Martha's Girls (22 page)

The entire Goulding family avoided each other’s eyes.

‘Sure Jack, you’re famous for having a way with birds,’ said Martha.

*

Twilight had given way to the night and candles were being lit when there was a knock at the door. Peggy jumped up. ‘I’ll get it.’

Harry Ferguson came into the room like a man who was not only expected, but whose appearance was eagerly anticipated.

‘Good Evening, Mrs Goulding, and a very Merry Christmas to you.’ He shook her hand and swept the others with a smile. ‘I won’t interrupt your evening.’ He went on, ‘Just thought I’d return the shirt you lent me.’ He handed over a brown paper parcel. ‘All washed and ironed.’

‘That’s very considerate of you,’ said Martha. ‘Stay a while, why don’t you?’

‘No I couldn’t. I’ve just brought you a wee present. I hope you enjoy it.’

Martha took the tin from him. ‘Am I to open it now?’

‘Of course, you can even eat it now, if you like.’

‘Goodness me!’ exclaimed Martha as she gazed at the beautifully iced Christmas cake. The thick royal icing was peaked into a snowy landscape across which two Eskimos raced on a sleigh towards Father Christmas and around the edge the words ‘Merry Christmas’ were written in red and finished with a sprig of holly.

‘You made it yourself didn’t you, Harry?’ said Peggy.

‘Oh yes, you’re a baker aren’t you?’ said Martha. ‘Well, what a wonderful present. Now you’ll have to stay while we all taste it. Sheila, get Mr Ferguson a chair.’

‘Please, call me Harry.’

The cake delighted everyone.

‘It’s very rich,’ said Martha.

‘Is there a bit of sherry in there?’ asked Betty.

‘The marzipan is just the right thickness.’

‘And so almondy.’

After a while the conversation died a little and Peggy opened up the piano lid and began to pick out the opening bars of ‘Away in a Manger’. Very softly in the candlelight someone hummed, a voice added the words. On the second verse more voices joined in. The last notes died away and Peggy moved quickly into the next song. Jack led the singing of ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ with gusto and Martha was the only one who heard the quiet knock at the door. Goldstein had returned.

‘Esther’s been asleep since you left,’ explained Martha in the hallway. ‘We keep looking in on her, but she hasn’t stirred. I’ll go up and check on her again.’ She opened the door to the sitting room. ‘Come in and join us.’

Jack’s singing had gone from bad to worse. He was stuck on the names on the rest of the reindeers and the others were shouting out as they remembered them. He had just finished the song amidst loud cheering, when the door opened and Martha led Esther into the room.

Goldstein stood up and took her arm and, with her eyes still on the ground, she whispered to him.

‘May she have a drink of water?’ he asked.

The water was fetched with a piece of Harry’s Christmas cake. She drank and nibbled a little. Again she spoke and Goldstein translated. ‘She says to thank you for your kindness and she cannot believe she is here with her uncle and his friends.’ Esther gave a half smile. Then slowly, with Goldstein translating, she told her story: ‘I left Warsaw on 26 September …’

The night we sang at the Grosvenor Hall, thought Peggy.

Chapter 14

Snow! It arrived in dark clouds that settled over the city as though they could go no further with such a heavy load. From the Cave Hill across the Lough to the Holywood Hills it fell through the night in thick white flakes as big as half crowns. It seemed on that Sunday morning in early January that the people of the city rose late from their beds. The snow had deadened the usual early morning sounds by which they registered the new day and the blackout curtains had kept the light from their bedrooms.

Martha, who slept at the front of the house, was the first awake disturbed by the sound of children’s excited laughter in the street outside. Bernard Murray already had a good slide going. He climbed up the hill a little then launched himself down the middle of the road, body and feet turned at right angles and skimmed across the slippery surface for twenty yards using his arms stretched out from his side to keep balanced.

‘Come on youse uns!’ he shouted. ‘The more we use it, the slippier it’ll get.’

From the kitchen window, waiting for the kettle to boil, Martha marvelled at the transformation in the garden. The wind had blown small drifts here and there; at the back door it was a foot high covering the steps. The branches and twigs were heavy and thick with it. On the path were the prints of a bird this way and that as it searched for food. There’d be no church for her this morning; she hadn’t the footwear for the twenty minute walk there and back in thick snow.

By midmorning, with no sign of a thaw, Peggy had disappeared into the shed at the back of the house and after much shifting of its contents she emerged triumphant, hauling behind her the Joanmount Flyer. The other sisters who had been working as a team in the garden to build the biggest snowman ever, left him without a second thought, his tiny unfinished head at his feet.

Sheila clapped her mittened hands in delight. ‘It’s Daddy’s sledge!’

‘I didn’t know we still had it,’ said Irene. ‘Do you remember how he made it for us when we were small?’

‘Mammy didn’t allow us to go on it by ourselves.’

‘Now, Robert, you’re to promise me that you will always be in control of the sledge.’ Peggy did a passing impersonation of her mother at her most protective.

‘Aye Martha, don’t fret I can sit two of them on it with me.’ Martha had joined them in the garden and spoke aloud her husband’s words. ‘Rest assured, they’ll come to no harm.’

‘You remember, Mammy, the fun we had on this sledge?’

‘Indeed I do, a fine sledge built by a carpenter for his children. Now I wonder how you’re going to spend the day.’ She raised an eyebrow.

‘Come with us, Mammy, it’ll be great,’ pleaded Sheila.

‘Ach away on with you, I’ve plenty to be doing here without risking my neck up the Carr’s Glen! I presume that’s where you’re going.’

Half an hour later in their warmest clothes, the girls had left the houses far below them and reached the top of the Ballysillan, where in summer the meadows were full of clover and cowslip and heavy with the sound of insects. This morning, it was more like an Alpine village with dozens of figures trekking up and sliding down the slopes on makeshift sledges.

‘It’s just like ‘Heidi!’’ exclaimed Sheila.

One or two groups had recognisable sledges, but others were sliding down on tin trays or bits of wood. There was even a tin bath. They found a space at the top with a clear run fifty yards below.

‘I’m the one who found it, so I’ll go first,’ said Peggy.

‘Have you forgotten it’s a two-man sledge?’ said Irene. ‘And I’m the eldest, so I’ll go down with you.’

‘Suits me,’ said Pat. ‘I’m not sure whether I want to do this at all.’

‘Don’t be such a scaredy ba,’ said Sheila. ‘You and I’ll go down together next. I’ll be at the front.’

Peggy lined the sledge up. ‘You see this?’ she said, holding up the tarred rope fastened to the sledge like reins on a horse. ‘I’ll use it to steer.’ She braced her feet on the cross bar. ‘Now get yourself on, Irene. Quick as you can!’

Irene sat on the wooden slats behind Peggy, glad that she’d worn her work trousers. She held on to Peggy’s waist, but couldn’t quite figure out where to put her legs. She felt the sledge begin to move beneath her. ‘Wait, Peggy, wait!’ But with Peggy, whether it was songs on the piano or sledging on snow, there was no stopping her once she’d made up her mind. The sledge tipped forward and Irene saw below her what looked like a sheer drop. She had the oddest sensation that she was about to fly over Peggy’s head and land in front of the sledge as it careered ever downward. Her legs were stuck out at acute angles and it was all she could do to keep her feet off the ground. Suddenly, she had the weird sensation of lifting off into the air. Too late she realised that her backside had left the sledge. For an instant it was only her grip on Peggy’s waist that prevented her from flying down Ballysillan unaided. Then the sledge lifted to meet her crashing down. The breath was knocked out of her and they were rushing headlong again. Snow spraying in her face … eyes squeezed tight … mouth open, but she couldn’t catch another breath. Once more she rose in the air over a bump and back on to the slats with a thud … then a sensation of turning sharply, the sky twisting above her … a sudden jarring that turned her sideways and dumped her in a white pit, her mouth full of snow.

She was aware of shouting all around her and that high pitched laugh of Peggy’s when she became over-excited. Hands pulled her to her feet. She shook her head free of snow and felt an ache at the base of her spine as she put weight on her legs. Then she was laughing too. A group of boys had gathered round them, pulling her and, more importantly, the sledge from the snow drift that Peggy had steered them into.

‘My God, I’ve never seen anything like it!’

‘What a speed!’

‘Where’d ye get a sledge like that?’

Back at the top of the slope, Pat and Sheila waited anxiously having witnessed the reckless progress of the Joanmount Flyer. Pat cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed, ‘Are you all right?’ and was glad to see first Peggy, then Irene wave back.

Sheila on the other hand yelled, ‘Hurry up! Bring it back for our go!’

‘Are you mad?’ asked Pat. ‘That thing’s dangerous!’

The boys pulled the sledge back up, hoping, no doubt, to get the opportunity to have a go themselves, but Sheila had other ideas.

‘Right, Peggy, my turn.’

‘Look,’ said Peggy, ‘aim for the right of where we went down. It looks a bit less bumpy over there. You could probably slow it a bit as you get near the bottom by pulling it to the right in an arc. You see those boys down there? How they’re slowing down, sort of sideways into the snow?’

Sheila nodded. ‘Yes I see. I can do it and if it goes wrong I’ll just fall off into the snow.’

‘You won’t have time to think about that,’ laughed Irene.

‘Come on, Pat!’ Sheila climbed on the sledge. ‘Get behind me.’

‘I can’t!’

‘Yes you can. It’ll be great!’

‘Go on, it’s really good,’ said Irene.

At that moment Pat saw a familiar figure coming towards them, pulling a sledge almost as big as theirs. He raised his hand and called out. Instantly, Pat was on the back of the sledge, shouting in Sheila’s ear, ‘Right! Go! Go!’

Sheila pushed off and they went hurtling down the slope leaving Jimmy McComb, a lonely figure at the top, disappointed again.

Ever persistent, he was still waiting when cold, miserable and nursing a wrenched shoulder, Pat returned. ‘Well, that’s the last time I’ll risk my neck for that experience.’ Her words were angry, but her tone was one of pride that she’d done something a little reckless, but never intended to do again.

‘Some experience isn’t it?’ Jimmy was beside her, a Thermos flask in his hand. ‘Would you like some tea?’

She looked at his earnest face, ruddy with the cold, and the cup of steaming tea he held out to her and felt a little embarrassed by the way she’d rushed off. ‘Thanks, Jimmy.’ She took the cup in both hands and sipped the hot sweet tea. ‘You came well prepared for the cold.’

They stood side by side gazing out over the city towards the docks where dozens of giant cranes scraped the low grey sky.

‘Do ye see that crane, fourth one in from the left?’ Jimmy pointed. Pat nodded. ‘That’s on the opposite bank to where I work. It unloads sugar from the boats for the Tate and Lyle factory. Mind you, there’s not been many of those since the war started.’

‘Aye, there hasn’t been sugar in the shops for a few weeks now.’

‘We probably won’t see it again ‘til the war’s over.’

The silence stretched between them, neither was much practised in small talk. Eventually Pat took a deep breath:

‘Look, Jimmy—’

‘Pat, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.’

‘No, no I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so angry with you.’

‘Can we be friends then?’

‘I suppose so.’ She smiled and handed back his cup.

He screwed it back on the flask, and packed it away in his haversack, chattering nervously. ‘Would you like a ride down on the back of my sledge? I’m on the run over there. You can see it’s not as steep.’

‘No thanks, I’ll just get back to my sisters.’ She turned to walk away, but he fell into step beside her.

‘Pat, do ye think we could start again, you and me?’

She stopped and faced him. ‘Jimmy, there is no you and me. There won’t ever be a you and me.’

‘Why not?’ His tone changed. ‘Am I not good enough for you?’

‘Don’t be silly. I don’t want to fall out with you. You’re a very kind person, but there’s nothing between us.’

‘It’s because there’s someone else, isn’t it!’

‘Look, Jimmy there isn’t anyone else. And even if there was, it would be none of your business.’

‘It’s him you sing with, isn’t it?’ His voice began to rise.

‘What?’

‘I saw the two of you together on stage, you looking into his eyes, the way he kissed your hand at the end!’ Some of those standing on the hill were turning to stare. Pat lowered her voice.

‘Jimmy, you don’t understand, that’s a performance, an act. There is nothing between me and William Kennedy.’

‘Oh yes, I know that’s his name, saw it in the programme, and that’s not all I know about him.’

‘What do you mean? What is there for you to know about him?’

‘I know he has a wife and child!’

Pat took a step backwards, and for a moment looked like she was going to argue, but instead she turned and walked quickly down the lane.

Sheila saw her go and ran after her. ‘Wait Pat, wait for me!’

Pat’s hands were deep in her pockets, her mind deep in thought. Sheila caught hold of her arm.

‘Leave me alone. I’m going home!’

‘It’s Jimmy isn’t it? He’s upset you again. Look, just tell him you don’t want to go out with him and he’ll have to leave you alone.’

Pat turned to face her sister, she was catching her breath in gasps and when she spoke the words escaped one at a time.

‘You … don’t … know … what … it’s about. It’s … not that … simple.’ Pat breathed deeply and tried to calm herself. ‘He says … he’s married!’

Sheila was confused. ‘Jimmy’s married?’

Having to explain seemed to calm Pat a little. ‘Not Jimmy … William.’ She began to sob and Sheila took off her mittens and wiped her sister’s face.

‘William? What’s this got to do with him?’ But even before she’d finished the sentence, Sheila understood. She guessed, too, that the reason for Pat’s distress was not her dislike of Jimmy, but her growing love for William Kennedy.

‘Ach, how would he know anything about William? Sure he’s just made that up to upset you. Can’t you see that?’

‘No, it’s true, I’m sure of it. Why else does he keep his life a secret? I don’t know anything about him. Where he lives … who he lives with … nothing and now I know the reason why!’

‘Well, I wouldn’t believe Jimmy if I were you. You know what I’d do?’ Sheila didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I’d just ask William straight out! You can do it on Friday night at the rehearsal.’

‘I can’t just walk up to him and ask him is he married! What would he think of me?’ And she began to cry.

From the hill above them floated the excited sounds of the sledgers who hadn’t a care in the world beyond staying upright on their sledge. Down on the lane, Sheila hugged her sister and some of Pat’s despair transferred itself through the layers of warm coats, scarves and mittens to Sheila’s warm heart. Bit by bit Pat’s sobbing subsided and her shoulders relaxed a little. Then Sheila took her hand. ‘Come on, let’s go home and if we slip on the way down the lane at least we can catch each other.’

*