The Story of Lucy Gault

4

The two men on the promenade were watched from far away.

The soldier who had been disturbed by delusions was no longer a soldier: when his period of service ended it had been put to him that he might consider continuing for a further spell, but he had declined to do so. Even though it had failed him, Horahan bore the army no ill-will and he had gone about the last of his military duties with his usual care and perseverance, brushing polish into his boots, shining his buckles and the buttons of his tunic. When his final day came he rolled up the mattress on the springs of his narrow cot. A black suit hung waiting in his locker.

He wore it now. He was temporarily out of employment, living in a room he rented in a house not far from the one where he had been a child, where his mother had continued to live until her death. Hearing of Captain Gault’s return, he had been on the look-out for him on the streets of the town. He had followed him today and, as he continued to observe the two figures on the promenade, tears that were not tears of sorrow or dismay welled behind his eyes, spilt out on to his hollow cheeks and ran down into the collar of his shirt. He knew, there was no doubt. This was, at last, Our Lady’s sign: at her holy intervention, Captain Gault had come back to bring the torment to an end.

Three Christian Brothers going by noticed the rapt expression on the ex-soldier’s face. When they had passed they heard him cry out and when they turned they saw him on his knees. They watched until he stood up again, until he mounted a bicycle and rode away.