Ann was distracted. ‘Looks like he’s going.’
Having considered that he had done his duty and to stay longer would be pointless, Probyn was taking his leave of those who would speak to him.
The grip on Monty’s arm had an urgency to it. ‘If you want to patch things up you’d better do it now – I’m not trying to interfere, I just mean you don’t know when you might see him again.’
Fighting indecision, Monty leaned forward on his chair. It seemed to his wife that he was about to rise.
But pride got the better of him. When the young soldier turned questioning eyes on his father, seeking permission to approach, Monty glanced away. When he looked back, his son had left the hall.
* * *
After the hostile atmosphere of the wedding, Probyn had never felt so glad to get back to barracks and a sense of value. Putting the episode behind him, he concentrated instead on nurturing the feeling of comradeship that was beginning to manifest itself in the platoon, determined to make it into a family he could be proud of.
There was more reason to be glad that week too for he was excited to learn of his posting to the 1st Battalion.
‘Where will we be stationed, Corp?’ he enquired of Wedlock eagerly.
‘Kings County,’ replied Corporal Wedlock.
‘Ireland!’ Mick looked delighted.
‘Ireland?’ Probyn’s echo was more one of horror. ‘But I put down for foreign service, I thought we’d be going somewhere like Africa!’
Wedlock offered a half derisive smirk. ‘You don’t think they’re going to let you loose on the niggers until you know which end of a rifle to point at ’em? You’ve got months of home service ahead of you yet.’
Brought back to earth, Probyn looked decidedly unimpressed. ‘When are we going, Corp?’
‘Twenty-first of this month, so you’ve got seven days’ leave starting this weekend.’
Whilst others shouted approval, Probyn continued to grumble. ‘And where will I go for seven whole days? Nobody’ll give me house-room.’
‘What about this favourite aunt you’re always talking about?’ Mick reminded him.
‘Aye, that’s an idea.’ Probyn nodded firmly. ‘I’ll go to York.’
‘York is it?’ Mick seemed interested. ‘I’ve got kin there myself, I could come with yese. I haven’t seen them in ages.’
Fearing that the Irishman would bring him into disrepute with the only relative who was on his side, Probyn replied quickly, ‘She doesn’t actually live in York, but in a village outside. I have a long walk when I get off the train.’
Mick was quick to interpret the reluctant tone. ‘I wasn’t asking for a free bed—’
Probyn interrupted. ‘Oh I know, I didn’t mean—!’
The other smiled, but to rather sad effect. ‘I just thought ye might like the company that’s all. Still …’
‘I would! I just didn’t want you to trail all that way thinking … I mean, Aunt Kit hasn’t got very much room and I don’t think she’d take kindly to me landing her with … what I mean is, I’d be happy to meet you in York as long as you’ve got somewhere to stay.’
Mick retained his smile, though it was obvious he was conversant with the true reason for Probyn’s reluctance and was hurt by it. ‘Oh yes, I’ll have no trouble finding a bed – but ye must say if ye don’t want me to come, I won’t mind, I just thought—’
Probe was ashamed of his own bigotry. ‘I do!’ He tried to project interest. ‘Where do your relatives live? Write down the address and we’ll arrange a day to meet.’ He hoped his babbling attempts to make amends did not sound as stupid as they made him feel.
However, Mick agreed to meet him on the Tuesday afternoon of their vacation. ‘And will we travel to York together on Saturday?’
‘Fine!’ smiled Probyn. ‘I’ll be glad of the company.’
* * *
An early morning train ensured that Probyn would reach his destination in time for lunch. Grateful for an uneventful journey, he parted company with Melody at York station and went the rest of the way on foot.
Arriving at Kit’s smallholding an hour and a half later, he had no sooner picked his way through the clucking hens in her front garden than he found himself immediately clutched to her sumptuous bosom and made most welcome. ‘What a lovely surprise. How did you get here?’
Probyn was both charmed and embarrassed by her exuberance; the Kilmasters were not great huggers. ‘By train to York, then walked the rest.’
Kit released him. ‘Eh, your feet must be killing you!’
He laughed dismissively. ‘It’s nowt compared to the miles I’ve marched.’
‘Come in then. Oh but you’re even thinner than the last time I saw you! They can’t be feeding you. Worthy, bring more taties!’ Her husband had been in the process of rifling his potato store for luncheon. ‘This lad needs building up before he goes back. How long are you here for, Probe?’
‘A week if that’s all right, Aunt?’ Her delighted smile showed him it was. Uncle Worthy too seemed pleased at this intrusion as he followed them into the kitchen, his arms cradling muddy potatoes. ‘They’ve allowed us time off before our posting.’
Fond of travel, Kit was swift to ask, ‘Ooh, where are they sending you, anywhere exotic?’
Probyn gave a rueful laugh. ‘Ireland!’
‘Oh you poor soul!’ Kit’s repugnance of Catholics was undiminished. ‘How long for?’ She began to peel the potatoes.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Anyway it won’t be that much different to Pontefract barracks – Hibernia Place, I’ve taken to calling it. I’d no idea the army took so many Irishmen. I mean, they don’t all talk Irish but they’ve got the names. You should hear roll call: it’s Boylan, Casey, Cahill, Donovan, Fennesy,’ he chanted it in gay manner, his head going from side to side, ‘Gormon, Kelly, Lenagan, Mel—’ he broke off at this point with a laugh, it wouldn’t do for Aunt Kit to remember Michael Melody. ‘Oh, I won’t go on!’
Kit threw a horrified joke at her husband. ‘Eh, it’s a wonder the army can march to order with so many left-footers. If it’s that bad, Probe, maybe we could help to buy you ou—’
‘No, it’s not really! I’m only kidding. They’re good enough fellows, and they’re far outnumbered by Yorkshire lads.’ Smiling, he re-familiarized himself with his aunt’s kitchen which he had visited only a couple of times before. On one of the walls, somewhat concealed in shadow, was a painting of his sister Beata. In actuality it was a composite made after her death using the features of his other sisters, and in no way portrayed her the way he remembered. He suspected that Kit hated its artificiality as much as he did, that was why it had been given such a discreet position. The only reason it was here at all was that it had been bequeathed to Kit by his mother. ‘Where shall I put me bag, Aunt?’
‘Just sit there and talk to me while I get the taties on.’ Kit reached for a pan. ‘You can’t afford to lose any more weight.’
Brushing the soil from his hands, Worthy took the haversack off his nephew and carried it upstairs, allowing Probyn to sink into a comfortable fireside chair. Hauling Toby on his knee, the young man told his aunt how glad he was to be here – not least for the mouth-watering smell of mutton from Kit’s oven.
Later, after grace, Probyn watched his plate being laden with the succulent meat. It was quite obvious why everyone in this house was so large. ‘Eh, steady on, Aunt! I won’t be able to manage all that.’
‘Course you will! Don’t worry you’re not costing us anything, we grow it all ourselves.’
The plate now in front of him, Probyn added a spoonful of mashed potatoes and one of carrots. Thinking he was only being polite Kit grabbed the ladle and added more. ‘Come on, we’ve got to build you up! I don’t know what the army’s feeding you but there can’t be much of it.’
Alarmed that he would be unable to eat it he held up his palm. ‘Ooh, that’s enough, Aunt, honestly, it’ll only spoil me for going back to army fodder.’
‘Well, it’s there if you want it.’ Kit filled the baby’s plate to its outer edges and fed him mouthfuls in between eating her own meal.
To the clinking of knives and forks, she asked to hear all about her nephew’s experiences, Worthy showing a quiet interest. Making light of the bad parts, Probyn said that he was very happy and proud to be a soldier.
‘It would have been nice if you could have made it up with your dad at the wedding,’ said Kit, munching. ‘I did try …’
‘I know.’ Probyn had always enjoyed his aunt’s support. Not wanting to pursue the subject he filled his mouth, then said, ‘Eh, this mutton’s absolutely luscious!’
* * *
There were to be more luscious meals in store over the weekend, though this was not the only form of entertainment, for Aunt Kit had always been an amusing performer, ready with a song and a joke, and thoroughly enjoying an audience however small.
Probyn almost hated telling her at Tuesday luncheon – another gargantuan offering – that he would be going into York for the afternoon and so would not be in for tea.
This did not have the effect he had imagined. Assuming that her nephew was travelling alone, she exclaimed, ‘I’ll come with you! Uncle Worthy will get the cart out and take the pair of us. I only ever get in occasionally on market days and that isn’t very exciting. We could go to the matinee at the theatre!’
Detesting having to upset her, he blurted apologetically, ‘Actually, Aunt, I’m meeting a pal!’
Kit’s eager expression melted into disappointment, but it soon passed. ‘From the army? Oh, you should have brought him here we wouldn’t have minded.’
You would, thought Probyn and hoped that his aunt would not ask to meet Mick nor ask his name. ‘He’s staying with relatives, we just arranged to meet up for the day.’ He gave a forced laugh. ‘I don’t know why I’m bothering, you’d think I see enough of him at the barracks.’
‘Aw well, it’s nice that you’ve made a pal. Tell you what, bring him home for tea, your Uncle Worthy will take him home on the cart.’
‘Oh no, that’s all right! I’ve been invited to his relations’ house for tea.’ He had the grace to blush.
Kit nodded thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Then the next time you both come to York we must return the invitation. Don’t forget now, will you?’
Probyn said he wouldn’t and, refusing Worthy’s offer to take him, went on his way, relieved that no more questions were asked.
But Kit, being a more practised liar herself recognized a bad one when she saw it. ‘He must think I’m daft,’ she cast a smile at Worthy, and watched her nephew hurry down the path. ‘He’s off to meet a lass.’
* * *
Walmgate was a rough area of the city. Probyn had heard his aunt speak scathingly of its occupants and he was more than a little apprehensive as he made his way along its decrepit route, his scarlet uniform an obvious target for hatred.
However, he arrived at Melody’s address unharmed and his knock was answered immediately. ‘Mrs Melody? I’m—’
‘Private Kilmaster, come in, come in! Michael told us to expect ye. No, I’m not called Melody, I’m a Lanigan.’
‘Oh, sorry I just assumed you’d have the same name!’ The fervour of her welcome took Probyn by surprise; he half expected the woman to embrace him but was glad when she made do with a smile as she ushered him into the best parlour.
‘I’m Michael’s Aunt Louisa on his mother’s side,’ explained Mrs Lanigan, under the threadbare clothes a lithe and attractive woman. ‘He’s just having a wash. Make yourself comfortable while he comes. Could I get you a cup of tea, Private Kilmaster?’
Probyn thanked her but refused the offer, waiting for her to sit down before joining her. It was as if he were in a church, though like none he had been in himself, with a statue of the Virgin Mary at one end of the mantel, a depiction of the Sacred Heart at the other and all manner of religious pictures looking at him from every wall. It rather unnerved him and to cover this he threw a smile at Melody’s aunt.
‘Nice weather for your holiday,’ she observed warmly, her gaze falling on the shaft of spring sunshine that fell upon the hearth rug. ‘And will you be looking forward to going to Ireland afterwards?’
‘Oh, yes,’ lied Probyn. ‘It’ll be … a change.’ Glancing about him again, amongst the many religious icons he spotted a wooden box, its lid painted with a galleon on rolling waves. ‘That’s nice.’
‘Your man did that for my birthday last year,’ said Louisa proudly.
Probyn was stunned. ‘You mean Mick?’ He stood to take a closer look, and was still admiring it when the artist came in.
‘Sorry, Pa! I slept in.’
‘That’s unusual for you,’ said Probyn, then indicated the box. ‘Your aunt tells me you made this!’
‘I only did the painting.’ Mick was still shrugging himself into his military garb and fastening buttons.
‘Still, it’s … remarkable.’ Probyn, who had not one creative bone in his body, could not disguise that he was impressed.
Mick seemed amused at the praise.
‘Will ye be staying for tea, Private Kilmaster? We’ll be having a special one. ’Tis Michael’s birthday. I don’t suppose he’ll tell you that himself.’
‘Oh don’t, you’re showing me up!’ Mick begged his aunt, but nevertheless reiterated her invitation to his friend.
Glad to accept, for this would transform his lie to Aunt Kit into a truth, Probyn tore himself away from the box he had admired so much. ‘I’d love to stay, Mrs Lanigan, if it’s no trouble.’
‘We’ll be going into town first though,’ Mick told his aunt, comb in hand.
‘And what will you boys be up to? Anything I should report back to your mother – oh by the way!’ Louisa hurried over to the sideboard. ‘Have ye finished this library book ye borrowed?’
Mick seemed at once embarrassed and merely nodded into the mirror. The haircut looked less severe now, fresh curls beginning to form.
‘Well ye can take it back. I know you, you’ll be trotting off at the end of the week and leaving me to pay the fine.’
Obviously uncomfortable at having this mentioned, Mick mumbled that he would take it back tomorrow and tried to change the subject, but his aunt insisted he take it back right now and held it out to him.
With Melody’s hands occupied in arranging his glengarry, Probyn took quick possession of the volume. Melody, reading a book? Whatever next! Intrigued, he sneaked a look inside the cover but the text was unfamiliar. In fact he was taken aback by the intricately worded content, and began to see Melody in a new light. If he were truly able to decipher this sort of thing then the hail fellow well met attitude, the carousing and drinking, was all an act. There was more to him than met the eye.
Snatching the book from his pal, Mick shoved it under his arm, still looking self-conscious. ‘Away with ye then, Pa!’
‘I didn’t know you enjoyed reading,’ said Probyn as they went first to the library.
Mick was dismissive. ‘No well, ’tis not the sort o’ thing to brag about at the garrison. A man likes to fit in doesn’t he?’
After returning the library book, the two young soldiers wandered around town looking for adventure, and were not slow in finding it. Having stopped to buy some mussels at a market stall, Probyn felt someone poke him in the back and turned to find himself accosted by a man in a dangerous state of inebriation. What was more, his assailant was brandishing a revolver.
‘You lobby-lobsters!’ The man swayed. ‘Think you’re brave?’
With Mick open-mouthed and paralysed by shock, Probyn held up his hands, trying to look fearless, though his heart was thumping. ‘Steady now, we’re unarmed!’ He looked around, seeking assistance. The man who owned the fish stall had run off, and though there were plenty of onlookers no one seemed keen to help the soldiers. Never dreaming he would be required to put his military training into action so soon, he had no option but to handle this himself.
&n
bsp; ‘Stay back!’ warned the drunkard as Probyn made a move towards him and he discharged the revolver.
Women screamed as Probyn staggered back holding his body. Aghast, he looked down expecting to find blood, but a swift inspection told him that he was unhurt and, furious now, he lashed out automatically, knocking the revolver out of the man’s hands. Whereupon both he and Mick seized their would-be assassin and bundled him to the greasy cobblestones where they continued to pin him struggling and bawling.
Once the man was disarmed, the crowd tightened its circle, murmuring admiration for the heroes as the stall holder returned with a policeman who immediately took charge and placed the villain under arrest. Volunteering their regimental details, the soldiers were informed that they might be required to give evidence in court. Finally, the drunkard was hauled away to the cells and the crowd began to disperse.
Heaving a joint sigh of relief, their ears ringing with praise, Probyn and Mick brushed themselves off, but could not so easily remove the tremble of excitement at their first taste of danger.
‘I hope I’m a better shot than he is,’ breathed Mick. ‘Standing two inches away and he didn’t even nick ye.’
‘Don’t sound so disappointed about it!’ But Probyn felt exceedingly pleased with himself. ‘Do you think it’ll be in the papers?’ No sooner had he said it than a horrible thought wiped the grin from his face. If Aunt Kit read of his association with Melody there would be ructions. He had intended to tell her all about this heroic escapade when he got home but now decided to keep quiet.
‘What’s up?’ Mick had seen his pal’s face drop.
‘I were just thinking our involvement might not go down too well with the CO, let’s get a move on before a reporter comes nosing round.’ Probyn was about to move off when he noticed that two female members of the crowd had lingered and were staring quite openly in adoration. He nudged his companion. ‘Eh, I think we’ve got some admirers!’
Family of the Empire Page 14
