Redemption - Leon Uris [169]
And the tragic realization that his own mother and Conor had a love far more desperate than he had on with Molly O’Rafferty. Conor Larkin walked away from it like a man.
A man, that’s the game. Being a man.
Dooley McCloskey’s establishment was quiet for the lack of Protestant drinkers. Major Christopher Hubble entered and looked about with a crawling feeling that assassins were all around, ready to close in and stab. They tipped their hats and resumed drinking, smiling inwardly over the raid.
Jeremy was parked in a corner in a reverie. He looked up, saw his brother, and winced, wondering what savage news brought him into the enemy lair on this night.
The chair opposite Jeremy needed cleaning. “Sit down,” Jeremy said. “I’ve never known the chairs to give anyone a rare disease.”
Jeremy found an extra glass and poured Chris a drink and Chris took it quickly. Good, Jeremy thought, better to have him a little mellow. “Are those crowns on your shoulders, Major?”
“You’ve a pair of pips awaiting yourself.”
“First Lieutenant Lord Viscount Jeremy Hubble emerges from the family dungeon. Ye gods, the empire must have run out of subalterns to promote,” Jeremy said. “Chris, I’m really sorry about Hester’s miscarriage. Is she all right?”
Chris nodded, mumbled that she was fine, and lowered his eyes as though the whole business was a mark against his masculinity.
“We’re to report to camp tomorrow by ten hundred hours,” Chris said.
“I thought as much,” Jeremy said. “I had to say my good-byes to Conor and promise him I’d start doing right about what I’ve been doing wrong so he’d be proud of me. I need him to be proud of me. Understand? I need that now. The best times of my life when I wasn’t with Molly were when I was walking in his shadow…”
Chris grumbled in irritation.
“You’re pissed because he went and scattered all your pretty little guns clear all over County Londonderry. Well, that’s Ulster. Here we are, all drinking together in a fine old pub. See, nobody’s mad at anybody. We can get along.”
“You’re leaving with me now,” Chris snapped an order. “The way you’re going you’ll never make it back to camp.”
“I’ll leave when I am ready to leave and that is when I’ll leave.”
“God, you even speak like them when you’re up here.” Chris came to his feet. “You might phone Mother. She’s in London. I spoke to her and she rather pleaded for you to call her. I think enough is enough, as well. Call her.”
“Jesus,” Jeremy said, “what a fucking family…what a fucking country. Tell Mother, should the occasion arise, that I’ll contact her some day when I’ve finished my penance.”
56
Port Albany, S.W. Australia, New Year’s 1915
Convoys of various sizes and shapes began to form into an enormous armada from Perth on down to Port Albany. Modern ships came in to replace old ones, the Japanese Navy escorted the Kiwi warriors from New Zealand, and contingent after contingent of Aussies arrived by rail.
As thousands upon thousands of recruits flooded in, it seemed there was a rumor for each soldier boy.
“The German raider Emden is creating havoc in the Indian ocean.”
“The Aussie-Kiwi expedition will be shipped to South Africa to put down a growing insurrection by the Boers.”
“The Expeditionary Force is heading directly for France. A week’s leave in Paris will be given all troops before training behind the lines.”
“The Expeditionary Force is heading directly to England and, after a week’s leave in London, will go to a training camp.”
“German U-boats are hovering in a wolf pack in the Arabian Sea just waiting for the convoy.”
“It is straight to South Africa to train for a campaign against