Martha's Girls (11 page)

‘Oh were you now.’ Martha faked an understanding smile. ‘Would that be like you told me about going to the audition?’ Martha pointed her finger at each daughter in turn. ‘Deceit is a dangerous game. I never thought I’d see the day my daughters would stoop so low. Not only have you lied to me, but you’ve got yourself involved with some low music hall characters.’

‘Mammy, that’s not fair,’ said Irene. ‘You don’t know these people. They’re really nice.’

‘Irene, don’t be so naïve. Before you know where you are, m’lady, you’ll be out smoking and drinking in some back street dancehall. And if you think I’m standing for that, you’ve got another think coming!’

Irene thought of Saturday night with Myrtle and said no more.

Peggy waded in then. ‘But Mr Goldstein is a respectable businessman. Sure you know he owns a shop in Royal Avenue.’

‘I’m sure he is respectable, it’s not him I’m worried about,’ argued Martha.

‘Do you not trust us, Mammy?’

‘I thought I could, but now I’m not so sure. I wonder sometimes what goes on in your head, Peggy. And as for you …’ She turned again to Irene. ‘You’re the eldest. What on earth were you doing, encouraging your sisters to get involved in something like this?’

‘Mammy, we just wanted to do something different. Something that was …’ She struggled for the word, ‘something exciting.’

‘Dear God.’ Martha sat down again and put her head in her hands. ‘Exciting isn’t for the likes of us. We’ve to work to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table, you know that. And since Daddy died it’s harder than ever. And now there’s a war.’ She shook her head. ‘Is the threat of bombs not excitement enough for you, but you have to go out in the blackout to God knows where, with God knows who?’

‘But we’ll be helping the war effort, Mr Goldstein said so. We’ll keep people’s spirits up, so we will,’ argued Peggy. ‘And you never know,’ she went on, ‘we could become famous.’

Martha laughed out loud. ‘Peggy Goulding you are unbelievable. Listening to music all day in that shop has turned your head. Who do you think you are?’

‘Somebody who isn’t going to waste their life cooking and cleaning and raising we’uns!’ Peggy shouted.

At that moment, Pat, who had listened without comment to her mother and sisters arguing, spoke up. ‘Will you stop it! We shouldn’t be arguing like this. Look, Mammy, we were wrong. We shouldn’t have gone to that audition without telling you. I’m …’ She looked at her sisters. ‘We’re sorry. But you know this war is going to take young fellows off into real danger. We can’t go and fight, but we should do something. It’s about morale and carrying on even though there might be danger. And you know we can do this, Mammy. You saw us at the Grosvenor Hall. You heard the Reverend Lynas say how important it was to have more events like that. That’s what we want to do.’ She reached across the table and put her hand on Martha’s. ‘And we want to sing, Mammy. You know that. We want to sing.’

‘Sure I know that, but this isn’t the odd concert in a Christian church hall. Your Daddy would never have agreed to this and I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.’

‘Mammy, we’ll be all right.’ Pat took her hand. ‘Sure haven’t you brought us up to know how to behave? You need to trust us.’

‘That’s all very well, but do you think I’d trust some of these men? I don’t want any of you letting me down. You know what I’m saying now, don’t you?’ She looked at each of them in turn. They nodded.

Martha stood up, seeming to shake herself, as though shedding such distasteful thoughts. ‘I’m going to have to think about this. So that’s an end to it for now. Let’s get this meal served before it’s spoilt altogether.’

*

The following day Martha left home at twelve o’clock and caught the trolley bus into Belfast alighting on Royal Avenue just across the road from Goldstein’s music shop. She waited there until one o’clock, when she saw Peggy leave and walk towards the nearby Queen’s Arcade, no doubt to spend her lunch hour looking in the windows of the expensive shops inside. Almost immediately after, Goldstein appeared at the shop door where he turned the sign to show it was closed. By the time he had bolted the door Martha had crossed the road and was knocking on the window. He looked startled and was about to indicate the closed sign when he looked more closely and recognised her.

‘Mrs Goulding,’ he said as he opened the door. ‘I am afraid you have just missed Peggy, she has gone for her lunch.’

‘I know,’ said Martha. ‘It’s you I’ve come to see.’

If Goldstein was surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded and ushered her into the shop. ‘Of course, Mrs Goulding, follow me.’

Martha was struck by the formality of the office with its heavy mahogany desk and matching filing cabinets.

‘Please sit down.’

Martha sat on the edge of the chair, her back completely straight, clasping her handbag on her knee.

‘Can I offer you a cup of tea?’

‘No thank you. I’ll come straight to the point, Mr Goldstein. I’m here about my daughters joining your entertainment troupe.’

Goldstein smiled. ‘You mean the Barnstormers?’

‘Yes. I will be perfectly honest with you, I’m concerned about the wellbeing of my daughters, about them keeping company with, what sounds to me like, music hall acts.’

Goldstein leaned back in his chair, made a tent of his hands, and observed Martha for a few moments. ‘What exactly are you concerned about, Mrs Goulding?’

Martha blushed, took a deep breath and addressed her words to her handbag. ‘Let us say, shall we, that my daughters are innocent, naïve even, and might be easily led astray by undesirable people.’

‘Aah.’ Goldstein nodded slowly. So that was it. He appeared to consider his words carefully. ‘Peggy, it seems to me, is a very strong-willed young woman. She likes to get her own way and once she makes up her mind there is no changing it. Am I right in that judgement?’

Martha managed a grim smile. ‘Indeed you are.’

‘I doubt whether she could be influenced by anyone,’ said Goldstein. Martha said nothing. He went on. ‘Pat I have met only twice, but she struck me as a serious young woman, dignified and sensible. Is she?’

‘Straight-laced, you mean? Well, maybe she is.’ Martha conceded.

‘Now, Irene is friendly and enjoys company. She is the eldest, is she not?’

Martha was well aware of where all this was going, ‘She is.’

‘She would want to look after her sisters, would want to set them a good example I’m sure.’

‘She would, Mr Goldstein. And I’ve no doubt that my daughters would behave correctly. After all, they’ve been well brought up. As I said before, it’s not their behaviour I’m worried about. It’s the behaviour of the men they’d be mixing with.’

Goldstein folded his arms, pursed his lips and stared at the ceiling. Martha sat perfectly still as the silence stretched into a minute then two. Suddenly, Goldstein leaned across the desk and smiled warmly.

‘I am very glad that you came to see me, Mrs Goulding. It is important that I look after the very talented young people who have volunteered to join the Barnstormers. I have an idea. I’d be interested to know what you think.’

*

While her mother was deep in conversation with her employer, Peggy had walked the length of the Queen’s Arcade, ignoring the temptations of the dress shops and emerged on to Fountain Street where she turned right towards Smithfield. Within minutes the quiet street gave way to a noisy, busy area, crowded with stalls that spilled second hand goods on to the pavements and out into the road. Hawkers stood on street corners. One, a wizened man with a humped back, was trying to press packets of razor blades into the hands of passers-by. Another had a wooden tray covered with handkerchiefs hung with rope around his neck. Peggy ignored everything and walked purposefully to the shop at the far side of the market. She paused a moment under the sign ‘I buy anything’, took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The air was musty like a room closed up for years. Towards the back of the shop heavy sideboards, tables, chairs, settees were piled in crazy configurations like some stairway to the grimy skylight. Elsewhere, the contents of a hundred houses had seemingly been abandoned in the shop, proving that Kavanagh was true to his word. The man himself was sitting in a leather-covered chair with horsehair stuffing escaping from the arms. He acknowledged Peggy with a curt nod assuming, because she wasn’t carrying anything to sell, that she intended to look around the shop. Peggy had worked out exactly how to get the information she wanted.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Kavanagh?’

‘It is, surely,’ he replied. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I work for Mr Goldstein of Goldstein’s Music Shop.’ She smiled warmly and held out her hand. Kavanagh, a little taken aback, quickly wiped his hand on his waistcoat and shook hers.

‘I’ve come to thank you for recovering the wireless that was stolen.’

‘Sure it was nothing. People need to know I don’t handle stolen goods. That’s how I build my reputation.’

‘The thing is Mr Kavanagh, I have a feeling I might have seen the thief in the shop, but I’m not sure enough to mention it to the police. Could you tell me what he looked like?’

‘Oh aye, saw him as plain as day. Tall fella he was.’

Peggy’s heart sank.

‘About seventeen, eighteen, I should think.’

Her hopes rose.

‘Ginger hair, a right ugly bake on him he had.’

Peggy couldn’t stop herself grinning. ‘Is that right?’

‘Is that the same man you have in mind?’ he asked.

‘Oh no, that’s not him,’ she laughed. ‘Not him at all!’

Chapter 8

Irene could sense an atmosphere as soon as she passed through the gates of the Ulster Linen Works. Small groups of men stood around talking quietly and there was none of the usual banter as they queued to clock in. In the finishing room Theresa’s place at the table was empty again. In contrast to the sombre mood, Alan Briggs seemed buoyant. ‘Come on you lot! We’ve a big order for tray cloths to finish. And would ye look at that, we’re one brushie down! Maybe she’s took herself out for the day, eh?’ he sniggered. ‘Round to Crumlin Road jail, I’ve heard.’

‘What’s going on?’ Irene whispered to the girl next to her.

‘We found out why Theresa hasn’t been in.’ She paused and looked behind her. Alan Briggs was busy sorting out a new delivery of paint. ‘Saturday night, the Peelers raided a load of houses up the Falls.’

‘I heard,’ whispered Irene. ‘There was a policeman shot, wasn’t there? But what’s that to do with Theresa?’

‘Theresa’s Da was taken away.’

‘Arrested?’

‘Not exactly, they call it internment. Gets suspected IRA men off the streets.’

‘But Theresa’s family wouldn’t be involved in anything …’ Irene caught her breath, ‘and Sean, what about him?’

‘Nothing’

‘What do you mean, nothing?’

‘Got away, disappeared. Some say they’re lookin’ for him.’

Alan Briggs appeared behind them. ‘Come on now you two, get to work. Don’t ferget, I’ll be countin’ how many each of youse has done by the end of the day.’

At the dinner break Pat reminded Irene. ‘I’m going to see Mr Goldstein after work. Do you want to come with me?’

‘Sure he doesn’t need to see me. It’s about you doing a duet or something, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know. Peggy just gave me the message, she wasn’t for discussing it. I think maybe her nose was out of joint, but that’s nothing new. Now Irene, you go straight home. Don’t be thinking of taking a wee trip up the Falls, will you?’

‘But maybe Theresa …’ Irene struggled to explain why she wanted to see her friend. ‘I just need to show her that I …’

Pat spoke sternly. ‘Listen, there’s nothing you can do. Keep out of this. Don’t even risk showing your face up there. They’ll know you’re not one of them.’

‘Oh for goodness sake, Pat! It’s not about Catholics and Protestants. She’s my friend.’

‘I’m telling you, no good’ll come of it. Leave Theresa and her family be.’

They finished their lunch in silence, then painted tray cloths all afternoon listening to the rain thrattle on the skylights above their heads until the hooter sounded the end of the working day. Pat was one of the first out to keep her appointment with Goldstein. Irene dawdled, unsure of what to do, but the torrential rain that met her outside and the swish of the trolley bus stopping a few yards away settled it. She could always see Theresa tomorrow night.

Goldstein was just locking up when Pat arrived at the shop. She was surprised to learn that Peggy had already left.

‘I sent her home early so that she could call at the GPO to post some sheet music.’ He was wearing a wide-brimmed, high-crowned felt hat, the style of which Pat had never seen. ‘I thought we might have a bite to eat. The Pam Pam is very good. You know it, on the corner of Donegall Place?’

Pat did know it, very new and stylish and she’d only half a crown in her purse. She hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can stay that long …’

‘Nonsense, the service is quick.’ He shook out his umbrella, pushed it up and took her arm, adding with a smile, ‘Besides, I like to treat beautiful young ladies.’

The Pam Pam was very modern and very crowded. Goldstein helped her out of her wet coat. She wished she’d been wearing something with a bit more colour, but at least the navy dress was neat and, thankfully, slimming. Goldstein spotted someone in the far corner and waved and Pat followed him as he zig-zagged across the room.

‘Miss Goulding, you remember William Kennedy, I hope, from the auditions?’

‘Of course, the tenor. How nice to see you again.’ Now she wished she’d combed her hair.

They shook hands, each a little surprised to see the other. She was impressed to see he wore a business suit and tie.

Goldstein insisted on ordering for all three of them. ‘It will save time,’ he said, ‘and we can get on with our discussion. Patricia, William, I want you to be an extra act. Of course, William, you will still have your own spot, as will you with your sisters, Patricia. But you will also sing together.’ He looked from one to the other and hurried on. ‘You are familiar with the famous Hollywood couple Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy?’

They nodded.

‘Well, I have the sheet music. I will find you the costumes … the Mountie … the Indian girl. You will be a sensation!’ He beamed in delight at his idea.

Pat had a sudden image of herself dressed as an Indian squaw. ‘Mr Goldstein, I don’t think …’ she hesitated and turned instinctively to William.

His tone was reasonable but confident. ‘They have fine voices, especially when they use them to sing opera … Puccini … Verdi. Perhaps we could look at their wider repertoire to find something suitable for our voices.’

At that moment their food arrived and the talk turned to the arrangements for the Barnstormers’ first performance, at the beginning of December, just a month away. Goldstein had found them a place to rehearse and was arranging all the publicity. They would take Belfast by storm, he was sure. He ate quickly, chatting between mouthfuls about the performers, the venue, the ticket prices … then he wiped his mouth vigorously with his napkin and stood up.

‘Now I must dash. But you please stay and discuss what you will sing when you are Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy. I will get the bill at the door. I look forward to seeing you at the rehearsal on Sunday.’

They watched him leave. Pat was the first to speak. ‘I’m not too sure about all this, are you?’ She felt a little embarrassed sitting in a restaurant with a man she hardly knew to discuss how they were to become the famous ‘American Sweethearts’.

‘Actually, I think I need to be getting home now.’ He stood up.

‘Yes of course, me too. I’m not really used to being out in the blackout.’

He seemed to find his manners. ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’ll walk you to your stop.’

‘There’s really no need.’

‘No, please, I’d like to.’ He helped her on with her coat. Outside the rain had stopped and a full moon mocked the idea of a blackout as they strolled along Royal Avenue trying to remember the songs from the films of MacDonald and Eddy.

*

Around the time Pat was digesting the news that she had a new singing partner, Irene, turned into Joanmount Gardens and was just passing the corner shop when she heard someone call her name. A shadowy figure was standing beneath an overhanging privet hedge.

‘Sean … is that you?’ She moved closer. He had no coat, was soaked to the skin and wearing the same clothes he’d worn on Saturday night at John Dossor’s. ‘What are you doing here? I think the police are looking for you.’

‘I know, that’s why I can’t go home. I need you to get a message to Theresa.’

‘What’s going on, Sean?’

‘You remember the boys found me in Dossor’s? Well, they told me there were going to be raids. We wanted to stop them. There was talk of barricades, but it was too late. When we got there they were puttin’ me Da in the Black Maria. I stood on the corner and watched; they didn’t see me. I wanted to run out and hit them, scream at them, but I just stood there and let them take him. Then me an’ the other lads went somewhere in the Bone, an oul woman’s house where the Peelers wouldn’t look.’ His voice began to rise. ‘Now they’re searchin’ everywhere for me and I’ve got te get out of Belfast.’

The shop bell tinkled behind them and a tall man with an upright stance emerged. In the seconds before he closed the door against the blackout, Irene recognised him. In a flash, she reached up and drew Sean’s head down to kiss her.

Ted Grimes paused for a moment to take a cigarette from the new pack and light it, before hurrying home to Vera and his tea.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I know him, he’s a policeman.’

‘He didn’t see me, did he?’ Panic was in his voice and Irene felt him shivering against her.

‘No I don’t think so. What do you want me to tell Theresa?’

‘Just that I’m all right … and tell Mammy not to worry. I’m goin’ over the border tonight. Just say I’ll be in Donegal, she’ll understand.’ Then he brushed his lips against hers in the most fleeting of kisses and walked quickly away. Over the Black Mountain thunder rumbled and heavy clouds obscured the moon.

*

Irene could smell the stew as soon as she pushed open the back door. Martha was at the ironing board, smoothing out some cloth.

‘What’s that you’ve got there?’

‘It’s a remnant, end of a roll.’ Martha held up the huge piece of turquoise cotton. ‘Vera Grimes sent it up with Ted. There must be over five yards here. She thought I could make some use of it.’

‘That was nice of her. What will you make with it?’

‘I was thinking it would do nicely for three matching blouses. You know, the sort that would look good on stage.’

Irene’s face lit up. ‘You mean we can sing at the concert?’

‘Aye well, why not?’

Irene hugged her. ‘What made you change your mind?’

‘Mr Goldstein.’

‘Goldstein?’

‘We had a long talk and the upshot of it was he asked me to act as chaperone.’

‘What’s a chaperone?’

‘I’m to be there keeping an eye on the young women. Looking after them backstage; seeing they come to no harm.’

Irene felt a stab of disappointment. She’d been looking forward to being a Barnstormer, going out in the world, a bit of freedom, but now …

Just then Peggy arrived, soaking wet and in high temper.

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, will you look at the state of me! A lorry drove in a big puddle next to the kerb, right over my head it went.’

‘Peggy, there’s no need to blaspheme!’ Martha chided her. ‘The fire’s lit in the front room. Away in there and get warm the pair of you. You can put your coats over the fire guard too or they’ll never be dry for the morning. I’ll get you some towels as well.’

While they dried themselves, Irene told Peggy about the chaperoning.

‘My God that’s all I need, puts the tin hat on it. What a day I’ve had!’

‘Why, what else has happened?’

Peggy was certainly not going to tell her nosey sister about her trip after work to the Ormeau Bakery looking for Harry Ferguson. Nor how angry she’d been to find he’d worked the early shift and left at dinner time. Then there was Goldstein’s big plan for Pat and that miserable looking tenor. Stars of the show indeed!

They’d finished the stew and potatoes by the time Pat arrived home. She seemed delighted with the news that her mother would be attending each concert. ‘So we’ll be able to sing after all and, Mammy, you’ll be there to watch us!’

Peggy rolled her eyes.

Pat went on, ‘And did you hear about me singing duets as well?’

‘Aye, but who is this William Kennedy anyway? What do you know about him?’

Pat reeled off a list of his attributes. ‘Very well spoken, works in an office, I’m told.’ Irene and Sheila looked at each other and made an ‘Ooooo’ sound. Peggy tutted. Pat carried on. ‘Good manners, smartly dressed, cuff links.’

‘Cuff links,’ said Peggy. ‘Well, he must be all right then!’

‘Don’t use that mocking tone with me, Peggy Goulding!’ Pat snapped.

‘Oh don’t you be getting on your high horse, just because you’ve got the chance to sing a few more songs. Don’t forget you could easily end up singing them unaccompanied!’

‘Will you girls stop it? This was supposed to be a nice evening … sorting out what you’re going to wear and everything.’ Martha had brought the turquoise material from the kitchen and spread it out over the settee. It was just like when they were children and she’d stop their bickering with a distraction.

‘Now then, Peggy, you’ve an eye for fashion,’ Martha said. ‘What style of blouse do you think you should have?’

Peggy allowed herself to be flattered and knelt down to feel the material. ‘I assume we’ll stick to the black skirts; we’ve all got one.’ They nodded. ‘Now this material’s plain so the shape will need to give it style. I’m thinking, something dramatic.’

*

Alan Briggs was waiting for the brushies when they arrived for work the following morning, arms folded across his chest, a basket of painted tray cloths at his feet and a face on him that could sour milk.