A Song in my Heart Read online

  Later, Joe joined them and danced a quickstep with Peggy and a slow waltz with Pat. Then the band took a break while the buffet was served and Pat saw her chance to ask Joe if he had any more news about the Italian Campaign.

  ‘It’s pretty much as I told you at the kids’ party – they’ve marched north and west and they seem to be dug in somewhere near a town called Cassino. It’s cold and it’s Christmas so I guess the Germans are keeping their heads down too.’

  Pat tried to imagine the scene: dark and cold; soldiers out in open country; huddled in tents or trenches; the enemy over the next hill. She shuddered and Joe, who had been watching her intently, covered her hand with his. ‘Easy now,’ he said. ‘They’re okay. I doubt if anything will happen there for quite a while. It could be spring before there’s another advance.’

  Pat didn’t seem to register his touch. ‘I’m sitting here, warm and safe, listening to Christmas music’ – her voice was soft, almost a whisper, and Joe leaned closer to catch her words – ‘while somewhere thousands of miles away … It doesn’t seem right.’ She stood up. ‘I shouldn’t have come tonight.’

  Joe sighed. ‘Patti, the last thing I wanted to do was upset you. But I can tell you, if I was Tony, I’d be happy to know that tonight you’re right here with us – his own people. He’d want us to look after you.’

  ‘Maybe he would, Joe, but I think I’d like to go home now.’

  ‘I understand. Would you like me to drive you? The jeep’s right outside.’

  Pat saw the concern in his face and realised what a good friend he had become. He had helped her make things better for the children and was the one person she could talk to about what was happening with Tony.

  ‘No, you need to be here,’ she told him. ‘Peggy and I can get home easily enough.’ Then a sudden thought occurred to her. ‘Joe, what are you doing tomorrow evening?’

  ‘I’m not on duty – haven’t decided what to do yet.’

  ‘How would you like to come to our house? My mother’s having a bit of a party.’

  His smile was lovely. ‘Gee that’d be swell, thank you, Patti.’

  Chapter 28

  On Christmas morning Sheila came off the night shift, went straight to the hut and got into bed. Clemmie had tried to coax her to have breakfast. ‘You’ve got to eat something and after that we’ll go to the church service in the village. It’ll be lovely singing carols.’ But as far as Sheila was concerned Christmas wasn’t happening and she didn’t want to see or speak to anyone. Yes, she was upset that she wouldn’t be with her family for Christmas but, added to that, she was ashamed that she had almost left the base without permission. Where was her loyalty to her friends and the Air Force? What had got into her? She slept for a while and awoke to the sound of shouting.

  ‘Sheila, get up, get up!’ Clemmie pulled the blanket off her. ‘The plotter who was sick? I’ve just seen her tucking into a bacon sandwich. She’ll be as right as rain for her shift tonight.’

  ‘So what?’ Sheila yawned and pulled the blanket back up.

  ‘Don’t you see? They’ve got to authorise your pass now.’

  ‘Oh, that’ll be great,’ said Sheila, ‘because then I’ll be able to spend my two days sleeping through Christmas and when I wake up it’ll all be over.’

  ‘But don’t you want to go to Belfast?’

  ‘And how would I get there, Clemmie? By flying carpet?’

  ‘Sheila, all I want you to do is to get up because there might just be a chance you could be home for Christmas dinner, but if we don’t go right now and get the pass there’s no hope.’

  Sheila sat up and looked, really looked, at Clemmie’s face. She was serious. Maybe she should go and see if her pass had been authorised, even though there was no point. No point in lying in bed either, or missing out on breakfast and a good dinner.

  ‘I look like a scarecrow,’ said Sheila as she smoothed her uniform in front of the mirror. ‘Where’s my comb?’

  ‘There’s no time for all that – just stick your cap on and bring your coat and bag.’

  They raced to the headquarters building and Nell was there, smiling. ‘It’s been authorised,’ she said. ‘Sergeant O’Dwyer signed it this morning when she heard the plotter had recovered.’

  They went back to the NAAFI where Brad was waiting for them. ‘We think we can get you some transport. Philippe’s out there now trying to organise it and he’ll come for you if it’s on.’

  ‘What transport?’ asked Sheila. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Philippe’s pulled a few strings. He’s trying to hitch a lift for you’ – Brad tapped the side of his nose – ‘hush, hush you know.’

  Sheila didn’t get her hopes up. Who would be travelling all the way to Belfast on Christmas Day and how many hours was that going to take? Even if she did get a lift, they’d have had their dinner by the time she got home.

  The door opened and they turned to see Philippe coming towards them. He looked tense, hardly the expression of someone who had managed to ‘pull strings’.

  He spoke quickly to Sheila. ‘Get your bag. We’re going for a walk. Don’t ask any questions – I’ll explain when we get there.’

  They left the NAAFI and skirted round the buildings and eventually came round the side of a hangar close to the runway.

  Philippe explained. ‘In a few minutes, a Liberator will taxi out on to the runway. When I say go, run as fast as you can towards it and someone will help you into the plane. You’ll fly to RAF Aldergrove, where the Liberator’s based, then a friend of mine will take you the rest of the way on his motorbike.’

  ‘I don’t understand. How come the plane is here? Why would they take me?’

  Philippe smiled. ‘The pilot’s a buddy of mine from Aldergrove. I saw him in the mess this morning and he told me he was out on patrol last night and landed here because he was low on fuel. Soon as I heard the plotter was A1, I asked him if he could do me a favour.’

  ‘Why would you do this for me?’

  Philippe shook his head. ‘You know why.’

  There was the roar of an engine and the plane emerged from the hard standing and turned towards the runway. Philippe gripped her arm. They waited. The door to the plane was open. Sheila turned to Philippe, tears in her eyes. ‘Thank you so much,’ she shouted over the deafening noise.

  ‘Go!’ shouted Philippe and he pushed her towards the plane.

  She ran as fast as she could, her kit bag bouncing against her shoulder, but she seemed no closer to the plane. An airman stood at its open door, his hand outstretched, urging her to run faster. She fixed her eyes on him and drew on all her strength. Time seemed to slow as the gap between them closed. Now she could hear the airman’s voice. ‘Keep going! You can do it!’ he shouted. Almost there and she reached for his hand, missed it, tried again. He grabbed her and her feet left the ground. There were two of them now, hauling her upwards into the body of the plane where she lay on the floor, cold metal against her face.

  The smiling airmen set her on her feet. ‘There you are, love. Next stop, Aldergrove.’

  In the seconds it took them to close the aircraft’s door, Sheila marvelled at the sight of Ballykelly growing smaller and smaller. Somewhere below Philippe was watching her and somewhere ahead her family waited.

  Martha had almost completed her annual juggling trick of immaculate timing, combined with making three kitchen pans do the work of six, whilst ensuring that not a mouthful of food would be anything less than piping hot. She had only to carve the splendid Dungannon goose and get everything as quickly as possible on to the heated plates. The meat was falling off the bone and she was just about to pop a little piece into her mouth when she heard the gate at the side of the house rattle. Before she could think, ‘Who on earth?’ a figure in uniform appeared at the window. She screamed in delight and Pat rushed into the kitchen to see what was going on. By that time, Sheila had come through the back door and was standing with her bag at her feet, her coat over her arm and a
smile that seemed to light up the entire room.

  ‘God bless us, look who it is,’ said Martha. She was half-laughing, half-crying as she put her arms around her daughter, and by this time the kitchen was full of sisters jostling, hugging and talking over one another in their excitement.

  ‘Dinner,’ said Martha, and Pat set an extra place for Sheila. In no time at all Martha was bringing the plates to the table. She took off her apron and sat down, all eyes upon her. They didn’t usually say grace, but Christmas Day was different – with a feast in front of them, all daughters present and correct and a wee grandson, she had to say something.

  ‘Dear God, we thank you for keeping us all safe this year. Thank you too for the precious gift of Alexander. We’re grateful for the goose and all the lovely presents, but especially for Sheila, back home at last. Amen.’

  Round the table the chat and craic was nineteen to the dozen. ‘How is it they gave you leave? I thought you had to be there six months for that,’ said Martha.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ said Sheila and she told them about the talent show and they cheered when they heard that she had won.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Peggy. ‘Sure, aren’t you practically a professional.’

  And when Sheila explained that the sergeant stopped her going home, the woman was roundly disparaged. ‘I only got my pass this morning when there was no way of getting here anyway.’

  ‘So how did you get here?’ asked Irene.

  ‘You’ll never believe it,’ Sheila grinned. ‘I flew here in an aeroplane.’

  Her sisters laughed in delight and Martha let out a little gasp. ‘Mercy me,’ she said. ‘I’m glad I didn’t know anything about that,’ and she turned to the girls. ‘I never heard it land, did you?’ And that set them all laughing.

  ‘What was it like in the plane?’ asked Peggy.

  ‘It was the scariest and the best ever experience I’ve ever had. I thought the noise when we took off was going to burst my eardrums. We had to be strapped in – it was a bumpy ride and so cold. You could see all the little fields and houses down below. I’ve never seen anything like it. Then we flew into clouds and they were lumpy like snow. We’d only been up there a wee while and I could feel the aeroplane rolling a bit on its side. The land was coming up towards us then we were level again only much lower, skimming over the hedges, then it was bump, bump, bump and we were on the ground.’ Sheila was silent, filled again with the awe of it all and her family, amazed that one of their own had experienced such a thing, were momentarily struck dumb.

  ‘Well, if I’d known you were up there, I’d have gone out and waved,’ said Martha and that set them off again.

  When the meal was over Peggy said, ‘Irene, you and Sheila should do the dishes; you’ve both missed a lot of turns since you’ve been away, haven’t they Pat?’

  And they did do the dishes; it was a good opportunity for them to catch up. Irene washed and Sheila dried and they talked about Alexander. ‘What made you call him Alexander?’ asked Sheila and Irene told her about the brave pilot and the American doctor.

  ‘What about you and Charles?’ said Irene. ‘That was a surprise.’

  ‘Yes it was.’ Sheila turned away to put the dishes in the cupboard.

  ‘So you’ll be going to see him now you’re home? Invite him round – I’d love to meet him.’

  Sheila shrugged. ‘I don’t think there’ll be time. I’ll have to catch the train tomorrow afternoon. Anyway, he’s probably gone to his parents in Armagh.’

  Irene paused, dish mop in her hand. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve gone a bit cool on him.’

  There was no answer. Irene tried again. ‘It’s difficult when you’re separated for months on end, I know that, but once you see him again it’ll be like you’ve never been apart.’

  ‘I’m not sure it will,’ said Sheila.

  Irene pursed her lips, considering whether or not she should say what she thought. ‘Have you met someone else?’

  ‘Sort of … he’s a friend.’

  ‘And you like him?’

  ‘I do, but I’m not sure …’

  ‘Does he like you?’

  Sheila nodded.

  Irene wasn’t sure what she could say to her sister. She’d been torn between two men once – Sandy and Sean O’Hara, her friend’s brother, and could have ended up with either. ‘Look Sheila, don’t do anything drastic, give yourself time to get to know him better and, when it comes to making a decision, you’ll know.’

  They spent the afternoon relaxing and catching up with the rest of their news and everyone took turns at nursing or playing with Alexander. When he finally succumbed to sleep, Martha announced that she would start to get things ready for the party.

  ‘What?’ said Sheila. ‘A party? Mammy, we’ve never had a party.’

  ‘Ach, it’s just like we usually do on Christmas night.’

  ‘How many’s coming?’

  Martha reeled off the guest list. ‘Just Betty, Jack, Mr Goldstein, Esther … oh, and the McCrackens.’

  ‘Counting us that’s twelve people, Mammy. That’s quite a party,’ said Sheila.

  Then Pat remembered. ‘I forgot to tell you, I’ve invited Captain Walters from the club.’

  ‘Dear God, you’ve invited an American? Sure, he’ll be expecting one of those cocktail parties.’

  ‘No he won’t, Mammy, lots of people invite the GIs into their homes, especially at this time of year. They get lonely, you know.’

  Martha counted the guests on her fingers again and looked at them in horror. ‘Thirteen. We can’t have thirteen – it’s bad luck.’

  ‘And which one of them do you want to send away?’ said Peggy.

  ‘There’s not really thirteen,’ said Pat. ‘You can’t count Alexander, he’s too young.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ Martha’s face was a picture of dismay. ‘The worst of it is, I haven’t enough food.’

  ‘Come on, Mammy,’ said Irene, ‘let’s see if we can turn five loaves and two fishes into a party for the five thousand.’

  They made sandwiches with the ham they had bought in the market. Martha insisted on slicing it. ‘It’ll need to be very thin to go a long way.’

  There was a good-sized piece of cheese with water biscuits and pickles and a Dundee cake with glacé cherries on the top. Finally, they opened two cans of fruit and poured them into a big glass dish and emptied a can of condensed milk into a jug. They stood back and surveyed the table. ‘Not much there, is there?’ said Irene.

  ‘Oh, I forgot,’ said Martha, and she went out into the back hall and came in with four bottles of ginger beer and a blackcurrant cordial and put them on the table. ‘Sure, most people will want tea, won’t they?’

  ‘And let’s hope they’ve had a big dinner,’ said Irene.

  Betty and Jack from next door were the first to arrive, bringing a bottle of sherry with them. ‘There’ll be a few more people coming round tonight,’ Martha told them. ‘Would you be able to bring over a few extra glasses and plates, Betty?’

  ‘Of course – I’ll away and get them.’

  Goldstein and Esther arrived with a box of latkes and a jar of apple sauce. ‘Potato pancakes, very good,’ said Esther and Irene added them to the table. The McCrackens brought corned beef sandwiches and a Victoria sponge and the spread looked a bit better.

  They brought chairs in from the kitchen to the front room and everyone sat around chatting. Pat had just made sure everyone had a drink when there was a knock at the door. It was Joe Walters. As soon as he walked in, the atmosphere was somehow charged. His height, the uniform, his broad smile revealing perfect, white teeth – the sort of man they would expect to see on the silver screen. He was clearly delighted to be there and shook hands with everyone and said ‘Hi’ and made a point of listening carefully so he could remember all their names despite the Belfast accents. He’d brought some beer and a platter of doughnuts, fruit and chocolate from the club.

  P
eggy organised a game of charades and soon they were shrieking with laughter and shouting out the answers. After a while Martha slipped away into the kitchen to put the kettle on and looked at the table with all the lovely things to eat. Yes, there was a war on, but tonight everyone would be sharing what they had in the company of friends.

  No Christmas at the Gouldings’ home was complete without a sing-song round the piano. They sang carols and Christmas songs and some of the guests were persuaded to sing.

  Then Martha said, ‘Sing us something American, Joe.’

  He was a bit taken aback. ‘Never sung to an audience before. Not sure what to sing.’

  But Peggy came to his rescue by playing the opening to ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ and Joe bravely sang the first two verses. He blushed at the applause and went back to his seat next to Pat. Leaning across to her he whispered something that made her throw back her head and laugh. Irene caught the look in his eyes as he watched her. Oh my goodness, she thought. He’s in love with her.

  Martha thought she heard someone at the door and slipped out of the room. She didn’t turn on the light, but called out, ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Major Dewer, Coldstream Guards. I’m looking for the home of Peggy Goulding?’

  Martha opened the door and he stepped inside. When she turned on the light she found herself staring into a face she had seen before – in a photograph. So this was the so-called ‘sugar daddy’ she had feared.

  ‘I wondered if Peggy might like to come to the Grand Hotel with me this evening.’

  ‘We’ve got guests,’ said Martha, then added, ‘it’s a party.’

  At that moment Peggy came into the hallway. She looked startled to see Archie and her mother standing there, but recovered quickly. ‘Archie, what are you doing here? Mammy, this is Major Archie Dewer.’

  They shook hands. ‘How lovely to meet you, Mrs Goulding. Strangest thing,’ he said, turning to Peggy. ‘I was supposed to be on duty tonight, but turns out I’m not. Thought I’d pop along here and see if you’d like to come out for a drink with me.’

  Peggy looked at her mother, who shrugged her shoulders. ‘Come and meet everyone then I’ll go and get changed,’ said Peggy.