No Peace for Amelia (14 page)

A
melia's mother thought Amelia ought to go and pay her respects to the Goodbody family.

‘Would that not be presumptuous, Mama?' asked Amelia.

‘In what way, dear?' asked her mother.

‘Well,' Amelia stopped and blushed. ‘Well, it might seem to be saying that I had some sort of special
relationship
with Frederick.'

‘But you had, Amelia.'

‘We were just friends,' Amelia mumbled, twisting her fingers about each other in her lap.

‘No, dear, not just friends. You liked each other very especially, and one day, when you were older, you might have married.'

‘Oh, Mama, don't say such a thing.' Amelia blushed deeper.

‘I don't see why not,' said Mama. ‘There's no point in
pretending otherwise. Those are just simple facts.'

‘We weren't engaged, Mama,' said Amelia,
pronouncing
the word ‘engaged' as if it were a rather shameful idea.

‘Of course not. But just because you're too young for that doesn't mean that you feel any less at his loss. And I think it is right that you should go and sympathise with his parents before you go back to school. In any case, you are going to have to speak to Lucinda, and I think it would be better to do that in her home rather than in a corridor at school.'

So Amelia and her mother put on their best visiting hats and went to call on the Goodbody family.

Everyone was in black, for mourning, even Lucinda.

‘Don't you think it wonderfully dramatic?' she
whispered
to Amelia, sitting next to her on a rather
uncomfortable
conversation seat in the Goodbody's magnificent drawing room.

Amelia opened her eyes wide in horror.

‘Good heavens, Amelia, I don't mean Frederick's
being
killed. That's perfectly horrid, of course. I mean my mourning. Don't you think black is marvellous with my colouring?'

It was true that black suited Lucinda. Her creamy throat rose pure and smooth out of the black ruffles, her face looked like alabaster, and her glorious hair looked more glorious still, as the only moment of colour in her whole person.

‘Yes, I think it suits you very well,' Amelia whispered back.

‘It's a pity you weren't engaged to Frederick. Then you could have worn black too. Though I don't know if it would have suited you as well. You might just have looked washed out. Some people do look appalling in black. You need strong colouring for it.' And Lucinda put a loving hand up to her head and patted her auburn curls.

‘So maybe it's just as well you weren't engaged,' she went on. ‘What did you make of that dreadful oaf who came with his lurid story though? He did call on you
afterwards
, didn't he?'

‘You mean the soldier with the pipe?'

‘Pipe!' screeched Lucinda. ‘He didn't produce a pipe in your house, did he? What ever did your mama say?'

‘Oh, Mama wasn't there.'

‘You mean you received him on your own? How very unconventional!'

‘No. Mary Ann was there too.'

Lucinda snorted. ‘Well, she hardly stayed in the
drawing
room all through the wretched man's visit, did she?'

‘No. No, we were all in the kitchen, actually.'

Lucinda was speechless at this idea. She looked at Amelia as if she was from another species. There was a long silence between them, during which Amelia could hear their mothers at the other side of the room talking in low tones.

Just then Amelia's mother stood up.

‘Time to be getting along now,' she said. ‘Amelia?'

Amelia stood up too. She shook hands stiffly with Lucinda, who remained seated. Her hand was limp in Amelia's, as if what Amelia had told her about receiving Frederick's comrade in the kitchen had affected her bone structure.

Lucinda's mother stood up too and kissed Amelia's mother lightly. Amelia held her cheek out to be kissed, but Lucinda's mother took her right into her arms and gave her a warm, wordless hug. Amelia was surprised, but returned the hug just as warmly.

‘I'm ever so sorry,' she whispered in the older woman's ear.

‘So am I, my dear, so am I,' said Mrs Goodbody.

‘I do think, Mama,' said Amelia as they pattered home together, ‘that Lucinda Goodbody is quite the most
odious
girl I ever met.'

Her mother smiled to herself, and thought that Amelia was markedly better.

When Amelia and her mother jostled in at the front door, they beheld a most extraordinary sight. Mary Ann stood locked in a tight embrace with a man who
appeared
to be Amelia's father. At least, he was shorter than Amelia's father, and darker, but one could be
forgiven
for mistaking him for Amelia's father just for a brief moment: he was, after all, wearing Mr Pim's greatcoat.

Amelia's mother gasped. Amelia gave a shocked little yelp, which turned into a cry of recognition and
pleasure. She jumped up and down on the floor with
excitement
and beat a frantic tattoo on Patrick's back. He loosened himself a little from Mary Ann's clasp,
half-turned
and, seeing Amelia, drew her also into the
embrace
. The three young people stood and swayed
together
for an ecstatic moment. Amelia was the first to shake free. She turned a shining face to her mother:

‘It's Mary Ann's brother, Patrick, Mama. He's safe. He's not dead.'

‘No,' said her mother, in an amused tone. ‘I can see that he is most emphatically not dead. And I see that that is a source of gratification to you two. How do you do, Mr Maloney?'

Patrick took her hand and shook it hard.

‘Oh look, your hand, your arm, it works! I fixed it, and it works!' Amelia touched Patrick's arm reverently, and ran her fingers along the forearm, where the wound had been.

‘Oh yes, indeed it does, indeed it does!' cried Patrick, pumping Amelia's mother's hand harder than ever in demonstration.

‘I see,' said Mrs Pim. ‘But would somebody like to tell me why it is such a source of surprise that not only is this young man alive, but his hand and arm are in working order?'

‘Yes, of course, but first I have to take my coat off,' said Patrick, shrugging it off as he spoke. ‘At least, it's not my coat, and to return it was one of my reasons for coming here today.'

‘Yes, I thought it looked familiar,' said Amelia's mother.

Amelia's mother did eventually get to hear the whole story. She could hardly believe what she had slept through that fateful Friday night, all the comings and goings in and out of the house with bandages and cooking sherry and cushions, and the smuggling out of Patrick in the early morning in the milk-cart, wearing a purloined coat. As the three young people told the story, it seemed more and more unlikely and absurd, and they saw funny aspects to it now that they had been too overwrought to see at the time. Before long, the four of them were chortling over the dining table (for Amelia's mother said it was too important an occasion for the kitchen) and swinging back in their chairs to laugh some more.

When they had all simmered down a bit, and there was just the occasional chuckle around the table,
Patrick
filled in the story from when he had left. He had managed to get through with his message, and as soon as the surrender happened, he had been summarily
arrested
along with the rest of them. But there wasn't much space in the local barracks for the detention of dangerous rebels, so the constabulary had been
looking
for ways to weed out some of the prisoners for
release
. Patrick, being young and wounded, was one of the first to be let go.

He had been given the name of a safe house near by,
and he had made his way there and lain low. Although he was in the clear, having been released from custody, he felt he would be best keeping out of sight until his wound had healed. In the first place, he didn't want to draw the attention of the authorities on himself, and then he was afraid of the local people, too, so strong was the initial reaction against the Rising. When the executions started he was sickened with grief and rage, but then the tide of opinion began to change, and he felt safe to show himself. Then, when the arm had finally healed, he had thought it time to come and set Mary Ann's mind at rest, and of course to return the greatcoat.

‘I hope you don't mind, Ma'am?' Patrick turned to Amelia's mother.

‘About the coat?'

‘No, not just about the coat. About me coming here at all. About me being here that night. About the trouble we might have caused you and your family. We know you don't agree with our politics.'

‘No, I don't mind. I'm glad I slept through it all, but even if I hadn't, I would of course have been pleased to help a person in trouble, regardless of the politics of the situation.'

‘Thank you, Ma'am. You're very good. But it's really Amelia I need to thank for all she did for me that night. I brought something for you, Amelia. Just a moment, I think I left it in my – I mean, the – coat pocket.'

He went out to the hall and returned in a moment with
a smallish package, which he held out to Amelia.

‘I couldn't return your shawl, which you gave me for a sling,' he said. ‘It's in shreds by now.'

‘Oh, that old thing!' said Amelia, tugging at the string.

‘So I brought you this in its place. I hope you like it.'

Out of the folds of brown paper fell a soft shawl of the finest wool, so fine it looked like linen, but softer than any linen could possibly be. It was a deep, deep royal blue, so blue it was almost purple.

‘Oh, it's lovely!' exclaimed Amelia, and she shook it out. Out of its folds shone a searing gash of sunshine
yellow
, streaking diagonally across the shawl. ‘Oh!' said Amelia again. ‘It's beautiful. The colours are so wonderful. It's just like an iris.'

SIOBHÁN PARKINSON lives in Dublin (very near the road where this novel is set), with her woodturner husband Roger Bennett and her son, Matthew, who acts as her personal
proofreader
. She has won many awards for her books, which have been translated into many languages: French, German, Italian,
Portuguese
, Spanish, Danish, Japanese, Latvian. Siobhán is one of Ireland’s best-known and finest writers of literature for children.

Other books by Siobhán Parkinson

AMELIA

Shortlisted for the Bisto Book of the Year Award

All that matter to Amelia are dresses and parties. But when the family fortunes decline she must face hardship and poverty she has never known. And when Mama ends up in prison, what is Amelia to do?

THE MOON KING

Ricky is put in a foster home which is full of sunshine, laughter and children of all ages. But Ricky has withdrawn from the world; the only words he speaks are in his mind. He has lost the ability to become part of family life. Then, he finds an unusual chair in the attic, which becomes his special place. In his chair he becomes the Moon King and finds some sense of power and inner peace. From this situation relationships slowly begin to grow, but it is not a smooth path and at times Ricky just wants to leave it all behind …

FOUR KIDS, THREE CATS, TWO COWS, ONE WITCH (MAYBE)

BEVERLEY:
the bossy one, stuck up and fussy.

ELIZABETH:
easy-going, a bit of a dreamer.

KEVIN:
a good looker and cool dude.

GERARD:
takes his cat everywhere, and is barely tolerated by the girls.

THREE CATS:
Well, there’s Gerard’s Fat Cat, or Fat, for short. And then there are the two Pappagenos.

TWO COWS:
What are
they
doing in this story?

ONE WITCH:
(maybe) Well, is she or isn’t she? Kevin seems to know but he’s not telling. And what
is
a witch anyway? The four, plus cat, set out for Lady Island, hoping for adventure, maybe even a little danger. But nothing
prepares
them for their encounter with the eccentric Dymhpna and the strange events that follow.

SISTERS … NO WAY!

WINNER Bisto Book of the Year Award

When Cindy’s father becomes involved with Ashling and Alva’s mother, all hell breaks loose. No way will these three ever call each other sisters.

CINDY:
If her father thinks he can just swan off and
actually
marry one of her
teachers
, Cindy will show him! But worse than that are her two daughters – so prissy and boring! It’s gross!

ASHLING:
If only her mother could find a nice man – but the new man in Ashling’s mother’s life comes with a daughter, the noxious Cindy, arch-snob and ultra opinionated.

Books by Gerard Whelan

THE GUNS OF EASTER

Winner Bisto Book of the Year Eilís Dillon Award 
Winner Bisto Book of the Year Merit Award

It is 1916: from the poverty of the Dublin slums twelve-year-old Jimmy Conway sees the war in Europe as glorious, and loves the British Army for which his father is fighting. But when war comes to his own streets, Jimmy’s loyalties are divided. Looking for food for his family, Jimmy crosses the city, hoping to make it home before curfew.

A WINTER OF SPIES

Eleven-year-old Sarah wants to be part of the rebellion in Dublin in 1920. But Dublin is a dangerous, shadowy world of spies and informants in the aftermath of the Rising. Who should Sarah trust? Sequel to the award-winning,
The Guns of Easter.

DREAM INVADER

Winner Bisto Book of the Year Award

When Saskia goes to stay with her uncle and aunt she finds them worried about her little cousin, Simon, who is having terrible dreams. Then an old woman enters the scene. The forces of good and evil fight for control over the child while Saskia watches the horrible events unfold …

Other Books from The O’Brien Press

CHILDREN OF THE FAMINE TRILOGY

UNDER THE HAWTHORN TREE

Marita Conlon-McKenna

Eily, Michael and Peggy are left without parents when the Great Famine strikes. They set out on a long and dangerous journey to find the great-aunts their mother told them about in her stories.

WILD FLOWER GIRL

Marita Conlon-McKenna