Martha's Girls (36 page)

Chapter 25

They approached the Royal Air Force base at Aldergrove just as the light was fading, throwing the rows of Nissen huts into sharp relief against the horizon. Their passes were checked at the gate and the driver was directed to follow the road to the large hangar. They saw it loom out of the darkness, impressive enough, but nothing compared to the rows of Hurricane bombers lined up beyond it.

‘Look at all those fighter planes!’

‘What are they all doing here?’

‘They’re waiting for the Luftwaffe,’ said Goldstein.

In the hangar there was an impressive stage at one end and, at the other, an elaborate gantry from which hung rows of lights.

‘This looks very professional,’ whispered Myrtle as a bright spotlight lit the empty stage then narrowed to focus on the single microphone in the centre.

Goldstein disappeared and returned with three small RAF uniforms for the Golden Sisters. It had been such a success at their first concert for the armed forces that they’d continued to use this change of costume, but this was the first time they would wear air force blue.

‘Now Irene,’ said Goldstein, ‘I am told there is a corporal who is a really good dancer. He will be standing down to your right, a tall man with dark hair. Get him up on the stage and the Lindy Hop routine will be a sensation.’

The sisters changed into their new polka dot blouses and black pencil skirts for their first half appearance and Pat suggested a run through on stage before the audience arrived. Peggy was delighted to find the piano was a baby grand and didn’t argue. She played the first few bars of ‘Zippidy Doodah’, but just before Pat and Irene’s cue, she stopped and went back to the beginning. She played it again, then the introduction to the second song. Pat had had enough.

‘Peggy what are you doing? You need to give us a chance to sing the opening line at least.’

‘This piano’s no use. I’m not playing it.’

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

‘Can you not hear? Pat, you can hear it can’t you?’

Pat knew it wasn’t pitch perfect. ‘Ach, it’ll do rightly.’

‘No it won’t. I’m not playing an out of tune piano!’

‘You and I will be the only ones who notice, Peggy, and I’m prepared to put up with it.’

‘Well I’m not.’

‘You’ll have to, we can’t perform without accompaniment.’

‘I’m not playing it!’ Peggy shouted and left the stage.

‘I’ll find Goldstein,’ said Irene, ‘maybe he can talk to her.’

He was in the officers’ mess talking to a well-decorated officer. ‘Can I have a quick word with you, Mr Goldstein?’

She explained the problem and he nodded. ‘I’ll come with you and listen to the piano myself.’

He sat at the baby grand and ran through the scales, his head cocked to one side. Then he played the few bars of ‘Zippidy Doodah’ that had so offended Peggy’s musical sensibilities. He tutted and walked purposely towards the dressing room. Within a few minutes Peggy returned, all smiles, and played the songs without a word of complaint.

‘Well, I don’t know what he said to her,’ said Pat, ‘but I’m going to find out for the next time she tries to give us a heart attack.’

*

Over the preceding months Sammy had learned to tailor his material to suit each audience and this time he had lots of jokes about RAF types and quite a bit of ridiculing the Luftwaffe at which the audience roared its approval. The conjuror known as the Great Horrendo had almost perfected his disappearing and reappearing doves routine especially for the night, until one of them flew into the rafters of the hangar and some wag in the audience offered to make the bird an honorary tail-end Charlie. The girls’ first appearance was greeted with whistles and their lively routine brought clapping and cheers. Pat had been asked to sing ‘The Wings of a Dove’ which drew warm applause. No one seemed to notice the very slightly out of tune piano.

They changed at the interval. ‘I prefer this uniform to the others we’ve worn. It has much more shape and style,’ said Peggy. ‘I’m going to keep it on when we come off stage.’ Irene and Peggy exchanged puzzled looks. Usually Peggy couldn’t wait to change. The appearance of the girls in uniform had the audience on their feet and they took several bows, turning round as though modelling, before Peggy made her way to the piano and their military medley began. When it came to the moment when Irene was to dance with one of the men, she took the microphone off the stand and moved downstage, remembering her instructions from Goldstein.

‘For this next song I’m going to need someone to help me.’ There followed shouts and cat calls as dozens of men volunteered. ‘You don’t know what you’ll be asked to do yet!’ Irene smiled wickedly. ‘Are any of you good dancers?’ Still they shouted. She moved to the right where a tall dark-haired airman was waving at her.

‘Me! Me!’ he shouted.

She moved closer to him, put her hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of the spot light. ‘Don’t I know you?’ she said. There were more whistles. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Tommy!’

‘It is you, Tommy! I’d know you anywhere!’ The audience were enjoying the joke. ‘Stranraer beach 12 July 1939.’

Uproar!

Irene came down the steps at the side of the stage and returned with Tommy by the hand. ‘Now then, last time we met you had your friend Sandy with you. Am I right?’ Tommy nodded. ‘And where is he now?’ She thrust the microphone towards him.

‘He’s up there!’ shouted Tommy and pointed up to the lights’ gantry.

‘He’s not!

‘Oh yes he is!’

Irene moved to the front of the stage and shielded her eyes. ‘Hello, Sandy! Good to … not quite see you again.’ Then she signalled to Peggy and the music started. Pat stood beside the piano singing and Irene and Tommy, who was, as promised, an excellent dancer, gave a near perfect demonstration of the Lindy Hop.

As Tommy left the stage to uproarious applause, Irene blew him a kiss and another in Sandy’s direction high above her in the darkness. Then she returned to the microphone.

‘This is our last song, ‘I’ll Take Romance’ and it’s dedicated to Sandy.’ As the last note died away, they left the stage to loud applause and cheering and Irene waved again to the gantry.

‘What was all that about?’ asked Pat as they changed out of the uniforms.

‘The airman who sent me the sari, you remember? I think he was operating the lights.’

It was soon time for the finale. ‘Peggy you haven’t changed, hurry up!’ said Pat.

‘I told you I’m keeping the uniform on.’

‘You’re not supposed to.’

‘I don’t care.’

The finale was a huge success and went on for much longer than it should have done. It seemed that neither the audience nor the performers wanted the evening to end, but eventually the Squadron Leader stepped on to the stage and asked for the house lights to go up.

‘Ladies and gentlemen of the Barnstormers, that was truly a barnstorming performance. We are immensely grateful for your wonderful talent and dedication. But the evening is not quite over.’ He paused as though for dramatic effect. ‘Let me introduce you to our special guest this evening who flew here secretly from London this afternoon. Please welcome our illustrious Prime Minister, Mr Churchill.’

All eyes turned to the back of the hangar from where the instantly recognisable form of the man emerged. The audience were on their feet straining for a view of him as he walked down the aisle drawing gasps, then applause and cheers. Leaning heavily on his cane he climbed the stairs to where Goldstein was waiting to introduce the performers. The sisters were towards the middle of the line.

‘May I introduce the Golden Sisters, Irene, Pat and Peggy,’ said Goldstein and the Prime Minister shook each hand in turn.

‘I thoroughly enjoyed the dancing. Great fun!’

‘Aah, ‘Wings of a Dove’ a favourite of mine, beautifully sung if I may say so.’

‘And you must be Peggy. You were quite right, my dear.’ He held on to her hand, patting it. ‘The piano was slightly out of tune, but you coped with it admirably and very few would have noticed. May I also say, I have never seen an RAF uniform look so …’ he searched for a suitable word, ‘… impressive.’

So that’s how Goldstein got her to play, thought Pat. He told her Churchill would be watching the show.

The Barnstormers were invited back to the mess for a nightcap before the long journey back to Belfast, but at the door of the hangar Irene excused herself saying she had left her scarf backstage. As she suspected, a shadowy figure was still moving about overhead. She thought of calling out, but then noticed a series of ladders leading up to the gantry high above her. She slipped off her shoes and began to climb, silent as a cat. He was sitting on the edge of the platform his legs swinging. He heard movement behind him and called out, ‘You’re a bit late, Brian, I’ve sorted everything up here.’

‘It isn’t Brian, it’s Irene and I don’t think we’ve sorted anything yet.’

‘How did you get up here?’

‘Like you did, I climbed.’ She sat down next to him and swung her legs in time with his.

Surprisingly, he was the first to speak. ‘I thought you were very good tonight. I didn’t know you sang … and danced,’ he added.

‘There’s a lot about me you don’t know.’

‘I know you’ve a head for heights.’ She could hear the smile in his voice.

‘Sssh!’ she hissed and pointed below. Two figures wandered on to the stage hand in hand. The woman was unmistakeably Myrtle, but who was the man? As they watched, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Irene felt uneasy watching this intimacy with Sandy and she thought to call out to let them know they were watched. Suddenly, Sandy leaned away from her, there was a click, the lights blazed from the gantry and Irene found herself looking at Sammy’s surprised face, before Myrtle grabbed his hand and they ran laughing from the stage. Sandy flicked the switch and they were in darkness again. She felt him turn towards her, his hand touched the side of her face and a second later his lips were on hers. She closed her eyes and felt a lightness in her head as it tilted backwards. Then his arms were strong and steadying around her, high above the world and completely safe. The kiss that lasted and lasted was all she needed to know about him. Later, they came down the ladder and wandered out under the midnight sky to stare at the sickle moon. From the mess came the sounds of ordinary people and their meaningless chatter. Instinctively, they walked towards the Hurricanes and under the fuselage he kissed her again as if to reassure her that the excitement was not fleeting, but could be created anew each time he held her.

‘I never stopped thinking about you from the moment we met,’ he said. ‘I could stand here with you forever.’

She could have told him about New Year’s Eve, could have asked him if he received her letter apologising, but all of that was irrelevant. She lifted her head to be kissed again.

Pat’s voice echoing in the hangar reached them. ‘Irene, Irene where are you? We’re going now!’

He held her even tighter, ‘I know we haven’t spent a lot of time with each other, but does it matter? Irene, I want you to think about something …’ He paused and she held her breath. ‘Will you think about whether you would like to be my wife?’

Irene looked up at him, her eyes wide.

‘No, don’t answer now. Think about it. I’ll get a pass for next weekend. I’ll come to your house on Saturday afternoon.’

Pat’s voice came again, louder and more insistent. Irene nodded and ran to meet her sister.

*

‘You’re a bit of a dark horse aren’t you?’ said Irene.

‘What do you mean?’

It was the first chance Irene had to talk to Myrtle about what she’d seen on the stage at Aldergrove.

Irene looked around the canteen to make sure no one was listening then whispered, ‘You and Sammy!’ Myrtle feigned surprise. ‘Come on, I saw you on the stage kissing.’

‘You didn’t!’

‘I did, right in the spotlight you were.’

‘Where were you?’

Irene pointed skywards.

‘Up in the lights?’ Myrtle looked confused. ‘What were you doing up there?’

‘I was with Sandy!’

‘Were you, now? You’re a bit of a dark horse yourself.’

‘Me? What about you! Here’s me thinking you and Robert McVey must be about to post the banns and there you are with—’

‘Sssh!’ Myrtle looked quickly around her, but everyone was busy chatting. ‘You know how it is.’

‘No I don’t. Have you finished with Robert?’

Myrtle raised an eyebrow at Irene’s naivety. ‘Anyway, never mind about me. What were you and Sandy up to?’