Read War Children for Free Online

appealed to him too. He wasn’t used to staying still for such a long time.
    â€˜She’s right, Phil,’ Statia’s mother said. ‘And what if we need you here?’
    â€˜Sure, how would you need me, woman? Haven’t you three big lads here? Not the cleverest lads, maybe, but they’re strong.’
    â€˜No,’ his wife said. ‘They’re not the cleverest – they takes after their father. Sure, isn’t that why we needs you here to … to direct them.’
    Statia was surprised to see her mother giving her a wink on the sly. She hid a smile. Maybe her mother too thought her father had been hard on her this week. Maybe she too thought Statia could do with a few hours off.
    Phil Mulligan was satisfied to be thought needed. He settled himself on the settle bed where he’d been all week.
    â€˜It’s true for you,’ he said to his wife. ‘The place needs an organising brain.’
    Statia could feel the muscles twitching in her cheeks. The hidden smile was trying to turn into a grin. She coughed. She wanted to get out while the going was good.
    â€˜I’ll go and put the blinkers on the ass,’ she said.
    As Statia left the farm her mother walked a few steps of the road with her and loaded her with warnings.
    â€˜Watch out for strangers,’ she said. ‘If you see any men with guns then cast your eyes away from them. Don’t even let on you notice them. And if you see any soldiers in lorries then be very careful. If they’re Tans, get off the cart and put it between you and them, and keep your head down until they’re well gone.’
    There were ugly stories about drunken Tans shooting rifles at anyone they passed in their lorries. A few people had been shot and even killed. You didn’t hear things like that so much about the proper police or the army, but then they tended to be sober. The problem with the Tans, people said, was that they seemed to have no discipline. The best thing to do with them was to stay out of their way altogether , but sometimes that was easier said than done.
    â€˜I won’t look for you before teatime,’ Statia’s mother said.
    â€˜As well not to,’ Statia told her. ‘You know the way Mrs Cafferty loves a gossip. She’ll want to know all.’
    â€˜Aye,’ her mother said. ‘And I knows the way StatiaMulligan loves sitting doing nothing in the field at the butt of the Drop, too, washing her feet in the river. But you’ve earned a rest this week, putting up with your father. I should know – I’ve put up with him longer nor any of youse.’
    And with a grin she turned back, not looking at Statia’s flushed face. Statia felt found out. But it was true that she did love the peace and quiet in the field by the Rasheen, and that she’d sit there on her own for hours daydreaming. She even had a private place there, her only private place in all the world. It was a flat little bit of the riverbank, hidden from outside by a cluster of hazelnut trees and sciocs that grew in the field near the bridge. Statia had found the place several years before, chasing a new pup that hadn’t yet learned to come when she called. She’d seen him disappear into the bushes and, never thinking, had pushed through after him. She’d expected to hear a splash as the pup fell in the water, and was already hoping she wouldn’t have to go in after him. The Rasheen wasn’t deep or dangerous, but she didn’t fancy getting her clothes wet because of any stupid dog. But there had been no splash, and to her surprise she’d found the pup, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling, sitting on a little flat bit of the bank between the nut trees and the water. It was a sunny little nook hedged in by the scraping branches of the low trees, invisible except from the other side of the river, hardly noticeable even from there: a couple of square feet of grass hidden