Billy Mack's War by James Roy Page A

difficult.
    I was heading out the front gate at the end of the day when I saw him unchaining his new bike from the front fence of the school. I took a deep breath and went over. ‘Look, Barry, I’m sorry about yesterday,’ I said, just like that. There, I thought, I’ve said it. We’ll never be best friends now, but we were never going to be anyway.
    â€˜Yeah, that’s okay,’ he replied. ‘It was a good punch. Put me tooth through me lip, you know.’
    â€˜Did I? Sorry about that.’
    â€˜Sorry about what I said too,’ he answered, and he stuck his hand out, just like his dad would have taught him to do.
    Just then, Doug came over. ‘What was that about?’ he asked when Barry had waved and ridden off.
    â€˜Nothing,’ I said. ‘Just sorting out what happened yesterday.’
    â€˜Sorting it out? How could you do that?’
    â€˜I was saying sorry, if it’s any of your business,’ I said, maybe a little more impatiently than was necessary.
    â€˜Awright, keep your hair on, I was only asking,’ Doug replied. ‘So, any word from your old man?’
    â€˜No, not yet. Hey, Doug, do you think that hat Barry said is true? Really, I mean. Be honest — I won’t mind.’
    His mouth twitched. ‘Look, mate, I’m just a kid, awright —’
    â€˜Yeah, and so am I,’ I said. ‘But it’s my dad, you see. Don’t you see? I can’t let people just say that he was sitting around while everyone else did the fighting. You wouldn’t want people saying that about your brothers, would you?’
    â€˜No, but they wouldn’t, because they weren’t captured. Don’t get angry,’ he added quickly, instinctively putting his hand to his mouth. ‘But they weren’t, and your dad was. That’s no one’s fault though, Billy.’
    â€˜But if Bobby or James had been fighting where my dad was they would have been captured, don’t you see? And then they’d have been prisoners. And besides, what makes you so sure that it was so nice and relaxed in those camps? I’ve heard it was pretty awful. There was this one. thing I saw on the newsreels —’
    Doug shrugged then, and I guess that was the only thing he could do. ‘I don’t know, mate,’ he said. ‘I guess you’ll be able to ask him as soon as he gets home.’
    â€˜Yeah, whenever that is.’
    When I got home to the big house, I came into the kitchen a little cautiously. Nan had forgotten to put a piece of cake in my lunch bag, and I wondered if she was still angry. She and Aunty Margaret were sitting at the table shelling peas. ‘Good afternoon, Billy,’ she said. Her voice sounded almost normal.
    â€˜Hi, Nan. Hi, Aunty Margaret.’
    â€˜There’s something on the table for you to read,’ Nan said.
    It was a telegram, which said:
    HAVE SEEN FRED STOP VERY THIN IN GOOD SPIRITS STOP DOCTORS THINK HOME IN SIX WEEKS STOP STAYING WITH MILDRED STOP LOVE TO BILLY AND TWINS ALICE
    â€˜That’s good, isn’t it, Nan?’ I said. ‘Six weeks! That’s not very long.’
    â€˜Yes, love, that’s very good. That should fly by.’
    â€˜It’ll seem like a couple of days, that’s all,’ Aunty Margaret said.
    I sat down at the opposite side of the table, and Nan slid the bowl of peas into the middle so I could help with the shelling. ‘I said sorry to Barry Morrie today,’ I told her.
    â€˜Good boy,’ she replied. ‘Sort things out just as soon as you can, that’s what I always reckon.’
    â€˜I know. And I’m sorry I embarrassed you yesterday.’
    She smiled. ‘You were only sticking up for your dad. But the next time you decide to punch someone’s lights out, make it the son of someone less influential than the bank manager.’ Then she winked at me. ‘The mayor’s got a son, I believe.’
    I