Till the Sun Shines Through (31 page)

Bridie nodded. No one could have failed to notice. She'd heard again the tramp of men's boots sparking on the cobbles as they made their way to work, and the factory hooters slicing into the early morning, signalling the start of the shifts. She'd also seen the women settling their tick in the shops and redeeming things from the pawnshops. It had been heartening to see their lives getting better. But at what cost? she thought now and felt bile rise in her throat.

‘And now it will be stepped up, you'll see,' Tom went on. ‘Everyone that wants it will have work. That's one good thing about war, possibly the only good thing.'

Bridie thought that if Tom was right and there was work for all, maybe Peggy McKenna's husband would benefit too and then the woman wouldn't need to come begging from her. Sometimes lately, to avoid Mary's wrath towards her for her inability to manage on Tom's pay, she'd been reduced to pawning the odd thing to put food on the table.

‘I'm leaving the Mission,' Tom said suddenly, breaking in on her thoughts.

‘But why?'

‘Well, with the men going back to work, I'll hardly be needed – Father Flynn and the few volunteer helpers will be able to cope, I think. Anyway, if this Hitler and the German army is to be kept from invading here, every man jack will be needed to manufacture the means to stop him. I'll go into munitions.'

‘You've never worked in a factory.'

‘No, and there'll be hundreds like me,' he said. He put his arm around Bridie and added, ‘You may as well know too, pet, that when war is declared, I intend to enlist and so does Eddie.'

Bridie felt as if the breath had been knocked from her body. ‘Enlist,' she repeated in a horrified whisper.

Tom covered her trembling hands with his own. He knew Bridie loved him, more than loved him, she depended on him, needed him.

But it was to protect her and the children that he was prepared to take this step. He'd seen and heard enough of Hitler's butchering methods amongst the Jews in his own country and could imagine with dread how he'd treat the occupants of a country he'd invaded and conquered. He knew too that if he didn't enlist it would only be a matter of time until he was called up.

All this passed through Tom's mind now as he saw the blood drain from Bridie's face and her eyes widen in shock. ‘Bridie,' he said urgently, ‘you must realise that is what I must do. Remember, Tyrone isn't part of the Free State. I'd be conscripted anyway in the end. Eddie doesn't have to enlist, but he said he's coming along with me.'

Bridie nodded, but her mind was in a whirl. She loved Tom so much, even more than when she'd married him. He was her rock when she needed one, the one who kept her steady, so that when Peggy listed any number of accidents that could befall her wee ones, engineered possibly by a revengeful God, Bridie would assure herself that Tom wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt his children. But Bridie knew it would soon be down to her and her alone to protect her children.

The woman had the ability to frighten her witless at times, not for herself, but the news she held over her like a time bomb that could destroy so many lives, lives she'd struggled for years to protect. And then there were her children? What if something bad was to befall them? God, she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

She was so terrified that something would happen to them after Tom told her that he intended to enlist that she'd scarcely let them out of her sight. She wouldn't even countenance an evening out without them, even if it was only to the local picture house, leaving Mary to listen out.

Much as Tom loved the children, he loved Bridie more and it had annoyed him at first that he felt he had to confide in Mary. ‘She never mentions the abortion, so of course I don't either, but do you think it could be preying on her mind? I only think that because she's so frantic about the children, petrified something might happen to them.'

Mary felt sorry for Tom and tried to reassure him. ‘I don't think it's the abortion after all this time,' she said. ‘If it was, wouldn't she have talked it over with me or Ellen? As for the children, well, some mothers worry more than others do. Our own mother nearly fretted herself into an early grave over Bridie, certain a puff of wind would blow her over.'

‘This is more than natural concern,' Tom insisted.

‘Shall I have a word with her about it?'

‘No, I've tried that, but she says no,' Tom said. ‘Leave it so. I just wondered if she'd mentioned anything to you, that's all.'

When the German armies, helped by the Austrian ones, marched into Sudetenland in October 1938 no one was surprised. ‘Bloody Hitler,' Ellen remarked. ‘He'll have the whole of Europe before he's finished.'

‘That's his aim,' Sam said. ‘He's been a problem for years. Don't know what the people were thinking of electing him and his damned party in the first place. He's a madman and you can't keep giving in to madmen. The day will come and, mark my words, it won't be long away, when Britain at least will have to stand up against Hitler.'

The day following Hitler's invasion into Sudetenland, Tom, having given the Mission notice, got himself a job at Fisher and Ludlow's making wings and bomb tails for Lancaster airplanes and where overtime was less of an option and more of a duty.

Tom didn't mind though. His ordinary salary was much more than he'd been paid at the Mission and with the overtime, it made a sizeable sum. Most weeks, money could be put in the post office saving account he took such a pride in. It was all in Bridie's name. ‘You never know when you might have need of money,' he'd said in explanation when Bridie had asked.

‘Oh,' Bridie said with a smile. ‘I know that right enough. When I run away with my fancy man, we'll need a bit behind us.'

Tom suddenly grabbed Bridie to him. ‘Don't even joke about that,' he said. ‘If I lost you, Bridie, I'd no longer want to live – I love you so much it hurts.'

‘It was a joke, Tom. Why in God's name would I leave someone so good and kind, especially when I love that person with a passion too?' Bridie said. ‘Tom, I'll never, ever leave you.'

‘No matter what?'

‘No matter what,' Bridie said in assurance, wrapping her arms around Tom and kissing him ardently in case he should have any doubt about her words.

The following month, Bridie and Tom listened to the wireless with horror as it described the pogrom issued against the German Jews living in Berlin. It was known as
Kristallnacht
, or the Night of the Crystals, because so much glass was broken – more glass it was said than was in the whole of Germany if they were to try and repair the damage.

But the storm troopers were not interested in repair, but in beating, maiming and often killing the occupants of the shops and houses that they had looted or smashed to bits and the synagogues they had set ablaze.

That cold night, Tom looked at his family grouped around the table – his beautiful Bridie, her eyes dark pools in her pale face; Katie, a carbon copy of her mother, looking from one parent to another, sensing the tension, but not understanding it. And then his more robust son Liam, just two years old and only interested in the food before him. An icy band of fear settled around Tom, not fear for himself, but for his family. He wondered how the Jewish fathers had felt seeing their wives and young children thrown out into that bleak winter's night, beaten, or even killed if they tried to resist.

Did the women cower in fear for themselves, for their children? Did they watch their houses looted, their furniture reduced to matchwood, or carried away to grace someone else's home, and see the flaming synagogues setting the winter sky aglow?

‘How can we just stand by and see them do such things to people?' Bridie asked tearfully. The broadcaster reporting on the persecution of the German Jews had been moved by the news coming in. It had been apparent in his voice and his words had reduced Bridie to tears.

‘What should we do, Bridie?' Tom asked. ‘I'm appalled as you, but we're helpless. Ask yourself though how long can Britain go on pretending this isn't happening?'

Bridie knew what Britain must do, and that was declare war on Germany. She shivered in fear.

‘Hitler wants to rule the world,' Tom went on. ‘For years we've stood by and let the man stock pile arms and build up his army, navy and air force. He believes in the master race, blond-haired, blue-eyed people – true Germans, he says. Jews have no place in his plan. He thinks they taint the blood lines.'

‘So we stand by while atrocities go on,' Bridie said. ‘And just shrug our shoulders.'

‘That seems to be the way of it,' Tom agreed. ‘But maybe we won't be doing that for ever.'

Bridie felt as she was on a spiral, spinning inexorably to the war she dreaded, but that desire for justice would make inevitable. Each day the news was worse for the ‘Night of Crystals' had had a domino affect across the whole of Germany and Jews were afraid, and with reason, for in towns and cities there were reports of the looting and burning of their property, and people being beaten, tortured, mutilated and killed.

‘It's beyond human understanding,' Ellen said. ‘God Almighty, what have the poor sods done to deserve what's happening to them?'

No one had had an answer to that. And then, in early December, there came news of another kind. Ellen came into Bridie's house, closely followed by Mary who she'd collected on the way, with a telegram in her hand. Soon the sight of a telegram would strike terror in people's hearts, but even then, a telegram seldom meant good news.

FRANCIS DEAD. JIMMY DEVASTATED. FUNERAL FRIDAY. WANTS YOU ALL HERE. SARAH.

‘Francis dead!' Bridie repeated and she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from between her shoulders. ‘Francis dead. Oh thank God! Thank God!'

No one chided Bridie for her heartfelt cry, but when she said, ‘I can't go. You can't expect me to mourn a man like that,' they all disagreed.

‘Bridie, you must,' Mary said.

‘Why must I? You can't ask that I go, it's inhuman.'

‘You're not going for Francis, for God's sake. You're going for Daddy.'

‘No!'

‘If you don't go, this rift between you and Mammy and Daddy will never be repaired,' Mary said. ‘Daddy gave you permission to marry, remember. He loves you and misses you. Whatever Francis was to you, to Daddy he was almost like a son, the child he raised to adulthood. He will be destroyed. Go – for his sake? Francis cannot hurt you any more.'

Bridie stared at Mary in horror. ‘Not hurt me any more,' she repeated. ‘Have you, either of you, any idea how I feel about that man? Just to think of him, or any belonging to him, makes my skin crawl. You don't know what you're asking me to do.'

‘We do,' Ellen said soothingly. ‘It's just that …'

‘There isn't a “just” in any of this,' Bridie said and her voice rose in distress. Until then, the women had spoken in low, controlled voices, mindful of Bridie's children building some complicated construction with bricks on the rag rug before the fire. Now Katie, alerted to her mother's tone, glanced up at them all.

None of them noticed her and Bridie went on, ‘Doesn't it matter to either of you that it's his fault I'm here, his fault my mother won't bid me the time of day, his fault that I can never go home like any other body and be the beloved daughter, feted and made much of as you always were, Mary, when you came home, and your children such a delight to our parents as mine can never be?'

Mary knew that every word her sister spoke was true, but she also knew that if she didn't go back home, the rift between her and their parents would be wider than ever. So she spoke impatiently. ‘I know that – God, aren't we all well aware of it? But, for Christ's sake, I'm not asking you to go home and honour the man. And while we're on, remember you're not the only victim in this. Mammy and Daddy suffered too at Francis's hand when you fled. But now Daddy is asking for your help. Are you going to turn your back on him, Bridie?'

For one brief moment, Bridie toyed with the idea of easing her parents' torment and confessing everything. But she swiftly rejected it. Whatever sort of a bugger a man was in life, in death he was a saint no less, and none would believe her now. But, more important than that, though the telegram was brief, it told Bridie enough to know how distracted with grief her father would be at Francis's death. Could she then strip away the man's character, expose him for the filthy, bullying pervert he was and tell her father all he'd done to her? She'd be afraid for the state of her father's mind if she was to do such a thing.

She felt tears sting her eyes at the thought that they would probably go to their graves believing the worst of her. This, though, was one thing she could do for her father. For his sake, could she swallow the distaste and apprehension and go home to mourn Francis openly?

‘Well,' Mary demanded, and Bridie realised how long the silence had stretched out between them. She looked around at the concerned faces of her sister and her aunt and then her eyes slid to the children and she saw Katie sitting up straight, staring at her. When Katie saw the glistening tear trails on her mother's face, she leapt to her feet. ‘Why are you crying?'

Liam's head shot up at Katie's words and his own bottom lip began to tremble when he saw the tears on Bridie's cheeks. ‘Hush,' she said, holding him close and taking comfort from it and then, for Katie's sake, she forced her stiff lips into a smile and said, ‘I'm not crying, Katie, I have a cold and it's making my eyes water.'

Liam was comforted, but Katie wasn't fooled. She knew Bridie hadn't given her a real smile either, because it hadn't reached her eyes, and she crossed the room to stand by her side. She hadn't the whole gist of what had upset her mother, but she knew that her aunties had wanted her to go somewhere and she hadn't wanted to go and they'd upset her and so she glared at them.