A Song in my Heart Read online

  They came out of York Street Station and walked in the direction of the City Hall. ‘First up, the church,’ said Clemmie. ‘Let’s hope the minister has sorted the special licence. I gave him all the details when I wrote to him to arrange the wedding.’

  May Street Presbyterian was a red-brick building, made to look more grand by the addition of four impressive plaster pillars, and close by was the minister’s house. He checked Clemmie’s birth certificate, read the letter from the church she had attended in Ballykelly and signed the licence.

  Outside, Clemmie breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Just need to check the hotel booking and buy the posies.’

  Sheila linked her friend’s arm. ‘Then we’ll hop on a trolley-bus and be home in time for our dinner.’

  They came into the kitchen to the smell of baked bread and the table set with the best cloth and china, then through into the front room all neat and tidy, warmed by the paraffin heater. Sheila went to the hall and called upstairs, ‘Mammy, we’re here.’

  Martha appeared in the doorway, all smiles, in her smart navy dress and, in that brief moment, Sheila thought she looked smaller somehow.

  ‘Mammy, this is Clemmie.’

  ‘Gee, Mrs Goulding, it’s great to meet you at last. Sheila always tells me your news when you write her.’

  Martha blushed with pleasure. ‘Thank you – Sheila’s told me all about you. And tomorrow’s your wedding day, isn’t that grand.’

  ‘I hope it will be, if everything goes to plan. Oh, did a package come for me?’

  ‘Package?’ Martha looked from girl to girl. ‘What sort of package?’

  ‘Oh no, don’t tell me …’

  ‘It’s a wedding dress,’ explained Sheila. ‘WAAF headquarters have a dress they lend to WAAFs getting married – it was donated by the people of Toronto – and Clemmie arranged to have it sent here. They promised it would arrive in time.’

  Clemmie was close to tears. ‘What will I do? I’ll have to get married in my uniform. I’ve nothing else.’

  ‘Now don’t be worrying,’ said Martha. ‘Maybe we can sort something out. Come and have something to eat – you must be famished – and then we’ll have a wee think.’

  They ate the soda bread and boiled eggs and Martha said to Clemmie, ‘You’ll know that Sheila has a bridesmaid dress that she wore at Irene’s wedding and she’ll wear that tomorrow.’ Clemmie nodded. ‘Well, we’ve also got the dress Irene wore for her wedding although it’s not really a wedding dress. We couldn’t get the right material you see and it’s not white, but if it comes to it …’

  They went upstairs and laid the two dresses out on Martha’s bed: Sheila’s primrose yellow and Irene’s flax blue.

  ‘They’re lovely,’ said Clemmie, ‘but I doubt if either of them would fit me. You Irish girls are so slim.’

  Martha laughed. ‘That’s because we’ve been on rations for a good few years.’

  Sheila gathered up the dresses. ‘Here, Clemmie, take them into our bedroom and try them on. We might be able to alter one of them.’

  When she had gone, Sheila nodded towards the open wardrobe door, and Pat’s lavender wedding dress with its trim of pearls and embroidery. Martha shook her head. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?’

  ‘Clemmie is more like Pat’s size,’ said Sheila.

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘We could just ask her when she comes home.’

  For Martha, it was like old times with four girls in the house again and their excitement over the wedding the next day. She thought Clemmie was a lovely girl and was glad Sheila had made such a good friend.

  They all got on like a house on fire, swapping stories about life on the RAF base and in Belfast. Clemmie told them all about her home in Canada and got a bit teary because her parents and her brother had never met Brad and wouldn’t see her marry. ‘That’s why I’m so happy that you’re all going to be there tomorrow,’ she told them. ‘Although it’ll be a very short ceremony, I think. Only one hymn and we’ll hardly raise the roof, will we?’

  ‘You never know,’ said Peggy, ‘we’ve been singing in the church choir since we were children.’

  Later, Pat went to make them some supper and Sheila followed her into the kitchen. ‘Pat can I ask you a favour?’ she said. ‘You can say no if you like and that’ll be fine.’

  ‘Well, there’s no harm in asking,’ said Pat.

  Sheila explained about the missing wedding dress and the dresses from Irene’s wedding being too small.

  ‘I’ll just stop you there,’ said Pat. ‘You’re going to ask me if she can wear my dress, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well …’ Sheila was a little embarrassed. ‘I just thought …’

  Pat closed her eyes and for a long moment didn’t say anything. Sheila waited. There was the sound of laughter from the front room. Pat sighed and opened her eyes. ‘I never wore it, there was no wedding. It’s waiting for a bride and the bride is waiting for her groom. I know it’s just a dress. Maybe there is no groom and I’ll never wear it, but sometimes I go into Mammy’s room … just to touch it and to imagine what it would be like.’

  Sheila put her arms around her sister. ‘I understand, I should never have asked,’ she said, and they stood there together until the kettle whistled and Sheila went and made a pot of tea.

  When the girls were in bed, Martha set about altering the blue dress that had been Irene’s. She remembered she had a scrap of the original material and it was just enough to insert as an extra panel in the back and all she had to do then was move the buttons. It was close to two in the morning when she finished sewing and damp-pressing the dress. She got into bed and felt the room spin round her. ‘For goodness sake, Martha,’ she chided herself. ‘All that time bending over the sewing. What age do you think you are?’

  The ceremony was at two and Mr Goldstein had offered to collect Sheila and Clemmie and run them down to the church. Martha, Peggy and Pat would make their own way there.

  It was cold in the church and there were no flowers. ‘Bit miserable, isn’t it,’ Peggy whispered to Pat. ‘I feel a bit sorry for her.’ She nodded in the direction of the piano. ‘Wonder if someone’s going to play for her coming down the aisle?’

  At that moment the minister came through from the vestry. ‘Go and ask him,’ said Pat.

  Peggy didn’t need telling twice. As Pat watched, quite a long conversation ensued. The minister listened, nodding his head, smiling at Peggy. They went over to the piano where she played a few scales, a snatch of a hymn and some opening bars that made Pat wonder what she was up to.

  ‘There you are, all settled,’ said Peggy when she returned, looking pleased with herself. ‘There was no pianist so I told the minister that I’ll play Clemmie in and out, and there’ll be the hymn and a solo.’

  ‘A solo is it? And what are you singing?’ asked Pat, knowing full well what Peggy had just done.

  ‘Ach Pat, we need to brighten the day a bit. It wouldn’t hurt you to sing Mozart’s “Alleluia”, would it? You’ve sung it in church plenty of times before.’

  ‘Yes, but it would have been nice to be consulted.’

  But Peggy wasn’t listening; she was too busy looking to see who had just come in the door.

  Her eyes widened at the sight of the two men in the uniform of the Royal Canadian Air Force, and she went to greet them. ‘Hello, one of you must be Brad,’ she said. ‘I’m Peggy, Sheila’s sister.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m Brad, good to meet you and this here’s my buddy and best man, Philippe.’

  ‘Enchanté,’ said Philippe.

  Peggy couldn’t catch what he had said and was momentarily lost for words as she studied his dark eyes and olive skin.

  Then he smiled and she smiled back. ‘Come and meet my mother and sister,’ she said.

  Peggy introduced them and Brad looked from face to face. ‘Gee, you sure do look like Sheila. So glad you could come, we were thinking it might be a lonely wedding.’

  ‘Are you both
pilots?’ Peggy directed her question at Philippe, but Brad answered.

  ‘Yeah, been flyin’ missions over Belgium but we’re back here at Langford getting some repairs to our planes – they were getting pretty weary!’

  Just then Peggy caught sight of Sheila beyond at the door. ‘Just excuse me for a moment, I think we’ll be starting shortly,’ she said, and made her way over.

  ‘Are the boys here yet?’ asked Sheila.

  ‘Yes,’ said Peggy. ‘Why didn’t you mention his best man was such an eyeful?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Peggy. Now listen. Goldstein has volunteered to give Clemmie away. They’re outside in the car so I’ll go and get them now.’

  ‘Tell her there’ll be a bit more music, starting with the “Wedding March”.’

  ‘That’s great. I’ll give you the nod when we’re ready.’

  To the sound of Mendelssohn, Clemmie swept up the aisle on the arm of Goldstein wearing not Irene’s dress, but a beautiful, white satin gown and veil and long white gloves. The ceremony was short and when the register was signed, Pat sang ‘Alleluia’, accompanied on the piano by Peggy.

  After the ceremony, they gathered on the steps of the church chatting. Clemmie and Brad were so pleased that everything had turned out better than they hoped. ‘The dress arrived just before we were due to leave for the church. I couldn’t believe it,’ said Clemmie. ‘Mrs Goulding, I hope you don’t mind that I wore it instead of the dress you altered for me.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Martha. ‘It’s such a lovely dress.’

  Philippe and Sheila, having walked down the aisle behind their friends, stood side by side.

  ‘It’s great to see you again, Sheila,’ he said.

  ‘And you, Philippe.’

  ‘How are things with you?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, but before she could ask how he was, Brad appeared at her side.

  ‘Hey, Sheila, you look beautiful,’ he said, and kissed her cheek. ‘Come on you two, time for some photographs.’

  After that, the wedding party walked the short distance to the hotel and Sheila couldn’t help but wonder how Peggy had so easily fallen into step with Philippe. In the hotel lounge bar there were glasses of sherry and a small buffet and they sat around a coffee table chatting, Peggy next to Philippe and Sheila opposite. The longer they sat, the more agitated Sheila became. All she wanted was to have Philippe next to her.

  Philippe stood and made a short speech and they toasted the bride and groom. Then, out of the blue, Clemmie said, ‘You know what would be lovely to end the day – a song from Sheila.’

  Sheila shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t, really.’

  There were shouts of encouragement and some cajoling – and Sheila still looked uncomfortable. Then Peggy said, ‘There’s a piano in the corner. Come on, Sheila – something romantic would be good.’

  But still Sheila looked doubtful, until Pat took her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Why don’t we make it the three of us? It’s a while since we’ve sung together.’

  Peggy sat at the piano and played the opening bars. Pat and Sheila swayed to the beat and on cue they sang ‘I’ll Take Romance’. It was as if they had never had a break from singing together; their voices blended in close harmony, and Brad and Clemmie danced together in the tiny space round the piano for the first time as man and wife.

  The afternoon wore on and it was time to go home. They were saying their goodbyes when Philippe touched Sheila’s arm and whispered, ‘Don’t go. I need to talk to you.’

  Her family were at the door when her mother said, ‘Come on, Sheila.’

  Sheila looked up at Philippe and saw something in his eyes. It was enough. She called out, ‘Go on without me, I’m staying a bit longer.’

  ‘What about your tea?’ said Martha.

  And without taking her eyes off Philippe, she called, ‘I’m not hungry.’

  Philippe pulled her gently towards him and fastened the buttons on her coat. ‘There now,’ he said, ‘all warm and cosy,’ and he drew her arm through his. ‘Let’s see if we can find a quiet bar where we can talk.’

  Philippe took a drink of his Guinness and shook his head. ‘You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you, Sheila. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since I left Ballykelly … about you and me. Then when I knew I’d get to see you again at the wedding … well to be honest, I didn’t know who I’d see.’

  Sheila frowned. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

  ‘I wondered whether I’d see my friend or the woman I’ve grown to love?’

  Sheila’s heart stopped. ‘Who did you see?’

  He took her hand in his and smiled. ‘Standing there in church today, I saw the girl who made me laugh in the NAAFI when I returned exhausted from those long missions. I saw the girl who understood when I told her about my fears and who wept when she thought I was lost. I so wanted it to be you.’

  Sheila could feel the tears well up in her eyes. ‘So you saw your friend, Sheila the WAAF?’

  Philippe’s smile grew wider. ‘Yes, but more than that, I knew right then that I loved you. And when I saw you sing again, I understood that was just another part of you and I loved that Sheila too.’

  Sheila blinked and tears were on her cheeks and Philippe wiped them away and searched her face. ‘I don’t know why you’re crying,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve said the wrong thing again and upset you.’

  Sheila shook her head and tried to speak. ‘No … no, I’m not upset. I’m so happy. I thought I’d lost you …’

  He took her in his arms. ‘Hush,’ he whispered.

  She lifted her head and smiled at him. ‘Philippe?’

  ‘Ma chérie?’

  ‘I didn’t understand my feelings. I was confused, but now I know what you mean to me and I feel the same as you.’

  ‘You love me?’

  Sheila nodded. ‘I think I’ve always loved you.’ And she looked into his handsome face and felt her heart melt. ‘There’s something else,’ she said.

  ‘What is it?’

  She laughed. ‘You said if I ever sang again you’d have to kiss me.’

  Then Philippe was laughing too. ‘I did, didn’t I!’ And he kissed her with the same passion as that night after the talent contest only, this time, she knew that he loved her for herself.

  They walked back through the empty streets in the bitter wind and now and again Philippe pulled her into a shop doorway to share their warmth and kisses and the whispering of their love. The motorbike Brad and Philippe had borrowed from the base was parked outside the hotel.

  ‘It’s late,’ said Philippe. ‘Let’s get you home.’

  When they turned into Joanmount Gardens, Sheila called out, ‘Stop here and I’ll walk the rest of the way, otherwise people will hear the bike and they’ll peek through their curtains at us.’ She climbed off the bike and Philippe pulled her towards him. ‘I don’t want to leave you,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t want you to go,’ said Sheila. ‘When am I going to see you again?’

  ‘I don’t know. There’s still a lot to do before we can say this war is over. I reckon we could be flying over Europe for months yet, but I promise I’ll—’

  Sheila put her finger to his lips. ‘No, Philippe, I know how you feel about making a commitment when there’s still dangerous work to be done. You don’t need to promise me anything. What will be, will be – I learned that from you pilots at Ballykelly and, for now, it’s enough that we love each other.’

  He nodded. ‘That’s what really matters, but I’ll be careful, don’t worry.’

  She looked into his dark eyes and did something she always said she would never do. ‘Give me your hands,’ she said, and Philippe held them out and she took them in hers and closed her eyes.

  He laughed nervously. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Sssh,’ she said and all at once she was back in Bridie McManus’ kitchen and she remembered her words. ‘Sit quietly and let your mind empty and, when so
mething comes to you, just speak it aloud.’

  She held his hands and a minute passed, then two, and nothing came to her mind. A moment longer and she heard a high-pitched whine and the crackling of a wireless, and black smoke engulfed her. Her eyes opened wide.

  ‘What is it, Sheila, what is it?’

  ‘Nothing … nothing at all. Just follow your training and you’ll be fine.’

  And Philippe lifted a strand of her hair and let it fall. ‘Okay, Lucky.’ He held her face in his hands. ‘I love you,’ he said and kissed her goodbye.

  Chapter 37

  With Christmas fast approaching Goldstein noticed a sharp increase in sales, not just of records and sheet music, but of wirelesses, gramophones and musical instruments. ‘I tell you, Peggy, every advance by the Allies makes people more optimistic about their own lives. Mark my words, this will be the last Christmas of the war.’

  ‘That’s great, Mr Goldstein, but there are times when I’m run off my feet. Mammy’s only here for a few hours a day and you know sometimes I’m left on my own.’

  ‘Maybe your mother might like to work full time, just up to Christmas?’

  ‘That’s really not a good idea,’ said Peggy. ‘Haven’t you noticed, she’s not been able to shake off that chesty cough and it’s making her tired.’

  Goldstein looked surprised. ‘I did not notice. That won’t do at all.’

  ‘What we need,’ said Peggy, ‘is a full-time assistant. That way we can look after the customers better.’

  ‘You are absolutely right,’ said Goldstein. ‘I too have been thinking about making some changes.’

  Peggy was intrigued. ‘What kind of changes?’

  ‘There are a lot of things I would like to do in my life, but the shop takes up so much of my time. So I have been thinking that in the New Year I will step back a little from the shop.’

  ‘How would that help? In the end, I’d still be the only full-time assistant.’

  ‘Ah, but what if you weren’t an assistant?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘My idea is to promote you to shop manager, with an increase in pay, of course. At the same time I will advertise for a full-time assistant and, if your mother would rather not carry on, I will find another person to work part time.’