Read Online Under the July Sun by Barbara Jones - Free Book Online Page A

hay in the darkened barn and nobody spoke.
    â€˜Is somebody goin’ to tell me what’s goin’ on? ’Tis obviously me ye’re talkin’ about?’ Tom stood and moved the bucket away, unfastened a rope and led a cow out without answering her. ‘Dada, what’s happened?’
    Ned thought for a moment and stopped milking. ‘Paddy Hogan’s been spoutin’ his mouth off and makin’ threats about ye.’
    â€˜Huh, what, again? D’ye think I care?’
    â€˜Look, he’s mixin’ with a mean bunch now. That’s what bothers me.’
    â€˜Birds of a feather! All pretendin’ they’re fightin’ for a cause. Stupid! All of ’em.’ Just a bunch of little boys with big mouths.’
    Tom re-entered the barn and stood thoughtfully before tying up the next cow.
    â€˜Ye know Dada I’ve been approached by them to join up.’
    Ned stopped milking. ‘Ye what ?’
    â€˜I’ve been asked to join them.’
    â€˜And ye didn’t tell me?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because I didn’t want to worry ye.’
    â€˜So, what’s the verdict?’ Ned looked irritated.
    â€˜Ye should know without askin’.’
    â€˜Do I have a feckin’ fool in me midst or not?’
    â€˜Of course not Dada, I was careful and said I’d think about it. But I was just stalling. ’Tis not for me.’
    Cat saw Ned’s face relax.
    â€˜So, when’re ye goin’ to tell them the good news?’
    â€˜Tonight. They’ve told me to meet them at Crampscastle.’
    â€˜Jesus! All this goin’ on and I don’t know anythin’ about it. I’m beginnin’ to wonder if I know me own family at all these days. One of ye’s liaising with a band of murderers and the other’s sendin’ cigarettes to a foreign soldier! Where will it all lead to?’
    Cat and Tom exchanged glances as Ned turned his back and continued milking, muttering to himself.
    * * *
    After leaving the bar that night Cat stopped on the humpback bridge spanning the Clashawley River, and stared up at the sky. She marvelled at the number of stars and wondered whether Louis was looking up at them too. She took no notice of the motorcar stopping on the other side of the bridge and did not hear anyone approaching her from behind.
    Suddenly something was pulled over her head and she was dragged backwards into the waiting car. Through the fabric a mouth pressed against her ear.
    â€˜One word. One shout and ye’re feckin’ dead.’
    Then she heard what she thought must be the click of a gun being cocked
    â€˜Where’re ye takin’ me?’
    â€˜Shut yer mouth.’ It was a man’s voice, but because he hissed the warning she couldn’t tell if she knew him.
    The car drove off quickly along the bumpy road and someone tied her hands together, so she knew there were at least two of them. The twine bit into her wrists as she was thrown back and forth by the motion of the speeding vehicle.
    After a while she was told to get off the seat onto the floor of the car. She slid onto her knees and a hand pushed her down forcing her to remain in position. She felt someone’s boot then rested on her back, pinning her down. Her mind raced.
    She tried to memorise how many bends in the road they took and guess where they were, but her thoughts were scrambled and she was unable to assemble her sense of reason. Panic set in – the hood was suffocating her. She began to scream.
    â€˜Shut yer feckin’ mouth!’ Someone shouted and she fell silent.
    They must be somewhere with rutted mud, a farm or somewhere off the road she thought, as the bumping became more pronounced. Then the car stopped and someone got out to open a gate. She knelt shaking, but listening for clues as to her whereabouts. She thought it sounded like a farm gate with the iron clasp being lifted.
    The driver got back in