Shoes for Anthony by Emma Kennedy Read Free Book Online Page B

the bloody mountain watching it,’ said Emrys, ‘I want to be doing it!’
    â€˜Be careful what you wish for, Emrys. War’s a nasty business. Anyway, we’ve got one member of the family in uniform,’ said Father, smiling towards Bethan. ‘And you boys are helping the war effort. You’re doing your duty.’
    â€˜Some duty when you have to salute your own sister,’ said Alwyn, rubbing the coal soap between his hands.
    â€˜Talking of duty, can I borrow a sheet, Mam?’ said Emrys, flicking the end of his cigarette into the open fire. ‘We’ve been told to take one to training.’
    â€˜What do they want sheets for?’ said Mam, frowning.
    â€˜Perhaps they’re going to dress up as ghosts. Scare the Germans to death?’ grumbled Alwyn. ‘That’s all the Look, Duck and Vanish brigade can hope for. Fucking useless.’
    â€˜Shut up, Alwyn,’ said Emrys. ‘At least I’m in the Home Guard. More than you can say.’
    â€˜Why would I want to be in the Home Guard? You’re all just mucking about. No guns. No clue. I do my hours down the pit and they want me to be up all night pretending Germans are coming? No thanks.’
    â€˜All right,’ said Mam, quietly. ‘That’s enough. Take the blue one from the top shelf of the airing cupboard. Not any of my white ones, mind. And I don’t want it coming back covered in grease.’
    â€˜Thanks, Mam,’ said Emrys, tapping out another cigarette.
    â€˜Do you think they’ll bring chocolate? And silk stockings?’ said Bethan, her face breaking into a smile from the kitchen doorway. ‘They do look so handsome. And American! Imagine that? Americans in Porthcawl!’
    â€˜What’s that smell?’ said Father, sniffing the air.
    â€˜Ant’s wellingtons,’ said Mam, handing him his tie. ‘They’re always bad after he’s been running.’
    â€˜Can’t we get him a pair of shoes?’ said Bethan. ‘He smells like a mouldy log.’
    â€˜He’s worked his way through all the hand-me-downs. The only spare pair of shoes left in this house is an old pair of mine,’ said Mam. ‘If he wants them, he’s welcome to them. If not, he’s stuck with the boots.’
    Bethan shrugged in my direction. ‘Ah, well,’ she said. ‘You’ll just have to hope the war ends. Or an American brings a pair of shoes for an eleven-year-old boy.’
    â€˜Or someone else dies,’ said Alwyn, darkly. ‘Here you go,’ he added, throwing the coal soap towards Emrys. ‘Your turn.’

CHAPTER THREE
    The Treherbert 2nd Platoon of the Welsh Home Guard gathered every Tuesday evening at the local Men’s Club for training. Being a unit that was off the beaten track, they had never been furnished with a grand arsenal. Between them, there was one rifle that was taken home each week on a rota basis and an assortment of broom handles and sticks that passed for guns. Instead of grenades, they had brown paper bags filled with flour; or at least they did have, until all the mams started complaining about the stuff going to waste. ‘What would you rather have?’ Mam asked Emrys. ‘Bread or bombs?’ And that put an end to that. One week, a man from Cardiff came with a Bren gun for them to have a go on, but he’d brought the wrong ammunition so they all just stood around staring at it. Not that anyone was that bothered; the likelihood of the Germans invading Treherbert was as slim a chance as any.
    Ade and I climbed onto the broken brick wall at the back of the Men’s Club to watch the platoon. The early evening sun was casting a golden swathe of light across our mountain. I stared up and watched the ridges shifting. The contours of the mountain were as familiar to me as the lines on the palms of my hands, but I would always marvel at how differing lights could change its personality