Shadow on the Land Read Online Free PDF Page B

wasafraid to move in her own kitchen, so cluttered was it with cardboard boxes holding small creatures parked in different places.
    The Royal Victoria Hospital might not have been as safe as the Senate Chamber up at Stormont, but it
was
a hospital, and in the early days of the war it still seemed to Emily that it would not be bombed. At least the authorities had made provision for the protection of its staff when off duty.
    Suddenly and unexpectedly, the April sun emerged from behind a cloud, throwing shadows on the grass path. It’s sudden warmth caressed Emily across the shoulders which ached as always after the morning’s washing. She stood for a few moments enjoying the comfort it brought.
    ‘I’ll just take another five minutes outside,’ she said aloud, as she moved away from the vegetable garden where her clothesline was now full, the dungarees dripping vigorously.
    She moved back towards the house and turned into the flower garden. Drifts of daffodils and crocuses splashed colour against a background of shrubs and trees and enlivened the still-bare earth of flowerbeds where perennials were just beginning to throw out rosettes of new growth.
    She walked quickly to the end of the path to the one remaining space between the sheltering trees from where she could see the mountains. This had once been Rose’s favourite place, the place Emilywas sure to find her if she came to see her and found the kitchen empty.
    As great spotlights of sunshine fell on the high, sombre peaks and spilt downwards to light up the patchwork of small fields and the occasional white-painted cottage on the lower slopes below, she saw why Rose loved this prospect so much, but for herself, the familiar prospect brought a kind of sadness. What Emily longed for was the sea. The Mountains of Mourne did indeed
sweep down to the sea
, as the song had it, but that vast, blue expanse which brought her both joy and longing, filled as it was with memories of childhood in one Coastguard Station after another, was
beyond
the mountains, completely hidden from this perspective.
    She stood for much longer than five minutes, her eye travelling over the fields nearer at hand, following the traffic passing on the main road some distance away, her mind moving back and forth from the sights and sounds of childhood, the roar of the Atlantic from Malin Head to Galway Bay, the dark green water flecked with white when the light returned after a storm to the pleasure of the evening just gone. She thought again of the firelight and the conversation, the upsurge of joy and relief after Alex’s phone call, the good news that had spared the people of Belfast from one more night of death and devastation.
    After the call they’d spoken of so many things, moving from one topic to another so easily and sohappily she simply couldn’t remember how they’d come to talk about orphans in general and Alex in particular. She’d been surprised at how open Alex had been, she’d even heard him say the odd thing she’d not heard him put into words before.
    However great a talker Brendan was, he was also a good listener. His questions, though gently put, were very acute.
    ‘Would it make a difference to you if you knew who your father was?’
    ‘Yes, I think it would, though I don’t know why.’
    ‘And what if you weren’t a Hamilton at all? Would you cut them all off and turn your back on them?’
    ‘No,’ said Alex, laughing. ‘Even if they are not my family, they have
become
my family,’ he said confidently.
    ‘Tell me, Alex, were you beaten?’
    ‘Oh yes. Regularly,’ he replied. ‘It was standard procedure if you didn’t understand what you were told to do.’
    Brendan swore and shook his head.
    ‘Is it
curiosity
, Alex?’
    ‘No, Brendan, it isn’t. I almost wish it was and then I could tell myself not to be silly and forget all about it. It’s something else, but I don’t know what.’
    ‘Have you done anything yourself about finding out?’ Brendan