The Absolutist Read Online Free PDF

earlier?”
    “Not at all,” I said. “He was very discreet in what he told me. Please, don’t think for a moment that I—”
    “No, no,” she said, shaking her head quickly. “No, I don’t mean that. That business is behind us all now, I hope, and willnever be mentioned again. No, it’s just that he can sometimes ask too many questions of servicemen. Those who were over there, I mean. I know that most of you don’t like to talk about what happened but he will insist. I’ve tried speaking to him about it but it’s difficult.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked away, as if defeated. “
He
’s difficult,” she said, correcting herself. “It’s not easy for a woman alone with a boy like him.”
    I looked away from her then, embarrassed by the familiarity of her tone, and glanced out of the window. A tall sycamore tree was blocking my view of the street beyond and I found myself staring at its thickset branches, another childhood memory surprising me by how ruthlessly it appeared. My younger sister, Laura, and I gathering horse chestnuts from the trees that lined the avenues near Kew Gardens, stripping their prickly shells away and taking them home to string into weapons; a memory I dismissed just as quickly as it had arrived.
    “I don’t mind so very much,” I said, turning back to Mrs. Cantwell. “Boys his age are interested, I know. He’s, what … seventeen?”
    “Just turned, yes. He was that angry last year when the war ended.”
    “Angry?” I asked, frowning.
    “It sounds ridiculous, I know. But he’d been planning on going for so long,” she said. “He read about it in the newspaper every day, following all the boys from around here who went off to France. He even tried to sign up a couple of times, pretending to be older than he was, but they laughed him straight back to me, which, to my way of thinking, sir, was not right. Not right at all. He only wanted to do his bit, after all, they didn’t need to make fun of him on account of it. And when it all came to an end, well, the truth is that he thought he’d missed out on something.”
    “On having his head blown off, most likely,” I said, the words ricocheting around the walls, splattering shrapnel over both of us. Mrs. Cantwell flinched but didn’t look away.
    “He wouldn’t see it like that, Mr. Sadler,” she replied quietly. “His father was out there, you see. He was killed very early on.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said. So the accident at the threshing machine was fiction, after all.
    “Yes, well, David was only just thirteen at the time and there never was a boy who loved his father as much as he did. I don’t think he’s ever got over it, if I’m honest. It damaged him in some way. Well, you can see it in his attitude. He’s so angry all the time. So difficult to talk to. Blames me for everything, of course.”
    “Boys his age usually do,” I said with a smile, marvelling at how mature I sounded when in truth I was only her son’s elder by four years.
    “Of course
I
wanted the war to end,” she continued. “I prayed for it. I didn’t want him out there, suffering like the rest of you did. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for you. Your poor mother must have been beside herself.”
    I shrugged and turned the gesture quickly into a nod; I had nothing to say on that point.
    “But there was a part of me, a small part,” she said, “that hoped he would get to go. Just for a week or two. I didn’t want him in any battles, of course. I wouldn’t have wanted him to come to any harm. But a week with the other boys might have been good for him. And then, peace.”
    I didn’t know whether she was referring to peace in Europe or peace in her own particular corner of England but I said nothing.
    “Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for him,” she said, smiling. “And now I’ll leave you to your tea.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Cantwell,” I said, seeing her to the door and watching for a moment as