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The fractured features of his loved one disappeared, and only his own sad eyes stared back at him out of the hedgerows and the trees.
If only this were a happier homecoming.
He saw the girls in the fields pause in their work and straighten their backs to watch the train go by. They thrust out their bosoms with unintended provocativeness and waved their brown arms. At other times he would have waved back. Or moved to the door where he could lower the window and hang out to whistle and wave his Petty Officer’s cap. But not today. He was tired from travelling. He was depressed by the thought of the ordeal he had to face at home. The journey seemed endless, but he could not sleep. And the boat crossing to Belfast was still to come. Then the bus from Belfast to Corrymore that would drop him off on the coast road at the corner where the main street of the village joined it. He would walk down the hill past the white cottages and the grey houses, past the closed gates, the garden walls, the fuchsia hedges, to the square above the harbour, to his own home, with the curtains drawn and the blinds pulled down to keep out the bright, spring sunlight.
‘Petty Officer Carney, I’m afraid I have bad news for you.’
Joe pressed his forehead to the window again but closed his eyes. The scene in the Old Man’s cabin came back to him. The solemn face, the sympathetic glance, the melancholy voice. The pause to give Joe time perhaps to anticipate what was to follow. In this case Petty Officer Carney did anticipate what was to follow. His mother’s last letter had prepared him in advance.
His father’s heart was not so good.
Joe opened his eyes. The face in the glass pane was his father’s. How old it had become, how wrinkled and dry, how white the hair, how grizzled the stubble on the chin, how deeply sunk the eyes, the dark eyes closed now, sightless, the eyes turned up under the tight lids as if trying to look behind at the dark figure of Death.
‘Your turn next.’
Seven days’ compassionate leave. The Royal Navy was generous in its compassion. But two were almost gone already. The day after tomorrow he would help carry the coffin to the church, he and his two brothers and his Uncle Francis, and perhaps Michael Carrick and Liam Dooley as well. Would his brothers make it home in time? Stephen would. Stephen was working in a factory in Swindon making parts for aeroplanes.
Libros Libertad 