My Mother and Other Strangers

My mother had rarefied tastes in poetry.

Though she had a biding fondness for Tennyson,

she read Auden to us, and Yeats, and Eliot.

My father liked his poetry simpler,

rousing stuff with a simple moral at its core.

He recited Dangerous Dan McGrew to us.

And Gunga Din, and If,

but his special favourite was a poem by J Milton Hayes.

I'm on my way!

A story of a stolen talisman, and the curse that came with it;

The Green Eye Of The Little Yellow God.

Halloween, ladies and gentlemen.

A time of ghouls and ghosts,

of spooks and spectres,

of whispers in empty rooms,

of menace and mayhem.

SINISTER LAUGH

Listen as if your life depended upon it.

Because, tonight...

it might.

There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Kathmandu.

There's a little marble cross below the town.

There's a broken-hearted woman

tends the grave of Mad Carew,

and the Yellow God forever gazes down.

He was known as "Mad Carew"

by the subs at Kathmandu,

he was hotter than they felt inclined to tell.

But for all his foolish pranks, he was worshipped in the ranks,

and the colonel's daughter smiled on him as well.

He wrote and asked what present she would like from Mad Carew.

They met next day, as he dismissed a squad,

and jestingly she told him then, that nothing else would do,

but the green eye of the little Yellow God.

Wait till you hear the next bit. "He returned before the dawn..."

He returned before the dawn, with his shirt and tunic torn,

a gash across his temple dripping red.

He was patched up right away, and he slept through all the day,

and the colonel's daughter watched beside his bed.

He woke at last and asked if they could send his tunic through.

She brought it, and he thanked her with a nod.

He bade her search the pockets, saying, "That's from Mad Carew,"

And she found the little green eye

of the god.

Oh, what's that?

Oh, it's Yellow Man.

I bought some for Kate, from the hideous child.

She wasn't hideous, poor little thing.

She was plucky. The way she worked that hall.

Yuck, though.

Who killed him, Dad? Who killed Mad Carew?

Well, that has me beat, Francis. And do you know what?

I'm not even sure you're meant to know.

Why not?

Well, that's the mystery. That's what keeps people guessing.

You know, was it the men who believed in the god,

or was it the god himself?

- It was the men. - Maybe.

Or maybe it was the god's vengeance.

What it tells us is that there's a price to be paid

for everything taken from its rightful owner.

Or even from the place it's meant to be.

What?

Amen to that. Come on, let's get these hungry children home.

How do you feel now, Maisie?

Burning up, Mammy.

I sent in to Newtown for Dr. Black.

He said he'll come if he has time.

She brought home them things yesterday.

From thon dump on the 'drome. Never off it.

I'm scared she's after picking up some disease at the same time.

Did they see us?

There's only one of them. And he didn't.

Come on.

Ah, come on, Francis. Don't be a feardy cat.

I'm not afraid.

Mum told me not to go.

Sure, she has to say that.

She's the mistress, but that doesn't mean you have to listen.

Come on.

Show us that.

Och. Why is it always you? That's the best yet.

I'll swap you.

- Seamie... - Shh.

Wait till we see here.

What do you like best of my stuff?

I don't want to swap. Really, I...

- Run. It's Stagger. - Stagger?

He's a Yankee peeler. Quick!

Come on, you eejit. Do you want to get catched?

You two!

Stagger, Stagger, can't catch us.

Hey!

Come on!

Well, I'll not keep you, Mrs. Coyne.

I've been down in one of the cottages.

A girl there is ill. Really quite ill.

- Maisie Quinn? - Oh.

She may have Scarlet Fever.

I believe her sister works here as a maid.

Sally. Yes, her brother works on the farm, as well.

Well, they'll both have to stay away from this house,

Mrs. Coyne, I'm afraid.

Scarlet Fever is highly infectious to young children.

We can't take any chances.

Dr. Black says you're both to stay away from Quinn's house.

Maisie Quinn is not very well. Keep Kate away from there.

Emma, that's your job.

Francis, don't pick up things you find on the road.

Wash your hands, and don't go near the dump.

Not that you ever would. All right?

Shouldn't Maisie be in hospital?

Well, I can't get her into Magherafelt at the present time.

Why not?

Her condition isn't sufficiently critical or, to be blunt,

she's not sick enough.

However, if it develops into Scarlet Fever, then they will admit her.

So you'll monitor her condition?

Mrs. Coyne, I'm a doctor, not a nurse.

I've an outbreak of measles in Newtown,

and a great many house calls to make to people who pay me

and expect me to turn up.

- Dr. Black... - Mrs. Coyne, I will do what I can.

I'm sending Sally home until her sister gets better.

IF she gets better. Maisie Quinn is sickly. Always has been.

- She should be in hospital. - That is exactly what I said.

Apparently, if she gets really, really sick,

they'll deign to admit her.

How will they know, huh?

I asked Bloody Burgess Black if he would monitor her condition,

and he said, "Mrs. Coyne, I'm not a nurse but I shall do what I can".

Some nurse!

Come here.

I'm being hard on old Burgess.

He says he'll try his best, and I know he does it pro bono.

They can't pay him, Rose. It's as simple as that.

I couldn't pay him, either, to come out every day.

And he might come out for you, because you're English,

but he's not going to work for free

for a wee know-nothing girl on a boggy shore.

Rose?

- What? - Pen.

OK, what are you doing?

Writing a request.

For a nurse, to monitor Maisie.

To Santa Claus?

To there.

I'm certain that place up there is full of nurses.

We have quite a sick girl in the village.

Her parents cannot afford to have the doctor call out routinely,

but if a nurse were to check up on her each day,

I believe there are a number up here on the aerodrome,

it might save her life.

And it would be a huge gesture to the local people.

The Quinns are pillars of our little community.

I've written it all down, logically and sensibly,

so you can show it to whomever.

I will speak to Colonel Cresswell, and then to Tillie.

Tillie?

Lieutenant Zeigler. From the Nurse Corps.

She would nominate a nurse if this plan were agreeable to the Colonel.

As I'm sure it will be.

Rose.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

Mrs. Coyne.

What I have to tell you is a tad awkward.

Oh?

I thought I should perhaps revert to formality.

Gosh, formality?

It's OK, Mrs. Coyne.

Erm, a quantity of paint has gone missing from stores.

The military police are going to be searching local land and buildings,

including your husband's.

They're friendly, despite their fearsome white helmets.

They'll be accompanied by your local constabulary.

And, of course, you have nothing to fear, Mrs. Coyne.

No, of course not.

And I'm going to talk to Colonel Cresswell right now

and get permission to talk to Lieutenant Zeigler

about your request for a nurse officer.

Tillie.

Yes. Short for Matilda, I believe.

You can call me Rose again, now that you're not warning me.

Short for...

Rose.

Goodbye, Captain Dreyfuss.

Rose.

Kettie.

Mrs. Coyne.

I was just passing.

I seen you.

- Well, I thought I'd... - Call in?

See how the baby was.

Aye, that's her. Betty. She has a cold.

Oh, no...

Poor thing.

Is she getting enough, erm...?

No. Likely not.

I have some things of Kate's.

They're warm, and I can't use them.