Shadow on the Land (11 page)

‘How very interesting, Hank,’ said Emily, looking into the candid blue eyes. ‘I’m fascinated by the way people move around on that great continent of yours. So many people here in Ireland live for generations in the same place,’ she went on, ‘that is,
if they stay
.

‘But of course, thousands of them go and you yourself have got the names to prove it. Alexander, Lachlan and Ross are all Ulster or Ulster-Scots names. Usually here, families call children after relatives. There’s a tradition that you call the first boy after his father’s father and the first girl after her mother’s mother and so on down the family. It can create dreadful confusion. My friends John and Rose Hamilton used to have two Uncle Sam’s and a son Sam and later a grandson, Sam as well,’ she ended laughing.

‘I didn’t know that tradition about naming,’ he said nodding thoughtfully. ‘My grandfather
was
Lachlan and my father was Lachlan but you know, I never knew anyone called Alexander till I met your husband.’

‘That is strange, isn’t it?’ Emily responded, suddenly curious to hear more. ‘Why do you think your mother called you that?’

‘Well, it’s a bit of a family story,’ he said smiling. ‘Ma always insisted she had a brother, but even when she was first adopted my grandparents thought she might be romancing. She had several ‘brothers’ she played with when she was five or six. They never knew what age she was. They just collected her from the ship with her little suitcase.

‘She still has the suitcase,’ he added looking at her directly. ‘She kept it because her brother had written her name on it, so no one could take it from her. She said
his
name was Alexander.’

‘How remarkable,’ said Emily, suddenly seeing the lines of blue text on the carbon copy Brendan had sent her back in January.

Another child sent out across the ocean. Clearly Hank’s mother didn’t have a label on her coat, so there was even less chance of finding out where
she
had come from.

‘Any idea what year that would have been, Hank?’

‘Oh yes, Grandpa Ross recorded it in the family Bible. I used to look at it often when I was a kid. He wrote;
26th May 1895. Today, we drove to Quebec and there by the grace of God did receive into our care a girl orphan from Liverpool, England, a longed for daughter
.’

‘My goodness, what a happy landing for that child,’ she said, aware of tears suddenly springing to her eyes. ‘I’ve been reading about the boatloads
of orphans sent to Canada. A hundred thousand between 1865 and 1935. Did you know that?’

‘No, ma’am.’

He looked shocked, his eyes wide and troubled.

‘Neither did I till last January,’ she said honestly. ‘We’d been talking about Canadian orphans to our bookseller cousin from Dublin and he discovered his colleague knew a great deal more than he did. He sent me some of the material from the book his friend is working on. You know, of course, that my Alex was an orphan, don’t you?’

‘No, ma’am,’ he said, looking quite taken aback. ‘I knew your husband
came back
from Canada to find his family, but I didn’t know he’d gone out as an orphan. I thought his family had emigrated and then when he lost his parents he came back to find his aunts and uncles.’

‘No, Alex was sent off, just like your mother,’ Emily said, shaking her head, ‘only he had a label on his coat that said Alex Hamilton. Perhaps boys didn’t have suitcases …’

She broke off, once again overwhelmed by the enormity of what had happened to these two children such a long time ago.

‘Don’t look so sad, ma’am,’ he said quietly. ‘They haven’t done so bad. My mother is a lovely lady, I know you’d like her and Mr Hamilton is a very successful man. All the boys are pleased when there’s work to do at the mills. He never hassles
them, but he keeps them right. He’s good to them.’

Whenever he spoke, he always looked straight at her and in those wide, blue eyes she could see exactly what he was thinking. She was touched at his trying to encourage her, because he saw she was sad. Just what her youngest daughter would have done.

‘You’re right, Hank, it’s all a long time ago. Isn’t it strange that we can be so sad about what happened to your mother and my husband nearly fifty years ago when all around us thousands are dying every day?’

‘No ma’am,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s not comparable. Being sad is part of being human. If we didn’t feel such feelings, then we wouldn’t be fighting Hitler. If we want to win, we need to know what we think is wrong, like sending those children away.’

She nodded, startled by the strength of his tone and his clear conviction.

‘Ma’am, I do so enjoy talking to you, even apart from the coffee and the cake …’

‘Hank, I’m sorry, it’s my fault entirely. Of course you must get back. Did you have a message for me?’

He nodded and said rather reluctantly: ‘Major Hicks presents his compliments and thought it might help if he warned you Friday next might be cancelled at short or no notice.’

‘Oh dear, that means posting?’

He nodded.

‘All of you?’

‘Could be. I guess he’d tell
you
if he knew. But we’ve only got a hint at when, nothing on who, apart from the boys, that is.’

‘So we might not meet again?’

‘That’s about it, ma’am.’

Emily suddenly found herself overwhelmed with grief and anxiety. This young man with whom she had felt such a bond, such an unexplained familiarity from that first meeting at dinner the night after Ritchie died, would walk out of her kitchen and into a world of tanks and bridges, of men killing and being killed.

It never got any easier. Her fear of loss. Another young man, full of life, kind and unexpectedly sensitive, going into battle, blonde and blue-eyed, as totally committed to what he had chosen as her own Johnny.

They stood up together and she gave him a message for Chris Hicks. ‘Tell him I really appreciated the warning. The food will certainly not go to waste. Wish him luck if he goes. Ask him to keep in touch if he can. Alex and I won’t forget him, or you.’

She walked out with him to his jeep, held out her hand, then as he shook it warmly, she leant forward and kissed him.

‘That’s from your mother, for luck,’ she said, smiling. ‘You didn’t tell me what her name was.’

‘Jane,’ he replied, beaming at her, as he climbed up into his seat. ‘But she wasn’t a
plain Jane
. Da always declared she was the prettiest girl he’d ever met,’ he said, laughing, as he reversed the jeep neatly and drove off one-handed, waving to her all the way down the avenue.

Alex Hamilton closed the door of his office firmly behind him, removed the jacket of his suit, hung it over the back of his chair and rolled up the sleeves of his well-ironed shirt. He thought, as he always did on such occasions, that he’d rather strip down an engine any day than sit on a platform in what his friend Sam Hamilton always called his Sunday-go-to-Meeting. But if one was a member of the obligatory platform party lending their presence to support the Chairman of the Directors addressing the entire workforce, it would hardly do to turn up in dungarees.

Not that the Chairman, Sir John, was a very formal person. He was, in fact, a very likeable man with an easy manner, just what was needed in the present situation. Nevertheless, as a former military man he always expected a correct turn-out. When she’d heard what was planned, Emily had insisted he come home at lunchtime to change his clothes,
so that she herself could make sure he looked
immaculate
.

The desk was piled with paperwork and just looking at it, Alex felt intimidated. The requisitioning systems had been put in place at the beginning of the war when things in the Atlantic were much worse than they were now. It was hardly surprising they were so detailed when they were designed at a time when the U-boats were sinking supply ships faster than they could be replaced and every rivet and screw was costing lives. Thankfully, the situation was a good deal better now. Convoys remained at risk of attack, but they were better armed and better protected. Even more heartening was the fact that U-boats were being spotted more regularly and hunted more successfully. If the work going on behind closed doors paid off, there would be an end to the losses of both men and materials, one of these days. He thought longingly of that time and the mountain of paper that could be salvaged if only the process of accessing materials could be made simpler.

He had worked his way down one of the neatly stacked piles when the door opened after a perfunctory knock.

‘It did the trick, Boss. We’re in business,’ the tall, broad-shouldered man said as he hovered over the visitor’s chair.

‘Sit down, Robert, sit down,’ Alex said, waving
to him impatiently. ‘Are you going to go all polite on me because I’m wearing my suit?’ he demanded.

‘Ach, no. But you look kinda different behind that desk the day.’

‘So I should hope after all the brushing Emily put in. I told her she was adding years of wear to the fabric and at that rate it might not last me till the war was over.’

Robert grinned and stretched his legs out more comfortably on the worn strip of carpet that lay under desk and visitor’s chair, but failed to reach any further across the bare boards of what had once been a storeroom.

‘An’ what did she say to that?’

‘She said, “Here and now, Alex. No use thinking too far ahead.”’

‘Aye, that sounds like Emily,’ he said warmly.

There was a moment’s comfortable silence between them, a point of rest and reconnection after the effort of the day.

‘How d’ye think it went?’ asked Robert, who had been able to use the brief shut-down to tackle an intermittent fault with one of the auxiliary engines.

‘I think it went well,’ Alex replied. ‘But I can’t make up my mind whether we did right or not,’ he added more soberly.

‘Sir John was good,’ he went on, ‘he always is, you could’ve heard a pin drop when he explained what the problem was. He laid it on the line all right,
and he paid
you
quite a compliment. He described exactly what would have happened if Mahoney’s plan
had
gone as he’d intended. But then he said the problem remained that there were more Mahoney’s about. He was very tactful. He said he didn’t care whether they were local or foreign, right wing or left wing, political or anarchist. If they were bombers, they were murderers in his book. They were willing to kill innocent people and kill their jobs along with them, which meant depriving hardworking families trying to do their best at a difficult time.’

‘Aye, that puts it nicely.
Killing jobs as well as people
,’ repeated Robert, nodding and pressing his lips together as he waited for the older man to go on.

‘I was wondering how he’d manage to put the next bit. I have to admit he surprised me,’ Alex went on, a small smile on his face. ‘He said that sometimes we don’t notice the small things. When there’s danger around, we look for a big thing, a machine gun nest, or a tank, or an enemy aircraft. We don’t think of someone walking round the mill in their lunch hour, or asking their friend if they’re on the late shift, or taking a ride on their bicycle on a wet night.’

Robert narrowed his eyes full of attention.

‘He had them all listening to every word and then he just said very simply …
Mahoney received information from someone who knows this mill
inside out
. Then he said it was possible this person, or these people, didn’t realise what they were doing. They could hardly see such questions as they were asked having anything to do with something as threatening as
Careless Talk Costs Lives
. There are no glamorous spies involved, no dark hooded figures, no strangers, just friends and neighbours. That’s what makes it so difficult.’

‘I never thought of that,’ said Robert. ‘I’d supposed it must be something carefully planned like these films ye see. Could you really get all the information you needed just by asking bits and pieces?’

‘You could, I think, but that’s not the point. Even if it’s one person in the pay of some group or other, what your man has done is alert the whole mill to the wee things. Like your wee bit of paper, Robert. He told me afterwards that’s what gave him the idea.’

Robert smiled sheepishly and then shook his head.

‘That trick only works once. We might not be so lucky next time.’

‘If there is a next time,’ Alex said crisply. ‘He ended up by pointing out that any one of them sitting listening to him in the Recreation Hall might be able to foil another attempt simply by keeping their eyes open for any tiny detail that might seem out of place.’

‘So why are ye wonderin’ if ye did right?’ Robert asked, his face creased with puzzlement. ‘It sounds to me he’s got the whole place payin’ attention and ready to report anythin’ out o’ the ordinary.’

‘But Robert, just think … if there
is
some person out there in the mill who
deliberately
collected and passed information, think of the mischief they can now do by spreading rumours and dropping hints. Its not just bombs that can blow things to bits. What about suspicion and bad feeling? That’s my worry.’

‘Aye, well … I see yer point. That hadn’t occurred to me.’

Robert laughed suddenly as he stood up and stretched his shoulders.

‘What’s the joke?’

‘I was just thinkin’ that’s why your sittin’ behind that desk and I’m away back to make sure all’s well with Number 3.’

Alex laughed, a great beaming smile breaking on his face and lighting up his eyes.

‘I’ll swop you,’ he said promptly.

‘You
will
not. Emily’d have m’life if I let you anywhere near an engine in that outfit. Tell her I missed her today with no picnic. I’ll see her next week, maybe,’ he added over his shoulder as he strode out, pulling the door behind him.

Alex was grateful for the mug of tea one of the office staff brought for him at half past three and
the unexpected piece of cake that went with it. He’d made further inroads on the piles of paper, but he’d also come to the conclusion that there was no hope whatever of getting the quantity of materials they’d need to repair or refurbish so many worn out machines. He sat drinking his tea and staring into space, wondering what he could possibly do to fill the gap.

He couldn’t believe his eyes when his door was pushed opened and what looked like a flowering bush moved briskly towards him. Only when it stopped barely a foot from his nose and a small, square figure emerged from behind it did he realise that a huge floral arrangement now sat on his desk. Before he could offer any greeting, or ask for any explanation, he was overcome by a huge sneeze.

‘Bless you, sir. It’s the daffodils, they do that to me sometimes as well,’ she said sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry for landin’ them on your desk, but me arms was about to give out and I coulden see roun’ them. I knowed there was a desk here, so I jus’ headed up the bit of carpet,’ she explained, stepping back from her burden and brushing some specks of pollen and a few fragments of green leaf from her clean white overall.

Alex recognised her immediately, one of their long serving and most experienced workers. Now a spinning mistress, Daisy Elliot had been at Millbrook since she’d left school and started as a doffer. For a
moment, Alex hadn’t the slightest idea what to say to her, but he need not have troubled himself.

‘Now, Sir, if you don’t mind, I need to have a word with you that nobody knows about,’ she began, lifting the heavy visitor’s chair with the greatest of ease. She carried it round to his own side of the desk and pulled it up close to his own.

He rather wondered if the floral arrangement was intended to hide them from any remote possibility of being seen by a curious passerby. Next she went and shut the door tightly, then she came back and sat down directly in front of him not more than two feet away.

‘Now, Sir,’ she repeated firmly. ‘We did the flowers for the hall before the children’s picnic had to be cancelled and I’ve said that I would bring this one for you to take home to Mrs Hamilton. So, if you don’t mind Sir, lettin’ everyone see you puttin’ it in your car.’

She paused, took a deep breath and launched again.

‘I think I know who gave away all the details Sir John was talkin’ about, but the poor lad knows no better. He’s not the full shillin’, if you know what I mean and he’s easy started,’ she said with a sigh. ‘He likes to think he can mind things, and indeed he can
remember
as I should say, but he has no wit. So you’ve only to say
now I’m sure you don’t know such an such
and he’s just delighted to put
you straight and tell you all he knows. Now if I tell you who it is you won’t sack him, will you, for his Ma has no one else. She lost one son at Dunkirk and the other is missing in North Africa,’ she ended hurriedly as she ran out of breath.

‘No, I won’t sack him,’ Alex promised, ‘But we will have to do something,’ he added, as he began to grasp what might have happened.

‘Indeed, I’m sure you’ll think of something, for you’re very like Mr Sinton, God rest him, an’ he forgave a young man who was the means of a big fire at this mill. An’ I wouldn’t be here talkin’ to you if it hadn’t been for his wife, though Miss Sarah she was then, that carried me out on her back when I took fright and hadn’t the wit to get away when I saw the smoke. Though mind you, with the bad leg I had then, I mightn’t have got far anyhow.’

‘So, Mrs Elliot, can you tell me who would have questioned our young friend?’ he asked quietly, as he saw her mind move far off into the past.

‘I can, but that might be no good to you, for they’re all decent men, apart from carrying on a bit and foolin’ Jim …’

She clapped a hand to her mouth and looked horrified.

‘It’s all right, Mrs Elliot, I’d worked out it must be Jimmy. Now go on with what you were saying. Jimmy’ll come to no harm.’

She looked him full in the face and went on immediately.

‘I’ve heard some of our ones talking to Jimmy an’ I never though a bit of it till today, but these same ones go for a drink on a Saturday night to the pub where my Mary helps out at the weekend when Bert is at home to mind the childer. An’ she told me there was strangers there, Trade Unionists she said, interested in working conditions in the mills. Well, I know all about Trade Unionists, for we all went on courses to Belfast to find out about such things years ago before the four mills was a cooperative. But when I asked Mary what they asked about she niver mentioned pay, only working conditions. Sure, that can’t be right for a real Trade Unionist, can it?’

‘No, it can’t,’ he said firmly, looking at the worn face leaning forward so close to his own.

It was his turn now to remember the tale Rose had told him about the stoppage at Millbrook which Sarah had resolved with the aid of a young doffer she’d once saved from a fire.

‘Do you think Mary could describe these men?’ he asked, drawing his mind away from that past time and focusing on the woman who now sat watching him.

‘Oh dear aye. They weren’t from these parts at all. She’s a great mimic, our Mary, and she had the accent of them. But I couldn’t place it,’ she went on shaking her head and looking severe. ‘Not the
North, that’s for sure. An’ not Dublin, for I’ve a neighbour was brought up there and still talks that way.’

She broke off and stood up.

‘I must go, sir, in case anyone saw me come in and knows how long I’ve been in here. It only takes a minute or two to bring in flowers.’

‘Quite right, Mrs Elliot. I’m very grateful and I’ll see what we can do. Can I let you know what’s happening via my wife?’

‘Ach, the very thing,’ she said, clicking her fingers. ‘No one’ll pay a bit of attention to two women having a gossip, as they
always
think,’ she said, shaking her head crossly.

‘Would ye mind takin’ the flowers out to yer car now, sir, in case anyone’s lukin’. I know she has plenty of her own, but she’ll understan’. An’ I’ll see her in the lunch hour before the next picnic … or whenever it is the new boys’ll come.’

She led the way to the door while Alex struggled to get a hold of the container without immersing his head in either the green foliage with sharp points, or the fully-flowered daffodils. He followed her out, along the corridor and through the main door, which she opened for him.

He had just negotiated the short distance across the forecourt and managed to rest the container on the sloping bonnet of the Austin when he sneezed again.

‘Bless you, sir,’ said a voice from near at hand, a
warm and friendly voice with a marked Canadian accent. ‘Can I give you a hand with that?’

Alex sneezed twice more before he was able to greet the young man who then helped him get the large, spiky arrangement into the back seat.