A Song in my Heart Read online

  ‘Mmm …’

  ‘Peggy, do you remember when I said I’d always do what you wanted me to?’

  She nodded.

  ‘But I don’t dare ask you what you want, my darling.’

  ‘Ask me,’ she said.

  ‘Do you want me to be with you tonight, all night, so I can love you?’

  Peggy’s eyes were closed and a smile played round her lips. ‘Yes … oh yes, Archie.’

  He hugged her close. ‘I’ll go and sort out a room for us here in the hotel. I won’t be long.’

  The evening had been full of delights and soon it would change her life for ever. Archie loved her and she would give herself to him and when the war was over they would be together.

  ‘Excuse me, miss …’

  They’d live in his big house in London overlooking the park. There would be a drawing room with a baby grand. Mammy would come to visit her and she’d be so proud.

  There was sharp cough and she looked up. A man in a dinner suit with a gold badge in his lapel spoke to her. ‘Excuse me, miss. We do not allow unaccompanied women in the hotel lounge after midnight.’

  ‘I beg your pardon? Who are you?’

  ‘The night manager, miss, and I’m sorry to tell you single women are not allowed in here. I must ask you to leave.’

  ‘But I’m with someone, a gentleman—’

  ‘Come on, now, out you go,’ he said, and reached out to take her arm.

  ‘Don’t you touch me! I’m with a major in the British Army – he’s just gone to the desk.’

  The manager threw out an arm and pointed to the lobby, then swept his other arm in the same direction as though he was sweeping a bit of rubbish into the street.

  ‘All right I’m going, but only to find Major Dewer and when he finds out how you’ve treated me, you’ll be the one getting your marching orders.’

  Archie was nowhere to be seen. Peggy felt the beginnings of panic – where could he be? The manager was probably watching her to make sure she went out the door but, if she did that, she’d not get back in. And then she heard Archie’s laugh, from somewhere across the lobby … caught sight of his broad uniformed shoulders leaning against a pillar. His back was to her, but she could hear the elderly officer talking to him in the loud voice of someone used to giving orders. She held her head high and began to walk across the marble floor.

  ‘Lovely to see your wife again, Dewer. Not enough of our women have the gumption to get on a boat and come to see their husbands off. Pity she couldn’t stay longer.’

  Peggy’s steps slowed.

  ‘Indeed, sir, but unfortunately my mother-in-law was taken ill.’

  ‘What!’ Peggy shouted the word and marched towards Archie. His face froze in horror as he turned to see her storming towards him, followed by the manager, who grabbed Peggy just before she reached the two officers. ‘How could you? How could you?’ she shouted as she struggled to escape from the man’s grasp.

  ‘Do either of you gentlemen know this young lady?’ asked the manager.

  ‘Certainly not,’ bellowed the elderly officer.

  ‘And you, sir?’

  Archie looked straight at Peggy, his eyes hard as flint, his face expressionless. ‘Never seen her before in my life,’ he said.

  The manager tried to pull her away, but Peggy said calmly, ‘I’m going to leave, there’s no need to frogmarch me out the door, so please let go of my arm.’

  The manager stepped back and Peggy turned to Archie. ‘Archie Dewer, you are a deceitful man. You made me believe you loved me. You tried to seduce me, not once but twice.’ The manager tried again to pull her away, but she stood her ground and her voice echoed around the lobby. ‘You never told me you were married. You’re a British Army officer, but you’re a disgrace to your uniform and your country. I wish I’d met your wife so that I could tell her how worthless you are.’

  The silence that had descended on the lobby, the lounge and the bar was broken only by the sound of Peggy’s heels on the marble floor before she disappeared though the revolving door into the night.

  Outside, the fog swirled around her and she momentarily lost her bearings. Behind her the hotel had ceased to exist, enveloped as it was in the blackout made denser by the fog. She stood a minute to calm her racing heart and rising temper, half-expecting, despite herself, that Archie would come after her to talk her round or at the very least to apologise. Not that she wanted him to. She was so angry with him, but worse than that, she was furious with herself for not trusting her instincts about him and she shuddered at what she had almost done.

  With her back to the hotel she turned left to walk up Royal Avenue. It must be close to one o’clock, she thought. There would be nobody on the streets at all, and she knew it could take her the best part of an hour to walk home, assuming she could find her way – she cursed the fact that she hadn’t a torch, for she could barely see the hand in front of her.

  She walked on the wide pavements and kept her hands outstretched to avoid bumping into anything; she’d heard so many stories of people walking into lamp posts in fog or blackout. A car went slowly past, its headlights shaded, then once again she was all alone.

  Soon she came to a kerb and crossed the junction, turning left out of the city. The ground began to rise beneath her feet as she headed north, but the fog was worse than ever and her eyes began to sting. The fear that she might already have taken a wrong turn began to gnaw at her, and her confidence that she could find the next turning was beginning to desert her.

  After about fifteen minutes’ walk, an eerie sound penetrated the darkness, but she was so disoriented that she couldn’t pinpoint its direction. Now her fear was real. Did she want to come across the sort of people who would be out at this hour? The noise came again and she realised it was laughter, and coming from somewhere ahead of her. Relieved, she reached sideways and touched a wall, then followed it – muffled voices now, a man and a woman, close by. She inched forward and ran her hand along the wall, felt it slip on to wood, a handle, a door and, behind it, voices. She knocked.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I think I’m lost,’ Peggy called.

  The door opened a crack and a hand reached out and guided her inside. The light was switched on and she shaded her eyes to make out where she was: a small room with a table and chairs, posters on the wall, tin hats on the table.

  ‘God bless us, what’s a young woman like you doing out on a night like this?’ said the man.

  ‘Welcome to Peter’s Hill ARP post,’ said the woman. ‘Come and sit by the heater. Would you like a wee cup of tea?’

  Peggy warmed herself by the heater and explained that she had become separated from her friend.

  ‘Where are ye headin’?’ the man asked.

  ‘Top of the Oldpark.’

  ‘What? You’ll never find your way there; you’re already on the wrong road.’

  Peggy’s shoulders sagged. ‘How will I get home?’

  ‘Never you worry, love,’ said the woman. ‘Sure, Sammy’s off duty in half an hour, he’ll see ye get home safe.’

  Chapter 31

  Martha just loved her paraffin heater for those bitter mornings. She would light it as soon as she came downstairs, even before she put the kettle on, and would stand in front of it as it slowly warmed the room. On this February morning the fog was lying thick and it would be a few hours before any daylight broke through.

  She had just finished her porridge when she heard a knock at the front door. She was immediately unsettled; no one ever called this early in the morning. She went to the door and opened it and there stood Mr Goldstein. She caught her breath at the sight of his face. He was trying to speak but, although his lips moved, no sound emerged and his eyes were full of tears.

  ‘God save us,’ whispered Martha, ‘come in, please, come in.’

  In the kitchen, Goldstein looked around him as if uncertain where he was.

  ‘Mr Goldstein’ – Martha touched his elbow �
� ‘what’s the matter? Tell me.’

  His eyes flitted around the room, came back to Martha’s face and for a moment she thought he didn’t know her. ‘Esther’ was all he said.

  ‘Esther? What about Esther?’

  His voice was no more than a whisper. ‘Esther is dead.’

  Martha gasped and covered her mouth. ‘No! How? When did this happen?’

  Goldstein shook his head slowly as if to rid it of the words he had spoken. ‘I didn’t know where else to go. So I came here.’

  Martha took his arm. ‘Here, sit down. Take your time and tell me what’s happened.’ She pulled a chair up and sat next to him. Then suddenly her heart was beating wildly in her chest. ‘Just a minute,’ she said and ran out of the room and up the stairs. In the middle of the night, something had woken her and she had assumed that it was Peggy home from the show. But maybe it wasn’t, maybe she had dreamt it? She burst into Peggy’s room and there was her daughter, sound asleep. ‘Oh, thank God, thank God,’ she whispered, but her joy was gone in an instant. She shook her awake. ‘Get up, Peggy,’ she said. Even half in sleep, Peggy heard the urgency in her mother’s voice.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Oh, God help us.’ Martha began to weep. ‘It’s Esther …’

  Peggy sat up, frightened now. ‘What about Esther? What’s happened?’

  Martha reached out and hugged her. ‘Esther’s dead, love.’

  Peggy’s eyes were wild with fright and shock. ‘Esther? How?’ And then she was shaking and crying.

  ‘I don’t know how. Not yet. Get yourself dressed – Mr Goldstein’s downstairs.’

  Pat, woken by all the noise, had come out on to the landing. ‘Mammy, what’s going on?’

  Martha rubbed the tears from her face and repeated the awful words: ‘Esther’s dead.’

  When Martha returned to the kitchen Goldstein was staring at the floor. ‘I’ve asked Peggy to come down,’ she told him.

  Peggy was shaking when she came into the kitchen, closely followed by Pat. Goldstein looked up. ‘You weren’t with her, Peggy,’ he said. A statement only, not an accusation.

  ‘No, she wanted to be home before twelve and Jacob said he’d drive her.’

  Goldstein nodded. ‘I do not know everything, but it seems they drove up the Antrim Road, where the fog was so thick it would have been well-nigh impossible to see where they were going. The young man, Jacob, must have strayed into the middle of the road. An army lorry was coming down the hill, too fast probably, and it ploughed into the car. They were killed instantly.’

  They sat, all four of them, in stunned silence until Martha said, ‘Where is Esther now?’

  ‘She’s at the Mater Hospital. The police came to tell me about the accident. They didn’t know who she was at first, but Jacob had identification on him and they contacted his regiment. His superior officer’ – he looked at Peggy – ‘Major Dewer was able to give them Esther’s name and address.’ Goldstein frowned. ‘You weren’t with them, Peggy.’

  ‘No,’ she said softly, ‘I wanted to stay for the dancing with Major Dewer.’

  Goldstein nodded. ‘How lucky you are, Peggy.’

  The sudden thought that she might well have been in the car terrified her, and at the same moment the realisation that Esther was gone struck her to her core. She put her head in her hands and wept great sobs of anguish. Pat comforted her as best she could and through her own tears she said, ‘Peggy, come on, we’ll go upstairs and leave Mr Goldstein to talk to Mammy. Mr Goldstein, I’m so sorry about Esther. We all loved her.’

  When they’d gone, Martha asked him, ‘When did you last have something to eat?’

  ‘Oh, I do not know, yesterday sometime.’

  ‘I’ll make you something,’ she said, and she let him sit quietly with his thoughts.

  He ate the poached egg and soda farl she cooked him, and when he had finished, Martha thought it best to talk of practical things. She learned that Mr Goldstein would go to schul, his church, where there were people who would see to Esther. The funeral would be as soon as possible – that was their custom. Martha asked if they could send flowers. No, that was not their way, and they should not attend the funeral.

  Seeing that Martha was upset by this, he tried to reassure her. ‘I will be in mourning for seven days, during which I will stay at home. That is when people visit and it would be an honour if you and the girls would come to see me.’

  ‘Yes, we will, thank you,’ said Martha, ‘and perhaps we could help in another way. Would you like Peggy to go to the shop and put a notice in the window to tell customers the shop will be shut for seven days?’

  ‘Ah, yes that would be a great help to me,’ he said and he took a set of keys from his pocket. ‘You can bring them back to me when you come to the house.’ He eased himself out of the chair. ‘Thank you, Martha, you have steadied my nerves.’

  She went with him to the door and shook his hand. ‘I’m so very sorry about Esther; she was a lovely girl and a credit to you. If we can do anything at all to help you, you know you’ve only to ask.’

  Goldstein nodded and turned away. Martha watched him walk down the path and her heart went out to him at the loss of the child.

  Peggy cried all day. Martha tried to comfort her, but all she would say was, ‘You don’t understand. I spent every day in the shop with her. I taught her how to speak English. I showed her how to put on makeup. I did her hair for her. And now I’ll never see her again.’

  And Pat came and sat with her, just as Peggy had sat with her when William died, trying her best to look after her sister in her distress. ‘It’s all my fault,’ said Peggy. ‘I should have gone with her, not stayed behind with that horrible man.’

  ‘What difference would that have made?’

  ‘They might have dropped me off at home first. Then she wouldn’t have been on that road at that time.’

  Pat lay down on the bed beside her sister. ‘You can’t blame yourself. When William died I thought it was the end of the world. I think about him all the time. The hurt never goes away, but in the end you live with it.’ She smiled. ‘He’s still with me every day.’

  Martha and the girls went to Goldstein’s home one evening a few days after the funeral. He was sitting in the dark on his own when they arrived. He’d had some visitors in the afternoon and they had brought a meal to share with him.

  ‘People have been very kind,’ he said, ‘but they have to get on with their own lives, I understand that.’

  ‘And what about you?’ said Martha. ‘Are you going back to the shop next week?’

  ‘I’m not sure, maybe not.’

  ‘It might be a good idea to get out of the house,’ Martha suggested.

  ‘Perhaps …’ He attempted a smile. ‘Peggy, you see over there on the sideboard, there is something I want you to have.’

  Peggy went to look. ‘You mean Esther’s dressing table set?’

  ‘Yes, lovely is it not? Solid silver, beautifully engraved. I bought it for her for her birthday soon after she came to Belfast. I think she would want you to have it.’

  Peggy could barely speak. ‘Thank you so much.’

  At home in her bedroom Peggy cleared her dressing table of all its clutter and set out Esther’s mirror, comb and hair brush. Then on a sudden impulse she picked up the brush again, intending to brush her hair when she caught sight of a single long, dark hair, tangled in the bristles. She carefully removed it and wound it around her finger to form a little lock that she placed in a neatly folded handkerchief.

  When the seven days of mourning had ended, Peggy went back to the music shop. She let herself in with Goldstein’s keys, intending to place another notice in the window saying that the shop would be closed for the coming week but, once there, she felt reluctant to leave. It was as though she and Esther were there together again, starting their day’s work. She fetched the duster and went round the shop dusting the wirelesses and the instruments as they always did. After that she chose a record t
o play – ‘With a Song in My Heart’ – while she tidied up the sheet music, a job she usually hated.

  The shop bell rang, startling her, and she looked up to see a woman in a camel hair coat and a green felt hat. ‘Can you help me?’ she said. ‘I’m looking for a present for my daughter … a gramophone record, but I’ve no idea what she would like, maybe something modern.’

  ‘There’s a new Inkspots’ song called “Smoke Gets in your Eyes” that’s selling very well. Would you like to hear it?’

  The morning wore on and Peggy served other customers. She didn’t stop for dinner or a tea break and when it grew dark outside and there were no more customers she sat at the piano, picking out the notes of Esther’s favourite piece of music, from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. At six o’clock she closed the piano lid, fetched her coat and locked up. She didn’t leave a sign in the window, there was no need. She would be back again tomorrow.

  Martha called round to see Goldstein the following day to explain to him that Peggy had been in the shop serving customers and, if he agreed, she would keep the shop going.

  ‘The thing is,’ Martha explained, ‘she would rather be working than sitting at home. I think she wants to feel useful.’

  Goldstein seemed uncertain about her being there. ‘It is too much for one person; it gets busy in the afternoon.’

  ‘But it’ll only be for a week, maybe two at the most, and then I’m sure you’ll be ready to go back, won’t you?’

  ‘I was thinking about selling the shop. I cannot see myself going back there.’

  Martha tried to hide her dismay. ‘I understand why you would feel like that. When you lose someone nothing else seems worthwhile any more. I know you can only focus on Esther now and that’s how it should be. It’s not for me to give advice, but it might be easier for you to leave important decisions about the shop until you’re strong enough to deal with them.’

  Goldstein sat a while considering. Eventually, he said, ‘Nearly twenty years I’ve had the shop, all those pianos, instruments, wirelesses. Then, when Peggy arrived, there were the gramophone records. She knew her modern music, all right.’ He smiled at the memories. ‘I would be grateful if Peggy would continue in the shop a while. That will give me time to find the strength to sort out what needs to be done.’