CHAPTER 6
Valley of the Shadow
The domed window no longer poured light into the house, clouds obscured the setting sun, soon its rays would disappear, Davey ran from the house jumping down flights of steps and under balconies. As he sprinted across the field he knew that he was moving with an unnatural swiftness and afraid that he might see more strange sights he removed the helmet and carried it. He did not dare to try to retrace his path back through the bushes but trusted to luck.
When he reached a dark lane he ran along it hoping that it would take him back to the railway. After running for some minutes the lane narrowed to a rickety wooden bridge which spanned the tail of a lake, over the bridge he ran glimpsing his reflection in the dark waters. He shivered with the recollection of what had happened when he had seen his image in the railway carriage but ran on. The lake was fed by a gurgling stream, its babbling comforted him, he prayed that it was the same stream which flowed beneath the railway arch but as time passed he began to despair. He gasped with relief when he finally reached the arch, darkness had begun to set in, it had shrouded the date upon the keystone but it was definitely the bridge he had descended from. Grasping at thin roots and vines he scrambled up the slope to the railway line, a rustling amongst the fallen leaves revealed a big brown rat, it made no attempt to hurry away but blinked evilly at him as he passed.
"Get out of it!" he snapped but the rat did not move. He made a wide detour around it.
Springboarding the sleepers on the railway line two at a time he ran homewards, the trees on either side of the line obstructed the light so that when he reached the tunnel a solid black semi-circle of darkness met him. No light shone at the farther end to guide his path, he stopped, too fearful to enter.
He waited trying to pluck up the courage to brave the darkness, within the tunnel something stirred, at first he thought his ears were playing tricks but then he clearly heard stones crunching and a horrible echoey tap-tap-tap. His eyes told the same story, he imagined the pitch blackness merging into a shape then realised that the shape was not his imagination but was real and was moving towards him. With a cry of fear he turned to run but a voice hailed him.
"Davey! Davey! is that you son?"
He recognised the gravelly cough which accompanied the voice as much as the voice itself.
"Dad! It's me!" he exclaimed breathlessly as he ran to his father.
"Take it easy son," said Hugh, "what's put the willies into you then? Let's be getting you home your mother's worried to death. Hey you're all of a shiver put this on." He took off his jacket and wrapped it protectively around his son's shoulders. Davey moved into position so Hugh could lean on him. "What's that you've got there?"
"Your helmet from the war Dad."
"Been playing? Can't think why I kept it."
Davey felt that a slight tremor was in his father's voice but his own fear of the blackness which suddenly engulfed them kept him quiet.
"Yer couldn't see yer hand in front of your face in 'ere lad," said Hugh. As they made their way along he tapped his stick against the tunnel wall. Davey started at the sound, Hugh sensed his fear and kept talking.
"Yer mum's kept you back a bit of dinner, are you hungry lad? Where'd you get to then, find anything nice? Beats stewing in the old tin can."
It was not until they had left the tunnel behind them that Davey began to relax, Hugh could feel the tenseness leaving him. "I've polished up the range today, it's like a new pin, all ship-shape and Bristol fashion."
Davey laughed at the expression, his mother would mimic it whenever Hugh completed any job. "That's better lad, seems like you had the jitters back there."
They left the tunnel behind them and walked on under a starlit night sky, Davey wanted to ask his father more about the helmet but did not know where to begin and knew that it would be better to wait. He knew Hugh must have been very worried for him to walk so far.
When they turned into Copperfield Street Hugh said, "Better hide that thing Davey it'll only upset her, you know how she feels about the war."
"I'll stick it round the back Dad."
Relieved to be given the opportunity, he shot down the alleyway, specked the helmet behind the outhouse, then ran back round the front. When they walked through the door of Number 99 Liz rushed to them, seeing Davey she hugged him to herself, Hugh stood behind under the gas-light, pressing a finger to his lips to indicate to her not to say anything.
"Is he alright?" she mouthed silently.
Hugh smiled and nodded.
"I've saved you a bit of dinner Davey, I'll bet you're famished." She opened up a door on the cast-iron range and took out a plate, the plate rested on a dish half-full of water which was simmering away keeping the meal warm and moist.
"Thanks Mum," he said pecking her on the cheek, grateful to be home. "That looks brilliant Dad," said Davey examining the range and realising his hunger as the smells of food hit his nostrils.
Hugh kicked off his shoes and sank back into the comfort of his arm-chair, his chest was heaving with the effort of the walk but he fought to control any coughing which would upset his wife, she'd had enough worries for today. From the kitchen came the sound of her singing, filling the house with warmth;
Keep the home fires burning,
While your hearts are yearning... "Here she goes again lad," he laughed to Davey who was busy making short work of his dinner..
Though your man is far away, he'll come home...
"Bath night Davey!" she called from the kitchen, "School tomorrow!"
Davey groaned.
The sound of the tin bath being hauled into the kitchen from the backyard and pan after pan of boiling water being poured into it filled him with dread, not so much with the thought of the bath but the fact that it foretold his return to school.
No matter how hot the water the sides of the bath were always freezing, Davey got in taking care not to touch the bare metal with his skin then sat soaking away rubbing a cake of carbolic into his hair. His thoughts lingered upon his experiences of the day, the beautiful white lady and the horrific scene he had witnessed in the window of the carriage were so unreal that he had to keep thinking of them just to be sure they weren't simply dreams, even then he kept imagining that he would wake up. He was brought back to earth when his mother called, "And don't forget to do behind your ears!" Smiling to himself he applied the soap to the offending areas.
"Alright there Davey! Morning Mr Mac," called Tony Toohey, he joined them as they slowly made there way to Wellington Road School, "Where'd you get to, then?" he asked.
"Bit of a cold," answered Davey, his father gave Toots a slight wink.
"I think I might be getting one of those colds," said Toots, "it'll wait till Monday though, I think it might take at least a week before I get better."
Hugh said, "Right you are lad, you wouldn't want the weekend to get in the way of your recovery would yer." Toots grinned, as they neared the school he shouted, "Eh up there's Bazzer!" and tore off into the playground.
Hugh put his hand on his son's shoulder. "Look son, if you have any problems with this Quirk feller come straight home, the man's a bully and I think he's got it in for you."
"I'll be alright Dad, don't be worrying about me," said Davey.
Hugh was not so sure, he sat on the Harrison's wall and watched as his son walked towards the school, he could see Mr Quirk standing tall and smug outside the main entrance a half-smile on his thick lips, "Don't forget, straight home lad!" he called
"Fergusson, you may fill up the ink wells," said Mr Quirk looking up from his book. Fergusson strutted round honoured to have been chosen for such an important task. Mr Quirk addressed the class, "Today you're all going to have a test, it's an important test, it's one of the last tests you will take before you leave Wellington Road and venture out as competitors into the workplace, so you will all work on paper. Fergusson give out the paper when you've finished."
Fergusson was barely able to cope with suc
h an accolade, to have been chosen twice, his mind reeled, he finished pouring out the ink and replaced the ink bottle on top of the cabinet. In his haste he put it down too quickly, the bottle threatened to topple and rolled dangerously round on its base, Mr Quirk's eyes swivelled towards the potential disaster. Forty adolescent wills urged the bottle to fall as it rocked backwards and forwards. But it was not to be, an audible sigh went round the room as it settled back down. However Fergusson did lose favour, "Sit down fool," said Mr Quirk naming another toady to take over his appointed task. The smirk on Fergusson's face was replaced by a look of extreme sadness as he returned to his desk.
"Those not reaching the required standard in this test will be disciplined," said Mr Quirk as the paper was being given out, his voice lingered on the word disciplined. Everyone knew exactly what that meant.
"Put away your slates, take out your pens."
Forty desk lids were raised and closed. Like a flock of thirsty sparrows forty nibs were dipped into forty wells.
"Number one, four times four. Write out the question, write the answer. Sit still fold your arms.
Number two, five times eight. Write out the question, write the answer. Sit still fold your arms.
Number three, seven times six. Write out the question, write the answer. Sit still fold your arms.
Number four, nine times seven. Write out the question, write the answer. Sit still fold your arms."
Davey had no problem with the questions but watched as Toots struggled with the first two, for the second two he was slower than the rest of the class. They sat, arms folded, looking round at their fellows with airs of supreme confidence waiting for the slow-coach to catch up, Mr Quirk appeared to be occupied in preening his moustache.
"Davey, what's number four...?" whispered Toots without turning his head.
Even before Davey had time to decide if he dared risk it Fergusson stood up, Mr Quirk heard the boy's movement, "What is it now Fergusson?" he snapped, "Is there something else in the room you wish to destroy?" Mr Quirk gave a slight twitch of his head. The same twitch was also used to indicate that he would allow laughter, the half-laughs from the pupils showed the nervous game they played.
"Sir, Mr Quirk, Sir, Davey McCann's cheatin'!" snitched the informant desperate to obtain his master's trust and prepared to take desperate measures to achieve it.
The heavy cane battered down against the desk lid.
"Are you McCann?" asked Mr Quirk in an overly polite voice which betrayed the menace behind every word. He was like a cat with cream, he would savour this.
"Who, me Sir?" said Davey, pointing at himself and looking round hopefully as if somebody else in the room must be the cause of such attention.
"YES! YOU SIR!" screamed Mr Quirk. One half of his red face had turned white, the class knew the sign.
"Come out here McCann," said the teacher in a calm quiet tone which was so different from his previous outburst that it made it seem all the more frightening.
Davey walked slowly along the aisle, between the dark oak desks and the row of pupils who sat still as stone.
"Don't you know the answer Davey?" asked Mr Quirk, putting on an affectionate tone.
"Yes Sir," said Davey quietly.
"THEN WHY AREN'T YOU GETTING ON WITH THE TEST!" roared Mr Quirk, "The only reason why you are talking is because you don't know! If you don't know then you must be stupid. Stupid people are dunce's," he shouted towards the rest of the class, "AREN'T THEY!"
"Yes Sir Mr Quirk Sir," the class said as one.
"Fergusson, fetch the dunce's hat."
Grinning madly to himself Fergusson marched off full of his own importance, proud to have been elevated to his previous status.
"Tell me McCann, why does a big boy like yourself need his daddy to walk him to school every day? Is it because you might lose your way?" His head twitched madly, laughter started, hesitatingly at first, but when no action was taken it increased.
"Come on, tell us, out with it. Do you need your daddy to show you the way to school?" insisted Mr Quirk with a great twitch. The class roared with laughter, only Tony Toohey remained faithful, he tried staring threateningly but was outnumbered and ignored.
Fergusson marched proudly into the room, holding out the pointed hat with the big black "D" on it as if it were a crown for a king.
"Place it on him," said Mr Quirk to his assistant. Fergusson approached Davey timidly, it was one thing to operate behind the protection of his master, it was quite another to involve himself directly, Mr Quirk rapped his cane which provided all the encouragement he needed. He approached Davey from behind and showed a silly mock ceremonial face to the class. Someone called out, "If the hat fits wear it!" which sent them all into howls. Mr Quirk raised his cane slightly, it was enough to quell them into total silence.
Davey smiled as the hat was placed upon his head, the smile was seen by Mr Quirk whose face went ashen as the blood drained from the remaining half. He leapt to his feet thrashing his cane so that it sang through the air but decided upon a less direct form of cruelty. "I want you to do me a favour, could you do that for me?" he said in a voice filled with menace.
"Yes...Sir," said Davey falteringly, the first flush of rebellion flowing through his veins.
"Thank you," said Mr Quirk, "I want you to go next door to my wife her and give her a message. Are you listening?"
"Yes Sir," said Davey, his eyes were giving away his feelings but Mr Quirk was unimpressed, he recited his message, "Mr Quirk says to tell you I'm a dunce. Can you remember that?"
Davey shrugged his shoulders. It was an insignificant action but one which sent a tremor through the whole class. It amounted to mutiny. Mr Quirk was livid, AThere will be serious consequences for you if you do not. Do I make myself clear
[email protected] Davey waited until Mr Quirk was about to explode then muttered, AYeah,@ with such an expression of disinterest upon his face that the Mr Quirk erupted, roaring into his face, "MANNERS MAKETH MAN! That's what is known as alliteration but you wouldn't know that would you, now, tell us what you're to say."
"Mr Quirk says to tell you I'm a dunce Miss," said Davey.
"There's a good boy, now you won't forget will you?" asked Mr Quirk in a friendly voice with an even bigger twitch. Davey's reply was drowned out in the nervous laughter which followed.
The whole class was still laughing as he knocked on the door to the classroom next door, "Enter," called Mr Bateman. The hat knocked against the top of the door frame and he had to duck low to get under, both Davey's class and the class next door roared with laughter. Davey walked to Mr Bateman.
"Please Sir, I've a message for Mrs Quirk, can I come through?" the teacher nodded towards the next door, this was not the first time he had been interrupted in such fashion. Again the process was repeated, only that the class next door were waiting expectantly for whatever was coming their way which was causing such hysterics.
"Come in," called Miss Renshaw, she held up a hand for silence, no one dared utter a sound.
"Oh you stupid boy, do you really have to disturb us when we're in the middle of lessons?"
"Please Miss, I'm to give Mrs Quirk a message," said Davey maintaining such an air of superiority to the humiliation that the class quickly silenced.
"And what may that message be which is so important that you need to disturb us?"
"Mr Quirk says to tell you I'm a dunce," answered Davey unconcernedly.
"That is painfully obvious," said Miss Renshaw, "carry on."
When Davey reached the hall which separated the girls school from the boys, he sat down on a bench for a few moments to collect himself. He remembered his father's words and decided that the time had come for him to stop playing these silly games. He threw the hat to the floor and made for a doorway but motivated by a feeling of mischievousness decided to finish the nonsense.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THIS?" screamed Mrs Quirk as he entered, "You've upset half the school with your silly antics. Stupid boy.
What do you want?"
"Mr Quirk says to tell you you're a dunce," replied Davey.
Her face distorted in rage but Davey quickly threw in the correction, AI mean that I'm a
[email protected] AThen face the class so that they can see what a dunce is," snarled Mrs Quirk. AMy husband's told me all about
[email protected] She seemed relieved that this boy who her husband had been unable to subdue like the rest of them was not challenging her. Davey faced the class, grinning. Aimie Toohey was there. Davey could tell that she was as fearful as the rest of the girls. He smiled at her but she did not dare to smile back.
Mrs Quirk was up to something, she wrote on a piece of paper with a thick stick of charcoal,
I AM AN ASS. "Now where's that pin?" she searched through a jumble of rubbish inside her desk drawer and eventually emerged with a safety-pin.
"Now turn round, there's a good boy, I'm going to do you a favour so that you won't need to tell anybody how stupid you are, they'll read it for themselves. Now where's that paper?" Search as she might she was unable to find it, she rummaged around the clutter on the desk, it was nowhere to be found.
"Oh begone with you, you stupid boy," she ordered. Titters spread round the room, she looked angrily at the class. Davey took off the hat and passed it to her, she took hold of it without thinking , "Miss, I think this would fit you better than me!" he said.
Mrs Quirk's face transformed into a sinister mask, the class went into shocked silence, someone had dared to defy the tyranny of the husband and wife.
"Come here boy," she ordered but Davey was already walking away, her room had a door which led out onto the playground he headed towards it but she yelled, "No, here boy!"
A brave soul in the class distracted her with the first of the donkey sounds which was to follow her that day, "EE-AWW!" laughter erupted, she whirled, scanning faces, trying to find the culprit.
As he left the old tin can never to return Davey gave a last smile to Aimie, she rewarded him with a smile of her own, his heart soared and bounded as he walked boldly across the playground to the exit gate. Behind him laughter and loud braying came from the class as more pupils rebelled and responded to the paper fitted onto the front of Mrs Quirk's desk.
He raced past the reservoir and past the baths feeling the freedom in his soul and the elation of the escapee not caring for the consequences but enjoying the moment.
His progress was halted at the canal bridge, it had been swung open, along the tow-path great cart-horses dug their massive hooves into the turf hauling a line of barges in their wake. He was forced to sit at the roadside whilst they passed, they were loaded to the gunwales with grey slates; gaily painted flowers bedecked everything moveable with intricate blossoms and bouquets, one of the bargeman was singing Men of Harlech in a deep Welsh accent.
The lead cart horse was led by a thick-set youth who was dwarfed by the animals mass.
"Where you from?" asked Davey.
The youth replied, "Llangollen boyo, can't you read?" he pointed at the boat's name and place of origin. Davey bleated like a sheep by way of an answer.
"You'll be tasting my fist boyo!" said the youth, he slowed and caused the tow-rope to dip into the canal forcing the bargeman to make a sharp correction on the tiller, a fierce rebuke directed him back to his task.
"Go on yer nannypadger!" jeered Davey.
It was a day of defiance, a permanent smile was fixed to Davey's face as another potential diversion was spotted. There was no mistaking the skinny frame which stalked up the road on the opposite side of the canal.
"Hey Doggo!" he called, "what happened to you lot!"
"We'll have yer next time," Doggo called back.
"Get out of it yer spotty dog," taunted Davey.
Doggo shook a boney fist at him, "I'll 'ave yer now!" he warned.
"You an' whose army?" came the stock reply.
The barges dragged their toilsome way along, finally the last barge passed and the bridge-keeper cranked the bridge closed, Davey recognised another figure slowly wending its way towards the bridge and as Doggo leapt towards him he called, "Leave it out Doggo, me dad's coming!"
Doggo seemed grateful to be given the opportunity to drop his threat, the match would have been far too even for his liking, he muttered some more dire threats and continued on his way.
Davey ran across the bridge to Hugh, "You're early, problems son?"
"Yeah," said Davey. It was enough.
Hugh looked deep into his son's eyes and said, "Well won't be long now lad and you'll be out in the big wide world, you may as well make the most of this time while you can, it won't last forever."
Davey swung into position beneath Hugh's arm and felt the comfort of his father's weight upon him, "Dad, can we stop somewhere for a minute?" he asked.
Hugh wheezed at his side, "Let's get up the hill lad, we can sit in the park."
They walked together up the slight rise which Hugh described as a hill, on its top several cast-iron bollards, once used for mooring ships on the Mersey had been embedded into the pavement, linked together by a chain they formed an entrance to a small park. Father and son walked in together past a carved stone which read OTTERSPOOL PARK.
Leaves covered the trees in the russets; reds, pale yellows and faded greens of Autumn; Hugh huddled into his old greatcoat to shield him from the chill breeze as squirrels darted hither and thither collecting stores of nuts ready for the forthcoming winter. It was beneath a tower once used as a marker for sailing ships that they found a bench and sat down.
"Fine view son," said Hugh.
Ahead of them a small field curved down towards the river; in the distance, over the docks and over the streets, over the sweep of water and the factory chimneys which nestled on the far bank rose the Welsh hills, already they were draped in a blanket of snow.
"Time was when all this was forest and King John and his men hunted deer in these woods and fishermen hauled their nets through water teeming with salmon." Davey loved to listen to his father's tales although he'd heard them all a dozen times before, "Otterspool. Just over there it was, down by the river."
Davey looked at the turgid brown polluted waters of the Mersey swirling far beneath them, now totally devoid of any life. Out in mid-water a liner plunged through the ebbing tide belching black smoke into the steel grey sky.
"Dad, I've seen those olden days."
Hugh choked, "What do you mean lad?"
"I wore your helmet from the war and I saw things. I saw the White Lady."
Hugh coughed and spluttered and gasped for air. Davey was immediately sorry for what he had said, "I was just kidding Dad," he tried to laugh then changed the subject, "Where's that liner going then Dad?"
Hugh recovered his composure, nodded his head slightly and looked thoughtful, from his greatcoat pocket he took out his pipe and sucked on it unlit not daring to inhale even a whiff of tobacco smoke. "Time was lad when I'd have been down there loading it with the other lads, I've loaded them all, the Mauritania, the Queen Mary... finest vessel afloat." Out of habit he tapped the pipe bowl on his boot heel. The liner roared it's farewell's drowning out his words. "After all this time, thought I'd just imagined it, They were bad days son, very bad days." His face set into the grimace it always did when he thought of his experiences, Davey knew the look and his mother's comment so well, "Don't disturb him son, he's thinking of the war."
Hugh took off his spectacles and wiped the lenses before replacing them, then sat quietly sucking on his pipe stem. Davey watched the traffic along the Dock Road; trams, horses and carts, cars and vans all fought for space as they bustled in and out of the docks.
"Everything alright Dad?" he asked.
"Aye lad," said Hugh, "best be getting home."
They walked slowly homewards to Copperfield Street, Hugh cuffed Davey gently, "Go on in lad tell your mum I won't be a minute, I'm just nipping over to your Uncle Paddy's."
"What's up with yer? Yer look as though you've got all the worr
ies in the world on yer shoulders," said Paddy.
Hugh sat down, "It's the lad Pad, I'm worried about him, says he's seen things. He's talking about that helmet. I don't know, I should have chucked it into the bottom of the deepest shell-hole."
"What sort of things is 'e talking about?" he asked.
Paddy's reaction to what Hugh told him was one of instant belief. "I told yer Hughie, there's something about that thing. You'd never 'ave carried me out of there without it. And the gas. Remember that, nobody could believe 'ow you managed to walk out of that alive!"
"I don't know Pad. It was like a dream to me, I don't know if the lad's got a good imagination or what. One thing's for sure that Quirk feller's upsetting him, he had another go at him today."
Paddy's face altered, his lips turned white in his temper. "Got just the thing for 'im Hughie!" he poked with his walking stick at a cupboard door, the door was set into the wall at the side of the bed where it extended from floor to ceiling. As he pushed it open Paddy said, "stick yer hand in there, it's at the back."
Hugh felt past blankets, past Paddy's uniforms; battledress, parade dress, cape, puttees; boots, helmet, gas mask were all placed onto shelves exactly in the same order that they had been placed into his locker. When his fingers came into contact with something that was cold, hard and cylindrical he knew exactly what it was and pulled out a rifle.
"Got it off Wally Pritchard, it was his lad's. It's only an air rifle but it'll hit the target from 40 paces." He coughed furiously.
Hugh placed the weapon back. "Don't you be getting yourself all het up Pad," he said closing the cupboard door.
"Het up? I'll give 'im het up if 'e ever show's his flippin' face down 'ere."
"Weapons never solved nothing, you know that Pad."
"Maybe not but if 'e's goin' round pickin' on little kids then he's gotta expect repercussions. But there's a bit more to this than meet's the eye Hughie, it's setting me thinkin'."
"Careful Pad." The two friends laughed.
"Well either yer lad's gone nuts or 'e's seen sommat, an' 'e don't seem nuts to me. There's some thing's 'appen which we can't explain," said Paddy.
Hugh shook his head, "You and yer old girl, you'll be reading the tea leaves next."
Paddy cleared his throat and gave a great booming cough. In a cracking voice he said, "They were all good lads weren't they Hughie. None of them deserved to die fighting for a flippin' ridge. Before we bought our ticket home I did a night watch, sat out in a listening trench I was with only the stars to keep me company but I heard them, our boys were there; moving round, asking why, what had happened, whispering in the dark..." his voice dwindled. "Lost souls they was...Walter Pritchard went over there to try to find his lad, he told me 'e heard them, moaning and crying..."
Seeing how upset his friend was getting Hugh chose not to say anything.
Paddy asked quietly, "Did you ever tell the lad what happened over there Hughie?"
"Not a word Pad, not a word. Best if we wait till he's older."
"Get him round here, I'll keep me eye on the lad and have a natter with him," said Paddy coughing so loudly that Mrs Murtagh called up the stairs, "Need anything Paddy?"
Paddy slammed his stick against the floor.
AYou sure yer up to it
[email protected] ADo me the world of good Hugh, do me the world of good, send >im
[email protected] Hugh shook his friend's hand, "Thanks Pad, I knew I could count on you."
Later that evening, after dinner when they sat round listening to the wireless, as if by chance Hugh mentioned that he had popped in to see Paddy, in reply to his wife's enquiry he said, "He's a bit under the weather."
Liz looked up from her sowing, "He'll be alright won't he?" she asked, lowering her work.
"Oh you know him, strength of an ox, he's asked if Davey'd mind stopping over there for a few nights, you know to keep him company."
"Can I Mum?" pleaded Davey.
"Course you can son," she answered but then a thought occurred to her and turning to Hugh she questioned, "but he won't get enough sleep will he? what with all Paddy's war stories, filling his head full of politics, and his coughing."
"Won't bother me Mum," cut in Davey, "probably be the other way round if I start
[email protected] That same night after dire warnings from Mrs Murtagh, "don't be pollyticking the boy," Davey sat with Paddy quietly chatting away. The only sound in the room was that of the gas lamp which purred away as it cast its soft yellowy light upon the furnishings.
It was not long after they heard Mrs Murtagh finally settle down that Paddy, propped up in a mountain of pillows, wheezed, "Right lad, I want the whole truth an' nothing but the truth."
"What do you mean Uncle Paddy?"
"I've 'ad a bit of a chat with yer old feller, 'e's a bit worried about something yer said to 'im about a certain 'elmet."
Davey's jaw dropped in shock, Paddy smiled.
"Has me Dad told you?" he asked incredulously, "but I thought he didn't believe me."
"He does and he doesn't," said Paddy, "but don't be saying anything to him now, some people aren't cut out for these sort of things."
"Do you believe me Uncle Paddy?"
"First off, are yer making it up or 'ave yer seen sommat?"
"It's all true; the White Lady, the men in the carriage, they killed a native..."
"Whoa, 'ang on the slack there, let's 'ave it from the start."
Davey told what he had seen from the beginning and Paddy listened without interruption save for saying, "Umm, umm," at various points. Davey tried not to miss anything out, it was a great relief to him to be able to get it all off his chest, when he finished he again asked, "Do you believe me Uncle Paddy?"
"If that girl's asked for 'elp then that's what she'll get. Dead or alive, it don't make no difference," his eyes moistened, AMost people round >ere have heard about the White Lady of Carnatic, what I'm wondering is what she meant about the >elmet being the key or
[email protected] AThat's what that kid Fleabag called the place - Carnatic. I've no idea what she meant though, she even said she'd seen me
[email protected] AIt's weird, there's no other word for it lad. Where's the >elmet now? You haven't chucked it away have yer?"
"It's behind the outhouse."
"Go on then what yer waiting for."
"You mean..."
"Go on and get the thing, the sooner we get to the bottom of this the better."
Davey began creeping across the floor to the door.
"Don't worry about disturbing the old girl lad, a bomb couldn't wake 'er up, she wears mufflers over 'er ear plugs so's my coughing won't disturb 'er," they both laughed at the image, "go on hurry yerself up."
Davey ran out of the house excited but concerned that he would be unable to prove the truth of his tale. When he returned Paddy was sat up in bed with his chess board on his knees, on it were several sheets of thin paper with various notes scrawled over them.
"Got it Uncle Paddy!" he said breathlessly.
"Sit yerself down on the end of the bed lad," but sensing Davey's nervousness he joked, "watch yer don't see yerself in that mirror, yer not a pretty sight!" he coughed deeply.
Davey sat down next to the little dressing table with its cracked mirror, he cradled the helmet on his lap, "Will it be alright Uncle Paddy?"
"Don't you be worrying little feller, I looked after yer old man an' I'll look after you. Stick it on yer 'ead."
Slowly Davey placed the helmet upon his head.
"Nothing's happening Uncle Paddy. I can't see anything."
"Give us a go son, I'll see if I can see owt." Davey passed it to him.
Paddy sat staring hopefully, when nothing happened he began to swivel his eyes slowly from side to side as if trying to see back inside the helmet. Still nothing happened. "I've gone stark raving bloody bonkers," he swore, "sat up in me bed trying on 'elmet's. I'll be joining old Nick next door the way I'm going on, Can anyone tell me if I'm awake," he mimicked,"'ere lad, 'ave it
back, there's nowt in it for me!"
Davey could hear the disappointment in his voice but he had noticed something, "Uncle Paddy it fitted you and it fits me but your head is as big as Birkenhead!"
"Cheeky," said Paddy but all the same he looked thoughtful, " 'ere try it on again, I was never meant for any of this fancy stuff."
Davey received the helmet uncertainly.
"Go on, give it another go," urged Paddy.
Gingerly Davey put the helmet back on. "Nothing," he said, "honest Uncle Paddy I'm not making this up, I really did see men in the olden days." As he turned back to Paddy his gaze fell on the mirror, within it something moved.
"What was that?" he gasped.
"What was what lad?"
Davey looked again, "It's there! they're there! there in the mirror!" he said excitedly.
"Yer 'aving me on, aren't yer, come on now it's you and yer old feller, you've both set me up for this haven't
[email protected] "Have a look Uncle Paddy," Davey pleaded frantically, "it's all in there, those men and everything."
"If yer up to yer shenanigan's I'll murder
[email protected] Davey turned back towards the mirror and was immediately transfixed by the scenes before him.
CHAPTER 7
"What is this that stands before me?"