A Song in my Heart Page 16

  When the song finished Bob Hope took his bow along with the girls, although he turned it into an awkward curtsy and Pat had to help him up. He looked at them and demanded, ‘Own up, Crosby, that disguise doesn’t fool me. Which one are you?’

  ‘None of us,’ said Peggy. ‘We’re the Golden Sisters.’

  ‘Where you girls from?’

  ‘Belfast.’

  ‘Belfast, Maine? Geez, you’re a long way from home. Say is that Macy girl a friend of yours?’ They nodded. ‘Any chance you could get me a date?’ They shook their heads. ‘What you singin’ next?’

  ‘“Moonlight Becomes You”,’ said Peggy.

  ‘How about I start it off, then you can join me with all those fancy bits you do to make it sound like we’re in a Broadway show?’

  The music began and Bob Hope serenaded the girls, making wisecracks about the lyrics. Then he nodded to the girls to join in, but by the third verse he was off waltzing with Pat, leaving Peggy and Sheila to sing, only returning to the microphone for the final lines and to take a bow with the Golden Sisters.

  He waved the girls off stage and held up his hand for the men to settle. ‘Before we go any further, the CO here at Langford Lodge asked me to tell you word has come in from the guys over there in Sicily that the US Seventh Army have taken Palermo. Just walked right in there and took the place!’ And the five hundred GIs were on their feet, cheering and whistling and stamping their feet.

  At the party after the show to celebrate the end of Bob Hope’s trip to Northern Ireland, everyone was in high spirits. There was plenty to eat and drink and music for dancing. Bob Hope said a few words about his time on the road, touring army bases all over Europe and North Africa, that had them in stitches. He finished by saying, ‘It’s been a real pleasure to work with you guys from Belfast and I gotta say, “Thanks for the Memory …”’ As he sang, he changed the words to make it about Northern Ireland and working with ‘Goldstein’s Girls’.

  Goldstein had arranged for them to leave at midnight for the long trip back to Belfast, but when the time came, Macy was nowhere to be seen. Eventually, Goldstein spoke to the director who explained that she was talking privately to Mr Hope and he would go and find her.

  Macy appeared, flushed and laughing. ‘Gee guys, I didn’t realise the time. That Bob Hope is somethin’ else when it comes to making people laugh. You’ll never guess what’s just happened.’

  ‘We shall save the guessing until we are on the road, shall we?’ said Goldstein and he hurried them out to the waiting lorry. When they were on their way, Peggy chirped up, ‘So, Macy, tell us about your … what was it … your meeting with Mr Hope?’

  Macy gave her deep laugh. ‘Yeah, he wanted to tell me how much he enjoyed my dancing. Said he’d have given me a part in The Road to Morocco if he’d known me back then.’

  ‘He must have been quite taken with you,’ said Peggy sharply.

  ‘He sure was.’ Macy gave a little satisfied sigh. ‘That’s why he asked me to join his show. Wants me to go travelling with him – pretty much round the world, to the American bases.’

  There were gasps of astonishment from the rest of the girls.

  ‘Well, fancy that,’ said Peggy.

  ‘And are you going to do it?’ asked Sheila.

  ‘Nope, that’s why I’m on this truck going back to Belfast. There are planes to be built and I’m a riveter. Hoofers are two a penny.’

  The morning after the concert, Pat and Peggy went to work as usual but, it being the school holidays, Sheila had a lie-in. Around nine, the sound of things being moved about downstairs woke her up and she put on her dressing gown and went to see what was going on. In the front room the furniture had been moved out from the walls and her mother was on her hands and knees behind the piano with a floor cloth, washing the skirting boards.

  ‘What are you doing, Mammy?’

  ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ Her mother’s voice was shrill. ‘Sure, this place needs a good clean, but there’s not a one of you would notice.’

  Sheila knew there was no point in saying anything when her mother was in that kind of mood – best to leave her be – and she squeezed past an armchair and climbed over the settee to get to the kitchen. She made some bread and jam and went to sit at the table. It was then she noticed a brown envelope. Her throat tightened as she saw the Royal Air Force stamp and her name and address underneath. She hadn’t expected it so soon; she thought she had plenty of time to—

  ‘Well, are you not going to open that?’ Martha stood in the doorway with a bucket in her hand.

  ‘Mammy I …’ But Martha had already crossed the kitchen to the back door and by the time she had emptied the dirty water over the garden, Sheila had ripped open the envelope. It was, as she suspected, her Women’s Auxiliary Air Force call-up papers.

  ‘Are you going to tell me why the Air Force are writing to you?’ Martha was at her shoulder.

  Sheila held out the letter to her mother and watched anxiously as she read it.

  ‘I was going to tell you, but I didn’t … I didn’t think it would come just yet.’

  Martha’s face was a mixture of bewilderment and anger. ‘Is this true? You’re being called up?’ Her voice was rising steadily. ‘How can that happen? There’s no conscription here.’

  ‘I’m not being conscripted – I enlisted.’

  ‘Enlisted!’ Martha stood with her hands on her hips, her face like thunder. ‘Let me get this straight. You’ve enlisted in the Forces without telling me?’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Dear God, what did you do that for?’

  ‘Because I want to do something worthwhile; to go out in the world and do something that really matters.’

  ‘What kind of nonsense is that?’

  ‘It’s not nonsense. It’s what I want to do.’

  ‘But working in a school matters and – I never thought I’d hear myself say this – entertaining the troops matters. Anyway, you’re far too young to be in the Forces.’

  ‘No, I’m not. That’s why they’ve called me up.’

  ‘Now, you listen here, my girl, you go and see these people today and tell them you’ve changed your mind. They can’t make you join up.’ And she threw the letter on the table.

  ‘I’m not doing that.’ Sheila’s voice was defiant.

  ‘Of course you are, or you’ll feel the back of my hand.’

  ‘It’s my decision. I’m old enough to make up my own mind.’

  ‘Ach, what do you know? You’re only seventeen. I can’t believe you would go and do this without asking me.’

  ‘You weren’t here – you were away in Dungannon.’

  ‘But I’ve been back weeks. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because I couldn’t face all this shouting that I’m getting from you now.’

  Martha slumped into the chair opposite Sheila and covered her face with her hands. Her mind raced this way and that, but at every turn all she saw was disappointment and heartbreak: her daughter posted who knows where; living in camps; exposed to all kinds of danger. She could be in a plane being shot at. Here in Belfast she’d be safe and she had a good job in the Academy and … Suddenly Martha looked up, her eyes wide.

  ‘What does Charles say about you joining up?’

  Sheila looked away.

  ‘Oh my goodness.’ Martha was horrified. ‘You haven’t told him, have you? Dear God, what is the matter with you?’

  ‘I meant to tell him, I really did, but he is always making plans for us. He goes on and on talking about when we’re married … I haven’t the heart to tell him.’ She began to cry.

  ‘Well,’ said Martha, ‘maybe that’s for the best, because you won’t be joining this ridiculous WAAF nonsense.’

  ‘But I’ve got the call-up papers – I have to go. I want to go.’

  Martha thumped the table. ‘You’re going nowhere, my girl, because I forbid it.’

  Sheila was on her feet in an instant, eyes blazing. ‘I don’t care what you th
ink – you can’t stop me. I’m going to do this, do you hear me? I am!’ And she pushed past Martha and ran upstairs to her room and slammed the door.

  Martha went to the foot of the stairs and shouted, ‘Over my dead body. Do you hear me? Over my dead body!’

  Martha was due at the McCrackens’ shop before noon that day to help with the lunchtime trade and to allow John to go to the wholesalers in the afternoon. She took her time getting ready and tried to calm herself, but she was still seething when she got off the bus at Manor Street. She bid a curt good morning to John, put on her apron and went behind the counter. The lunchtime trade was brisk with workers coming out of the linen mills and she was soon distracted by the customers. The rush eased off around two and, when John left, Aggie called out from the back kitchen, ‘Lock the door now, Martha, and fetch a pan loaf and a tin of bully beef for our dinner.’

  Martha made the sandwiches while Aggie sat, nursing her plaster cast, recounting the latest in the story of Grace and the shoe department manager.

  ‘I tell you, Martha, we’ve been to hell and back. John went to his ARP meeting last night and it seems one of the men there remarked that it was very nice to see Grace walking out with a man last Sunday afternoon.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Martha. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Well, we’re sitting here quiet, Grace and myself, when John comes through that door like a man possessed, shouting that she’s a disgrace, deceitful and all kinds of awful things.’ Aggie shuddered at the memory. ‘And before you could say Jack Robinson, he had the whole story out of her – how long they’d been seeing each other and the man’s background. Poor Grace was in pieces and when she told him that the man was divorced … let’s just say all hell broke loose.’

  ‘That’s terrible. Poor Grace.’

  ‘That wasn’t the worst of it,’ said Aggie. ‘He says to her, “I forbid you to have anything more to do with this man.” But Grace came right back at him and asked how she could manage that if he works in the same shop. “Self-control,” says he. “Either that or I’ll see to it that you never go back to that job.” Grace asked him how he could stop her. “I’ll lock you in your room if I have to,” he said.’ Aggie took a handkerchief from her apron pocket and wiped her eyes.

  ‘What happened then?’ asked Martha.

  Aggie shook her head. ‘Grace was no match for him. He’s forbidden her from having any contact ever again with the man. What else can she do, if she wants to keep her job?’

  ‘I know he’s in a different department,’ said Martha, ‘but she’ll still see him every day, won’t she? She might even start walking out with him again.’

  ‘She never will,’ said Aggie. ‘He made her swear on the Holy Book that she wouldn’t and Grace would never—’

  ‘No, you’re right, she would never break a promise sworn on the Bible.’ Martha was overwhelmed by the injustice of it. ‘Now every day in work she’ll see him and never be able to speak to him. What a cruel, cruel thing to do to your own flesh and blood.’

  All afternoon as she served in the shop, Martha thought of Grace and how she had so little control over her life that John could step in and forbid her to make her own decisions. It seemed so unfair. Grace wasn’t too old to fall in love. But she was old enough to know what she wanted.

  On the bus home, Martha sat next to a young woman nursing a toddler dressed in a gingham dress. The little girl was lively and wouldn’t settle. In the end, the mother allowed the child to bounce up and down on her knee. Soon she was laughing and pointing out the window, turning every now and again as if to say, ‘Look what I can do.’

  ‘She’s awful wilful,’ said the mother.

  Martha nodded. ‘Aye, they always are.’

  The house was empty when Martha got home, but she saw immediately that the kitchen had been cleaned, and on the draining board there were pans of peeled potatoes and carrots and a dish with liver soaking in milk all ready to be cooked.

  She went upstairs to change her clothes and the smell of lavender polish met her. She looked in each bedroom: beds neatly made; no clothes on the floor; dressing tables cleared of clutter. There was no sign of Sheila.

  She lay on her bed for a while and tried to bring some order to her thoughts. She didn’t want Sheila to join the WAAF, but she shouldn’t have lost her temper. The best thing now would be to persuade her not to throw away what she had.

  The liver was sizzling in the pan and the potatoes and carrots bubbling away when Pat and Peggy arrived home from work.

  ‘Where’s Sheila?’ asked Pat.

  Martha stood with her back to them, frying the liver, deep in thought.

  ‘Mammy, did you hear me?’

  Martha turned and stared at them.

  ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ said Pat.

  ‘Did you know that Sheila has enlisted?’

  For a moment they stared at her then flashed a look at each other. Neither of them spoke.

  ‘You did,’ said Martha. ‘You knew and you never said anything to me.’

  ‘Sheila’s joined the WAAF?’ Peggy was incredulous. ‘We didn’t know she’d actually signed up.’

  Pat tried to explain. ‘She talked about it, she had the papers, but we told her not to do it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this?’ Martha demanded.

  ‘You were in Dungannon. She never mentioned it again. We thought she’d forgotten about it.’

  ‘She’s your wee sister – you’re supposed to look after her.’

  ‘You can’t blame us. She did what she wanted …’ The side gate rattled and they looked up to see Sheila come past the window.

  By the time she came into the kitchen all conversation had ceased and the atmosphere was charged with tension. Pat and Peggy didn’t meet her gaze.

  ‘I’m putting the tea out now,’ said Martha.

  Sheila crossed the room. ‘I don’t want any.’

  ‘Sheila, please sit down and have your tea.’ Martha didn’t raise her voice. ‘We’ll not waste good food.’

  Sheila hesitated, then shrugged and joined her sisters at the table, and Pat tried to ease the awkwardness by talking about the Bob Hope concert and the party afterwards. When they had eaten Martha said, ‘We’ll leave the dishes for now. We need to sort out this WAAF business.’

  Sheila’s eyes flitted from her family to the door as though looking for an escape route. ‘There’s nothing to sort out. I’m going,’ she said.

  ‘So you’ve actually signed up?’ asked Pat. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

  ‘Because I knew you’d try to talk me out of it like you did when I got the papers and I can tell you now, I’m not changing my mind.’

  Pat persisted. ‘And you have your call-up papers?’ Sheila pulled the letter from her pocket and gave it to Pat to read.

  ‘I’m not going to shout, Sheila,’ said Martha, ‘but I need to say my piece. I can’t be certain, but it seems to me that this war is slowly coming to an end and it’s very unlikely that we’ll be bombed again. You have a good life at the moment with your job and Charles and your singing and I don’t want you to throw all that away to be sent into danger. I want our family to stay together. That’s why I’m asking you not to go.’

  ‘Now you’re asking me? You said you’d forbid me to go. You said I was too young.’ Sheila was on her feet. ‘But you can’t control my life, do you hear? I’ll make my own decisions.’

  Martha put her hands over her ears as if to shut out the anger in Sheila’s voice. How could she, the sweetest and gentlest of her girls, speak to her mother like that? But the cruel words lodged in Martha’s brain.

  Peggy caught Sheila’s arm. ‘That’s enough. You can’t speak to Mammy like that.’

  Pat said quietly, ‘Sit down, Sheila.’

  Sheila hesitated.

  ‘Please,’ said Pat and after a moment Sheila sat down, folded her arms and stared straight ahead.

  Pat took a deep breath and began, ‘We just want to make sure you’
ve thought this through. What does Charles think about you joining up?’

  ‘She didn’t tell him,’ said Martha.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Sheila. ‘I’ve been with him all afternoon and I’ve told him I’m joining up.’

  ‘And what did he say to that?’ asked Pat.

  Sheila seemed to calm herself and when she answered her voice was measured. ‘He said I should go if that’s what I want. He loves me and he’s going to wait for me. This war will end, but more people need to join the fight if that’s to be sooner rather than later.’

  Pat listened to the argument, but then she turned to Sheila and asked, ‘Did you read all of this letter they sent you?’

  ‘Of course I did – it says I’ve to report to Ballykelly Camp in two weeks’ time.’

  ‘What about this last bit at the bottom where it says, “Parent or guardian signature required if enlisted is under eighteen”?’ Pat slid the letter across the table.

  ‘What?’ Sheila grabbed the letter and hastily read the bottom line. ‘It can’t be!’

  ‘I’m afraid it is,’ said Pat.

  Sheila didn’t move, didn’t speak. They watched her for some sign of her thoughts, but her expression was one of confusion as she read and reread the final part of the letter. Eventually, Martha spoke. ‘Well, there’s an end to it now, so I’ll leave you all to wash the dishes and tidy up in here.’

  Martha went straight to her bedroom and, even though it was a lovely evening, she closed the blackout curtains and went to bed. She could hear the muffled voices of the girls talking, but she had no desire to go over the arguments again. The night was warm and she was restless, sleeping on and off until the sound of the house martins outside her window told her it was dawn and she got up to make herself a cup of tea. The call-up papers, now screwed into a ball, were still on the table.

  While the kettle boiled, she watched a family of blue tits chase each other in and out of the lilac tree, and wondered whether they were squabbling or playing. She took her cup outside and wandered up and down the borders, stopping now and again to admire the flowers – lupins, roses, lilies. In the little vegetable garden she checked the stakes on the peas and pulled up a cabbage and some onions to make a broth. And all the while she thought of John McCracken and how he had forbidden his sister to make her own decisions about her life. It was cruel and she knew Grace would never forgive him. He was a good man at heart and she understood why he had behaved as he had towards Grace, but there was no getting away from the fact that he was wrong.