7. Breaking Away

OVER THE NEXT WEEK, THE QUESTIONS NEVER LEFT HIM. He found himself daydreaming, wondering when the soldiers would begin their dark mission.

"Alec," Aga said. "What is wrong with you, lad? You've set the breakfast plates for supper, and the teapot is about to sail right off the cooker. Are you daft, boy? What's keeping you in such a state? Come here and let me look at you. What's wrong?"

"Nowt—nothing, Aga, nothing is wrong. I'm just not sleeping, you know. I can't seem to get the sleep I need."

"Well, don't be letting your father hear that, lad," Aga warned. "Mr. Frank is just looking for a chance to keep you here in the inn all day—wants you to help me. So don't be telling your father that you're worn out. He won't allow you to go back when the captain decides to go out again."

"Aye," Alec said, "I'm not about to tell Father how nasty I feel. I'll just go to my room right after supper."

But he didn't rest much. He worried instead—about the soldiers, about France and what was waiting for Courtright and his men. Specially selected—the words still lingered in his head. He now knew that demolition was part of their mission.

Could anyone sleep, knowing what I've discovered? And Thomas—what will happen to him? Alec's journal held a dozen questions he wished he could ask the lieutenant. But since he wasn't supposed to know anything about the soldiers' mission, he was forced to live with the fear that kept him awake.

He left his light burning late into the night, writing down other thoughts. Then, still unable to settle down, he put out the lamp and stood by his window, the drapes drawn back. Nothing stirred. Everything was black but for the moon that reflected off the Anderson shelter below him. Gazing at the metal roof, he knew the shelter wouldn't begin to save them from a bomb. Why, it couldn't even keep water from seeping in. He closed the drapes and lay back down on his bed.

He wished he could talk to Margaret. He could tell her the news, and she wouldn't betray him. Though he was not a soldier and was barely a seaman, he knew when something was wrong. And Lieutenant Courtright's secret mission was wrong for England. Alec hated knowing it alone. But for now, he had to hide it in his mind and not let it out.

Sometime during the night, sleep finally came.

"I know it's your dream to be on a boat, Alec boy," Aga said the next morning when Alec appeared, looking worse than the day before. "But I'm beginning to think your father's right. You're too young—not yet strong enough for a seaman's life. You'd be much better off here at the Shaftbury, taking over for your mum and dad someday. That's a life with more promise than to be a shipmate on the Channel. The sea holds too many surprises. I'm hoping Captain Cairns's ship stays docked for a good long while."

"We'll be safe, Aga, you'll see. Besides, a full shipmate, well, that's a long time off. I'm only a galley boy. I have to earn my place." He yawned as he reached for the tins on the larder shelf.

"Oh, Alec," his mother said, joining them in the kitchen. "You look awful. You're worn ragged from your work here. How could you manage the Shaftbury and the Britannia? How do you expect to keep up? Why not do as your father asks and give up these silly notions of owning a boat and working on the docks?"

Alec was silenced by his mother's harsh words. In recent days, although she had not taken his side in front of her husband, she had not criticized Alec, either. Instead, she was usually silent during his father's tirades, waiting until she was alone with Alec to talk. She had never been so strong against him as now.

"I mean it, Alec," she continued. "You can no longer expect us to agree with this galley boy job. It's a ghastly life for a boy your age. You could have been lost that day; it was more than a small Channel storm."

"You don't understand." Alec held out his hands. "We had some bad luck, but we were not in danger. And I'm not asking you to agree with my choice. Please, Mum, I'm only asking you to let me have a chance. I'll be responsible for what happens. I want to be a seaman, and I'm not afraid of what that demands. You'll see; I can make it to first mate and then to owning my own boat. You'll see."

His mother looked at him. Her words seemed to have made him more determined.

"I've got to be off now," Alec told her. "I told Specs I'd run for supplies." Then, turning to Aga, he said, "I'll be back in a bit." He touched his mother's arm and scooted out the back door.

Alec was disappointed in his mother's betrayal. She had always been loyal to him. How could she turn against him now? He thought about the soldiers in the inn and wondered if they had ever argued with their folks. Or had their parents sent them off with good wishes? It seemed that the older Alec got, the harder it was for him to get along at home. Before Georgie's death, he had gotten into a row now and then with his father, but never anything with his mum.

Since the soldiers had arrived at the Shaftbury, Alec had made a few trips to the store for them. Normally restricted to military personnel, the supply store stocked goods for the troops. Because Lieutenant Courtright and his men were at the inn, Alec was allowed to go to the store to buy their supplies. Sometimes he picked up cigarettes for Specs and Harry. Other times he stopped at the post office to get their stamps. And occasionally he even posted a telegram for Specs to his girlfriend up in Leeds.

The army staff had gotten used to seeing Alec at the store, and they didn't ask him for identification anymore. At times, they even forgot he was around as they talked military business among themselves.

"Too many men shoving off for France, I think. We've got trouble there," one old sergeant growled now to the young clerk at the counter.

"Do ye think so? Or do ye think we're just gettin' ready to wipe out those Jerries in France? Methinks we're too many for the likes of them."

"You mark my words, laddie," the sergeant said. "We're not through with this mess by any means; we've a nasty fight in front of us. Heed my words."

"What?" the other man replied. "What are ye sayin', man? What do ye know?"

The sergeant leaned closer and spoke slowly. "There are rumors about that we'll soon see trouble—big trouble—in France. Those French, they can't hold back the Germans forever. The radio isn't sayin' it yet, but one bloke from up the hill let it slip. Said our troops will be under fire. Said like Poland, France will soon be runnin' from those German panzers. Terrible stuff, those panzers. I've heard they can roll right over a lorry without stoppin'. Crushin' everythin' in their path."

Alec lingered in the aisle. The old sergeant's words had cut through his thoughts. It was just as he feared. Thomas? The trouble in France? The old sergeant was worried as well. As he left, Alec wondered even more about the men at the inn. Maybe the sergeant was just an old blowhard, but his words chilled Alec. Too many pieces in this war were pointing to a disaster.

Will was sitting on the stoop when Alec returned from the store.

"Got some smokes for Specs," Alec said. "And some notepaper for you. Have you heard any more about your orders?"

"No. But we should hear soon. We've already been here longer than we expected."

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you stayed for weeks. Your stories and your banter—they brighten the inn. And Father fusses at me less when you chaps are around."

"Parents don't mean to get in the way," Will said. "They've just lived so long deciding what's best for us that when it's time to let go and keep quiet, they can't do it."

Alec looked puzzled, wondering why Will was saying this to him.

"I heard your mum talking about the inn and your ship—the Britannia, is it? I'm not surprised you're upset. It's hard to grow up, especially as the only lad in a small family."

"This isn't the life I want. But my father ... he won't hear of my doing anything else. He's not being fair. When he was old enough to choose his own way, he bought the Shaftbury. Why can't he give me a choice?"

The air was thick with moisture, and Alec could smell the heavier rain as it moved in from across the Channel. A slight mist settled on their faces. It was still early in the day, and Alec and Will had the street to themselves.

"I know what you're feeling, Alec. Struggled a bit with me folks as well. They don't mean to be harsh; they've had trouble letting go."

"I don't know," Alec shot back. "No matter what I do, it never seems to be good enough for my father. And then—and then something happened, and now I can't do anything to get his respect, either. I'm spent on trying. I can't waste my whole life hoping to please him. He'll never be proud of me. I need my own path."

"Aye, you feel that way now, but over time, you'll come to understand your father's ways. I joined the army against me own dad's wishes. Lied about me age. Me dad—he's a stubborn Irishman. He didn't want me to leave, but I did anyway." Will turned away and continued speaking. "Sure, I want to go with me mates and do what I can to stop the Jerries. But I'd like it more if me mum and dad were behind me.... 'Teaghlach,' my Irish grandda used to say, 'teaghlach—family—is the best gift. Value it above all.'"

"I know what you're saying," Alec said, "but I'm not going to war. It's a seaman I want to be. And I've a job. I'm old enough to choose that for myself."

Fingering the cross hanging about his neck, Will spoke again. "And is what you want worth losing what you already have?"

"But you're doing what you want."

"Aye. And I'm ready to go on with it. It's just a bit lonely sometimes."

Alec hesitated. "So why are you and Specs and Harry and the lieutenant here? At the inn? Why aren't you with the others at the encampment above the cliffs?"

Will didn't seem to mind Alec's question. "Well, mate, we've orders not to say anything about our assignment, but two weeks ago, each of us got a post telling us to meet at Victoria Station for a train to Dover. We'd just finished demolitions training."

"Demolitions?" Alec echoed, not letting on about the papers he'd seen in the lieutenant's room.

"Aye. Powerful stuff, mind you. Strong enough to dig a nasty hole even in rock."

"I knew it!" Alec said excitedly. "I told Aga that soldiers wouldn't stay at the Shaftbury unless they were under special orders. Specs and the rest of you, you're going to do big things for England, aren't you? You'll be heroes!" He hoped Will would tell him something that would help him make sense of the lieutenant's papers.

"No, Alec. We're just men like the others. I don't feel like a hero." Will stood to go back inside. "The vicar always said it is the duty of children to honor their parents. But when does that duty end? When do we find our own life? That's the mystery, Alec."

Will lingered a moment more, then nodded to Alec and stepped through the door. Alec stayed behind. He was even more confused than before. Will had done what he wanted, but he was no more settled than Alec.

Too many thoughts tumbled around in his head. He liked Will; he admired his honesty. He also liked working on the Britannia. What could be so wrong with that? Was it his duty to give up his dream of owning a boat simply to please his father? Could he even do that? And if he chose the sea, could he live with the sadness Will spoke of? The questions had no answers. He would need time to sort them out. But he was certain that the Britannia was to be part of his life. He picked up his packages and stepped into the inn.

Lieutenant Courtright and his men were sitting down to Aga's special English breakfast. With ration cards, Aga was still able to get bacon, and its aroma filled the room as the hungry men devoured it along with fried eggs and toast. Aga stood in the doorway, watching them. "Never know, lads, when you'll be called or when our food supplies will dwindle, so eat what you can now," she advised.

Alec waited nearby, waiting to fetch more food or drink. He wondered where the soldiers' orders would take them. He wondered if they would be with Thomas. He felt uneasy about Will's words.

Now watching them enjoying breakfast as they talked and laughed, he wanted to go with them. They were ready to defend England against the Jerries, and they were proud. But the army would never accept a lad as young as he was. Still, he wished he could be a part of their mission. Will had lied about his age; could he do the same? He had no mates like they did, no one to tell about his dreams.

"Have you rung your wife and family since we've been in Dover?" Specs asked Lieutenant Courtright as Aga placed another rack of toast on the table.

"Not since leaving London. There's nothing really to tell, and she'd just worry more if she knew our orders had not come. I'd like to ring her, though. Tell her how I miss her and the children and all their fussing about...." He paused a moment. "It's the small things I miss. Seeing her work in her victory garden, nursing those vegetable sprouts and such. She'll be worrying about the children and their friends—saying she can't do it all on her own. But she can," he said sadly, lowering his head. "She'll have to."

The men left, but the lieutenant's words had brought the war into the room. Alec saw Aga wipe her eyes with her apron. She picked up a few empty plates and went through the door into the kitchen. Alec gathered more dishes and followed right behind her, bumping the door as it swung his way. He didn't think she would be returning so soon to the dining room—and he rammed into her as she started through. She fell backward, and Alec grabbed for her with his free hand, but missed. Aga went down in a heap.

"Aga, Aga, I'm so sorry. Are you hurt? Can you get up?" Alec put the dishes on the table and lifted her to her feet.

"No bother, Alec boy. You just knocked the wind out of me, I think. If you help me to that chair over there, I can rest and get meself back together."

Alec put his arm around her thick waist and helped her shuffle to the chair. Just then, his father came through the back door and saw Aga's flushed face.

"Is something wrong? What's happened here?"

"It was a wee accident, Mr. Curtis," Aga responded. "No harm done. Just took the wind out of me sails for a minute. I'm nearly back to normal now. We were just coming through the door at the same time, and we collided."

Alec's father shot him a look and turned toward the lobby, leaving Aga and Alec to stare after him.

"Oh, Alec. I've gotten you in more trouble. I would never do anything to hurt you," Aga said.

"Aga, this was not your fault. It was mine. I'm just so distracted that I overlooked the first rule about the dining room: check first before barging through the swinging door. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Aye. I'm fixed and ready to stand. I just wish we could fix you and your father. I hate to see you both so unhappy."

"I'm almost used to it, though at times, I still wish for a chance to turn things around. But I'm beginning to think nothing will change his mind. Ever since Georgie, I've felt a space between Father and me. And it gets worse after he visits Aunt Lucy and Uncle Jack. He comes home and doesn't say anything. I want him to see that I'm trying hard to do better, but I don't know what else I can do. Now with Thomas gone, and Aunt Lucy and Uncle Jack grieving once again, the sadness will never leave this inn."

He felt discouraged as he finished his chores and went to his room. He needed to write in his journal. He wouldn't write about his father. He'd done that too many times already, and each entry was the same: Father is angry with me again. It was time to make a decision to do something new—both with his journal and with his life.

Perhaps if he wrote it all down—the news from the lieutenant's room, the words from the old sergeant, the advice from Will—he could see the whole problem clearly. One thing was certain: he would not, could not, live like this much longer. Something would have to change. The inn would have to go on without him. He would soon break away.