A Song in my Heart Read online

  The appearance of another officer, British this time, in the small front room was a surprise. Betty gazed at him with a wistful smile on her lips and Aggie and Grace were wide-eyed as Peggy introduced him. Of course, the sisters knew him, as did Goldstein and Esther, and they greeted him pleasantly enough. The conversation in the room resumed and Archie sat next to Joe and Pat went to get him a drink.

  As usual with Peggy, it took her a good while to decide what to wear and to apply her makeup. When she returned, she and Archie said goodbye and went out to his car.

  It was as if the evening had fallen a bit flat with Peggy leaving, but Pat said, ‘Mammy, why don’t you play a few tunes on the piano and we’ll have another sing-song?’

  The last thing Martha felt like doing was playing the piano, but Pat was right, their guests were what mattered. She sat at the piano and played the opening of ‘We’ll Meet Again’ but before they’d sung the first line there was a noise outside, raised voices and what sounded like a scream. Joe was the first on his feet and out the door, Pat close behind him.

  Outside, the scene lit by a full moon, were two men in uniform squaring up to each other and Peggy between them screaming, ‘Stop it! Stop it!’

  ‘Who the hell’s this, Peggy?’ A Belfast accent.

  The man had his back to her, but Pat recognised the voice immediately. Harry Ferguson. Joe had already pulled him back. ‘Take it easy, buddy,’ he said. ‘We don’t want any trouble, do we?’

  Harry shrugged Joe off. ‘What’s the bloody Yank doing here?’

  ‘Hey mister, you’ve sure had too much to drink.’ Joe’s voice had the ring of authority. ‘Now why don’t you calm down and we can settle this all peaceable like.’

  Archie took Peggy’s arm. ‘Come on, get into the car,’ he said, but Harry pushed past Joe and lunged at them, grabbing Peggy’s other arm. For a moment she was pulled back and forth like a rag doll.

  ‘Harry, please …’ Peggy was pleading.

  Pat stood next to Archie and in a calm, measured voice said, ‘Major Dewer, I think it would be best if you stepped to one side for a moment. We don’t want Peggy hurt.’ With only a moment’s hesitation Archie nodded and let go of her.

  Joe spoke again to Harry. ‘Why don’t you let Peggy go as well and maybe we can sort this thing out?’

  ‘There’s nothing to sort out, Yank. Peggy’s my girl and this fella isn’t getting his hands on her!’ And Harry launched himself at Archie, throwing a wild right hook. Archie grabbed the arm with one hand and gripped Harry’s throat with the other. ‘I could have you court-martialled for that, soldier, but you know as well as I do that very soon we’re going to need scum like you as cannon fodder. So I’m not going to give you a cosy billet in the glass house, I’m going to let you go. But know this – if I hear that you’ve come anywhere near Peggy Goulding, or so much as sent her a snivelling letter, I’ll find you wherever you are and you’ll be sorry.’ And he pushed him away.

  Harry rubbed his throat and glared at Archie, then turned to Peggy, his face contorted with anger. ‘How could you do this? I trusted you. I’m on embarkation leave, getting posted overseas, God knows where. Came straight off the boat to see you.’ He shook his head. ‘To think I was going to ask you to marry me.’ He backed away from her and gave a humourless laugh. ‘Thought if I was going to fight, going to die, I wanted to …’ He let out a growl of frustration.

  ‘Hey buddy,’ said Joe, ‘you need to go home and sleep this off. In the morning, things’ll look different. You can talk to Peggy with a clear head. I’m sure she’ll listen to what you want to say.’

  ‘You don’t know anything, you stupid Yank.’ Harry took one more anguished look at Peggy before turning away, walking at first then breaking into a run and disappearing down the street.

  Archie straightened his tunic, took the car keys from his pocket and addressed himself to Peggy. ‘If you will forgive me, my dear, I feel the evening has lost its appeal. I fancy the officers’ mess and a glass of single malt will provide a more convivial atmosphere.’ And without a backward glance he got in his car and drove away.

  Peggy was trembling and Pat put her arm round her and together with Joe they walked back up the path. Martha stood at the door, visibly shaken, Goldstein just behind her, his hand on her shoulder. In the hallway, Martha took Peggy upstairs and Pat and Joe went in to face the guests. But Goldstein was already there, standing by the piano. ‘These things happen … a misunderstanding,’ he was saying. ‘Harry is a decent young man, but he has been away in the Forces for so long and maybe he expected things to be just the same as they ever were. He has gone home now and no doubt he will wake up in the morning and regret that he broke the Christmas cheer. It was only a storm in a teacup – speaking of which, I think a cup of tea and a slice of that splendid Dundee cake might be a good way to end our evening.’

  At that point, Joe stood up. ‘I’ll take a rain check on the cake, if you don’t mind. I need to get back to base. Sure was nice to meet you folks and thanks for your hospitality.’ He shook everyone’s hand, remembering their names, and his smile never wavered.

  ‘I’ll see you out,’ said Pat.

  In the hallway Joe turned to her. ‘Gee, Patti, can’t thank you enough for inviting me into your home.’

  She shook his outstretched hand. ‘No Joe, I’m the one who needs to thank you. If you hadn’t been out there tonight I don’t know what would have happened.’

  ‘Who was the young guy, a boyfriend?’

  Pat nodded. ‘He and Peggy went out together for quite a while, there was talk of them getting married, but then he enlisted. Peggy wrote to him a lot, but he hardly ever replied.’ Pat bit her lip. ‘It can be lonely – the waiting. I suppose when the major came along she was flattered. He’s a good-looking man, I suppose, and in a position of some power, but from what I’ve seen tonight, he’s frightening too.’

  ‘Tough situation … one girl, two guys … happens all the time,’ said Joe. ‘Well, thanks again for the food and the company. Don’t forget to call in when you’re passing.’

  When he had gone Pat went upstairs to check on her sister and mother. Peggy was lying facing the wall and Martha was sitting on the bed.

  ‘Everyone’s having some tea and cake,’ said Pat. ‘Are you coming down?’

  ‘I suppose I’d better,’ said Martha. ‘You stay here if you want to, Peggy.’

  Peggy said nothing.

  On the landing Pat tried to reassure her mother. ‘Don’t worry – they all understand that these things happen.’

  Martha’s voice was grim. ‘It’s not them I’m worried about. It’s all those neighbours standing in dark rooms looking out at that carry-on in the street. I’ve never felt so ashamed in all my life.’

  Chapter 29

  Sheila arrived back at Ballykelly around teatime on Boxing Day and went straight to the NAAFI. When she came in some wag began singing ‘Blue Moon’ at the top of his voice and she acknowledged him with a bow. She spotted Philippe and Brad sitting together and went to join them.

  ‘Well, how was it?’ asked Brad.

  ‘It was wonderful. I didn’t want to come back.’

  ‘Good job you have, the U-boats have been a bit lively. Anyway, I’ll go and meet Clemmie off her shift, leave you two to chat.’

  On the long train journey Sheila had gone over in her mind what she wanted to say to Philippe. She owed him a lot, not least because he was the one who had got her to Belfast when it had seemed impossible. But it was more than that; he was one of the people who made life on the base enjoyable. The last thing she wanted was to lose his friendship.

  ‘Philippe, I wouldn’t have seen my family at all if it wasn’t for you. You could have been on a charge if they’d found out.’

  ‘Yeah, you, me and the entire crew of the Liberator.’ He didn’t meet her eye and that jokey tone he often used when he spoke to her had gone.

  ‘I just wanted to say thank you for what you did.’

  There was
the merest shrug of his shoulders in acknowledgement.

  They sat a while in silence until Sheila could bear it no longer. ‘Philippe, about what happened at the talent contest. I’m sorry about the way I spoke to you. I had no idea that …’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. How could she begin to discuss the feelings he had spoken of that night?

  ‘Listen to me, Sheila. I don’t know why I said the things I did. Maybe I’d had too much to drink, who knows. It was as if you were a different person when you were singing. As you said, it wasn’t you I thought I was kissing.’ He laughed and tried to make a joke out of it. ‘In fact whatever you do, don’t sing again in front of me or I’ll end up kissing you – again.’

  Sheila blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘So, you didn’t mean the things you said?’

  ‘I was out of line and I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. You know you and I are … best buddies, right? Nothing’s changed there. That night you said I didn’t know who you were. But I do know you – you’re Sheila the WAAF, you’re my best friend.’ He laughed again. ‘No idea who that singer was!’

  Clemmie came through the door and squealed when she saw Sheila was back and proceeded to bombard her with questions about her trip home. She asked about Alexander and Sheila showed her the photo of him Irene had given her, taken in a studio in Belfast. ‘Isn’t he cute,’ she cooed. ‘And how are your mom and sisters? Were they pleased to see you?’

  ‘They’re all well,’ said Sheila. ‘They couldn’t believe it when I walked in – just in time for Christmas dinner.’

  ‘And what did Charles say?’

  ‘Nothing … he wasn’t there. I think he went to his parents in Armagh.’

  ‘You think? You didn’t go and see if he was home?’ said Clemmie.

  ‘Well, no, there wasn’t enough time to go looking for him.’

  Philippe looked at her strangely. ‘You should write to him, Sheila, and explain what happened. If you don’t, he’ll be really upset when he finds out that you were home and you didn’t tell him.’

  ‘I might,’ she said. ‘Well, I think I’ll go and have a look at the roster, see what shifts I’ve got for the rest of the week.’ She stood up.

  ‘I’ll come with you, get a bit of fresh air,’ said Philippe.

  They walked to headquarters and Philippe talked about Christmas on the base. ‘We didn’t get much time off, sang a few carols, drank a few beers; seemed like most people were homesick a lot of the time.’

  They checked the rosters and found they were both on duty at the same time.

  ‘Hey, Lucky’ – he touched her hair – ‘I like it that you’re in the ops room watching over me when I’m flying.’

  January was a month that Martha, Pat and Peggy would be glad to see the back of. Low clouds hung over Belfast for days on end, obscuring Cave Hill, and the damp seemed to penetrate everywhere. Driving rain came through the ill-fitting windows leaving puddles on the window sills and the wind blew down the chimney, dampening the meagre fire.

  Martha had been glad to have Sheila home for Christmas, even for so short a visit, but she was deeply disappointed that she had made no attempt to see Charles. However, if she’d learned one thing in the past year it was that interfering had no effect on her children’s actions, save making them all the more determined to plough their own furrow.

  Irene and Alexander went back to Fermanagh even before the Christmas decorations had been taken down. It was a wrench to see them go. Shortly afterwards Martha caught a chill and took to her bed, wracked by a cough that settled on her chest and that no end of bread poultices could shift.

  Peggy had been badly shaken by the row between Archie Dewer and Harry Ferguson. She had gone to Harry’s house the day after the party, hoping to talk to him, but his mother came to the door and said he wasn’t there and she had no idea where he was. Peggy suspected he was inside and, when she returned the next day and no one came to the door at all, she pushed her carefully written letter through the letter box. In it she begged him to see her before he left. She told him she thought he had forgotten about her because he hadn’t written to her in months. She swore the major was just an acquaintance and she hardly ever saw him. But the days slipped by and she never heard from him.

  As for Archie, he did his usual disappearing act, but this time she didn’t care. She couldn’t believe the aggressive way he had attacked Harry and she hated the way he had spoken to him. There was a time when she found his confidence and power very attractive, but now they just frightened her.

  Pat had continued to follow the reports on the wireless about the Italian Campaign and when, towards the end of the month, the area round Cassino was mentioned, her fears for Tony’s safety grew. Joe Walters was usually well informed about what was happening on the ground with US troops, but she was reluctant to bother him, partly because of the embarrassing incident at the Christmas party. Then one evening there was a knock at the door and there was Joe, chocolate bars in his hand and a shy smile on his lips. ‘Just thought I’d visit to see how y’all are,’ he said.

  Peggy was out at the pictures with Esther and Martha was ironing in the kitchen. At the sound of voices, she came through to the front room.

  ‘Nice to see you again, Captain Walters.’

  ‘And you, Mrs Goulding.’

  ‘Pull that chair up to the fire and get warm,’ she told him, ‘and Pat, throw a wee bit more coal on there,’ and she went off to finish her ironing.

  There was an awkward moment when neither Pat or Joe spoke but then he remembered the chocolate in his hand.

  ‘I brought you this,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you – that’s a treat for us.’

  ‘I thought you might have called into the club …’ He hesitated. ‘You know, with all the reports about the fighting near Cassino?’

  ‘Oh, I know you’re busy with all the troops that have been arriving. I didn’t want to bother you.’

  ‘Aw, Patti, don’t ever think that. You know I’m always there if you need to talk.’

  Pat sat on the sofa opposite him. ‘Well, I have to say it’s very worrying at the moment. I really thought I’d have heard from Tony at Christmas. That somehow they’d try to get letters to family and sweethearts. But there was nothing.’ She picked up the atlas she had been studying when Joe had knocked on the door. ‘Now there’s all these reports of fierce fighting …’ She began to leaf through the pages. ‘I keep staring at the map of Italy, see here … But I can’t find Cassino. I’ve looked and looked.’ There was desperation in her voice. ‘I’ve no idea where he is.’

  ‘Let me see.’ Joe gently took the atlas from her and studied it a moment. Then he knelt down beside her and put his finger on the position of the town, too small to be named on the map. ‘They’re here,’ he said, ‘surrounding a high hill. On the top of it there’s an abbey where the German Forces are holed up. There are thousands of American and Allied troops in the area and it’s only a matter of time before the enemy is ousted.’

  ‘And what then?’ asked Pat.

  He traced the route northwards. ‘They push on to Rome.’

  Pat’s anxiety drained away. ‘It’s the not knowing that’s hard to deal with,’ she said, ‘but I understand now, thank you.’

  ‘Look, if you get worried you gotta come and see me and I’ll tell you what I know. Promise me you’ll do that.’

  ‘I promise,’ she said and with a twinkle in her eye she asked: ‘What about all these troops training in Northern Ireland? We’ve been giving concerts to bigger and bigger audiences at camps we’ve never been to before. What’s that all about?’

  He grinned. ‘Now that’s something I can’t talk about.’

  Towards the end of January, Ted Grimes called round to the house to tell Martha that Vera had passed away and to let her know the funeral arrangements. The following Tuesday she walked to Oldpark Presbyterian Church and joined the half-dozen mourners. After the service she offered Ted her condolences and explained that she would not be
going on to the graveyard. He thanked her for coming and added, ‘I’d be grateful if ye would call round to the house tomorrow afternoon, Martha.’ She gave him an uncertain look, but he went on, ‘I’d like to talk to ye. It’s to do with Vera’s will.’

  Martha didn’t tell the girls she was going to Ted’s house. They would have thought it strange and questioned her about it. Truth was she didn’t want to go, but how could she have said no, right there outside the church and the woman on her way to be buried.

  He showed her into the cold parlour. The curtains were open and Vera’s bed had gone, but the air was still stale. Ted was in the suit he had worn for the funeral. He cleared his throat. ‘Vera was very grateful for the times ye called to see her when she was ill. She liked to hear ye talk.’

  ‘Sure, I just dropped by a few times when I was passing,’ said Martha.

  ‘I know that she talked to ye about me.’ He stared at her, unblinking.

  ‘Ach, not really, only that you were busy with your work.’ Martha could feel the sweat on her upper lip and wiped it away.

  ‘You and I used to be friends, Martha.’

  She started to speak. ‘I don’t want—’

  He held up his hand like he was stopping traffic. ‘Hear me out, please. We were friends and after your Robert died, I like to think I supported ye.’

  The clamminess had spread to Martha’s forehead, but she didn’t move.

  ‘Then there was all that trouble with Irene and those republicans. Now, in my book, I was only doin’ me duty, but I’ll hold me hands up and say I was … quick to judge.’ He ran a finger round his starched collar as though it was so tight he couldn’t get his words out. ‘Vera wanted us to be friends,’ he said, and nodded at her as though expecting her to agree with him. ‘And I was hoping that in time … we might …’ Martha looked away, shocked at what he was suggesting.

  Ted cleared his throat. ‘Well, something to think about.’ Still Martha didn’t look at him. Ted went on, ‘Anyway, Vera wanted to leave ye something in her will, to thank ye.’ He took a small box from the mantelpiece and handed it to Martha. She opened it – a gold cameo brooch on ivory satin. ‘It was an engagement present,’ he said. ‘She wanted ye to have it.’ Martha stared at the brooch. Was she reading this right? How had she got herself into this? Trapped in the parlour with a man she despised standing over her, his wife’s jewellery in her hand.