Family of the Empire

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Pretending to attend to his uniform, brushing and flicking with a hand, Mick gave a sly glance at the pair who smiled invitingly.

  After a series of coy exchanges, Probyn murmured, ‘Shall I go ask if they want to come for a walk?’

  Mick fell prey to his natural inhibitions. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t!’

  ‘Go on!’ Wiser after the episode with the factory girls and the concert, Probyn would make sure he was not similarly duped again. ‘A walk won’t cost us owt.’ Despite being paid before coming on leave their wages had been riddled by barrack damages and replacement of lost kit; he was determined to hang on to the rest of it.

  Mick gnawed his lip. ‘’Tis terrible trouble I’ll be in if me mother finds out.’

  But his argument was to become academic, for it was the girls who forced the issue.

  ‘Me sister and I think you’re really brave!’ Close up, the speaker was not so demure as she had seemed at first.

  But Probyn did not mind, smiling at the compliment. ‘Oh, not really. He wasn’t a very good shot. We were just about to ask if you wanted to come for a walk? We’re in York on holiday and we thought you might show us the sights.’

  ‘Our pleasure!’ Both girls wasted no further time and linked arms with the soldiers without even being invited, giving their names as Mabel and Ruby. ‘Then afterwards you might like to come home with us for a cup of tea? Our mam isn’t in.’

  Without daring to look at his friend, Probyn said he would look forward to that.

  However, the tour of York’s ancient landmarks was cut short by one of the girls saying that the soldiers must be gasping for refreshment. Fearing this meant an expensive visit to a cafe, Probyn was reassured to be led to the girls’ home where a pot of tea was duly brewed and consumed.

  ‘You’ve got lovely curly hair,’ Mick’s companion told him, to Probyn’s disgust. ‘Just like our dad’s isn’t it, Ruby?’

  Mick, primarily flustered by the compliment, now looked alarmed. ‘Em, your father won’t mind us being here?’

  ‘Oh no, he’s dead,’ she replied. ‘You’re ever so like him. There’s a picture of him in the parlour, do you want to come and look?’ Giving him no choice she removed the empty cup and saucer behind which he had been hiding and led him from the room.

  Alone with Ruby, Probyn was happily nervous, voluntarily putting his cup aside. It was obvious that her sister had sought privacy in order to kiss Mick, but was he to be as lucky? He had never done this before.

  His concern was needless for Ruby took the initiative, sitting on his knee and pressing her warm lips to his quite boldly.

  More kisses followed. Then, in an act of the utmost audacity, she took his hand and placed it under her clothes. Immediately something leapt inside him. He had heard of girls like this but had not quite believed it. The kisses became harder. So did something else. He felt deeply embarrassed but did not want it to stop, nor did he know what to do next. He had always been inquisitive about sex but no information of that nature would ever pass his father’s lips and his meagre knowledge of it had only been gleaned outside the home, from youths at work and from Aunt Kit’s News of the World when he could sneak a look at it.

  But now his crude perception was apparently going to be widened. The girl was removing articles of her clothing and inviting him to do likewise. He was not silly enough to refuse.

  * * *

  After Ruby’s seduction of him they dressed straightaway for she said her mother would soon be home. She then went to tap on the parlour door to alert her sister who reappeared almost immediately with Mick.

  Feeling thoroughly delighted with himself, if slightly shameful at the rapidity of his departure, Probyn made his way home with Mick, the latter quietly thoughtful.

  For a while nothing was said, until Probyn could bear the suspense no longer. ‘Did anything happen with whatsername in the parlour?’

  ‘No!’ blurted Mick immediately, then frowned inquisitively. ‘What sort of thing would ye be meaning?’

  Probyn shrugged and affected to reach into his pocket for something. ‘Well … kissing and stuff.’

  Mick scratched the back of his neck and looked embarrassed. ‘All right, I confess she did kiss me. But then she – oh, I daren’t say it!’ He covered his mouth. ‘The most outrageous hussy, not the type a man would want to introduce to his mother. Well, I told her, I wasn’t having any of it!’

  At the affronted tone, Probyn was made to feel even more scandalous that he himself had yielded to lust. ‘You mean she was going to – and you said no?’

  ‘Of course I did!’ Mick’s look of outrage turned to suspicion. ‘Did yours—’

  ‘No!’ Probyn denied it vigorously. ‘I wouldn’t do anything like that. Just kissing and cuddling, you know.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing sinful in that.’ Mick’s curly head gave an adamant nod. Yet he became silently thoughtful as they walked, looking up at the sky and performing a tuneless whistle. Lighting a cigarette, he eventually asked, ‘D’ye think it’s true that a girl can have a baby just by kissing?’

  Probyn experienced a jolt. Not once had he thought of that! What if he had to marry Ruby? He didn’t even like her! He stroked his lips in worried fashion.

  Mick immediately interpreted that look of thoughtfulness, exclaiming, ‘You dirty dog! Ye did, didn’t ye?’

  With a guilty grin Probyn was forced to confess.

  ‘Me too!’ Mick covered his mouth, then whispered, ‘Oh I shouldn’t say this, but wasn’t it great!’

  His co-conspirator chuckled heartily with him. ‘I still can’t believe my luck!’ Then Probyn tried to look guilty, which was difficult wearing so broad a grin. ‘Oh, but what if they get in the pudding club and come looking for us? I don’t even like mine!’

  ‘Me neither!’ Mick was chortling now. ‘Chroist I don’t know why I’m laughing. Whatever will I say in confession?’

  ‘Why bother saying anything?’ Having become quite familiar with Melody’s religion, Probyn still could not come to grips with the Catholic’s hypocritical habit of confessing all sins on a Saturday only to commit those same offences again the next day.

  ‘’Tis easy for you to say that! You’re going to hell anyway, being a Protestant.’

  Thinking this was a jest Probyn laughed, but then saw that Mick was deadly serious. ‘Do you really have to tell the priest everything?’

  ‘Every single detail,’ wailed Mick. ‘And I only went out to return a library book.’

  * * *

  When Probyn got home that evening it was dark and, hearing the dog bark, Kit was at the door to light his way down the path with a paraffin lamp. ‘Did you have a nice time? What did you have for your tea?’

  ‘Oh, er, we had a little party.’ Ears pink from the cold, Probyn fell onto a sofa and smiled at Uncle Worthy in his chair by the fire. ‘It was me pal’s birthday.’

  ‘Fancy!’ Kit lowered herself beside him. ‘What did you say they call him by the way?’

  Rubbing his hands to warm them, her nephew stumbled over his answer but was saved by Kit herself who laughed uproariously and patted his knee, including Worthy in the joke. ‘Oh, don’t get yourself all het up, lad! We won’t tell your father.’

  Probyn was shocked. He was sure he had not let Mick’s name slip. ‘You mean, you know?’

  ‘That you’ve been meeting a lass? Well, it didn’t take much working out when you didn’t want me to come with you! He’s a she, isn’t she? What’s she called?’

  Half relieved that Kit remained ignorant of his association with a Catholic, half guilty for deceiving his favourite aunt, Probyn mumbled an answer, trying to muster some truism. ‘It’s nowt serious! We didn’t arrange to meet again.’

  ‘Aw!’ Kit shared what she saw as his disappointment. ‘Never mind, there won’t be any shortage of lasses for a good looking lad like you, will there, Worthy?’ With a last pat of his leg she stood briefly in order to fetch an orange which she began to peel into her lap. ‘Eh, it�
�s been grand having you here. I’ll be sad to see you go.’

  He smiled, watching her fingers disrobe the fruit, nostrils twitching as little explosions of juice scented the air. ‘I’ll be sad to go too, Aunt, though I can’t say I’ll be sorry to be rid of all this clucking and grunting that wakes me up every morning.’

  Kit looked apologetic. ‘I know, it’s dreadful. I’ve had your Uncle Worthy to the doctor’s but they can’t seem to do anything for him.’ Probyn laughed at the big man’s remonstrance and at the jocular exchange that followed between husband and wife. Theirs was such a nice loving household, and even more so tonight.

  Kit’s clear blue eyes remained locked with her husband’s for a moment, sharing their secret; they were to have another child in autumn. However, this was not a fitting subject to tell a youngster. Instead she handed him a skein of orange and one to her husband. ‘Well, now your secret’s out, Probe, you’re more than welcome to invite your young lady here.’

  ‘Thank you, Aunt, but I prefer to spend the rest of my time here with you.’ Though disappointed that there was not to be further sexual adventure that week, Probyn could afford to be philosophical as he bit into the juicy skein. Now, at last, he knew the full extent of what it meant to be a man.

  * * *

  Chopping sticks for kindling, collecting eggs and cleaning out the henhouse to earn his keep, the rest of that week passed quietly, save for one awful moment when Aunt Kit saw the shooting incident reported in the police court proceedings column of the Yorkshire Evening Press. Luckily no names were mentioned, apart from the defendant’s, for the man had pleaded guilty and so the soldiers’ evidence would not be required. For Probyn it was rather disappointing in one respect, that such heroism could not be recognized: if only he had not been accompanied by an Irishman he would have gladly confessed his involvement. As it was, he would just have to remain anonymous.

  On Saturday morning, Kit wrapped a parcel of food for Probyn to take back to barracks. Moreover, she and Worthy insisted on driving their nephew to the railway station. Fearful of colliding with Mick Melody, he begged them not to hang around, they must surely have things to do, but to his alarm they escorted him right to the platform and waited for the train to arrive.

  Fortunately, by the time the train arrived there was still no sign of Melody. Grateful for this, the young soldier quickly boarded and, opening the narrow window of his compartment, urged his aunt and uncle to leave now. ‘I don’t want to be responsible for Toby catching a chill,’ he told them when they continued to linger. ‘You must all be freezing on that platform.’

  ‘Nay, we’ve got enough fat on us!’ joked Kit. ‘Another minute or two won’t make a difference. Oh, it looks like you’re off anyway.’ There came the sound of doors being slammed. She held Toby’s little hand aloft. ‘Wave bye-bye to your cousin, Tobe!’

  Probyn was much relieved to see the guard making ready with his green flag and whistle. Sinking onto the moquette seat he waved cheerily to the infant.

  But just when it looked as if departure was imminent a screaming horde descended on the platform, yelling at the train – ‘Stop! There’s someone wants to get on!’– and that someone was Private Melody, encircled by the type of people whom his aunt had always warned him to stay away from.

  ‘There’s Pa!’ Spotting his pal’s face at the window, Melody made a beeline, wrenching frantically at the carriage door and flopping down in relief on the seat beside him, then instantly bounding up again to wave at his aunt, uncle and numerous cousins who were now standing next to a disgusted Kit on the platform waving and hollering their goodbyes as the whistle shrilled and the train finally did start to move.

  ‘Is that your aunt and uncle?’ demanded Melody and, at Probyn’s sickly nod, included Kit and Worthy in his wave, shouting through the small open window, ‘Hello there! I’m Probe’s friend. Pleased to meet yese! Dat’s my aunty there next to yese!’

  The look on Kit’s face as the train slowly chugged away was sufficient to convey her annoyance to her devastated nephew. And if it were not enough, Probyn saw her lips move in further condemnation as she mouthed her opinion to Uncle Worthy. ‘That lying little toad!’

  6

  The moment he arrived back at the depot Probyn scribbled an apology to Kit. It was not, he said that he had intentionally deceived her, but simply that he knew she would be upset with his choice of companion and he did not really have any alternative for these were his comrades in arms. Besides, he wrote, the Irish boys are not such bad chaps you know, Aunt Kit …

  Whether it had the desired effect he was not to learn, for within hours he was being handed a travel warrant and told to form up in readiness to march to the station, thence to entrain for Liverpool. There were also goodbyes to be made.

  Though not sorry to see the back of his drill instructors Probyn was taken aback when the grizzled Felix Lennon came to extend good wishes. ‘I thought you’d be coming with us, Grandma!’

  ‘Not with my time expiring in summer,’ replied Felix. ‘I doubt I’ll be here when ye get back to depot, so here’s wishing ye luck.’ The sentiment was peppered with the usual expletives.

  ‘And to you too. Where will you go?’ asked Probyn. ‘Have you any family?’

  ‘Not at all, no. I’ll probably take lodgings round here. Find a little labouring job to supplement my pension.’

  Probyn considered this an ignoble end for one who had served his country, and mentally vowed it would never happen to him. ‘Tell me, Felix, did you never fancy going for promotion?’

  There was the hint of derision on the weathered face. ‘Lose my good conduct pay in exchange for ordering a few swaddies around? Ask me that again when ye’ve got six rooty-gongs yourself.’

  Probyn was respectful. ‘Mm, I think I might go for the exam as soon as I’m able.’

  Felix had already recognized the other’s ambition. ‘Ah well, if that’s your choice I wish ye success. I’m sure you’ll go far, so long as ye listen to good advice and don’t crack on ye know everything already.’ He beckoned the youngster to come closer, as if about to bestow a last favour, but instead displayed the contents of his shelf. ‘I’ll be selling me kit when I go, you can take first choice, whatever ye fancy.’

  Probyn was bemused. ‘But you’ll still need it until summer.’

  ‘No, I’ve accumulated extra bits and pieces over the years so I have a spare set that I keep for inspections, so’s I don’t have to be cleaning all the time do you see.’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’ Probyn stroked his chin and scanned the shelf, looking for items that might be of most use.

  Felix sensed a lack of enthusiasm. ‘Sure, I know you’re careful with your money and ye must have plenty put by. Never was there a greater opportunity to put it to good use. How about these boots here? You’re the same size as meself. They’ll be a godsend when ye come in dripping wet – and I’ll throw the tin of blacking in.’

  Probyn accepted the well-worn boots. Though reluctant to encumber himself he recognized the old soldier’s need for cash, and selected what other items he could afford.

  Felix was duly grateful. After pocketing the coins he gripped Probyn’s hand with bony digits. It was obvious he liked the younger man. ‘Goodbye to ye now, Padre. Enjoy the Old Country.’

  Though wondering what on earth there was to be enjoyed about Ireland, Probyn nevertheless returned the handshake warmly and thanked Felix again for all his assistance.

  * * *

  However, some hours later, once on the dock about to embark, the young man revised his opinion of his destination and decided he was excited after all. There might not be an exotic location at the end of the voyage, but there was the promise of much accomplishment. Up until now he had only used his rifle for drill; soon he would be allowed to fire it. Then at last he would be a fully-fledged soldier.

  In the odd moment that he was not consumed by thoughts of soldiering he was engrossed by images of sex. Shameful though it might be, he could not hel
p wanting it again. They had not discussed it since that afternoon but he guessed from the preoccupied look on Melody’s face now that he harboured a similar longing. Perhaps between musketry practices the opportunity would arise for more sensual application.

  Once aboard, though, there were other distractions, new and interesting people to meet and, the weather being unusually clement, Probyn thoroughly enjoyed every minute of his crossing.

  They arrived in Ireland to a downpour and were billeted overnight in Dublin, in parts a most elegant aristocratic town yet spoilt by abundant beggars, even its finer quarters possessing that air of indolence which Probyn attributed to all Irishmen.

  In the morning they were crammed onto another train that was to take them away deep into the heart of the country. And what a wild and ancient heart it was, decided Probyn, watching through the constant drizzle a succession of ruined churches, untamed heath and forbidding purple hills flit by his carriage window. Under this grey sky, the landscape was unlike any he had seen in England, making him aware that this was home service in name only. The deeper their incursion the grimmer it became, flat plains of rugged grassland broken only by dark patches of bog and a lonely wading bird, and occasionally a tumble-down cottage. No wonder, he thought, that much of the population had chosen to live abroad.

  Stiff and bored after miles of sitting still, their only source of amusement a farting competition won by Private Oliver whose expertise none could surpass, the infantrymen heaved a mass sigh of approval when the train finally arrived at Birr, although the rain made for a miserable welcome. Nonetheless, as they jostled to alight, a military band struck a rousing welcome serving to lift their spirits considerably. Probyn and his companions were happy to be escorted by trombones and drums along the rain-drenched route into town, the attention they received along the way making the youngsters feel akin to royalty.