A Crimson Dawn (26 page)

‘I've nothing to hide,' Emmie said stoutly, ‘and they'll find nowt at Mannie's of any interest.'

Rab spoke with difficulty. ‘Good - man. But - wha' ‘bout lists?' His look was urgent.

Emmie reassured him. ‘They're safe - I found them.' She looked at him pityingly. ‘Who did this to you?'

Rab shrugged. Helen spoke for him. ‘Lads said they were ready for him, like it was all organised. Didn't have a chance to start handing out leaflets. I think Oliphant's stirring up trouble 'cos conscription's that unpopular.'

Rab nodded. ‘Frightened - it'll spread - to - pits. Strikes …'

‘What will they do to you?' Emmie asked in dread.

Helen answered again. ‘They'll try and charge him for handing out leaflets, but they won't find any. His marras burned them before the police got there.'

There was an abrupt hammering on the door. The women looked round nervously. Helen went to answer it.

‘Mrs MacRae?' said a craggy-faced police sergeant.

‘Aye.'

‘I'm Sergeant Graham. Is your son here? Rab MacRae. We'd like a few words.'

‘He's in no fit state,' Helen said brusquely. ‘The lad can hardly talk.'

The sergeant pushed past her, followed by an embarrassed Constable Collier, who nodded at Helen.

‘Rab MacRae,' Sergeant Graham growled, as he spotted Rab by the fire, ‘you're to come with me for questioning.'

‘He's not ganin' anywhere,' Helen said in fury.

The police officer ignored her. ‘You can walk, can't you?' he demanded.

Rab struggled to his feet. Johnny Collier went quickly to support him. Emmie stepped up to the sergeant.

‘And what about arresting the thugs who left him like this?' she accused. ‘Thought you were supposed to stop fighting, not stand by and let it happen!'

He gave her a dismissive look. ‘Who are yon?'

‘A friend,' she glared.

‘You've too big a gob for your own good, missus. I can bring you in too for obstructing an officer.'

Helen swiftly pulled Emmie back. Barny rushed to his mother and clung on to her skirt.

‘Are you hiding any printing machinery?' Graham demanded. Helen shook her head, but he sent Collier to search. The young constable returned with nothing. Graham ordered him to get Rab out of the house.

‘Where are you taking him?' Helen cried.

The sergeant ignored her and marched out of the cottage.

Rab put out a hand as he passed and gave a swollen smile.

Collier said in a low voice, ‘I'll make sure the doctor looks him over, Mrs MacRae. Don't worry. It's just a few questions.'

Emmie watched speechless as Rab was led away down the lane to the police station.

‘Don't know that man Graham,' Helen fretted, ‘he's new round here. But Johnny Collier's a good lad.'

The women stayed together until early afternoon, when a drawn-faced Mannie appeared.

‘They've been and searched his room,' the old man said, ‘turned it upside down. Best if the lad stays here a while.'

‘They've no right!' Helen was indignant.

‘Tore up his sheet music,' Mannie said, shaking his head.

Emmie was aghast. ‘They never did?'

‘Aye, all of it,' the old man sighed. ‘But they found nowt to arrest him for. They'll have to release him.'

‘He'll have to stop the
Messenger
,' Helen said in agitation. ‘It's too dangerous.'

Emmie felt the anger that had knotted her stomach all day rise up and choke her. What had become of their village that idealists like Rab could be beaten up, hounded from his home, forbidden to tell the truth about the war? All free speech was being snuffed out. Well, they might silence him, but they could not silence them all.

Emmie could bear inaction no longer. She took Barny by the hand and abruptly left. Storming back home, she pulled the bag of leaflets from their hiding place.

‘Haway, Barny,' she said grimly, ‘we'll tell this village what's ganin' on under their noses!'

Together they hurried down to the main street, handing out leaflets to everyone they met. They went into the co-operative store and left a pile on the counter.

‘Read the truth - the Government are hiding the real number of dead,' Emmie told the startled queue of shoppers. ‘They won't stop till they've bled our country dry of men. And for what? To keep their own kind in power and keep the working class in their place. Resist conscription - don't let them take away your husbands and sons. Join the No Conscription Fellowship before it's too late!'

Emmie hurried around the village in the chilly March breeze, thrusting leaflets at young and old. She stood with Barny outside her old school and told the children to take a leaflet home to their parents. The caretaker rushed out and shook his fist, telling her to get on home. Barny grew fretful, but Emmie reassured him.

‘We have to tell the men to stop fighting. Just a few more minutes, pet.'

She hoisted him on to her back and laboured up the hill to the pit gates. Already men for the back shift were beginning to straggle in for work. They took her leaflets in surprise.

‘Read them, please,' Emmie pleaded. ‘One of your marras got beaten up by Oliphant's lackeys for trying to give these out. Rab MacRae.'

One man spat at her feet. ‘He deserves owt he gets - bloody Hun-lover.'

Emmie faced him. ‘Better to be friends with the working man in Germany, than doing the dirty work for the ruling classes here. Divide and rule, that's their game, to stop us ever coming together to improve our lot. If more people thought about their comrades in different countries, there would be no war.'

He swore at her and pushed her back. Barny clung on in fright.

‘Haway, don't touch the lass,' another chided. ‘You're Curran's missus, aren't you? Better scarper ‘fore he hears of it.'

But Emmie carried on until the under-manager came out and shouted, ‘I've called for the police. Get off home, woman, unless you want to be arrested.'

Emmie flung a leaflet at him. ‘Give this to Major Oliphant,' she cried.

Many took her leaflets, only a few grinding them under their boots. Within minutes, Johnny Collier was panting up the hill.

‘Emmie,' he said apologetically, ‘I'm sorry, but you've got to stop.' He took her by the elbow and steered her away. ‘Haway, Barny, time to go home.'

Emmie was still riled up and shook him off. ‘What have you done with Rab?'

‘Sergeant let him go,' Johnny said. She gave a sigh of relief, but he cautioned, ‘He's being watched. Tell him to be careful. There are those who want to see him inside. And you, Emmie, this is just a warning,' he told her, ‘but if we catch you leafleting again, we'll have to arrest you. Do you understand?'

She nodded, picking up Barny. Suddenly, a voice bellowed behind them. She turned to see Tom striding towards them, filthy from the pit. Her heart thumped in fright.

‘What the hell are you doing?' he cried, shaking a leaflet at her. He was livid. ‘You been giving these out? What the bloody hell for? What's the bairn doing here?'

Barny clutched his mother, wide-eyed at the shouting.

‘Don't scare him,' Emmie said as calmly as possible.

Tom grabbed Barny from her. ‘Give him here. You're not fit—'

‘Steady, Tom,' Johnny said, trying to intervene.

‘Bugger off, Collier,' Tom snapped. ‘I'll deal with me own wife.' He pushed Emmie ahead of him, a wailing Barny pinned under his arm.

The constable stood back, unsure what to do. Emmie tried to placate Tom.

‘Put the lad down, Tom,' she pleaded. ‘He can walk between us.'

But Tom strode off ahead, the captive Barny kicking his legs and wailing in bewilderment. Emmie hurried after them, trying to reassure the boy, not caring about the gawping onlookers. When they got home, Tom put Barny down and turned on her.

‘You've made a fool of me in front of all me marras,' he raged, shoving her backwards. He raised his arm and punched her in the face. Emmie howled in pain and shock. ‘You're a disgrace to the Currans. Where d'you get them leaflets?' He seized her by the hair. ‘Tell me!'

Emmie screamed, ‘Let go!'

He dragged her around the room. ‘Them yellow-bellies at the Settlement, eh? Or bloody MacRaes? I'll beat it out of yer!'

Emmie cried, ‘Doesn't matter where — I'd do it again.' She swivelled round and bit the hand that tore her hair. ‘Anything to stop this war!' she gasped.

Tom was maddened. He cursed her and threw her away from him. She fell and hit her head on the fender. Barny howled.

‘Mammy, Mammy!'

Dazed, Emmie struggled to sit up, bracing herself for further attack. Barny ran to crouch beside her. She clung to him. Tom stopped, his belt half unbuckled. She looked at him in horror. Abruptly, Tom turned on his heels and stormed out, leaving the back door banging in the wind.

Emmie sat shaking, gritting her teeth against the sob in her throat. Barny cried in her arms. She tried to calm him. For a long time she huddled on the hearth, waiting for Tom's return, wondering if she should take Barny and escape to the MacRaes. But they had enough trouble on their hands; she must stand up for herself.

Wincing at the pain in her cheek, she hauled herself up and forced herself to set about preparing tea. Numbly, she heated water for Tom's bath and made a vegetable soup. She scrambled an egg and fed it to Barny, talking to him softly, ignoring the ache in her jaw. The daylight waned and still her husband did not come back. She put Barny to bed.

After dark, Tom came in at the door and hung up his cap. He was washed and wearing old clothes of Sam's, Emmie noticed with a pang. Neither said a word. He watched her serve the dried-up soup, but did not come to the table. No doubt he had eaten at his mother's. She sat alone and forced down a mouthful, then another.

‘Is it true?' he asked at last.

Emmie put down her spoon and faced him. He reddened at the sight of her swollen cheek. ‘Is what true?'

‘You're Artemis?' Tom demanded. ‘Louise said it was you. Said it was common knowledge.'

Emmie nodded.

‘We're the talk of the village, you'll be pleased to know,' he said bitterly. ‘Tom Curran and his conchie wife. I'm a laughing stock. Me father says if it was his wife, he'd take a belt to you.'

‘The Curran way,' Emmie said in disdain, ‘and what good does that do? Never changed anything you did as a lad.'

Tom flashed her a hard look. ‘You're not welcome round there till you promise to stop all the nonsense. I'm to see you do.'

‘And how are you ganin' to do that, Tom?' she challenged. ‘Tie me up and shoot me at dawn?'

He sprang up and came towards her, fists clenched. ‘Don't mock me, yer bitch!'

Emmie rose to confront him. ‘Want to black me other eye? Wake the bairn with your shouting again?'

He dropped his fists. ‘I didn't mean to frighten the lad,' he muttered.

Emmie looked at him in despair. ‘See what this war's doing to people, Tom? Soon there won't be a family in the land hasn't lost someone. We need lads to stand firm and refuse to gan. That's the bravest thing any man can do.'

He gave her a look of incomprehension. ‘Me be a conchie? Save me own skin? Never!'

‘It's not about saving your own skin - it's about saving thousands of others,' Emmie urged.

‘Your mind's been poisoned by them MacRaes,' Tom said with contempt. ‘You may be beyond savin', but you'll not fill Barny's head with treason. If I catch you takin' him round there, I'll take him off yer.'

Emmie gawped at him in disbelief, but the look of hatred on his face froze her heart. He was beyond being reasoned with, so she swallowed her anger and said no more.

***

Tom refused to speak to her for days. He treated her with a coldness she had never experienced before. She stayed close to home as the bruise on her face yellowed, ashamed at the sidelong looks she got from her neighbours. Helen came round to check on her, but she made light of her injury, edgy in case Tom found out.

‘Tripped over Barny and fell on the fender,' Emmie lied. ‘Tell Rab I can't write for the
Messenger
just now.' Then she changed the subject.

Helen shook her head. ‘Its days are over, pet. That's what I came to tell you. Rab's had his call-up papers.'

Emmie's heart lurched. ‘When?'

‘Came the day after all that bother,' Helen said, her face taut. ‘He's down at the Settlement - put in for exemption. Dr Flora and the Reverend said they'd help with his case.'

All the next week, Emmie was preoccupied with thinking of Rab. On Friday morning, Tom announced abruptly that they were going to his parents for tea. It was the first conversation they had had since the row.

‘They want to see Barny,' Tom told her curtly.

Emmie steeled herself for a lecture from Barnabas and censure from her mother- and sister-in-law. But they were stiffly welcoming, as if tolerating a great burden. Nobody made mention of the old bruises on her face. Barny's chatter helped dispel some of the awkwardness. Then, halfway through tea, Louise startled her.

‘Isn't Tom brave?' she said, eyeing Emmie.

Emmie looked quizzical.

‘Joining up before he's called up,' she said with a strained smile.

‘Brave indeed,' Barnabas echoed, ‘and an example to us all.'

Emmie looked at them all, aghast. She spluttered at Tom, ‘Is this true?'

‘Didn't you know?' Louise exclaimed.

‘No.' Emmie swallowed hard. ‘Tom …?'

‘I'm off on Monday. Pit manager's lettin' me gan,' he said, avoiding her look.

‘But me and Barny …' Emmie stuttered.

‘We've told Tom we'll take care of you both until his army pay comes through,' Barnabas announced grandly. ‘It's a proud day when a Curran goes to fight for his country. Barny will learn about it one day.'