Read Online Katie's War by Aubrey Flegg - Free Book Online Page A

beside the range, got up, stretched stiffly and walked, tail wagging, towards the kitchen door. Marty let him out and followed him into the yard. The light outside was still colourless, the sun not yet up. Katie put on an apron and opened the door of the range. She riddled the ashes off the turf carefully and dropped a handful of kindling through the hole in the top plate. Then she blew, closing her eyes against the waft of dust which swirled back out at her. She persisted until the twigs crackled into life, then added a shovelful of coal from the hod. The porridge had been left soaking on the back of the range overnight. She moved it on to the hot-plate and began to stir.
    Marty came in with a jug of buttermilk and a slab of butter from the dairy.
    â€˜Don’t you drink all of that,’ she said. ‘I want to make a loaf. Dafydd has all the bread eaten.’
    â€˜Well, well, well – what’s all this sudden virtue?’ Marty looked at her with his head to one side. ‘Could someone have committed a little sin, perhaps, a little crime, or could there be one in the planning?’ He cut a slice from the heel of the loaf and spread it thickly with butter. Katie turned her back on him and stirred the porridge.
    â€˜Don’t go losing your bread under all that butter,’ she said.
    â€˜Oh ho!’ said Marty through his mouthful, ‘if it was a past sin we wouldn’t be all bossy, so it’s a sin in the making, is it? That’s interesting now!’ Katie set her mouth. Marty had a disconcerting way of seeing through her. As he munched, Marty hummed knowingly.
    â€˜Look!’ she said in exasperation. ‘Will you get out of here, look after your blessed cows and mind your own business.’
    Marty edged towards the door. ‘It had better be a good one. The last sin … ouch!’ he was gone.
    Katie walked over and picked up the porridge spoon and wiped the mess off the door with her apron. She could hear him already calling ‘Hup hup,’ for the cows down the lane. ‘Bother!’ she muttered under her breath. The plan that had seemed so clear as she lay in bed now seemed wild and improbable. ‘Damn Marty!’ She pushed the porridge off the hot-plate to the back of the range and closed the lid so the heat would build up in the oven while she mixed the bread. She would not be put off.
    * * *
    â€˜Now, that’s a smell to gladden you,’ said Father, sniffing as he came into the kitchen.
    â€˜Isn’t she great,’ said Mother. ‘She has half my day’s work done for me.’ Mr Parry came in from the yard, his hairglistening with water. Katie heated the pot for tea. There was a thunder of boots on the stairs and Dafydd appeared. His hair was tousled and he carried the pot from under his bed in front of him. He checked, saw everybody, then made an embarrassed dash for the door. Everyone looked somewhere else.
    â€˜Well, what do you want us to do today, Eamonn?’ asked Mr Parry, pouring cream on to his porridge.
    â€˜We won’t get the men up today, not Saturday. The ones I want will be busy – and you can keep the others,’ said Father. ‘Let you and me take a really good look at the place today. We’ll be ready then for the men tomorrow. Father MacDonagh has promised to make an announcement for me at Mass. We’ll have more men and advice than we want before Sunday’s out.’ Dafydd looked up at his father and raised a questioning eyebrow.
    â€˜Sunday already?’ Mr Parry sounded surprised.
    â€˜Why yes. Oh! I forgot, of course you don’t work or even discuss work on a Sunday, do you? How foolish of me.’
    â€˜Time was it was strictly the Lord’s Day but the war changed all that. Anyway, this is Ireland, not Wales.’
    â€˜We must see that you get to church, though. There’s the Church of Ireland –’
    â€˜Don’t you worry, we’re chapel people,