Seacliff

Chapter fifty-eight: This country is at war

1939

For the past twenty years, Saoirse's greatest fear had been that mankind would not learn from its biggest mistake. She had refused to buy toy cannons or soldiers for her son, as much as he loved the tales of history's valiant warriors. Her children had grown up out in the wild, with a love for animals and natural beauty. Away from the glamour of war that had blinded her generation.

When the economy had crumbled under the weight of Black Tuesday, she hadn't shared her husband's chief concern – that they might not be able to afford putting Aidan through university.

"I never went to university," she'd argued, "and I turned out all right, didn't I?"

No – she had worried that, faced with atrocious hardship, the already fragile human psyche would once more deteriorate into chaos. Recent international developments had signalled that her fear might come true, and now...

"I am speaking to you from the cabinet room at 10 Downing Street..."

Saoirse's knees buckled as the voice of Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain carried over the wireless. Her hands dropped the plate she'd been attempting to rinse.

"This morning, the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note stating that..."

She grabbed the sink's edge for support.

"...unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland..."

Her heartbeat thudded in her ears and she struggled to walk towards the kitchen table.

"...a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received..."

She collapsed on the nearest chair, her breath caught in her throat, and covered her gaping mouth as if that could stave off the tears.

"...and that consequently this country is at war with Germany."

The words echoed in her mind. They clogged her ears and blocked out the rest of the speech.

At war...

This country is at war...

With Germany...

This country is at war with Germany!

Tears flowed unimpeded from her eyes. The world fell to pieces around her, ruins in the wake of a missile. Everything had been in vain. All of it. All the lives lost, all the families broken, all the minds and bodies mangled. All of it... for nothing.

The tragedy then hit home, hard and fast. At nineteen, Aidan was now more than old enough for service. Old enough to believe he stood a fighting chance, young enough to buy into patriotic propaganda. Ripe, clueless cannon fodder for the glory of some rich, fat officer.

Panic struck Saoirse senseless.

Bile tasted like mud in her mouth. The phantom pain of her old wounds made her stagger as she stood, gruesome scenarios unfolding in her brain. Her baby boy, battered by bullets! Frightened and helpless and –

Her heart shattered into a million shards. She clutched at her breast as if it could steady the ragged pulse within. Still in a daze, Saoirse wandered into the front room to switch off the wireless, and the quiet suffocated her.

Aidan had taken his sister out to the beach after breakfast. It was barely noon, they wouldn't be back for some time still. The telephone rang, ominous as it resounded throughout the empty house. Saoirse turned around to pick up the receiver off the kitchen wall.

"Hello?" A breathy silence on the other end of the line. "James, is that you?"

"Were you listening to the wireless just now?" Her husband's voice, indeed.

She gulped. "Yes."

"Are you all right?"

A bitter, hollow chuckle. "We're officially at war, James. How could I possibly be all right?"

A heavy sigh. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You're saying it as if it's your fault."

"No, I... You've been saying this would happen for ages and I never believed you. You were right and I'm sorry."

"Well, it doesn't really matter at this point, does it? The milk is already spilled. Are you coming home tonight?"

"Yes," James answered. "Lord Grayson was just entreating me to stay longer when Chamberlain took over the wireless and provided me with an excellent excuse to leave."

"Oh, at least some good's come out of that."

The amusement hung limp in the air.

"How are the children? What did you tell them?"

"I haven't told them anything yet, Aidan took Aoife out for a ride and they haven't come back. I... I don't know what I'm going to tell them."

James sighed. "I don't envy you the task. I am sorry that I can't be there with you, though."

"Never you mind. Just... come back soon, please."

"I will. The footman is packing my suitcase. I should be there around tea-time."

"All right. Take care. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Saoirse. Stay strong."

She scoffed, hung up, and released a quivering breath. Her strength worn thin had already depleted.