The Mustering of the Hawks by Max Hennessy

Author:Max Hennessy
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788636858
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Ltd
Published: 2019-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

When Ira’s mother brought him a cup of tea the following morning she gave him a reproachful look.

‘You were very late in, Ira dear,’ she said. ‘And you didn’t knock on the wall.’

She was just going out again when Ira called her back.

‘Mother, why did you christen me “Ira”?’ It was something he’d often wondered about but never really worried over until the previous night when Peggy Phillips had commented on it.

His mother eyed him, surprised. ‘Wrath, dear,’ she said. ‘It means “wrath”. It was a family name. It suited the Penalunas, I’m afraid.’

He frowned. ‘Then why “Abel”?’ He had seemed as a child to have more than his fair share of the sort of names that would arouse ribald mirth in a schoolyard.

His mother paused, considering. ‘There were so many “Cains” in the Penaluna family,’ she said. ‘I felt an “Abel” might restore the balance a little. I don’t think it did. You’re very much like the rest at heart, dear.’

As the door closed, Ira sat with the tea in his hand, thinking for a moment about what she’d said. He supposed he was a Penaluna, all right, and somehow he did feel more of a Cain than an Abel.

The thought reminded him of Peggy Phillips and his eyes became distant. It had been quite a heavy session on the kitchen sofa and he had a feeling that he’d acquitted himself well.

He came out of his reverie with a jerk as he realised he’d spilt tea on the sheet and, as he’d always done, he dived for a handkerchief and guiltily sponged it clean. Then he saw he was still behaving like a schoolboy and decided he’d better stop before the habit took hold.

At breakfast, when his mother announced they would be going visiting, he put his foot down and said he couldn’t.

‘But, dear,’ she protested, ‘these are people I’ve told so much about you.’

‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ he said firmly. He found, however, he hadn’t the courage to tell her he’d arranged to meet Peggy Phillips for lunch, and offered instead the excuse that he had to go to the tailor’s for a fitting.

She was clearly disappointed, but he was determined not to be pushed into any more dull days. London seemed to be bursting at the seams with eligible girls and he was determined to get to know one or two of them.

He delightedly stuffed The Evolution of the English Farm back into the shelves where it had come from, deciding to have another go at it when he had time but knowing perfectly well that he never would, and set off for the town. He was pleased to see that his tunic was coming along nicely – so well, in fact, he wondered uneasily if it weren’t a little too well fitting and rather Frenchified – then he took a train into the city where he found the streets full of Australians, New Zealanders, Indians, Canadians, Belgians in tall forage caps, and a number of lost

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