The Hostage (29 page)

‘Kind of.’

He took a mouthful of food and a swig of wine before continuing.‘Okay.Then a mysterious blight arrived in Ireland that wiped out the potato, pretty much the only food there was to eat, and over a million of the population died. There are some people in the Republic who still believe that blight was a bit of British biological warfare.’

‘No, I don’t believe it.’

‘I said some people believe it. There’s no evidence it’s true.’

‘I can’t believe we’d do that.’

‘Well, maybe not, but they did refuse to lift a finger to help the starving families and continued exporting as much food as they could out of the country. That’s when a secret society known as the Young Irelanders was formed and they led the great rising of 1848. Have you heard of that?’

‘No.’

‘Well. Thomas Meagher was about your age at the time and he went around giving speeches stirring up anti-British sentiment. He was arrested along with several others for putting up barricades in Tipperary, the rising came to an end and Meagher and his pals were all tried and sentenced to be hung, drawn and quartered.’

‘Just for putting up a barricade?’

‘Well, they’d done a few other things, but not much more than that. There was an informer in their ranks who told the British that they were up to all kinds of revolutionary things.’

‘A tout? Some things never change.’

‘Right,’ Bill said. ‘Well, there was an uproar and Queen Victoria stepped in—’

‘I’ve heard of her,’ she interrupted.

‘I’m impressed,’ he said. ‘Well, the old girl decided to change the nine men’s sentences to life in prison in a penal colony in Australia. Now, I said there were some great Irishmen in those days, didn’t I? Well listen to this. All nine of those men escaped within a few years and you won’t believe what they then went on to achieve.’ Bill leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner.‘One went on to become Prime Minister of Australia . . . ’

‘Prime Minister of the country he was sent to spend the rest of his life in prison?’ Aggy said.

‘Yes. Charles Duffy was his name.’

‘That’s amazing.’

‘I haven’t finished yet.Another became Governor General of Newfoundland. Another became Attorney General of Australia, another Minister of Agriculture and President of the Council for Canada, another a prominent New York politician, two served in the United States Army and both became Brigadier Generals, and Thomas Meagher became General of the 69th Irish Brigade, one of the most successful and feared units in the American Civil War on the Union side, and later he became Secretary of State and acting Governor of Montana.What do you think about that then?’

‘That’s amazing,’ she said again sincerely. ‘I mean, that’s unbelievable.’

‘There you go.And that’s just a handful of great Irishmen.’

‘Tell me some more.’

‘Get a book.’

‘No, go on. It’s interesting. How did Meagher escape?’

‘From Australia?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, he was a brash adventurer, and a very honourable man. He wrote a letter to his district magistrate and simply told him he intended to set himself free because he did not respect the law that imprisoned him. But he didn’t run off right away. He waited until the magistrate had received the letter and sent the police after him. As they arrived at his house to arrest him he galloped away, lost them, hopped on to a boat and sailed to New York City.’

‘What happened then?’

‘I’m not going to spend the entire evening talking about the history of Ireland.’

‘Just Meagher. What happened to him next?’

Bill sighed and looked at her with a mock frown. He was truthfully enjoying telling her the story. ‘Okay,’ he continued.

‘Wait a minute. Where are we? I mean what year?’

‘The 1860s. When the American Civil War started the Irish Americans had little interest in fighting at first. When Meagher arrived in America he continued his struggle for the freedom of Ireland and became a prominent leader within the IRB. That’s when Abraham Lincoln stepped in and made a deal with him and other members of the IRB to get the Irish to fight in the war. Meagher saw it as a way to raise an army to eventually fight the British. He agreed to fight on the Union side if Lincoln agreed that after the war his men could keep their arms. And basically, that’s what happened, and a great deal of credit for the winning of the American Civil War had to go to the Irish soldiers who fought in it.’

‘But how could the Irish attack the British from America?’ she asked.

‘They invaded Canada.’

‘No way,’ she said.

‘They did.After the civil war Meagher’s army was allowed to camp along the Canadian border. The idea being that if the Irish could invade Canada they could use it as a barter to win home rule in Ireland.’

‘Wait a minute,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘The Irish actually invaded Canada?’

‘Don’t laugh too soon,’ he said.‘They invaded it and more than once.The most famous fight was the battle of Ridgeway, where they actually routed the British.’

‘No.’

‘Well, to be honest, it wasn’t a British army as such. It was a garrison. And it wasn’t quite like any of the big battles of the Civil War, but people were killed and the British were routed. Unfortunately the Irish couldn’t hold on to the land and they were kicked out a few days later.’

‘What happened next?’

‘Lincoln was assassinated and the new President, Johnson, turned against the Irish, or at least no longer helped the cause, and it all went downhill from then on.’

‘That’s astonishing.’

‘Do you want to hear something else some old Irish Americans believe?

‘What?’

‘Well, they believe the British killed Abraham Lincoln.’

‘Now you’re totally bullshitting me.’

‘I didn’t say it was true, I just said there are those who believe it.What is true is that there was no love lost between the Brits and the Yanks in those days. They were always close to having another war with each other. Don’t forget the Brits were helping the Confederate army defeat the Union at the time. And they also knew Lincoln was helping the Irish and had made a deal with them that would help start a war in Ireland. And Lincoln also had his eye on Canada and wanted to link Alaska with the rest of North America.’

‘My God.’

‘Exactly. There, now, is that a story or what?’

‘What happened to Meagher?’

‘Ahh, funny you should ask because that’s another interesting part of the story. Before the last invasion of Canada, which was nixed by another bloody British spy - the guy who actually planned the invasion for the Irish, would you believe - Meagher, was, as I’ve said, made Secretary of State for Montana and became acting Governor. Not long after he mysteriously disappeared off a paddle steamer one night. His body was never found.’

‘But there are those who believe it was the work of the dastardly British,’ she said, mimicking him.

‘Are you making fun of this?’

‘I’m not, really. I think it’s great, well, you know what I mean.’

‘Actually that just so happens to be true.’

‘There’s evidence?’

‘No. But there are those who believe it.’

‘Why would the British want to kill him?’

‘Maybe they were settling old scores. Or perhaps it was because Montana is on the border of Canada and Meagher was planning another invasion. No one will ever know. And that’s it. No more stories about Ireland, not tonight anyway.’

‘Did he have any children?’ she asked.

‘Why do you ask that?’

‘Just wondered. We don’t have any Meaghers on our players list.’

‘Maybe there are one or two running about under different names,’ he said, aware that was not the smartest thing to say, even in jest, but it was harmless enough with Aggy.

‘It does make you think though, doesn’t it? Maybe we are wrong,’ she said.

‘That it does.’

‘And then they put a bomb in a pub or blow up a street full of innocent people just for the publicity and you realise they’re not right either.’

‘As far as they’re concerned it’s a war. In war civilians suffer along with the armies.’

‘Do you think Meagher would’ve done something like that?’

‘Of course not. But who knows what he would’ve done if he’d been born today.’

‘I don’t see any honour in it,’ she said.

Bill kept quiet.

‘What do you think you’d have done if you’d been born Catholic? Would you have joined the IRA?’

‘No,’ he said, avoiding her look.

‘You joined the British army.’

‘And I’ll be happy when I’m out of it.’

‘You’re leaving?’

‘That’s the plan.’

‘When?’

‘I don’t know exactly. Soon I think.’

‘Why?’ she said as she took a mouthful of food.

‘Had enough. Getting a bit bored. I have time enough for another career.’

‘Doing what?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ he said and stood up. ‘I have to go.’ She looked up at him, confused. ‘Oh?’

‘To the loo to sort out my bloody underpants. I’ve been sitting on my balls since I got here.’

She laughed and covered her mouth. His eyes lingered on her, enjoying her, then he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. She allowed him to.

‘That’s just my hello kiss you owe me.You’re a beautiful girl, and do you know what I wish from you?’

She looked into his eyes, afraid he might say something that would spoil the evening.

‘I hope to God you’ll tell me your real name soon because I can’t stand Aggy.’

She grinned as she watched him walk away towards the toilets, shifting a lump in the back of his pants. Her smile remained even after he was out of sight.

Kathryn sat on the couch in her living room staring into space. She couldn’t remember ever having been this bored. The room was as sparse and unwelcoming as the day they had moved in, as was the rest of the house. The plain walls and mantelpiece were empty and not a picture or ornament to be seen. She had brought over some framed family photos but they were in a box in the garage. Kathryn had done nothing to make the place look lived in and couldn’t find the motivation to make a start. Hank would be angry when he got home this time. He had been patient so far but they were into their third week. He would soon want to host his own barbeque and invite colleagues over. She tried to make a start that morning and paced the room several times, thinking of colour schemes and furnishing but it only fuelled her anxiety. She thought about asking Hank if they could find a different place but it was only a smokescreen for not having done anything to this one and he would see through it.

She checked her watch again. In another three hours she could pick up the girls from school. They would keep her occupied until she put them to bed then it would be back to gloom and boredom before it was her turn to climb the stairs and end yet another day. Hank was going to have to make some kind of a compromise with her. She thought about negotiating her stay to a year. It wouldn’t do his career any harm. They could always say her mother was ill. A year apart might even do them some good. She would talk to him about it as soon as he got back. She needed something to look forward to, something less than seven hundred and fifteen days to go.

She glanced at the phone, debating whether or not to plug it in and call one of her friends in Virginia. Most of them would be up and about and getting their kids ready for school. She had spoken to most of them several times each in the past week, racking up hours of long-distance charges. Without that contact she felt she would go nuts a lot sooner. She still deliberately left the phone unplugged in case one of the wives called. Joan had telephoned three times and two other wives once each the first week, inviting her to tea and offering to show her around the shops in Bournemouth. After some hastily contrived excuses that must have sounded lame she had decided to avoid contact altogether. There was the risk that shutting off the phone might prompt one of them to call around. In fact someone had the evening before but she didn’t answer the door. After a minute she heard them walk back to a car and drive away. But having the phone turned off also meant Hank couldn’t call. The truth was she didn’t much care to talk to him either. All he talked about was the damned job; how the SBS do this and we do it just as well and maybe better but we could learn this off them and so on and so on.

It did worry her, the way she was feeling about Hank these days, or the lack of feeling. Most times she didn’t care if he came home at night or not. She put it down to the frustration of being stuck in England. It wasn’t this bad back home. The only thing stopping her from packing up and taking the kids back to Virginia was the certainty that it would cause a serious turn in their relationship and she wasn’t ready to face that. Not yet anyhow. She sighed heavily and got up and plugged the phone into the wall socket.

She sat back down on the couch, reached for the receiver, and then paused to decide who to call first and what to talk about. Her friends had heard in great detail every complaint she had to offer about her current life in England and she was concerned her constant negativity might be turning them off. She would not mention it unless specifically asked and keep the conversation about their own daily lives. As she reached for the phone it rang.

She snatched her hand back and watched it. It rang for a long time, far too long to be polite. It had to be Hank. They had not spoken for several days. He normally called every day when he was away if he could, which meant he had not been able to. He knew how much she hated answering the phone. The longer it rang the more certain she became that it was him. As she reached for it, it stopped. She immediately regretted not picking it up and felt guilty. It wasn’t Hank’s fault she was unhappy. This wasn’t about him. He was just doing his job and did not deserve her petulant moods. The phone rang again. She picked it up but then said nothing, just in case.