Secrets and Shadows (3 page)

Was Uncle Freddie going to slurp his way through every meal? Grace wondered as she sat at the kitchen table. Admittedly, Ma’s stew tasted delicious, but Granddad and Ma were able to enjoy it without making the irritating noises that Freddie made.

The evening sunshine shone in through the kitchen window, and Grace let its warmth play on her face as Granddad talked about the dance orchestras that he listened to on the wireless. She had noticed that Granddad and Uncle Freddie seemed to argue about everything, but without ever actually getting annoyed, and now Granddad was making a case for the Joe Loss Orchestra while Freddie claimed that Joe Loss wasn’t in the same league as Mantovani and his orchestra.

Grace couldn’t be bothered following the argument and she let her mind drift, then with a jolt she realised that her mother was talking to her.

‘Grace? You’re away with the fairies.’

‘Sorry, Ma.’

‘I said, did you want more stew?’

‘No thanks, Ma, I’m grand.’

She wasn’t, really. Or at least she would have been a lot
more
grand if she were wearing her own clothes instead of her cousin Geraldine’s cast-off dresses and shoes. But the bombing of the North Strand had wrecked their cottage, and every scrap of clothes that she owned and all their furniture had been destroyed. It was what her mind had just drifted back to – something that was happening a lot since her life had been turned upside down by the air raid.

It was four days now since the bombing, and Grace and Ma had spent the first night in a crowded school hall with dozens of other people whose homes had been demolished. The seriously injured had been taken to hospital, and everyone else had been provided with food and blankets, while first aid was given to the many people like Grace and Ma who had suffered minor cuts and bruises.

The next day Grace’s Aunt Cissy had arrived with spare clothes for them both, and Grace had been relieved to leave the noisy, crowded hall. Cissy lived with her husband and five children in a small cottage in Coolock, so there wasn’t really room there for two more people. And so Grace and Ma had come to Granddad’s house.

Ma had said that there were two ways of looking at this. You could say they had been really unlucky to lose their home and
everything in it. Or you could say they had been blessed to walk out of it in one piece. Ma always looked on the bright side, so she felt that they were blessed, and when Grace thought of all the people who had been killed and injured, she had to agree.

It was good, too, the way Ma always tried to find the fun in any situation. She said that because Granddad’s house was near the cattle market Grace would be able to enjoy the drovers herding cattle along Stoneybatter – where the animals sometimes ran amok – and because they were also near the Phoenix Park they could go to watch the polo there, or to see the dogs swimming in the dog pond.

Ma wasn’t just a dreamer, though, she also got things done. Already she had enrolled Grace in the nearby Stanhope Street convent. It was too far to get to Grace’s old school at North Strand, but although there was less than a month to go until term ended, Ma had insisted that Grace couldn’t miss school. And Ma and Granddad had combined to get Grace a part-time job, with Granddad persuading a friend who ran a local cake shop to hire Grace, starting tomorrow.

‘Well, that hit the spot,’ said Granddad now, ending his argument with Uncle Freddie about the orchestras, and pushing away his plate.

‘Yeah, fair play to you, Nancy,’ said Freddie, looking approvingly at Ma. ‘Us aul’ bachelors aren’t used to having a good cook like yourself around the place.’

Ma smiled at the compliment, and Grace felt uneasy. Ma had
always said Freddie was a confirmed bachelor. He had a good job as an electrician with the Electricity Supply Board, but he had never married, never even left home, and now in his late forties he was set in his ways. So why was he flattering Ma, the way Grace had seen fellas do when they wanted to impress girls? Surely he couldn’t be thinking about Ma that way? It wasn’t that Ma wasn’t goodlooking – she had flashing brown eyes, and dark hair and sallow skin like Grace’s. And though she was fifty now her face looked young and she had no grey in her hair. And widows did sometimes marry again. But still.
Uncle Freddie.
No, she was probably imagining it.

‘I see the Army Band is playing in the Hollow next weekend,’ said Granddad.

‘Really?’ said Ma.

The Hollow was a little valley with a bandstand, just inside the Phoenix Park. As a lover of brass bands, Granddad went there regularly.

‘Sure maybe we’d all wander up to see them,’ suggested Uncle Freddie, raising an eyebrow and looking at Ma.

Grace looked at her mother, hoping she would politely decline.

Ma hesitated, then she nodded casually. ‘Yeah, maybe we will.’

No!
thought Grace, although she was careful to keep her feelings from showing. Even though she was grateful to Granddad for taking them in and making them welcome, she hated the idea of being away from her friends over the summer. And now, to make things worse, Uncle Freddie sounded like he might be taking a
shine to her mother. It didn’t bear thinking about. And maybe she was reading it wrong. But she wasn’t looking forward to the next few weeks.

‘I couldn’t, Grandma!’ said Barry, putting aside his teacup and looking appealingly at his grandmother.

‘Of course you could, love,’ she answered, clearing away the crockery after their evening meal.

‘I can’t just go and knock on their door. I’ve never met them.’

‘Sure aren’t the Ryans one of my oldest neighbours? I was talking to Thomas. I said I’d send you down.’

‘But, Grandma…’

‘No making strange, Barry. They’re expecting you. The Ryans are lovely people; you’ll be welcome as the flowers in May.’

Barry hesitated. It wasn’t that he was shy – he had always been good at telling jokes – but he felt really uncomfortable calling on his own to people he had never met.

‘Maybe we could both go?’ he suggested.

‘No,’ said Grandma, ‘then it would be like we were visiting. I don’t want them having to use their rations feeding us. Better you just pop down.’

Barry tried to think of an objection, but before he could, his grandmother continued.

‘Go on. Yourself and young Grace will be company for each
other. You’ve both had to move home because of the war. You’ll have plenty to talk about.’

Barry didn’t like to say that the last thing he wanted was to talk about being bombed. He still had nightmares about the roaring fires that raged across Liverpool when the city had been blitzed. He still remembered the distraught look on the face of Georgie Wilson, a boy in his class whose older sister had been killed when a bomb shelter had taken a direct hit, with forty-two lives lost. And it was enough worrying about Mum still being in Liverpool without this Grace girl reminding him of the havoc the German bombers could unleash. He said none of this to Grandma, knowing that she fretted about him, and not wanting to add to her concern.

Grandma smiled her kindly smile and put her hand on his shoulder. ‘I bet you’ll get on great – you’ll have loads in common,’ she said.

Barry thought this was crazy. It was like claiming that if he met another boy with fair hair and freckles they would automatically be friends. But there was no point saying this to Grandma. She had already set this up, and he would have to go through with it.

‘All right,’ he answered. ‘When did you fix it for?’

‘I didn’t say. But now would be a good time.’

Barry hesitated again, and Grandma smiled encouragingly. He nodded, knowing he was beaten.

‘OK,’ he said, ‘I’ll call down.’

‘Bit of a sweet tooth, have you, Grace?’ said Uncle Freddie, resting his elbows on the kitchen table as he looked at her enquiringly.

‘Eh, yeah, I suppose so,’ Grace answered, unsure where this was leading. They had just finished their meal, but she hadn’t eaten any more of Ma’s tasty scones than any of the adults, so what was Freddie going on about?

‘Most kids love sweet things,’ said Freddie, ‘but I don’t. So maybe we could do a deal.’

‘What kind of deal?’

‘When they bring in this sugar rationing they’re talking about, I could give you some of my sugar.’ He looked at Grace and Ma. ‘For some of your tea ration – I like a decent brew in work.’

‘You’re not taking anyone’s tea ration!’ said Granddad.

‘No one said anything about
taking
. I’m talking about
swapping
.’

‘You swap marbles when you’re ten, Freddie. You’re forty-eight – catch yourself on.’

Grace wanted to laugh but she kept a straight face. Sometimes it was enjoyable when Granddad and Freddie sparred, and Grace was looking forward to Freddie’s retort when Ma spoke.

‘Grace and I would be happy to share. And there’s no need for any swapping, you’ve been more than kind to us.’

‘Well done, Freddie,’ said Granddad sarcastically, ‘put our guests under a compliment, why don’t you?’

‘That’s not what I meant at all,’ protested Freddie. ‘I just think…’

But whatever Freddie thought never got said, because there were three knocks on the front door, stopping Freddie in mid-sentence.

‘Would you ever get that, love?’ said Granddad.

‘All right,’ said Grace, rising from her chair and going out into the hall. She passed the small mahogany table on which Granddad always left his keys and his cap, then reached the hall door and opened it.

A boy of about her own age stood on the doorstep. He had fair hair and a freckled face and greeny-blue eyes that looked at her slightly sheepishly.

‘Are you Grace?’ he said, in an English accent.

‘Yes,’ she answered, wondering how he could have known her name. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Barry.’

He said it as though that explained everything. When Grace was slow in responding he elaborated a little awkwardly. ‘My eh…my grandma sent me. Your granddad invited me.’

‘Oh. Right. Well, come in, so,’ said Grace.

He nodded and stepped into the hall. Grace led the way back into the kitchen.

‘Granddad, this is Barry.’

‘Ah, Barry, you’re welcome, son,’ said her grandfather, rising and shaking the boy’s hand. ‘This is the lad I was telling you about, Freddie, Mrs Malone’s grandson, from Liverpool.’

‘Oh right,’ said Freddie. ‘Now I have you.’ He turned back to
the boy and nodded. ‘Good man yourself.’

‘And this is Grace’s mother,’ said Granddad, ‘Mrs Ryan.’

‘How do you do, Mrs Ryan,’ said the boy, politely shaking hands.

‘I forgot to mention to you, Nancy, that Mrs Malone has Barry here staying for a bit,’ said Granddad. ‘She thought himself and Grace might be company for each other.’

‘Great,’ said Ma, ‘that would be nice.’

Grace felt annoyed that this had been set up and nobody had told her. And now they were talking about her like she wasn’t here. She wanted to say something that wouldn’t be quite rude, but that would let them know that she could make her own friends. Before she got a chance, Granddad pointed to the front room.

‘Why don’t you bring Barry into the parlour and play the gramophone for him?’ he suggested.

‘OK.’

Her grandfather had a big Pye gramophone of which he was proud, and Grace thought that playing a few records wasn’t such a bad idea, and would be easier than being sent out to play with a boy she didn’t know.

‘Would you like a scone first, Barry?’ said Ma.

‘No thanks, we’ve just had tea,’ he answered.

‘Right, in you go, so,’ said Granddad nodding towards the parlour.

Grace led the way, and the boy followed her wordlessly into the front room. He closed the door, then looked at Grace.

‘They never told you I was coming?’

‘No.’

‘I thought it was all arranged.’ The way he said it, it sounded like a complaint, but Grace felt that she was the one with the right to complain.

‘It
was
arranged,’ she retorted. ‘They just didn’t bother telling me.’

‘Right. Well, seeing as we’re here, what records have you got?’

His accent was different to the posh English accents that Grace heard on the radio when Ma listened to the BBC, and his voice seemed to go down at the end of sentences, in a way that Grace found a little strange.