The Soldier's Song by Alan Monaghan Read Free Book Online Page A

his feet. ‘But never mind me. What on earth happened to you? Your face – your nose is bleeding.’
    ‘It probably looks worse than it is,’ he said, and winced as a sharp pain stabbed through his ribs.
    ‘I doubt that, somehow.’ She took him by the arm and guided him over to the bench. ‘Here, sit down and let me have a look at you.’
    The light spilling out through the doors showed blood trickling over his lips and one eye already starting to swell. And from the way he grimaced as he sat down, she knew there was more that she couldn’t see. She pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed gently at his nose.
    ‘Those were Devereux’s friends, weren’t they?’ she said. ‘I recognized a few of them from the rugby team.’
    ‘I think so. I didn’t get a very good look at them. They came at me from—Ow!’
    ‘Oh shush, Mr Ryan. And hold still.’ She took him by the chin and continued dabbing, though more gently. ‘Really, you’re the last person I expected to see fighting. I thought you had more sense.’
    ‘Well, you started it.’
    ‘I did not!’ She felt herself blushing to the roots of her hair. Alfred Devereux was being very disagreeable. I simply gave him a piece of my mind.’
    ‘Yes, and so did I.’
    ‘Oh, no.’ Lillian stopped dabbing and looked him squarely in the good eye, ‘Mr Ryan, don’t tell me you picked a fight with Alfred Devereux on my account.’
    ‘Well, not just on your account. As you said, he was being very disagreeable . . .’
    ‘But look at you,’ her gesture took in not just his battered and bleeding face, but the ripped sleeve of his jacket, and the collar of his shirt torn away from its studs and splashed with blood. ‘Look at you. Your suit is ruined, and your face . . .’ A gush of blood had run from his nose, over his lips, and was starting to drip from his chin down the front of his shirt. Lillian tried to wipe it up as best she could but her lacy little hankie was already soaked through. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Mr Ryan. A handkerchief? Do you have a handkerchief? This one is no use.’
    He pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. She quickly folded it, wiped away the worst of the gore, and then pressed it under his nose.
    ‘I never thought I would say this, but you are a fool, Mr Ryan. An idiot.’
    ‘Why thank you,’ he answered, his voice muffled by the handkerchief. ‘You’re very welcome.’
    ‘I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, you know.’
    ‘So I noticed.’
    Lillian didn’t answer, but looked away for a few moments. She was trying to be angry with him, but she just couldn’t manage it. The people she was really fuming at were Devereux and his thugs. She had half a mind to get up and storm back inside. She would make a show of them if they had to drag her out like a mad woman. Be damned to Mary D’Arcy and her birthday and all her snobby friends. She would give them what for . . . But no, that wouldn’t do. They’d only laugh. She sighed and turned back to Stephen.
    ‘Let me have a look at that eye,’ she said, and gently turned his face towards the light. The lid was already half closed, and only a thin line of blood red was visible beneath it. ‘Ice. We need ice. That will help, anyway. Though I’m afraid you’ll still have a shiner in the morning.’
    Stephen nodded his agreement as best he could, though the whole side of his face was numb. With his good eye directed over her shoulder, he saw the door open and Billy’s head appear, turn from side to side, and then frown directly at him. His face cracked into a broad grin, gave him a knowing wink, and then disappeared inside again.
    Much bloody help you were, he thought, but he didn’t really mean it. What could he have done? It was his own bloody fault for picking a fight with Devereux when all his friends were so close at hand. Then again, it hadn’t worked out entirely to the bad. After all, here he was, alone with the girl,