Seacliff

Chapter sixty-four: London

1940

Crawling with khaki soldiers and blue nurses, London looked more foreign to Aidan's eyes than the beaches of France had. Not even the red double-deckers cruising past the train station could convince him that he'd set foot on British soil.

"Aidan! Aidan, my boy!"

His mother's voice alone grounded him to reality. It winded him like a kick in the gut, quickening his heartbeat. His long-suppressed tears sprang free.

"Ma..."

Wrapped in a cape over her own nurse's uniform, Saoirse ran to embrace her son, squeezing and smooching him as hard as she could. Aoife lingered awkwardly behind, her eyes all welled up.

"Come here, you," Aidan said as soon as his mother let go. He hoisted his sister up in a hug and kissed her on the cheek.

Saoirse enveloped her children in her arms, rendered speechless by her bursting joy.

"I missed you," Aoife whispered to her brother. "I missed you so much."

"Oh, I missed you, too, princess." He pecked her forehead, brushing her hair behind her ear. "How have you been? Did you manage the Christmas tree without me last year? You'll have to tell me all about it."

Aidan set his sister down, holding onto her hand, and offered his free arm to his mother.

"How are you?" Saoirse asked in a soft voice.

Her inquisitive eyes peered into his soul. He forced a smile.

"Good," he answered, gulping. "I'm good. Shall we go and have our tea before all the tables are taken?"

As always, Ma could read his mind and didn't say a word. She adjusted the cap on his head and nodded.

*

"How's Jemmy?" Saoirse lowered her teacup on its saucer and her elbows on the table. "Maggie will want to know."

"He's... He's good, yeah. So far, we're all good. Actually, here." Aidan retrieved a letter from his inner breast pocket. He slid it across to his mother, past his khaki cap folded on the pristine tablecloth. "For Auntie Maggie and Uncle Mac. From Jemmy."

Saoirse picked up the missive and tucked it into her apron's pocket. "Oh, Aidan..." She reached out to pat his hand. "Aidan, my boy, what were you thinking?"

He couldn't help a lopsided smile. "I doubt that I was really thinking, Ma. You've... you've read my letters, haven't you?"

Saoirse sighed, holding onto his fingers with both hands now.

"Anyway..." Aidan cleared his throat. "We made up, Jemmy and I." He chuckled. "We shook hands and made up."

A knowing, mischievous look passed over his mother's mien. "Oh, I would imagine you did more than shake hands this time around..."

Aidan's face flushed scarlet. He averted his gaze, lifting his teacup to his lips.

"Aidan, mo mhuirnín..." His mother ruffled his hair. "You'd better come back to me, you hear? You'd better come back home."

He didn't look up from the tea leaves stuck to the white china of his cup. Sat between his mother and his sister, Aidan suddenly regretted taking his Easter leave. Returning to the trenches would be that much more painful now.

*

Back at the barracks, Aidan couldn't sleep after a day full of pure, heart-warming joy. It had saddened him to learn that his parents' relationship had become strained because of him, but he was looking forward to tomorrow's family reunion, where he hoped he could put things right between Ma and his dad. James didn't deserve to be blamed for a choice that had been all Aidan's.