‘Someone at the door, Mummy,’ Billy called from his bedroom, so Cat, drying her hands, hurried from the scullery to open it.
‘Dada! Oh Dada!’
Ned dropped his bag and opened his arms to hug Cat.
‘I came as soon as I got yer telegram. Jesus, I’m that sorry Cat. How bad is it?’
She pulled away a little, caught him by the hand and drew him inside the house.
‘C’mon in,’ she whispered, ‘we don’t want to talk out here.’
Ned picked up his bag and swung it into the hallway.
‘’Tis bad, Dada. I’ve to tell the children; but can’t pluck up the courage.’ She wrung her hands together. ‘I’m so thankful ye’ve come. Dear God, this is the answer to a prayer.’
They went into the parlour and he pulled Cat into his arms. She sobbed against his chest, thinking to herself that she would never be held in Louis’ arms again.
Ned sighed. ‘C’mon now, ye go right ahead and have a good cry. What a hand ye’ve been dealt. What a hand!’
Billy appeared in the doorway.
‘Granddad! ’ he said dropping the book he was holding. He rushed to embrace him. ‘I didn’t know you were coming.’
‘No, I didn’t know meself either until I was on the train and on me way, then me head caught up with me body.’
Ned did some mock boxing with Billy then pulled the boy toward him again and hugged him.
’Tis good to see ye, Billy.’ He held the boy at arm’s length looking at him from top to toe, ‘Ye’re lookin’ grand, and so grown up!’
Hearing a commotion, the girls then came into the room and Eileen joined in the excitement with Billy.
Anna slipped her hand into Cat’s, burying her face against her mother’s body as Eileen glanced across at Cat.
‘Have you been crying, Mummy?’
Cat looked across at Ned, shrugged her shoulders and sat down.
‘C’mere. All of ye. I’ve somethin’ to tell ye.’
Silenced, the children gathered around Cat; and Ned stood watching his daughter tell his grandchildren their daddy was going to die.
* * *
Cat ripped the telegram open and read the four words printed on the inside:
COME QUICK, SINKING FAST.
Her mouth dried and her legs began to shake. Gripping the edge of the table she fell into a chair, calling to Ned who was in the scullery shaving. He appeared immediately in the doorway, wiping his chin with a towel. Barely able to speak, her breath coming in short bursts, she held out the telegram for him to read.
‘Dada. I have to go to the hospital immediately.'
Ned went to her instantly and took her hands in his.
Cat, mo chuisle. If ’tis God’s will to take him, then go he must. Ye have Louis’ children and he’s left ye with the finest gift a man can give. A family. Let’s pray together, Pet.’
They knelt on the parlour floor and Ned prayed that Louis’ passing be as quick and painless as possible; and asked God to open the doors of Heaven and admit him.
When they had finished praying Cat rose and went to the bedroom to collect her outdoor clothes. She opened the wardrobe door and took out her coat and boots. When she saw Louis’ old army greatcoat hanging on the rail she wanted to wrap herself in the material; bury her face in the fabric; anything to be near him to experience him once more.
Sitting on the bed her thoughts of Louis avalanched into her mind. Like an album of snapshots her memories flicked over each picture of him: all those years ago as a dashing young soldier inviting her to tea in the barracks, their developing love when Louis had serenaded her playing the violin after haymaking; being away in the war, their wedding, their ups and downs, the children. And soon he would be gone.
Inside her, deep within the very cortex of her mind, Louis had taken up residence and she didn’t know how she could go on living without him.
They had made such plans. When they were such and such an age they would do this, and then when they were old they would go home to Ireland and live there because the children would all have flown the nest. This wasn’t the way things should be. She felt it defied the natural order of things.
And then the child in her womb stirred as though reminding Cat that it would never even know its father. She slumped forward, her hand reaching out to touch the arm of his greatcoat but the sleeve was empty of the man.
Automatically she put on her boots, laced them up, and then donned her coat. She fumbled with buttons that wouldn’t go through the buttonholes, and then placed her hat on her head. She dropped the hatpin on the floor but when she bent to pick it up between her numbed fingertips, she couldn’t feel it.
She felt as though someone had hit her head with an iron bar and that she was in some sort of bewildered trance. It wasn’t really her going through the motions of preparing to see Louis for the last time. Totally adrift, it was as if she was in a boat without oars. Even Ned’s voice seemed distant and muffled as he called her from outside the door.
When Cat didn’t answer he opened her bedroom door.
‘Are ye ready, Pet?’
She was standing before the window staring out onto the garden, where the promise of summer swayed tantalizingly before her eyes in every blossom.
‘Cat, I think I’ll come with ye. Is there someone who will watch over the children?’
She seemed to emerge from her reverie.
‘Oh, yes. Mrs. Pierce next door.’
‘Right then. I’ll go ask her now.’
He disappeared and Cat continued to stare out of the window, immobilised.
When Ned reappeared he gently guided her from the bedroom into the parlour.
Mrs. Pierce was in the room. How did Mrs. Pierce get there, she wondered?
More muffled conversation between Mrs. Pierce and Ned took place and then Cat was aware of her father holding her arm as they went down the steps into the garden out onto the road ahead.