Martha's Girls (26 page)

There wasn’t much on the roads and Peggy and Harry made good time back into the city. As they rounded Cliftonville Circus, Harry asked, ‘Will anyone be up at this time?’

‘Irene maybe, but she sleeps with Pat so she won’t know I’m not there. I share a room with Sheila and she won’t be awake for ages yet, so I’ll be able to sneak in I think.’

‘Peggy, I don’t want to worry you, but isn’t that your mother and Irene walking down the road towards us?’

‘It is! It is!’ Peggy shrieked.

‘Get down!’ Harry’s arm shot out, caught the back of her head and pushed her down in the seat. At the same time he turned his head to the side.

‘You know Irene, that looked a bit like Harry Ferguson in that car that just went past.’

Irene stared at the black Ford Prefect as it disappeared up the Oldpark Road.

‘Ach I don’t think so, Mammy. Sure doesn’t he have a sports car?’

Chapter 16

The fog that had blown in off the sea in the middle of the night lingered like bad news around the docks. Martha was uncertain where to start her search, but close to Donegall Quay she saw a crowd of people hurrying towards the harbour building. ‘Are you here about the mail boat?’ she asked a woman.

‘Aye, I’ve a son coming back from England on it. First they said conditions were bad, but now there’s word of lifeboats being found and a few minutes ago we heard survivors were being brought ashore.’

A man in a naval style uniform covered in gold braid appeared on the steps of the grey porticoed building and waited for quiet.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ an English accent, ‘some survivors from the mail ship which collided with a mine—’

‘Makes it sound like it’s their fault!’ shouted someone.

‘—off the coast of the Isle of Man last evening, have been brought ashore and are now being cared for in the immigration hall at the back of the building. If you would please form an orderly queue we will take the name of the passengers about whom you are enquiring and we will confirm whether they have, as yet, come ashore.’

‘They’re round the back!’ someone shouted. ‘What are we waitin’ for?’ People began to run, but Martha knew a quick walk would do well enough for, whether joy or heartbreak awaited them, running would not make a ha’porth of difference to the outcome.

At the rear of the building those at the front of the crowd stopped suddenly and fell silent as they passed into the hall. Over their heads, Martha could just make out a dimly lit space and, coming from within it, the high-pitched scream of a baby and the stench of dirty water.

They filed in as silent as into church. Those at the back, like Martha, could not at first see what lay in front of them. She moved to one side and round a pillar and almost stumbled over a young woman leaning against it, a puddle of water surrounding her. Her eyes were wide and staring, her face grey. A child of four or five lay across her legs face down, vomit trickling from his mouth. Beyond her sat an elderly man in his shirt sleeves clutching a grip bag with trembling hands, then a girl hugging her knees head bent, hair in rats’ tails dripping down her back. On and on … some standing, some sitting, most lying, all with faces grey from fear and the seawater in their stomachs. All drying slowly in the chill of the February morning.

‘God help us,’ whispered Martha.

Slowly people began to move. Those searching stepped carefully, like crossing a stream finding little stepping stones of marble floor in the sea of bodies. Those survivors who were stronger realised what was happening and stood on tip toe to see if a relative had come to claim them. At first they searched only with their eyes then several began to shout out.

‘John. John Buckley, are you here?’

‘I’m looking for Mary Donaldson!’

Soon the cries were echoing round the high ceiling and some were heard and answered:

‘I’m here! I’m here!’

‘Where? Where are you?’

Martha didn’t shout. She took her time and moved systematically through the hall.

‘I’m sorry. Excuse me. Could I come through there, please?’ All the while forcing herself to look into the faces, some of them cut and bruised, all of them full of pain.

Anna and Thomas were not there.

She made her way back to the front of the building and found the Harbour Master. ‘Excuse me, I’m looking for my sister and brother-in-law they were meant to be on the boat, but I can’t find them in the immigration hall.’

‘I’m sorry, but the rescue operation is still going on. People are being brought ashore all down the Antrim coast, some have gone to Liverpool. It could be days before we can account for everyone.’

‘What should I do?’ Martha was close to tears.

‘Look, I’ve got the passenger list. If you give me their names I could at least tell you if they were on the ship.’

‘Thank you. They’re called Wilson, Thomas and Anna.’

He ran his finger down the sheet. ‘Wilson … Wilson …’ Sheet after sheet, ‘No, there’s no Wilson here.’

‘But they were booked on the mail boat. I know they were. Can I see the list?’

He looked sceptical, but handed it to her. ‘Check if you like, but you won’t find them.’

On the third page a name half way down jumped out at her. ‘Goulding’ followed by ‘T and A’. ‘That’s them!’ she cried.

‘But that’s not the name you gave me.’

‘I know, but it’s them. I’m sure of it!’

‘Well, I shouldn’t really tell you this, but we’re bringing some more survivors ashore. Down there in one of the Liverpool ferry sheds. You could have a look.’

She followed his directions to a large corrugated-iron building open to the elements at the front, beyond it was the coal quay and black hills of imported coal.

Martha heard Thomas before she saw him. She never in her life expected to be pleased at the sound of his pompous, badgering tone.

‘And I’m telling you, I am not staying in this tin shed a moment longer! Now you, young man, need to telephone for a taxi to take me home.’

‘Sir, I’ve explained already that the port authorities are required to record details of all those rescued.’

‘I’ve given you my name and address. What more do you need?’

‘I’m sorry, Sir, I haven’t the authority.’

‘Don’t talk to me about authority. There’s no one in authority here. This whole business is a shambles. God help us if they start dropping bombs. You’ll expect names and addresses from the dead I suppose!’

‘Thomas.’ Martha spoke softly, fearing he might turn on her in his rage.

He ignored her. ‘Now, if you’ll tell me where I can use a telephone I’ll call for the taxi myself.’

‘Thomas.’

He stared at her as though she was some unwanted interruption.

‘Thomas, it’s me, Martha.’

‘I can see it’s you! What are you doing here? Where are Alice and Evelyn?’ He looked anxiously around as though they might be nearby.

‘I came to find you and Anna. I heard about the boat on the wireless. Alice and Evelyn are at my house.’

‘Right, I want you to wait here while I find a taxi.’

‘Thomas.’

‘What!’

‘Where’s Anna? Is she safe?’

‘Why wouldn’t she be safe?’

‘The boat sinking, Thomas, you remember?’

‘Of course I remember. She’s over there.’ He waved his hand.

Anna lay on her side. The fox fur, wet and shiny, had been thrown over her. Martha knelt and spoke her name softly. She touched her glistening forehead expecting it to be wet and cold. It was burning.

‘Anna, can you hear me? It’s Martha.’

Through cracked lips she whispered, ‘Martha.’

‘You’re going to be fine, Anna. Thomas has gone to get a taxi to take you home.’ The stone floor was cold and wet, but Martha sat and held her sister’s hand as the certainty dawned on her that war had surely found its way to Belfast.

*

‘Irene, you’re the eldest, so I’m leaving you in charge. I trust you to make sure that everyone behaves themselves.’

‘How long do you think you’ll be away?’

‘I don’t know. Anna still can’t get out of bed. It’s like the strength’s drained out of her. The doctor’s there every other day, but I don’t think he’s any notion of what’s wrong with her.’

‘Sure we can manage, Mammy, don’t you worry yourself,’ said Pat.

‘I’ll do most of the shopping and cooking,’ said Sheila.

‘And so you should,’ said Peggy. ‘You’ve no work to go to.’

Martha turned on her. ‘And I don’t want you out with Harry Ferguson every night either, weekends only, please.’

Irene shot a look at Peggy. She’d had a word with her about staying out all night with Harry, but Peggy had told her to mind her own business.

‘I’ve left you some money on the mantelpiece for food and the rent man. Sheila, be careful what you buy, better to eat bread and vegetables than some bit of a pig you’d not recognise. Be careful with the rationing coupons. You don’t get much for them, you know, and easy on the sugar all of you!’

The rain set in soon after Martha left for the Wilson house. The girls were glad they’d attended the morning service and could spend all evening at home in the warm. Pat had washed her hair and was kneeling in her slip to dry it in front of the fire; Sheila was doing her homework at the kitchen table and Peggy and Irene were reading old copies of ‘Red Letter’ that Betty had passed on to them. Thunder was rolling over the hills above them and almost drowned the knock at the door.

Pat jumped up. ‘Don’t open it ‘til I’m in the bathroom!’ she shouted and ran out of the room.

‘I’ll go,’ said Irene. ‘It must be important to bring anyone out in this weather.’

Irene opened the door a little and peered out at a dark figure with shoulders hunched and a cap pulled down over his eyes.

‘Hello, is that you, Pat?’

‘No, it’s Irene. Who’s there?’

‘Hello, Irene. It’s Jimmy. Is Pat in?’

Without hesitation Irene invited him in. ‘Come on in, Jimmy. That’s a terrible night, isn’t it?’

In the sitting room he removed his cap, rain dripped from his hair. ‘Missed you girls at church this evening.’

‘We went this morning to sing in the choir, but we thought we’d give it a miss tonight,’ said Peggy without looking up from her magazine.

‘Do you want to take your coat off? We could dry it over the fireguard for a while,’ said Irene.

‘Thanks very much.’ He handed her his Mackintosh. ‘I was hoping to see Pat.’

‘Well, she’s a bit busy at the moment, washing her hair I think. Peggy, away and see if Pat’s finished yet. How’re you keeping, Jimmy?’

‘Oh, well enough.’

‘And your mother?’

‘The same.’

‘Pat says she’s washing her hair then she’s having a bath. She’s going to be ages.’ Peggy picked up her magazine again.

‘I could give her a message, if you like,’ said Irene.

Jimmy hesitated. ‘I don’t know …’

‘Is it something important?’

Jimmy looked sideways at Peggy. ‘I suppose it might be.’

‘Peggy,’ said Irene, ‘could you read that in your room, while I have a wee chat with Jimmy?’

Peggy rolled her eyes and left the room.

Irene saw the sadness in his slumped shoulders, the tired eyes, the set of his mouth. He’s a really nice boy, she thought, but Pat isn’t what he needs even if she’s what he wants. ‘What is it, Jimmy?’ she said gently.

He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve enlisted, joined up. Start basic training in a fortnight.’

That I didn’t expect, thought Irene. ‘God Jimmy, why? There’s no conscription and, even if there was, you wouldn’t be called, you’re needed in the shipyard.’

He shrugged his shoulders.

‘Is that what you really want, to join the army?’

‘Might as well,’ he said, looking at the floor. ‘There’s nothing for me here.’

‘You’ve got your work. Time-served carpenter now, aren’t you?’ Irene tried to sound positive.

He took a moment to shape a reply. ‘Look Irene, you know don’t you?’

‘What?’

‘How I feel about, Pat.’

‘I know.’

‘Well, it’s just not going to be. I can see that now.’

Irene didn’t argue. ‘But there’s lots of other girls. Ones that—’

‘Are more my type?’ His look matched the bitterness in his voice.

‘I was going to say, who would love to have a man like you. You’ll find someone else.’

‘I don’t want anyone else and I never want to see her with someone else! I’ve had enough of that at the concerts you keep inviting me to.’ He grabbed his coat from the fireguard and put it on. ‘Just tell Pat I’ll never bother her again.’

*

Martha had settled into a routine at the Wilson house: waking Alice and Evelyn each morning; giving them breakfast before school; spending time with Anna; making her a light lunch. Later, while Anna slept the afternoon away, Martha would clean. In the evening she made supper for the girls and got them ready for bed. After that, she had the morning room to herself where she would read the
Belfast Telegraph
, maybe do a little sewing and, of course, listen to the wireless.

She was surprised at how little contact Thomas had with his daughters. He left early in the morning before they were awake. He sat with them while they ate supper then either went out, he didn’t say where, or stayed in his study.