Martha's Girls (38 page)

‘When do you think they’ll be back?’

‘Before we know it,’ said William.

*

When Irene arrived home that evening she was surprised to see Thomas Wilson’s car parked outside the house and he and Anna in the kitchen drinking tea with Martha.

‘Anna and Thomas took a wee run over to see if we were all safe after last night. Wasn’t that good of them?’

‘We’ve been meaning to come over since we received your wedding invitation. So I said to Thomas, never mind RSVP, let’s just take a wee run over to Joanmount and hear all about it. Your Mammy has been telling us about Sandy and the wedding arrangements.’

‘Oh it’s going to be a very simple wedding,’ said Irene, ‘just the family, yourselves, the McCrackens and a couple of friends from work, a few from the Barnstormers, Sandy’s family live too far away to come. Pat’s going to sing. Then we’ll all come back here for some sandwiches and Peggy’s friend Harry is going to make the wedding cake.’

‘Well, that sounds very nice and I hear you’re getting married at Donegall Square Methodist.’

‘Yes we are. They couldn’t fit us in at Oldpark Presbyterian, but Donegall Square always makes room for those in uniform.’

Anna beamed. ‘Do you know the Imperial Hotel just nearby?’ Without waiting for an answer she went on. ‘Thomas and I go there quite a lot when we’re in town and we …’ She nodded towards Thomas. ‘We would like to pay for you to have your reception there. What do you think?’

Irene looked at her mother in amazement. Martha raised an eyebrow very slightly, which could have meant anything. ‘That’s very kind of you Aunt Anna, but we couldn’t.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Anna. ‘Martha and you girls were very supportive when Thomas and I were … you know, after the mail boat sank …’ Her voice seemed to lose its strength. ‘Anyway, we’d really like to do this for you. What do you say?’

‘I say it’s very kind of you and thank you very much,’ said Irene and she kissed first Anna then Thomas, the first time she’d ever done so. ‘And Uncle Thomas,’ she added, ‘will you give me away?’

*

Since the visit to William’s house when she had been introduced to his sister and niece, Pat had found him waiting for her after work on a few occasions. ‘I’ll drop you off in town,’ he’d said the first time and she’d protested that it was out of his way.

‘Not at all, it’s no more than a few minutes detour and it’ll save you time only having to catch one bus home instead of two.’ Today as he drove he vented his fury at the final draft of the report made to The Prime Minister, Sir John Andrews, about what was now being called the ‘Dockside Raid’. ‘I tell you it’s a whitewash; a piece of propaganda full of all that positive language that makes people feel self-satisfied instead of the blunt words that tell them they’re living in a fool’s paradise! There was one other piece of news today. You remember when I went to England they said they’d send us what they could by way of anti-aircraft protection?’

Pat nodded.

‘Well, I had word that a shipment arrived in Larne yesterday.’

‘That’s great news.’

‘Not that great, Pat, they sent us one searchlight and one anti-aircraft gun. It’s not going to make much difference; we need ten times that amount at least.’

‘My mother listens to the wireless a lot for war news and she heard Lord Haw-Haw threaten Belfast with ‘Easter eggs for breakfast’. Do you think it’s possible they’ll attack again over Easter?’

‘That’s coming close to the full moon, ideal bombing conditions. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re coming up the Lough any time soon.’

‘Oh, I hope not. We’ve got a big ENSA concert at Balmoral Camp on Easter Tuesday and Irene’s getting married the day after. Goldstein has been hinting that a star is coming over from England for the show, but he can’t say who it is of course.’

‘I wish I was still a member of the Barnstormers. I really miss it.’

‘You could come along if you like.’

‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t do that.’

‘Don’t apologise,’ said Pat, her voice noticeably cooler.

‘No, I’d really like to, but I’ve been doing tours, spot checks, each night, checking on the precautions: fire watchers, shelters, guns. I was out during the Dockside Raid. It’s the only way I can get a feel for what’s happening on the ground each night.’

Pat saw the tiredness in his face and understood why his frustration was so intense. ‘It’s fine.’ Her voice softer now. ‘I understand.’

‘When all this is over, Pat, we’ll sing again won’t we, a duet from Figaro or La Boheme, maybe?’

‘I’d like that,’ she smiled. ‘I’m singing something from Figaro at Irene’s wedding, Cherubino’s aria.’

‘I’d love to hear you sing that.’

‘Well, if you’re not doing anything at noon on Easter Wednesday, come along.’

William’s eyes lit up, all tiredness gone. ‘Maybe we could sing the Suzanna and Figaro duet like we did in the concerts.’ Then suddenly his enthusiasm evaporated. ‘But maybe Irene wouldn’t want that.’

‘Not want it? She’d love it!’

*

‘Did you find anywhere to stay, Myrtle?’ asked Irene as they sat in the canteen.

‘Aye, thank God. Me da’s cousin lives in Thorndyke Street. We’re stayin’ there for the time bein’ and Grannie’s gone te her sisters up the Castlereagh Road.’

‘You look really tired.’

‘Tired? I’m exhausted, so I am, but at least we’ve got a wee bit of a holiday over Easter. And you’ll never guess where I’m goin’.’

‘Where?’

‘To a wedding and the reception’s at the Imperial Hotel no less!’

‘I’m surprised you mix in those sort of circles.’

‘Well, sometimes you’ve got to spend a bit of time with the lower classes, just to see how the other half lives!’

There was a loud rapping on a table at the far end of the canteen and they looked up to see the production manager on his feet.

‘This morning, I am delighted to make a small presentation to one of our workers. Some of you may know that Irene Goulding will be getting married on Wednesday.’ He paused to consult the piece of paper in his hand, ‘… to a member of the RAF who is, I understand, currently stationed at Aldergrove. So I’d like to ask Irene to come up and receive her gift.’ There was a round of applause and some cheering as Irene was presented with a canteen of cutlery.

‘Them knives is all blunt ye know,’ shouted someone at the back, ‘but ye can sharpen them after yer married!’

Irene leaned over to Myrtle and said with a laugh, ‘Worth getting married just for the knives and forks. It’ll be your turn soon.’

‘What’d’ ye mean, my turn soon?’

Irene was surprised by her sharp tone. ‘Nothing really,’ said Irene. ‘I just thought you and Robert—’

‘Well, you thought wrong!’ shouted Myrtle and pushed her chair back with a loud scraping noise and marched out of the canteen.

Irene caught up with her in the corridor outside. ‘Myrtle, what’s the matter? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything …’

‘It’s not you. It’s between me and Robert.’

‘What is? What’s going on?’

‘We’re finished, it’s over.’

‘It can’t be. Sure he dotes on you.’

‘Not anymore he doesn’t.’

‘Why, what’s happened?’

‘Nothin’, I can’t tell you.’

‘This is about Sammy isn’t it? Has Robert found out?’

Myrtle nodded and wiped her eyes.

‘But sure Robert’s a good man. Tell him it didn’t mean anything with Sammy.’

‘He’ll never forgive me, never.’

‘Of course he will. Do you want me to speak to him?’

‘No there’s nothing you can say.’

‘Let me try—’

‘Irene!’ she screamed. ‘Will you shut up! Nobody can do anything. If you must know I’m pregnant and Robert knows for certain it’s not his!’

*

On Easter Sunday morning the Goulding family returned from church to find Harry Ferguson leaning on his borrowed car waiting for them. ‘A wee bird told me you’re all going out for the day. Where’s it to be then, Bellevue Zoo … Bangor and back for a bob …?’

‘We’re going to the Waterworks for a picnic,’ said Sheila. ‘It’s a family tradition.’

‘Well, I’ve just called round to let you know that the cake is ready. I finished icing it this morning, the first wedding cake to be baked in Ferguson Family Bakers. I was going to take it down to the hotel later.’

‘So the bakery is open then?’ said Martha.

‘Not quite. Everything is finished and ready. The grand opening’s on Saturday.’

‘Why don’t you come on the picnic first,’ suggested Peggy. ‘Then you and I can collect the cake from the shop and take it to the hotel?’

‘Ach no, sure it’s a family tradition. I’d be in the way.’

‘No you wouldn’t,’ said Peggy. Harry had been so elusive lately. They’d hardly been out anywhere. He was always working on getting the shop ready.

‘You’re very welcome to join us, Harry,’ said Martha. ‘We’ve plenty of sandwiches, but I’m afraid we don’t have an egg for you to roll.’

‘That’s very kind, Mrs Goulding. I’ve some shortbread in the car I’ll bring along.’

‘Oh shortbread,’ said Sheila, her mouth watering, ‘we haven’t had shortbread since before the war.’

‘Ah, it’s the sugar, you see, not a lot of that to be had.’

‘Then how did you get it?’

‘Ask no questions be told no lies,’ said Harry, tapping the side of his nose. Peggy shot him a withering look.

There were several families already at the Waterworks, but they found a quiet spot near some trees and laid out the blanket. Martha poured them all some lemonade in the old cups she’d brought. ‘I think we need a toast,’ said Harry. ‘Here’s to Irene, the first Goulding girl to tie the knot. I wonder who’ll be next.’ There was a moment in which they all paused in the raising of their glasses. Martha caught the look that passed across Peggy’s face and immediately filled the silence.

‘Here’s to Irene and Sandy,’ she said. ‘I’m sure Wednesday will be a day to remember.’

The afternoon passed in idle chatter, silly jokes and the sharing of memories. No one spoke of the bombing less than a week before, even though the scars of it were visible not far from where they sat drinking lemonade and eating shortbread.

Around three o’clock, Peggy and Harry left and drove to the Crumlin Road. The closer they got to the shop, the more sullen Peggy became. ‘What’s the matter with you? Cat got your tongue?’ Harry’s usual tease when Peggy was in a mood.

Her answer was a sideways glare. He took his eyes off he road long enough to catch it.

‘Wait ‘til you see the shop, Peggy, you’ll love it.’

The sun had faded to a watery glow by the time they pulled up outside. Peggy looked at the newly painted lemon and white shop front and had to admit that it did look quite pretty.

‘Inside’s even better!’ Harry was bursting with excitement. The interior was painted white and the late afternoon light reflected off the walls making them shine. The counter and display cabinets were all new and instead of brown curling posters on the walls there were stencilled shapes of cakes straight out of a child’s picture book with cherries on the top and thick jam and cream; biscuits sprinkled with hundreds and thousands; and the brownest crustiest loaves imaginable.

‘What do you think, Peggy?’

She looked all around, even went to look closely at the stencils on the walls, nodding as she took it all in.

‘Come through into the back; that’s the best of all.’

Everywhere gleamed: the counters, the ovens, the sinks, the mixers, the utensils hanging on the wall. Pristine. Expensive.

‘Isn’t this great, Peggy?’

Finally she spoke. ‘How much did all this cost?’

‘Oh it wasn’t cheap, but you get what you pay for.’

‘All three hundred pounds?’

‘Ask no questions, be told no lies. Now don’t you be worrying. I’ll pay it all back within a few months.’ He crossed the shop and wrapped his arms around her. ‘Tell me, do you love our wee shop?’

In spite of herself Peggy smiled. ‘I do,’ she said simply.

He drew her closer. ‘And tell me, do you love me?’

She nodded.

‘Say it.’

‘I do.’

‘Say all of it.’