Page 47 of The Missing Sister

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! You can’t let him see, I beg you, Face, don’t be putting a blush up on my cheeks...

‘No, Philip, not at all.’

He turned his head towards the windows.

‘The one thing that kept me going throughout my time in the trenches was the thought of one day returning to the peace and tranquillity of my home here. And now...’ He shook his head. ‘At night I’m sometimes awoken by gunfire. I...’

Nuala watched his head droop, his shoulders shake slightly and realised the man was crying. She sat there, thinking she’d never seen a man cry, not even when she’d picked bits of stray bullet out of Sonny O’Neill’s thigh after a Black and Tan raid on his farmhouse.

‘I do apologise, Nuala. I tend to cry easily, I’m afraid. Especially when it comes to the subject of war. So many lives lost, so much suffering, and here we are in our quiet corner of the world, seemingly at war again.’

Nuala watched Philip dig into his trouser pocket for a handkerchief. He wiped his good eye, then his empty socket.

‘May I get you anything, Philip?’

‘A new eye and a leg would be just the ticket, but I doubt that’ll be coming my way anytime soon. Until, of course, my spirit takes leave of the useless flesh it currently inhabits. I presume you believe in heaven, Nuala?’

‘Yes, I do, Philip.’

‘That’s because you’ve never watched hundreds of men dying in agony, screaming for their mothers. Once you’ve heard that, it’s pretty difficult to believe that there is a kind and benevolent father waiting for us upstairs. Don’t you think?’

‘Well, I...’ Nuala bit her lip.

‘Please, do go on. Nothing you say will offend me. You’re the first young person I’ve seen in well over six months, not counting the nurse that you’ve taken over from – who was really quite the most stupid human being I’ve ever met. Mother and Father’s friends are of a certain age, if you understand what I mean. You’re a native of these parts, not to mention a Catholic to boot, so I’d like to hear your opinion.’

‘I... suppose I’d say that whatever waits for all of us when we die must be so magnificent that we’d forget the pain we’ve suffered here on earth.’

‘A true believer,’ Philip replied, and Nuala wasn’t sure if he was jesting or not. ‘Although I can’t stomach all that nonsense about being punished for sins on earth... What on earth has any seventeen-year-old soldier in the trenches done to deserve this, for example?’ Philip indicated his face and lack of leg. ‘I rather believe that the human race creates their own hell on earth.’

‘War is a terrible thing, I’d agree. But sometimes ’tis necessary to fight for what is yours. Like you did against the Hun in France.’

‘Of course you’re right. I didn’t fancy the Germans storming their way across our green and pleasant lands.’

Or you British occupying ours...

‘I just hope it’s worth all the sacrifice,’ Philip continued. ‘Now then, do you play chess, Nuala?’

‘I don’t, no.’

‘Neither did the nurse before you. I did try to teach her, but she was too dim-witted to learn. Fancy having a go?’

‘I’d be interested to learn a new game,’ she replied, her mind scrambling to move on from the conversation they’d just had.

‘Good. Then open the chess table that stands over there in front of the window.’

Philip instructed Nuala how it unfolded and she saw the top of the table was designed in a square, decorated in a dark and light chequered pattern.

‘The chess pieces are in the cabinet underneath the tray holding the whiskey decanter. Pour me a drop whilst you’re over there. I find the brain thinks better when it is calm, and let me tell you, a glass of Irish whiskey is worth twenty of my painkillers.’

For the first time, Nuala saw a smile appear on one side of his lips.

Nuala fetched him the drop of whiskey and a box that rattled, then wheeled him over to the table.

‘Sit here opposite me; the light from the window helps me see better.’ Philip dug in his trouser pocket and produced an eyeglass, which he put in place over his good eye.

‘Now then,’ he said as he took a gulp of whiskey, ‘open the box and empty the chess pieces out. I will show you where to place yours.’

Nuala did so, and saw they were made of a black and cream material that was smooth and silky to the touch. Each one was beautifully carved, like a tiny sculpture.