The Child Left Behind. Anne Bennett

      

       The Child Left Behind

      Anne Bennett

      

       This book is dedicated to my sister in lawKathy Flanagan, with love and in memoryof my brother Shaun, who tragically diedon 5th March 2009 RIP.

      Table of Contents

       Cover Page

       Title Page

       Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

       EIGHT

       NINE

       TEN

       ELEVEN

       TWELVE

       THIRTEEN

       FOURTEEN

       FIFTEEN

       SIXTEEN

       SEVENTEEN

       EIGHTEEN

       NINETEEN

       TWENTY

       TWENTY-ONE

       TWENTY-TWO

       TWENTY-THREE

       TWENTY-FOUR

       TWENTY-FIVE

       TWENTY-SIX

       TWENTY-SEVEN

       TWENTY-EIGHT

       TWENTY-NINE

       THIRTY

       Author’s notes

       ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

       By the same author

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       ONE

      Finn Sullivan couldn’t understand his family. They had been aware of the rumblings of an unsettled Europe and so why were they surprised when Britain declared war on Germany on 4 August 1914? When the news filtered through to them, via the postman, in their cottage in Donegal, Finn’s eldest brother, Tom, went to Buncrana, their nearest town, and bought a paper so that they could read all about it.

      ‘England has declared war on Germany because they invaded two other countries,’ he said as the family sat eating their midday meal.

      ‘Well, if that’s about the strength of it,’ his father, Thomas John, remarked, ‘it’s a wonder that no one can see the irony.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ Finn’s brother Joe asked.

      ‘Well, isn’t that what England has done to us?’ Thomas John said. ‘They invaded us, didn’t they? Who rules Ireland now?’

      ‘Not the Irish, that’s for sure,’ Biddy, Finn’s mother replied. ‘It’s England has us by the throat.’

      ‘Aye,’ Thomas John said, ‘and that means anything that involves England automatically involves us too.’

      ‘You mean the war?’ Finn asked.

      ‘Of course I mean the war, boy. What else?’

      Finn coloured in anger. He hated being called ‘boy’ by his father now he was over eighteen.

      ‘So you think there will be call-up here?’ Joe asked.

      ‘Don’t see how we will get away without it,’ Thomas John said.

      ‘Maybe they are hoping for volunteers,’ Tom said. ‘After all, young Englishmen are volunteering in droves. The recruiting offices are hard-pressed to cope with the numbers who want to take a pop at the Germans. So the paper says, anyway.’

      ‘And why would Irish boys volunteer to fight for a country that has kept them down for years and years?’ Thomas John demanded.

      ‘The carrot that they are holding out might have something to do with that,’ Tom said.

      ‘What’s that?’ Joe asked. ‘Have to be some big bloody carrot, for I would not volunteer to lift one finger to help England.’

      ‘The paper claims that the government will grant Ireland independence if they get Irish support in this war.’

      ‘Let me see that,’ Thomas John said, and Tom passed the paper to his father, who scanned in quickly. ‘That’s what it says all right, and I don’t believe a word of it. To my knowledge, England has never kept any promise it has made to Ireland and the Irish. For my money they can sink or swim on their own. We will keep our heads down and get on with our lives. It’s no good seeking trouble. In my experience it will come knocking on the door soon enough.’

      Finn couldn’t believe