A Song in my Heart Read online

  ‘When was this?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. Mid-February maybe.’

  Pat’s eyes opened wide. ‘That long ago? What happened after that?’

  ‘They would’ve been moved back, maybe to another area altogether.’

  ‘And the men who died?’ Her voice was no more than a whisper.

  ‘The families will be informed, but that could take a while.’

  ‘But they must know who—’

  ‘Patti, this is war.’

  Pat held her hand over her mouth as if to trap her emotions inside.

  Joe gently pulled her hand away and took it in his. ‘Aw, Patti, Tony’s a hell of a fine soldier. He’ll have come through, you’ll see.’

  Martha was waiting for Pat when she arrived home. ‘There’s two letters for you from US Forces mail. That’ll cheer you up, won’t it?’

  Pat’s heart stopped. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘In the front room, on the mantelpiece. What’s the matter?’ but Pat was already through the door, Joe’s words ringing in her ears: ‘Families will be informed.’ Both letters in her hand, she could hardly bear to look … Then relief washed over her. There was her name, in Tony’s handwriting, on both envelopes. ‘Thank God,’ she whispered.

  ‘Are you all right, Pat?’ Her mother stood at the door.

  ‘Yes, I’m just … just happy to hear from Tony at last,’ she said, and went upstairs to read the letters.

  The envelopes bore the evidence of having passed through several hands. She opened the first one and saw it was dated in early October. Six months ago. She cast her eyes over it then quickly ripped open the second envelope, searching for a date. Nothing. But then she caught sight of a line at the end of the page where Tony had written, ‘I’ll be thinking of you over Christmas, my darling.’ The letter had been written four months before. She lay on her bed and closed her eyes, and the cold hand of fear tightened its grip on her heart.

  It was midnight, with no more than a sliver of moon in the sky, when Sheila and Clemmie came off duty. They linked arms and set off towards the hut with Sheila carrying her torch to light their way. They hadn’t gone far when someone called Clemmie’s name. Sheila shone the torch in the direction of the sound and in that split second saw what looked like two figures, before Brad stepped into the light.

  ‘Hello,’ said Clemmie. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were on patrol at six.’

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll just go on then,’ said Sheila. She was coming round the back of the quartermaster’s stores on to the path that would take her to the hut when she heard a slight crunch on the gravel. She called out, ‘Who’s there?’ There was no answer and nothing to be seen in the sweep of the torch down the path. She quickened her pace, but within yards she caught her breath. A figure had stepped into the torchlight.

  ‘Philippe!’

  He came towards her. ‘Sheila, I had to see you before I leave.’

  No, she thought, not Philippe as well … not now when she had only just … ‘Where are you going?’ she said.

  ‘I can’t tell you, I’m sorry. I leave at six and I don’t know when I’ll be back. I just wanted to say I’m sorry I upset you. You know you’re very special to me.’

  She could bear it no longer and flung her arms around him, burying her face in the soft fleece of his flying jacket. His arms encircled her and held her tight. Moments passed and the beating of his heart soothed her until he slowly drew back.

  ‘I have to go,’ he whispered. He kissed the top of her head, touched her cheek lightly – tenderly – with his hand, and was gone.

  In the hut, only the soft sounds of sleeping girls could be heard. Sheila undressed quickly and got into bed; she would give the ablutions block a miss tonight. She noted that Jessica was fast asleep. It had been two weeks since she had last been out late at night and, although Sheila would never admit it, she was pleased that her escapades seemed to have stopped. She was just dropping off to sleep when Clemmie crept in and felt her way in the darkness to sit on her bed, next to Sheila’s.

  ‘Are you awake?’ Clemmie whispered.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh Sheila, you’ll never believe it.’ Her voice cracked with emotion. ‘Brad’s being posted.’

  Sheila sat up. ‘I know, I saw Philippe, he told me he was leaving.’

  ‘What else did he tell you?’

  ‘Nothing more.’

  Clemmie explained. ‘They’re to fly to RAF Aldergrove for further orders. He doesn’t know where they’ll end up. It’s all very hush hush. You know that Liberator pilots are trained in low-level flying – well, they’re needed for some special mission.’

  ‘He told you that?’ asked Sheila.

  ‘Yes, but don’t breathe a word. He shouldn’t have told me, but I made him. Anyway, everybody knows something big is going to happen any day now.’

  ‘Oh Clemmie, will they be away for long?’

  ‘I don’t know, but there’s something else.’ Sheila could tell even in the darkness that Clemmie was smiling. ‘He’s asked me to marry him.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. I’m so pleased for you,’ Sheila said, and she meant it, but inside she envied her friend’s happiness.

  At breakfast, Sheila and Clemmie were talking about the departure of Brad and Philippe when Jessica joined them. ‘I’ve just heard about the boys being sent to Aldergrove,’ she said. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Clemmie, ‘it’s to do with the Liberators being needed elsewhere, I think.’

  ‘Oh, it’ll be something to do with the landings in France probably,’ said Jessica, knowingly.

  ‘You think that’s really going to happen?’ asked Sheila.

  ‘Of course. I hear plenty of talk when I’m driving the top brass around. It’s just a matter of time. How else will they win the war? They need to land a huge force somewhere on the French coast and push the Germans all the way back to Berlin where they came from.’

  ‘And you think it’s going to happen soon?’ asked Clemmie.

  Jessica lowered her voice. ‘I drove our CO to a US camp last week for a meeting and he stayed to watch the GIs, hundreds of them, gathered on a hillside somewhere in the Sperrins, being addressed before they shipped out.’ Sheila and Clemmie hung on her every word. ‘And do you know who it was rallying them?’ They shook their heads. ‘None other than General Patton himself.’

  ‘Oh no, Brad could be gone for months. That puts the tin hat on an early wedding,’ said Clemmie.

  ‘A wedding?’ said Jessica.

  ‘Yes, he asked me last night when he told me he was being posted.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, congratulations!’ said Jessica and she turned to Sheila. ‘Did you see Philippe before he left?’

  Sheila nodded.

  Jessica chewed her lip and appeared to come to a conclusion. ‘Look Sheila, I know that you and Philippe have always been good friends, but that’s all you ever were. Philippe liked me in a different way, if you know what I mean. But I think we both know that he wasn’t the sort to make any kind of commitment. All he really cared about was his plane and his crew and I doubt whether either of us will ever hear from him again.’

  Pat knew straight away that something was wrong when her mother handed her the blue airmail letter bearing a row of strange-looking stamps. She stared at it, noted the US post mark, turned it over to see the sender’s address and stared at that.

  ‘Are you not going to open it?’ said Martha.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Pat.

  Her mother’s voice was calm. ‘I think you need to.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Do you want me to open it?’

  ‘No,’ said Pat, and the clock high on the mantelpiece ticked off the time between not knowing and knowing. Without a word, Pat gave the letter to her mother and Martha opened it and read it.

  ‘It’s from Tony’s sister. She’s writing to say that Tony has been re
ported as missing in action.’ Martha put her arms around her daughter and they stood a long time, each with their own thoughts. At last, Pat let go of her mother and when she spoke her voice was strong. ‘I don’t believe it. Tony isn’t dead.’

  Time and again Joe had told Pat, ‘If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.’ Well, now there was something he could do. He could find Tony.

  Pat went to see Joe the following day and they sat together in his office. He looked at the letter. ‘I see,’ he said, ‘they wrote to his family of course. You understand that you’re not his next of kin?’

  ‘I know that.’ Pat rushed on, ‘Now tell me this, missing in action doesn’t necessarily mean he’s dead, does it?’

  ‘Well no,’ said Joe, ‘but, Patti, you mustn’t get your hopes up. Most times it turns out that—’

  ‘He could be wounded, couldn’t he?’

  ‘That’s a possibility, but—’

  ‘You said there was so much fighting going on and troops were being moved. He could’ve been separated from his company. He could be anywhere.’

  He touched her arm. ‘Patti, please, you need accept that he’s missing.’

  ‘Missing, yes, because nobody knows where he is, but I know he isn’t dead. Joe, I want you to speak to your contacts. Find out if he’s in a field station somewhere or been left behind. Somebody must know where he is. Will you do that, please?’

  Joe looked at her face so full of emotion and nodded. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but it’s unlikely that I’ll get any information. A lot of men were killed and those left from the division will already have regrouped; they could be anywhere in Italy.’

  ‘Thank you, Joe, you’re a good friend.’

  Chapter 33

  Martha enjoyed working in the music shop for a few hours every day – it got her out of the house and she could keep an eye on Peggy and Mr Goldstein at the same time. Both of them tried to put on a brave face, but it was clear to her that, under the surface, they were lost in their grief for Esther. Peggy should have been easy to read and in some ways she was, but Martha sensed that there was something hidden beneath the sorrow. She had tried to coax it out of her, but Peggy had shrugged off the suggestion that there was something else troubling her.

  As for Mr Goldstein, his sadness was like a badge pinned to his heart. Shortly after he had returned to work, he announced that he would not be arranging any further Barnstormers’ concerts. Peggy, Martha noted, accepted his decision without comment when previously she had always made a fuss at the slightest suggestion that concerts might be cancelled. Before Martha left the shop each afternoon, she and Isaac would have a cup of tea together in his office and over time there evolved a rhythm to their conversation. First the latest news about the war was discussed and then Martha would ask, ‘And how are you today, Isaac?’ and he’d talk about Esther and his feelings and his fears. Martha never dreamt a man would talk about such things, but she put it down to him being musical and a foreigner and liked him all the more for it.

  And then there was Pat. After the awful news that Tony was missing in action, Martha held her breath, expecting Pat to be devastated. The days went by and Pat continued to believe that he had simply gone missing, never contemplating the reality behind the military term. She had even written back to Tony’s sister thanking her for letting her know about Tony and telling her she was certain that he was still alive.

  One sunny Sunday morning towards the end of April, Martha, Pat and Peggy went together to church. Inside there were daffodils on every surface wide enough to hold a vase and shafts of sunlight fell on the congregation. Even the hymns were full of joy and Martha watched her daughters sing with gusto in the choir.

  The minister was in the porch shaking hands as usual when they left. He shook Pat’s hand and held on to it. ‘Ah Pat,’ he said, ‘any word yet about your young man?’

  ‘No, not yet,’ said Pat.

  ‘Well, you know we are praying for him and for you. Take comfort in knowing that the death of a soldier serving his country is a glorious thing.’

  Pat withdrew her hand. ‘My young man is not dead and even if he were no one should ever call his death glorious.’

  Martha waited until after dinner when Peggy was in the kitchen washing the dishes, before she spoke to Pat. ‘I know that you won’t want to hear this, but there’ll come a time when you might have to accept that Tony is not coming back.’

  Pat opened her mouth to speak, but Martha held up her hand. ‘No, hear me out, please.’ Pat shook her head as if dismissing the whole conversation. ‘I’m your mother and I worry about you and you know why, don’t you?’

  ‘Because of what happened with William, but this isn’t the same thing at all.’

  ‘Oh, but it is,’ said Martha. ‘Only this time you’re being told what’s likely to happen. Do you not see that you need to prepare yourself, to get used to the idea that he might not come back?’

  ‘What a terrible thing to say. I’m telling you now, he’s not dead. I know he isn’t.’

  ‘Pat love, you can’t know that.’

  Pat spoke with absolute certainty. ‘I do. He isn’t dead. He promised me he wouldn’t die.’

  On the following Sunday, there was a knock at the door and when Pat opened it Joe Walters was standing there. She tried to calm herself, took a deep breath and said, ‘Have you found him?’

  Joe looked a little embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry, Patti – I haven’t. I’ve tried but—’

  ‘Who’s that?’ shouted Martha.

  ‘It’s Joe.’

  ‘Well, bring him in, for goodness sake.’

  He came into the sitting room and held up a brown paper bag. ‘I brought you some doughnuts and Coca Cola.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Pat, but there was no expression in her voice or her face.

  At that moment Peggy came through from the kitchen. ‘Did I hear someone say “Coca Cola”?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Joe. ‘Here you are.’

  ‘Sit yourself down, Joe,’ said Martha.

  ‘No, I can’t stay,’ he said, and hesitated. ‘I don’t know if you heard about all the ships gathering on the lough?’

  ‘Yes, there was a picture on the front of the Telegraph,’ said Peggy.

  ‘Well, I need to take a trip down to Bangor where the battleships are.’ He looked at Pat. ‘Wondered if you ladies would like to come with me?’

  Peggy was just about to say ‘Yes, please’ when Martha intervened. ‘Pat, why don’t you go? Peggy and I have some washing and ironing to do. Haven’t we, Peggy?’

  Peggy caught the narrowing of her mother’s eyes. ‘Yes, that’s right. I’ll just stay here and eat doughnuts and drink Coca Cola.’

  ‘There you are now, Pat, away and get your bag. Oh, and take a cardigan with you. There might be a breeze off the sea.’

  On the one hand Pat was annoyed with her mother, but the trip would give her a chance to question Joe about what he’d actually done to try to find Tony. It turned out he had contacted what he called ‘buddies’, but although they double-checked casualty records and military hospitals they found no trace of Tony. ‘The problem is,’ explained Joe, ‘that it’s just not possible for me to contact anyone in that combat zone.’

  It was a beautiful May afternoon and they were soon driving out of the city in the open jeep, following the south side of the lough. In spite of her disappointment that there was no news about Tony, Pat felt the tightness across her shoulders, that she had been carrying for weeks, melt away.

  They drove to Holywood and Joe turned down towards the esplanade. The sight in front of them was breathtaking. The lough was packed with ships of every shape and size: destroyers, cruisers, and other fighting craft alongside trawlers and all kinds of merchant vessels. And everywhere there were fluttering flags: Stars and Stripes, Union Jacks and signal flags of all colours.

  ‘It’s an armada,’ said Pat. ‘Oh Joe, it’s really going to happen, isn’t it? They’re heading for France.’
r />   ‘They sure are,’ said Joe. ‘Forces are gathering all round the British Isles. On every airfield the planes are waiting too. From every barracks men are already on the move. I don’t think there’s ever been anything like this in the history of warfare. Gotta make you feel proud.’ He turned and smiled at her and saw the tears on her cheeks. ‘Aw gee, Patti!’ he said, and put his arms around her, ‘don’t cry, please.’

  She stepped back from him, wiped away the tears and almost laughed. ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘It’s just the sight of all this … it takes your breath away. After all that’s happened …’ her voice faltered. She watched the ships and Joe watched her and after a few minutes she spoke again. ‘We were on the road not far from here when the city was first bombed. We’d been singing at a concert at Palace Barracks. It was very late and we were on our way back to Belfast. First there was the noise, a droning sound that came up the lough, louder and louder, then the black shapes in the sky above us. We watched it all … the flares lighting up the sky, the incendiaries to start fires, and last of all the high explosives to flatten buildings and kill people.’

  ‘I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you and your family,’ said Joe.

  ‘People carry on, you have to, but you think the war will last forever. Ordinary people have no way of knowing how such a mess could ever be put right.’ She looked up at him. ‘But look at all this, Joe … surely this’ll put an end to it all, won’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, it will. It sure will, Patti.’

  They drove on to Bangor and parked the jeep at the North Pier, and if Pat thought the ships on the upper part of the lough were impressive, she was stunned by the battleships anchored at its mouth, waiting for the order to lead the flotilla out into the open sea.

  Joe explained, ‘Next week, General Eisenhower will come here to inspect the ships before they leave. I’ve been asked to organise a small group of local dignitaries on the quayside so that he can thank them, and the community, for their support. Then he’ll go in a launch to the battleship Tuscaloosa where he’ll address the men.’

  They walked along the pier, Joe considering the placing of the dignitaries, the area where the public would be permitted to stand and where the launch would be tied up. Pat walked alongside him, lost in her own thoughts.