Martha's Girls (9 page)

The dance hall was bathed in yellow light. At the far end there was a six piece band playing ‘Red Sails in the Sunset’. Several couples were waltzing around the floor, some of them girls dancing together. Round the outside of the room were wooden tables and chairs. Soft drinks were being sold from a hatch. Young men were standing about in groups at the edge of the dance floor chatting and laughing as they weighed up the girls. Several of them were wearing Halloween false faces which, combined with the yellow light, gave them a sinister look.

‘Don’t they dance?’ asked Irene after they’d bought themselves bottles of Ross’s orange with paper straws and found an empty table.

‘Some of them don’t bother. They try an’ get ye to talk te them, then the next thing ye know, they want ye te go outside with them.’

‘So you don’t get many dances with a boy then?’ Irene couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice.

‘Ah, there’s some of them can dance, some very good.’ Irene wasn’t convinced she’d be doing much dancing and sighed. ‘Look,’ said Myrtle, ‘we’ll have some of our drink an’ then we’ll have a couple of dances together. It’s never very long before one of them lifts ye.’

‘Lifts you?’

‘Aye lifts ye. Comes up te ye while you’re dancin’, taps ye on the shoulder, an’ when ye turn round, they start dancin’ with ye.’

There was an interval while the band took a break, during which some of the boys Myrtle knew from Shorts came over to say hello then the band returned with a singer.

‘This is more like it,’ said Myrtle. ‘Some of those fellas will ask us te dance now, just you wait an’ see.’ Sure enough, they were just getting into the swing of a quickstep when they simultaneously felt a tap on their shoulder and turned round to the shock of green cardboard Frankenstein masks. Irene gasped, but before she could say anything, she felt a vice-like grip around her waist and was whisked away at great speed. When the song ended Irene faced her partner and clapped. ‘Thank you,’ she said and turned to walk away. Just then the music started up again and her partner reached after her and took her hand, swinging her around in a circle, back into his arms; a waltz this time and a chance for her to catch her breath and speak to him.

‘Why don’t you take your mask off?’

‘Why don’t you?’

Irene’s hand went up to her face. ‘I’d forgotten I had it on,’ she smiled and added, ‘anyway, mine just covers round the eyes.’

‘Well, you can see my eyes too.’ They crinkled up, smiling. ‘They say the eyes are the windows of the soul.’

‘That’s all very well, but I don’t know who you are.’

‘Yes you do!’

‘No I don’t, who are you?’

The blue eyes glittered. ‘Course you do. I’m Frankenstein!’

‘Then shouldn’t you be in a lab somewhere, instead of waltzing round John Dossor’s?’

‘I sneaked out to find a mate.’

‘You’ll never find one,’ Irene laughed.’ You’re far too ugly!’

‘I’m not underneath. I just need someone to kiss me and I’ll turn into a handsome prince.’

‘You’re in the wrong story for that.’

‘No I’m not; just kiss me and you’ll see.’ He stopped waltzing, bent his head and pulled her closer.

Irene stood on tiptoes, put her lips on the green cardboard and made a kissing sound. Frankenstein laughed and pushed the mask to the top of his head and Irene found herself looking into the very handsome face of Theresa’s brother.

‘Sean!’ She stared in amazement. ‘I never guessed it was you.’

The band switched to a tune with a fast rhythmic beat. ‘Can you tango?’ he shouted.

‘Can I what?’

‘Tango. Come on, I’ll show you.’

Irene did her best to follow his lead, but the steps were so strange and unpredictable that she quickly realised she needed to relax and let Sean take control and guide her movements. The beat was throbbing in her head, he held her firmly, and she felt herself pushed and pulled. Slowly she began to sense the pattern of steps and the drama conveyed by their body shape. Suddenly, Sean stopped abruptly and arched her backwards from the waist until she found herself staring at the ceiling, the music ended and he bent over and kissed her. Irene could hear applause and cheering a long way off, but she kept her eyes on Sean’s face as he helped her up and pulled her towards him. Her head was light and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, Sean had turned away to listen to a man in a serpent’s mask speaking urgently in his ear. As she watched, he nodded several times then the man melted into the crowd. Sean gripped her elbow and led her off the dance floor.

‘I’m sorry,’ he began, ‘I’m going to have to go.’ He paused as though struggling to shape his words. ‘Something’s happened. I need to …’ He gave up trying to explain, kissed her quickly on her cheek and followed the serpent out of the building.

*

Across town in their shop on Manor Street the McCrackens, John, Aggie and Grace, were entertaining Sheila and Martha. Martha had arrived after tea to buy her groceries and spend a couple of hours with her cousins before she and Sheila went home. Inevitably, as they settled in front of the fire with tea and homemade cake, the talk turned to war.

‘The fact is that we’re totally unprepared. Belfast will be tried and found wanting in this war. You mark my words.’ John had talked of nothing else for weeks.

‘But sure, John, we have the ARPs like yourself,’ said Martha.

‘Let me tell you, it would take thousands of trained, I say again, trained men to protect this city, but people won’t hear the call.’ He shook his head and bent to poke the fire into a blaze. ‘We’re too few and there’s no training to speak of at all.’ His sisters fell silent and busied themselves with their knitting.

Martha ventured an opinion she’d heard in the queue at Carson’s butchers that morning. ‘We’re a powerful distance from Germany. How would they ever get themselves away over here?’

‘I’ll tell you this for nothing, Martha, there’ll be planes coming up the Lough dropping fire bombs like apples out of a basket and they’ll be falling on our heads.’ John got into his stride. ‘We’ve neither anti-aircraft guns, nor bomb shelters. Sure we haven’t even got hoses to put out fires. They have us practising with baths full of water and stirrup pumps.’

‘It said in the
Telegraph
they were going to provide Anderson shelters for workers in the shipyard and the aircraft factories.’ Martha tried to be positive. John slumped back into his chair as though he suddenly realised that Martha and his sisters had no concept of the scale of the disaster he felt certain would befall them all. After a moment he stood up and took down the family bible and found a passage about Joshua and the walls of Jericho and read it to them. When he had finished they sat there quietly, each thinking about their city lying in the path of danger. Then Sheila began to sing softly ‘
Abide with me …’
One by one they joined her, finding comfort in the familiar words they’d known all their lives. Suddenly a banging on the back door made them jump, the notes cut in their throats. John was on his feet in an instant shouting, ‘Who’s there? What do you want?’

‘It’s Ted Grimes. Come to see if Mrs Goulding is still here?’

‘Wait. I’ll turn the light out and open the door.’

Martha had never seen Ted so agitated. ‘Aye it’s a bad do all right.’ His face was grave. ‘Young man from Cullybacky not long since joined the force; they’ve taken him to the Mater Hospital. God knows what they can do with a bullet in his chest.’ He took a drink of the strong, sweet tea Aggie handed him.

‘Anyway, Martha, I thought as I was going off duty, I’d call and see you and Sheila safe home; there’s a lot of people on the streets, both sides, very angry. There’ll be trouble before the morning, so there will, especially if there’s more internment of these IRA men the night.’

Chapter 7

Sunday dawned with overcast skies and the threat of rain, but by the time Peggy set off to walk the ten minutes to Cliftonville Circus a stiff breeze had sent the clouds scudding over the Cave Hill and the sun was making a half-hearted attempt to break through. Peggy, never one to be rushed, had taken her time getting ready and tried on two or three different skirts before deciding on her A line navy one with the inverted pleat at the front and neat rows of covered buttons up either side of the hips. It went well with her blue and cream striped jumper. She had only one coat, brown tweed flecked green with wide lapels. She hated it and wondered whether she could get away with not wearing one. In the end, she decided to wear it open, so that the first impression would be of her skirt and jumper. She tried her black work shoes, but they’d be too high if they went for a walk, so she settled for her dark blue suede with the low heel.

She came downstairs and saw herself revealed slowly, from the feet up, in the large mahogany mirror in the hall. She was happy with how she looked until she saw her hair. It was pulled back to the nape of her neck and fastened with a tortoise shell clasp. Maybe she needed a headscarf, but hers were horrible. Pat had a nice one though, Chinese looking with heavy-headed chrysanthemums …

She could hear the roar long before she saw the car. It shot out of the Oldpark Road and round the circus, a low two-seater with the top down. It went round twice then headed up the hill and made a U turn finishing up alongside her. He leaned across, opened the door and greeted her with a dazzling smile.

‘Hallo there, hop in.’ He was wearing a dark blue suit, white shirt, no tie. ‘Is that a scarf?’ Peggy nodded. ‘Put it on then. You’re going to need it!’ he shouted as he put the car into gear and they roared off. ‘Thought we’d head out the Shore Road, see how far we get, eh?’ She nodded again.

‘Cat got your tongue, Miss Goulding?’

‘How’d you know my name?’

‘It’s what your boss called you the day he interrupted our Ella Fitzgerald moment,’ he laughed, ‘but I can’t call you that all day, can I? What’s your first name?’

‘At least you know one of my names. I don’t know any of yours.’

‘That’s true.’ He took his right hand off the steering wheel and held it out to her. ‘I’m Harold Ferguson, but you can call me Harry. How do you do?’

Peggy shook his hand. ‘Margaret Goulding, but you can call me Peggy.’

They turned left on to the Shore Road and followed it along the north side of the Lough. There were few cars about; not many wanted to use their petrol allowance for Sunday afternoon trips to the seaside. Harry chatted on and Peggy studied his profile. Very dark hair, strong, almost Roman nose, firm jaw, smiled a lot. His hands on the wheel were long and thin, the nails clean and neat. Elegant, a pianist’s hands, she thought.

Last night as she lay in bed thinking about him she had decided to ask him straight out about the wireless, but today, sitting next to him in the car speeding along, she really didn’t care whether he had or hadn’t stolen it. Maybe she’d ask on the way home. Meanwhile she relaxed into the leather seat and enjoyed the rush of wind in her face. ‘Do you play the piano?’ she asked.

At Carrickfergus they walked along the sea front and Harry offered her his arm. A family sat on the scrap of sand with brightly painted tin buckets and spades scattered around them. Two small children had taken off their shoes and socks and were daring each other to run into the brown sea.

‘You’d never believe there was a war on, would you?’ said Peggy.

‘No, everything’s just the same. That’s why they’re calling it a phoney war.’

‘So it won’t really happen then, bombs and invasions and everything?’

‘Oh, it’ll happen all right. It’ll just take a while to get going.’ He stopped and pointed over the Lough towards Bangor. ‘Did you know in the last war there was a prison ship anchored in the middle out there full of German prisoners of war?’

‘Away on with you!’

‘It’s true, honest, and I’ve heard they’re thinking of doing the same thing again, only this time they’re going to intern IRA men on it.’

‘Can they do that?’

‘It’s already started. There’s a bunch of them in the Crumlin Road jail already and, after the shooting and trouble there was last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if the RUC didn’t round up quite a few more.’

They climbed over the rickety iron bridge to the castle and passed under the raised portcullis into the inner courtyard. They looked into the dank rooms with earth floors and crept down a narrow spiral stone staircase to see the dungeons. All the time Harry treated her as if she was breakable, supporting her arm, taking a hand to help her up or down. In one tiny room there was virtually no light. Harry went in first and pulled her in after him.

‘Oh it’s freezing in here.’ Peggy shivered.

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet. The last of the light caught her face and he kissed her full on the mouth. She didn’t resist, but when he set her down she said fiercely, ‘Who said you could do that?’

‘You did.’

‘When?’

‘Just then when you half closed your eyes and pouted.’ His smile mocked her a little.

‘I did no such thing!’ Peggy stormed out into the daylight.

Harry hurried after her. ‘I’m sorry, Peggy. I didn’t mean … Look I was only …’ Peggy turned away, pulled her coat tightly around her. Harry circled her to look into her face. ‘I think I made a mistake.’ No response. ‘Peggy? Peggy?’ He tried another tack. ‘I’m very sorry,’ he said. ‘Will you forgive me?’

She looked at him, as if weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of accepting his apology. ‘Very well, I forgive you.’ And she took his arm again and they walked back to the car in silence.

‘I’ve a surprise for you,’ said Harry as he unlocked the boot.

Peggy’s mood turned on a sixpence again, ‘Oh I love surprises!’

Harry produced a travel rug and a bag and, even though it was November, they went down on to the sand. When they were settled, he removed a Thermos and some china cups and a large round tin from the bag. He served her coffee then opened the tin. Peggy gasped in delight. ‘It looks delicious, is it home made?’

‘Yes, I made it just for you.’

Peggy laughed.

‘No really. I did.’

‘Did you?’ Peggy was incredulous. The fruit cake was beautifully iced with little sugar violets scattered across the top.

‘I did. I’m a baker.’ He grinned. ‘I work at the Ormeau Bakery.’

Peggy threw back her head and laughed. ‘You’re full of surprises, Harry Ferguson.’

Harry saw the delight in her face. ‘So are you Peggy Goulding, so are you.’

When they returned to the car, Peggy got in and watched him in the wing mirror as he replaced the rug and bag and slammed the boot. She was surprised to see that he had a brown envelope in his hand and as she watched, he opened it quickly and fanned out a wad of money as though checking it was still there. Unaware that she was watching, he put it into his inside pocket and joined her in the car.

‘I’ve a wee message to do on the way back,’ said Harry. ‘Just need to drop something off.’

They drove away from the seafront and turned into a narrow street where the houses on either side looked like they would fall down if they didn’t have each other to lean on. Harry stopped the car outside a house with its windows boarded up and knocked on the door. Peggy watched him glance nervously up and down the street and more than once his hand patted his inside pocket. He was about to knock again when the door was opened by a short, thick-set man who wore a shirt without a collar and braces hanging down by his sides. He was chewing and wiped his hand across his greasy lips before greeting Harry with a nod. Within seconds, the envelope was handed over, the door slammed and Harry was back in the car turning it towards the main Belfast road. The light was failing fast.

‘What do you think, Peggy? Should we stop and put the hood up, or will we beat the rain?’

Peggy shrugged.

‘Ach, sure we’ll leave it down and race back,’ said Harry and put his foot down.

They were just turning into the Cliftonville when the first drops of rain began to fall. Peggy had been quiet since they left the house in Carrickfergus. Harry was just the opposite, chatting all the way, glancing across at her every now and again trying to elicit more than a monosyllable in response: ‘What do you think, Peggy? That’s a good one isn’t it? Peggy?’ They pulled up at the end of Joanmount Gardens and Harry turned to face her. ‘Cat got your tongue again, Miss Goulding?’ He laughed. She didn’t.

‘Something happened in the shop yesterday after you left.’

‘Oh, what was that then?’

‘I noticed there was an empty space on the shelf; a wireless was missing.’

‘Missing? What do you mean?’

‘Gone. Stolen.’ She saw the thoughts move across his face.

‘What did you do?’

‘Telephoned Mr. Goldstein, of course, and he telephoned the police.’ Heavy drops of rain splattered on the windscreen.

‘Wait a minute …’ A worried look settled on his face. ‘You don’t think I took it?’

‘You were there. I didn’t see you leave. You could have taken it.’

Harry stared at her in disbelief, oblivious to the rain now falling on his face and clothes. ‘You do, don’t you? You think I took it. Walked in there to ask a girl I like to go out with me,’ his voice was rising steadily, ‘and when her back was turned, stole a wireless!’

Peggy scowled. Who did he think he was, shouting at her like that? ‘Well, you made a quick enough exit,’ she snapped and wiped the rain from her eyes.

‘I had to be somewhere. I was late. You were on the telephone.’

‘Just for a couple of minutes!’

‘And so you told the police about me, did you?’ No answer. The rain began beating on the streets. ‘I take it they’ve a full description … out combing the back streets of Belfast as we speak, are they?’

‘I didn’t tell them about you.’

‘Well, now you’ll be able to give them a name and a place of work.’

Peggy screamed, ‘I didn’t tell them!’

‘No doubt they’ll turn up at the bakery in the morning and haul me off to Mountpottinger. Thank you very much!’

Peggy’s arms were stiff by her sides, fists clenched. ‘Would you listen to yourself? Shouting like that at me. I’m only telling you what happened, so there!’

‘And I’m …’ Harry put his face close to hers, his dark hair falling over his eyes, rain running down his face. ‘I’m only telling you what didn’t happen. I didn’t steal your bloody wireless!’

‘Don’t you swear at me!’

‘Don’t you call me a thief!’

‘I did no such thing.’ She opened the car door. ‘I never heard the like.’

In a split second he had reached over and slammed it shut and grabbed her arm.

‘Just a minute, you didn’t tell them? Why not?’

‘Because I … I …’ She stopped and looked down at his hand gripping her arm. ‘Let go of me.’ She spoke each word slowly, individually. Something in her icy glare made Harry unsure. He pulled his arm back. Peggy was out of the car in an instant, eyes blazing and shouted, ‘Of course there’s always tomorrow.’ Then she turned and ran.

Harry sat in the rain a while, then slowly got out of the car, put the hood up and drove back into the blackness of the city.

*

In the morning Goldstein was waiting for Peggy when she arrived in work.

‘What do you notice, Peggy? What do you notice?’

‘You’re more than usually excited to be in work on a Monday morning?’

‘No. On the shelf, on the shelf!’

There it was, the £9/19/11 missing wireless.

‘You got it back?’ Peggy’s eyes opened wide.

‘The police rang me at home on Saturday night and told me they had it. I picked it up first thing this morning.’ He raised his hands, palms upwards, as if to say, ‘Can you believe it?’

‘But how did they find it? Who had it?’ she asked.

‘Saturday night around closing time the police had a call from Mr Kavanagh.’

‘Mr ‘I buy anything’ Kavanagh?’

‘The same. He is in his shop on Smithfield Market and someone comes in to sell a wireless. He can see it is brand new with no dust on the valves inside. Also it is a new model, one he has not seen before. It seems Mr Kavanagh has built his reputation on being an honest trader. If he suspects he is being offered stolen goods, he telephones the police. They come.’

Peggy could hardly contain her excitement. ‘So, they caught him on Saturday night?’

Goldstein shook his head, ‘Unfortunately it was not that simple. When Kavanagh made an excuse to go into the office to use the phone, the young man became suspicious and ran away.’