Swearing Allegiance (The Carmody Saga Book 1) Page 23

  By midday, his train was passing the northern suburbs of Birmingham. He felt strangely relaxed but excited too. He was a lot more comfortable than the last time he did this journey, he thought. Of course he’d been going in the opposite direction and had been in the company of good pals. He missed the lads. Londoners were far too sombre and talked of nothing but war. They wouldn’t know how to have a good time if it hit them in the face. He looked out the window at endless rolling fields and animals grazing. There was not a trace of war to be seen, just beauty and quiet peacefulness.

  This train would take him all the way to Liverpool, and from there he’d take another train into North Wales. He didn’t expect to reach Bala until late that night, but he wasn’t too bothered, for he’d be so tired by then that he’d probably be happy to sleep on a pile of sheep’s dung.

  A conductor came through the carriage with a trolley. Danny asked for a cup of tea and a biscuit. He was surprised that such niceties were still being offered, what with the food shortages everywhere. Sipping the tea, he felt the first stirrings of guilt. He’d pinched three shillings from Patrick and a couple of sixpences from Minnie’s room, and he hadn’t handed in all of his wages that week to Minnie. He’d make it up to them, he thought, feeling the warm tea slide down his throat. Sure, he wasn’t a thief, just a desperate man in love.

  The man sitting opposite was reading a newspaper. When he’d finished with it, he looked at Danny and shook his head in a gesture of disgust.

  “Have you read this?” he asked in a thick Northern accent.

  “No, what’s happened now?” Danny asked him, happy to have someone to talk to.

  “Terrible things. It’s all bad news. The country is in a state of political upheaval since Mr Asquith’s resignation as prime minister. If you ask me, I blame that Lloyd George. Can you imagine anyone refusing to act as war minister when the country is involved in a conflict that’s killing millions?”

  Danny thought it typical that an English politician behaved as though he were God Almighty. At times, the government acted as though they were of higher rank than their king was. “And what’s he heckling about, then?”

  “He wants the council to be reduced to four, and he doesn’t want the prime minister as chairman.”

  Not knowing or caring what the council in question was, Danny said, “Sure, they’re squabbling like silly little boys. You’d think they’d have better things to do with their time.”

  “I agree, and what makes it worse is Germany’s entry into Bucharest. It says here that they’ve also taken a strategic railway line at Ploesti – my God …”

  “Is that important?”

  “Of course it is, son! That line goes all the way into Russia. They’ll cut off supplies and starve those poor Russians to death. I can’t stand the thought of that Kaiser being victorious in Europe. He must be feeling boisterously triumphant! According to this newspaper, he has Warsaw, Belgrade, Cetinje, and now Bucharest in his pocket. He won’t take London. By God he won’t! But you mark my words: this war is going to last a decade or more. I’ll be dead and in my bloody grave before the last bullet is fired.”

  Danny felt resentment growing. Ireland’s future was all he cared about. The war was delaying the independence issue. No Irishman wanted to get involved in another violent altercation whilst the tide of popular support had shifted their eyes and thoughts to Britain’s struggles. It would be political suicide. If he were honest, he didn’t want the violence either. And besides, Michael Collins and some of the other new leaders were still in Frongoch, so he’d read in the newspaper recently.

  “It has to end sometime soon; otherwise, there will be no men left alive to fight,” Danny answered. “My brother has just come home. He was on the Britannic when she went down.”

  For an hour, the two men spoke about the war. The man seemed to be aware of everything that was going on in the war, from London to the desert in Arabia. He was a fountain of information, Danny acknowledged, a bit like Minnie in that regard. He knew all about the different battles. He was even estimating how many soldiers were dying every day. He could count the number of bombs the Zeppelins had dropped on London and their exact locations. It was a depressing conversation but also enlightening.

  The train finally arrived in Liverpool. Danny said goodbye to his travel companion and headed straight for a conductor standing on the platform, directing passengers. The train he wanted was leaving from the other side of the station, he was told, but he wasn’t too worried. He’d have plenty of time to catch it. He had no bags to carry and, unlike some passengers, no children or wife to usher along.

  It was still dark when Danny awoke inside the derelict hut that he’d found late the previous night. It was situated in the middle of a field that sat between the villages of Bala and Frongoch. Its door was broken and had been left to swing in the wind. It was bare inside, apart from a thin layer of straw and a few piles of dung. His previous thought – that he wouldn’t care about sleeping on a pile of sheep’s dung – hadn’t seemed so appealing after the night he’d had. The place had stunk so much that he’d slept no more than a couple of hours.

  He was careful to avoid the road leading to the prison camp. Supply trucks and the bus that brought guards from the village were bound to be coming and going at this time of the morning. Crossing the fields, he felt his legs being weighed down by mud. The land around Frongoch had been pretty in the summer, he thought, but now it looked dismal. The recent rains down south had obviously fallen in Wales too, for the green fields he remembered were now brown slushy baths stretching for miles.

  He crossed over to the road and halted when he reached the last bend before the main gate. It was sheltered from the tower guards’ line of sight and meant that when he eventually saw Anna and Dia approaching in their dad’s battered van, he’d be able to stop it in its tracks without being seen by anyone at Frongoch.

  Hunkering down behind a pile of soaking branches at the edge of the road, he wished that Anna had given him her address. It would have been a hell of a lot easier to wait outside her house than in this shite-mired freezing cold field.

  Keeping his eyes on the approaching road, he saw the first supply truck laboriously making its way along the uneven mud-spattered track. An hour had passed already. It was just getting light, and he calculated that Dai and Anna would appear any minute. The plan was simple – and the only one he had come up with that made any sense. His heartbeat started to quicken. He only had one opportunity, he kept telling himself, and if he messed it up, he wouldn’t get another chance.

  At last, he saw the black van. It was unmistakable. He stepped onto the road, planted his feet, and then waved his arms in the air. The van came to a screeching halt, sliding sideways in the mud. For a brief second, Danny stood where he was, staring through the front window. He saw Dai but no Anna.

  Dai had a thunderous scowl on his face. Getting out of the van, he stood hands on hips, legs slightly apart, and with a surprised expression, which was not welcoming, no matter how hard Danny stared at it.

  “Do you remember me, Dai?” Danny asked pleasantly.

  Recognition crossed Dai’s face, but so did anger. “How could I forget you? You’re Danny Carmody. You took advantage of my sister the whole time you were locked up. I ought to tan your hide, you know.”

  Danny swallowed uncomfortably. How did Dai find out about his sister’s secret trysts? Surely Anna didn’t tell him.

  “I swear to God, Dai, I didn’t take advantage of Anna. I love her. I’ve come back to ask for her hand in marriage.” Then he thought to ask, “Where is she?”

  Sneering, Dai said, “She’s at home with a cough – and just as well. She doesn’t want anything to do with the likes of you.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear that from her, not you. Where do you live?”

  To Danny’s surprise, Dai turned his back, walked back towards the van, and shouted over his shoulder, “I’m not telling you. Best you get out of my way now or I
’ll run you over like a rabbit – I’m not joking.”

  Panicking, Danny moved towards the van. He refused to leave empty-handed. He’d come all this way for her, and he was not leaving without her.

  “Aw, c’mon, Dai. Just tell me where I can find her – that’s a good man.”

  Dai started the engine, revving it up menacingly. Rolling down the window, he shouted, “Get out of the way! I mean it – I’ll run you over!”

  Danny crossed his arms, defiantly remained in the centre of the road, and shouted, “I’m not going till I find Anna!”

  Dai took off the brake and pushed his foot down hard. Danny still stood his ground, refusing to give up. The van’s tyres threw up a thick curtain of mud, spraying the air and momentarily blinding Danny. He heard the screech of tyres and staggered sideways to get out of the way, and then his left side collided with what felt like a thick brick wall, the force of which sent him flying into the air.

  Lying in agony on the soggy ground at the side of the road, he looked up to see Dai standing over him. His face was chalk white, his eyes filled with a thousand apologies.

  “Christ, Danny, what did you go and make me do that for?”

  Danny tried to focus through a blinding fog. “Oh, sweet Jesus, I’m dying – I love your sister,” he said, just before he passed out.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Bruised, battered, and with his pride left in the road where he’d fallen, Danny lay on a couch listening to voices whispering and making no sense whatsoever. Cautiously he opened his eyes. Anna, kneeling in front of him and staring intently, was bathed in a beautiful light. He looked at her blurry figure, blinked, and then gave her an adoring smile.

  “My Anna – sure, you’re an angel, come to visit me,” he said groggily.

  “You came to visit me,” she said hoarsely. “Oh, Danny, why did you come back? You nearly got yourself killed.”

  A voice in the distance shouted, “Anna, get away from him now!”

  “But, Da, he’s awake!”

  Danny craned his neck. The voices behind him were still talking. Anna squeezed his hand, rose, and disappeared. He tried to sit up to see where she was going, but the pain in his head and side knocked the wind out of him. Jesus, he was crippled. His body hurt so much it was hard to even speak.

  The conversation between men standing behind him faded into the distance as images darted back and forth in his mind. He remembered the muck being thrown up and saturating him, the van revving loudly and then sliding towards him. Showered with mud, he’d sidestepped just in time to dodge the vehicle’s full force from hitting his body head-on. Christ, he was a lucky man. He was feeling very sore, but he was alive, thanks to a miracle.

  In his befuddled mind, he wondered if this was Anna’s house. It wasn’t a hospital? He was not in a bed. Without moving a muscle, he shifted his eyes to every visible point in the room. It was sparsely decorated, from what he could tell, but there was a fireplace and luxurious warmth emanating from bright orange flames. It was grand.

  The voices behind grew louder, disturbing Danny’s peaceful thoughts.

  “Will you be arresting him, then?” a man with a gruff tone wanted to know.

  “There’s no need for that, Da.” Danny recognised Dai’s voice.

  “He won’t be able to move for a few days,” a man with a kinder intonation said.

  “That’s not my concern. I want him out of here and thrown in jail,” the first voice he’d heard said angrily.

  At the mention of jail, Danny tried to sit up again, groaning louder than the first time he’d attempted to move. His head slumped back onto the pillow, and then, one by one, he saw the men he had heard coming to stand in front of him.

  He stared up at the faces gazing down at him. Dai was there. Next to him was an older man who looked like Dai. Slightly behind him was a policeman in uniform and an elderly well-dressed gentleman about the same age as Minnie. They were looking at him with varying expressions. The elderly man appeared to be sympathetic, but the others didn’t seem to be concerned for his well-being with any stretch of the imagination.

  The elderly man was the first to speak directly to him. “I’m Dr Williams. You mustn’t move. You’ve not broken anything, but your ribs and hip are bruised black and blue, and you have a hell of a bump on your head. You’re a very fortunate young man.”

  Nodding that he understood, Danny looked at the other man, who looked like Dai.

  “Sir?”

  “Don’t you ‘sir’ me, boyo. If you weren’t so banged up, I’d be breaking your ribs myself!”

  That must be Anna’s dad, Danny thought. He had a thick Welsh accent, a familiar face, apart from the angry eyes, and was displaying the blatant disapproval of the Irish that she’d described. He searched again for Anna but couldn’t see her.

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” he muttered in the grim silence that followed.

  The police officer held a notebook in his hand. Looking very official and quite excited, he asked Danny, “Are you a spy for the Irish rebels? Is that why you came back to Frongoch? Did you come from Dublin with secret messages for the prisoners?”

  “Don’t be daft,” Danny mumbled, thinking the question was preposterous. “I came here to speak to Anna. I’ve got no interest in the prison camp. I live with my granny and mam in London. I’m doing war work in Deptford, for God’s sake.”

  For the first time, he spotted a woman sitting in the corner of the room knitting. She appeared to be content to listen, for she had not opened her mouth to speak, nor had she come near him. Danny presumed she was Anna’s mother. She smiled at him, and he dared to smile back.

  “So what are we going to do with him, then, Harold?” Dai’s dad asked the policeman.

  “Well, Arthur, I’ll take a statement from him, but I don’t think he’s dangerous. Dai, did he give you any reason to believe that he was here to make trouble?”

  Grudgingly Dai answered, “No, I think he was telling the truth. It’s our Anna he’s after.”

  “I wouldn’t believe a bloody word an Irishman says,” Arthur grumbled.

  Anna appeared again. Standing next to her father, she looked scared but determined.

  “Don’t blame him. If Dai hadn’t ripped that note out of my hand with Danny’s address on it, I would have written to him, and he wouldn’t have had to come here in the first place. And now Dai is trying to kill him!”

  “No, I’m not,” Dai mumbled.

  “Da, I love him, and I’m really happy to see him.” Anna’s voice broke and she began to cry.

  Danny’s heart leapt at the sound of her words. His feelings hadn’t changed. He was still mad about her, and she was still in love with him too. Damn Dai. If he could get up, he’d punch him in the face for causing months of worry. He grinned at Anna. At last he knew the reason as to why she’d not written to him, and now he didn’t care what the men said or did to him. The long journey had been worth it, and getting run over like a hedgehog in the road had been a small price to pay for such happiness.

  He looked at Dai’s worried face and thought that he should thank the bugger. Danny couldn’t recall what had happened after being mowed down, but it was fair to assume that Dai had lifted him into his van and then transported him here. It had worked out rather well. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

  “Oh, behave yourself, girl. How can you be in love with a prisoner that you served in the shop, from behind a counter?” Arthur, Anna’s father, wanted to know. “There’s love and there’s love, and you can’t be feeling the real thing.” Glaring at Danny, he seethed, “If I find out you laid your hands on my daughter, there will be hell to pay!”

  “I didn’t touch her. We just kissed. I swear it on my mother’s life,” Danny said hurriedly.

  Arthur’s eyes widened. “Anna, are you pregnant?”

  The woman sitting in the chair in the corner put down her knitting and walked to the couch. “That’s enough of that talk, Arthur,” she said angrily. “Ho
w can she be pregnant when she hasn’t laid eyes on the boy for over three months? Look at her. She’s a flat as a pancake. And you should know better than to even ask that question of your daughter, like she was a little strumpet.” Still frowning, she turned her attention to Danny.

  “Hello, my name is Edna. You gave us all a bit of a fright, you did.”

  “Sorry,” Danny said apologetically, thinking he wasn’t the one who’d committed the violent act that had stuck him on the couch, unable to move a muscle.

  “So tell me now, what exactly are your intentions?” Edna asked.

  “I intend to ask for Anna’s hand in marriage – no, that’s wrong. I don’t intend to; I am asking. I want to do things properly. I know it might seem strange to you all, but we fell in love at first sight, even from across the counter that divided us. I’ve not been able to get her out of my mind, and I never will …”

  “That’s a pile of nonsense,” Arthur said.

  “No, it’s not, Mr Watkins. I promise you I’ll look after her for the rest of her life, if she’ll have me as her husband,” Danny retorted.

  “I love you too, Danny,” Anna said with cracked voice.

  Wagging her index finger at Dai, Edna continued. “Do you hear that? They’re in love. You had no right to take that piece of paper from your sister. She has a mind of her own, and it was wrong of you to take her right to choose away from her.”

  Dai waved his hand in Danny’s direction. “He’s no good for her, Ma. He’s a traitor to the country. Is that the sort of man you want our Anna to marry?”

  Arthur said, “Edna, our daughter will marry him over my dead body.”

  Danny shut his eyes. The pain was becoming unbearable. The voices in the room rose to a crescendo and were beginning to sound incoherent and as loud as an orchestra, except none of the instruments were mixing well together to make a decent tune. He was so tired and dizzy. Not even for Anna could he keep his eyes open.