Martha's Girls (32 page)

William’s face was grim and he nodded slowly. ‘I fear you’re right, Pat. All the soundings I’ve taken from those with some knowledge of the situation correspond to yours. We will be bombed and we are currently ill-prepared.’ He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. Time passed. Somewhere a door slammed. Somewhere else a telephone rang. Eventually William spoke. ‘Pat, I’ve always admired your honesty and common sense and I’d be interested to know what you think would bring about a fundamental change in attitude.’ Pat thought of Peggy with her flippant views and what it would take to alter them. ‘I think the problem is that there is no evidence that those in charge believe there will be bombings. People don’t carry gas masks, they break the black out regulations, but nothing happens. Except for round the docks, there are no anti air-craft guns installed and there are very few bomb shelters being built. It looks like those in the know aren’t expecting bombs. Otherwise they’d have done something to protect us, wouldn’t they?’

‘Such things take time.’

‘True, but has a start been made?’

‘We wouldn’t want to promote panic.’

‘You’ve certainly avoided that, but what you’ve got instead is complacency.’

‘You’re right of course.’ He looked at her across the desk and, to her surprise, he smiled. ‘Pat, I know that we didn’t part on the best of terms; there was …’ He hesitated, ‘some misunderstanding between us.’

That’s one way of putting it, thought Pat.

‘But I’ve found our conversation today very helpful and I hope you won’t mind if I ask you to come and talk to me again. You give me a different perspective on a difficult situation and I value that.’ He stood up.

‘It was nice to see you again, William, and I’d be happy to help in any way I can.’ Pat kept her voice light.

He walked her to the door, ‘Are you still singing with the Barnstormers?’

‘Yes, we’re members of ENSA now, you know, entertaining the military.’

‘Really!’ He looked genuinely pleased.

‘What about you?’

‘I don’t have a lot of time for singing, but I’m a member of the Civil Service choir. We’ll be singing in a carol concert in the entrance hall just before Christmas. Why don’t you join us? We could do with a good soprano.’

Chapter 21

The gun-metal grey clouds, heavy with snow, had gathered throughout the morning and by noon a luminous twilight enveloped the city streets. The first tiny flakes began to fall around two and by three o’clock the floor of the Goldstein’s shop was wet with melting slush. Esther had disappeared into the back of the shop as soon as Peggy began mopping up, but moments later she reappeared buttoning up her coat.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ demanded Peggy.

‘I’ve some errands to do.’

‘Not again. You’ve hardly put in a full day this week!’

Esther stepped over the mop. ‘Never mind,’ she laughed. ‘If I don’t see you through the week, I’ll see you through the window.’

Peggy swept the icy water out after her and watched her walk away. Within a hundred yards Esther crossed the road and went straight into the Ulster Milk Bar. The nerve of her, thought Peggy, she’s just taking the afternoon off! She swept the pavement furiously causing passers by to give her a wide berth. Then suddenly she stopped. What had Esther said? Peggy had taught her most of her English, but she could not recall teaching her that ‘through the window’ expression. In fact, there was only one person she knew who used that silly saying. Peggy left the mop in the doorway and without bothering to fetch her coat marched down the street. It took a moment for her to see through the condensation on the window of the cafe, but there they were. Esther giggling and Harry Ferguson no doubt talking some nonsense. Well, she’d certainly seen them through the window.

*

When Irene arrived home from work that evening, she could hear Peggy screaming up the stairs at Pat. ‘Will you stop singing those Christmas carols? I’m fed up listening to them!’

‘I’m rehearsing.’

‘Rehearsing for what?’

‘Never you mind!’

Martha was in the kitchen and didn’t acknowledge Irene’s ‘Hello’ or her chatter about some cheek Myrtle had given the foreman.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked Irene.

No answer.

‘Are you annoyed about something?’ Still no answer.

Irene went into the front room, where Sheila was curled up on the settee reading a book.

‘You got more letters today,’ Sheila whispered.

‘Don’t tell me,’ laughed Irene. ‘They’re on the mantlepiece!’

Sheila looked at her quickly and shook her head in warning. Too late, Martha was standing in the doorway wiping her hands on her apron and one look at her face was enough to confirm Irene’s fears that she was in trouble.

‘I think it’s time we called a halt to all this letter writing, don’t you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, first post you’ve a letter from an airman we’ve never seen and another from someone in Donegal and a third arrived second delivery this afternoon posted in Belfast at eleven o’clock this morning.’

‘Mammy, there’s no harm in getting letters from my friends.’

‘Yes, but who are these friends? I’ve never met them. They could be any kind of people.’

‘Ach Mammy, catch yourself on. They’re just people like you and me.’

‘Don’t you be telling me to catch myself on! If these were decent people, why haven’t I ever met them? You’d think if they were friends of yours, they would be round the house once in a while.’

‘Maybe it’s not so easy for them to go visiting, especially where they’re clearly not welcome!’ Irene grabbed her letters and stormed out of the room.

‘Well I never!’ said Martha. ‘What kind of behaviour is that?’ She went to the foot of the stairs and shouted. ‘Come back down here this minute.’ Irene’s answer was to slam the bedroom door and throw herself on the bed. She was in no doubt which letter to open first. She recognised Sandy’s writing and had been waiting to hear from him for so long. After their meeting on the Cave Hill he’d written a short letter saying he had enjoyed seeing her and he hoped he’d be able to get to Belfast again soon. It had contained no clue as to how he felt about her and, as a result, her reply was equally non-committal and she hadn’t heard from him since. She unfolded the single sheet of writing paper:

Dear Irene,

I’m sorry I’ve not written sooner, all leave was cancelled and now I am being sent to England for more training. When I come back I promise you we’ll have a night out in Belfast.

Sandy

PS Miss you.

What was she to make of it? Nothing, except the facts. If he was interested he would meet her some time in the future, if not, she doubted she would hear from him again. But he did say he missed her. He needn’t have added that.

She opened Sean’s letter next. It was a while since she had heard from him. The postmark told her he was still in Donegal. It too was short.

Irene

I haven’t heard from Theresa for a while, can you find out what’s going on and get her to write to me?

S

She scrutinised the third letter, didn’t recognise the writing; inside was a page torn from a child’s jotter.

Irene

I need to see you. Can you meet me outside the Co-op in York Street at two o’clock this Saturday?

Theresa

Well that solved a problem. She could meet Theresa when she finished work and tell her to write to Sean. But why did Theresa need to see her in the first place?

*

The following morning Goldstein arrived late to open up the shop and Peggy was furious that she’d had to stand in the biting wind and sleet for half an hour. She was even more annoyed to find that she shared the pavement with a delivery of sheet music and would be spending the rest of the morning on her hands and knees sorting it. Goldstein nodded curtly and unlocked the door, offering no explanation for his lateness.

‘Is Esther not with you this morning?’

‘You can see she is not.’

‘Is she ill?’

‘She would not get out of bed.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘You tell me.’

‘How would I know?’

‘Because you are the reason she was out so late last night.’

‘What?’

‘I do not know where the two of you were at that time of night and in such bad weather.’

Peggy guessed where Esther had been, but it took her a few seconds longer to decide how to deal with the information. ‘Mr Goldstein, I don’t want to worry you, but I suspect there’s much more to this than you realise. I’ll be completely honest with you, I wasn’t with Esther last night, but I know who she was with and I could make sure it won’t happen again.’

‘What!’ Goldstein turned on her. ‘She was not with you? You must tell me right now what is going on! Look here, if you are lying to me.’ He paused, searching for possibilities. ‘No … she was lying to me. Who was she with?’ His eyes widened. ‘Was it was some boy!’

‘Not quite.’ Peggy was shocked by the intensity in his voice, but she kept calm. ‘You see, sometimes young girls can be foolish when a man,’ she emphasised the word man, ‘when a man takes an interest in them.’ Peggy saw with delight the effect her words had on Goldstein. She went on. ‘And for a sensible adult like yourself to chastise the young person, well, that might lead to them being more determined to do what seems forbidden.’

The processing of every word showed in Goldstein’s face. He seemed suddenly diminished. ‘What is to be done?’ he asked.

‘I’ll speak to her if you like. I can advise her.’ She paused and added, ‘Woman to woman.’

‘You think that is best?’

‘I’m certain it is. She won’t meet this person again, I give you my word.’

‘Peggy, I am so grateful to you. I am an old bachelor and, I will confess, I find it difficult to understand Esther at times. Do you really think you can persuade her against this …’ He searched for the word. ‘… liaison?’

‘Don’t worry, Mr Goldstein, you can rely on me. Now would you like me to make us some tea? Then I’ll get all that sheet music sorted.’

Just before three o’clock Peggy finished serving a customer and popped her head around Goldstein’s office door. ‘Would you like me to take the post along to the GPO, Mr Goldstein? Save you doing it on the way home?’

‘Yes that would be kind of you, Peggy.’

There was still some sleet in the air and she pulled her collar up against the bitter wind. She guessed that Harry had been working the early morning shift, leaving him with the afternoons and evenings free. At the milk bar she tried to see inside, but the windows were steamed up again.

‘Well well, if it isn’t Miss Goulding, doing a bit of sleuthing.’ He was standing behind her in a tweed overcoat belted at the waist, his hat pulled down over his brow. Peggy gave little hint of the discomfort she felt.

‘Oh, the very person, I want a word with you.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘How interesting. I’ll tell you what. I’ll take a walk down the street and back, while you send Dorothy in there back to Kansas. Then we can talk.’ He raised his hat and set off towards the City Hall.

Esther had a face like someone caught with their hand in the sweetie jar. ‘What are you doing here, Peggy? You should be in the shop.’

‘I should be in the shop? Well, that’s rich! I could say the same to you.’

‘You’ve got to go. I’m … I’m meeting someone.’ She looked anxiously towards the door.

‘Your uncle thinks you’re at home too tired to work after the late night you and I had. He’ll be surprised when I tell him you had an appointment this afternoon with … who should I tell him you’re meeting?’

‘No one … no one you know … a friend.’

‘Esther, I’ve just spoken to Harry and I can tell you he’s not coming here to meet you.’

‘That’s not true. He said he’d be here.’

‘He sent me to tell you he won’t be seeing you again.’

‘You’re lying! Why would he say that?’

Peggy needed a good reason, one that would sever the link between Esther and Harry completely. Hadn’t she promised Goldstein?

‘Because he’s just asked me to get back together with him and I said yes.’

‘You’re making this up! You hate him, you said so. All the times he’s tried to get you to go out with him again and you were so … so horrible to him!’

‘Esther, don’t you see he was using you? It was me he was after.’

‘No, he wants me to be his girlfriend.’

Peggy gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Esther, you’re just not right for him, he told me so himself.’

Somewhere in Esther’s mind a window opened on reality. ‘Does my uncle know all this?’

‘Of course not,’ said Peggy gently. ‘I told him you and I went to the pictures together. It’ll be our secret.’

Esther stood up. ‘I’m not going back to the shop today.’ She was close to tears. ‘I’m going home to bed.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ said Peggy. ‘You’ll feel better in the morning.’

When Esther left, Peggy moved into one of the booths and waited. Ten minutes later he came in, ordered two coffees and slid into the seat opposite her. ‘Hello there, Peggy, nice to see you. How have you been? Still playing the piano?’ She looked at him in disbelief, it was as though he had run into a passing acquaintance.

‘Harry, what’s going on?’

‘What do you mean? Nothing’s going on. We’re just having a coffee, aren’t we?’

‘I’ve just upset a good friend, because of you.’

‘Now why would you have done that?’

‘Because you asked me to!’ Peggy’s voice rose and one or two customers turned to look at her. She quickly changed her tone. ‘You wanted to talk about us.’

‘Ah, would that be the ‘us’ where I chase after you for months and you ignore me, or the ‘us’ where I go out with someone else and you get jealous?’

‘I am not jealous! I don’t care who you go out with.’

‘Is that why you told your good friend I didn’t want to go out with her any more because I was going out with you?’

‘I never—’

‘You did!’

‘Why would I do that?’

‘Because you’re in love with me.’

‘In love with you … an underhand, deceitful, bookie’s runner, smuggler—’

‘No I’m not!’

‘Yes you are!’

‘No I’m not! Look if I could prove to you that I’m not any of those things anymore then would you admit you love me?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’