the wheels. For the rest of the journey they seemed to say talk-only, talk-only, talk-only.
The days had been shortening with terrible speed since the beginning of September and the village, when we drew up on the road, was a series of hulking dark shapes in its hollow. It gave me a shivery premonition of what winter might be like on the plains.
Allie said her goodbyes to Captain Ainslie and he took the brougham back to the camp. Jimmy walked into the village with Allie and me.
It was Jimmy who saw Beezy, pacing with James in her arms, when we were still fifty yards away from the nest. I got to Beezy before he did.
'He's feverish. He wants feeding . . .' She was trembling and white as paper when I took him from her. 'I thought at first that he was lonesome for you but as the day went on I knew there was something wrong. I did everything I could, Sarah.'
James was hot as a furnace in my arms. His breathing was tortured, coming in long and short whistles through his mouth and nose. He whimpered and coughed when I rocked him, whimpered and coughed even more when I kissed and held him against me. Even his hands were hot.
I cursed the races and myself for leaving him. I stopped when I heard myself cursing his father.
'When did this start?' I tried to be calm when I spoke to Beezy.
'About noon. You weren't gone more than an hour or so. We tried to bring the temperature down. Ellen put a herb poultice to his chest. It gave him some peace, but not for long'. She turned to Allie. 'We've been waiting ... all the time hoping and praying you'd know what to do.'
'Maybe he'll feed . . .' I opened my dress and tried to feed him. All he would do was throw his small head from side to side. The coughing becoming worse all the time. He was like a rasping saw. The hot glaze over his eyes terrified me.
I held him out to Allie. 'Please help him,' I said.
Jimmy stood with me while she examined him. We had made a child and brought him into our perilous world. I had left him in that world, and at such a tender age, to pursue my own pleasure. It was my fault entirely he was ill.
Allie said nothing and she took an age. James wasn't still for a minute, full of convulsive movements and every so often coughing. She listened to his back with her ear and tried to examine his throat. To me it seemed she could do nothing and was doing nothing. He needed a proper doctor.
'What's to be done?' I almost shouted at her.
'He's got croup but it's not severe,' Allie said, 'I'll bring down the fever and there's a bottle can be made up. Jimmy, will you go to the apothecary in the camp?'
'Give me a note,' Jimmy said.
'He'll be all right,' Allie said to me gently.
'Easy for you to say when he isn't your child,' my panic turned to fury, 'I've seen what coughing and the croup does to children . . .'
'Then you've seen them get well. I won't let him die, Sarah.' Allie signalled to Ellen Neary to bring James's bed out, into the open. 'I'll take good care of him. You must trust me.'
'I should never have left him . . . this was brought on by my leaving him.'
'This has nothing to do with you going to the races, Sarah,' Allie said with a hard look, 'this is an illness. Not a curse. It can and will be cured. He needs ipecacuanha syrup . . .' She paused. 'And he may need a doctor.'
'One of the camp doctors will come,' Jimmy said. 'I'll raise one of them. I'll go to the apothecary too.'
'Go to the apothecary first and come straight back with the syrup mixture I'm going to write down for you. Ask someone else, Alexander if you can get him, to raise a doctor.'
While Allie wrote out for Jimmy what she wanted him to get I crawled into the nest and found a piece of paper wrapping. I smoothed it as best I could and wrote Daniel Casey's address and a message.
As Jimmy left I walked with him to the edge of the village. When we were out of Allie's hearing I told him to telegraph the message to the address on the page. He said he would do it. He would have exploded a cannon gun if I'd asked him just then.
Daniel Casey, if he was still at the Dorset Street address, would come instantly, I was sure of that. He
would come for my baby's sake and he would come to see Allie.
I prayed it wasn't too late for James.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Allie
James lay against me gasping for breath.
I'd stripped him naked and was sponging him all over with a cloth dipped in water. The wrens kept replacing the water with colder, fresher pots. His small stomach staved in with every intake, the rasp in his throat got coarser.
'It's definitely not pneumonia?' Sarah said. She got the words out slowly.
'No,' I assured her.
'It's not typhus either, is it?'
'It's not typhus. You know I'm right, Sarah. You know that it's the croup.' I was finding it hard to be patient, though I understood her feverish agitation. I would have been much better able to look after James without her pacing up and down in front of us. 'It'll take its course,' I said when she knelt and took the sponge from me and began wiping him. He went into another bout of hoarsely croaking coughs. 'You know that too.'
She nodded. 'I do, I do. I can hear the sound of the croup in his coughing. I just want to be sure. I've never seen anyone get better from pneumonia or typhus and I've seen people with both diseases look the way James does . . .'
Jimmy Vance had been gone more than an hour and a half. The syrup I'd asked him to get could be made up in minutes so the delay was probably in finding the apothecary.
But even allowing for this he was taking a long time. He must have gone looking for a doctor instead of, as I'd asked him, coming straight back with the syrup. I swore at him, and at all men, for the way they were never able to believe a woman right.
'We'll take him inside,' I said when the night began to cool. 'I'll go in first and light candles and make a corner ready for him.'
When I'd done this Sarah brought James into the nest after me. Beezy, in her wisdom, had moved the fire away so that I was able to make a bed for him close to the door. This ensured him relatively clean air as well as shelter. Beezy had made sweet tea too, cupfuls of which she kept pressing on myself and Sarah. She was taking whiskey herself and, in between times, walking out to the road to see if Jimmy Vance was coming.
