Читать книгу Love Me Tender - Anne Bennett - Страница 7

Lizzie wasn’t sure exactly when she became aware over the summer holidays that something wasn’t right and that all the adults were worried. In the main, it was a holiday like any other; when the kids in the street got fed up of skipping and playing hopscotch and hide and seek and other street games, they would start to complain and fight and get under their mothers’ feet. Then Carmel and girls of similar age would be pressed into service to take the children off to Cannon Hill, or Calthorpe Park, with a couple of bottles of tea and jam sandwiches to stave off hunger till teatime. It had been Carmel’s lot to look after her cousins and their friends since she’d been nine years old, and much as she loved them, she often resented it. Sometimes she thought it was no good having a holiday if all you did all day was mind weans. She also knew it was no good saying anything about it and that lots of girls were in the same boat, so she usually went without complaining.

Lizzie thought at first that everyone was worried about her Auntie Rose, who was on her time again and little Pete only just two and Grandma said she was not having it easy. Then she thought it might be the row going on because her Auntie Maggie wanted to marry Con Murray and Grandma and Grandad wouldn’t have it. Not only was he just a bookie’s runner and not good enough, in their opinion, for Maggie, but he’d been put in prison for it too, and Grandad said no daughter of his would marry a jail bird.

Later, at home, she heard her parents discussing it. Barry said Con wasn’t a jail bird really; all he did was place bets, and he at least felt sorry for him, he only did it because he couldn’t get a decent job.

‘It doesn’t matter what you say, Daddy won’t let her marry him,’ Kathy said. ‘He can’t provide for her properly as a bookie’s runner.’

‘I couldn’t provide for you for many years,’ Barry reminded her.

‘Aye, but you could when I married you,’ Kathy said. ‘And you’d never been inside.’

‘No, but I can’t blame the man, not totally,’ Barry said. ‘Anyway, so I hear it, when the men are put away, the firm, the people he places bets for, see to his family.’

‘Oh, I’ll tell Daddy that,’ Kathy said sarcastically. ‘I’m sure it will make all the difference! He’d have a fit if he thought his daughter, and possibly grandchildren, was being kept from starvation by people he’d consider not far removed from gangsters. Couldn’t you ask round at your place?’ she appealed. ‘Maybe Con could get set on there?’

Barry shook his head. ‘I doubt it, but I’ll ask. In the meantime they’ll have to wait. After all, once Maggie is twenty-one, she can do as she pleases.’

Kathy wondered if her headstrong young sister would be prepared to wait, for she was just nineteen, and two years seemed a lifetime away. Only the other day, she’d said to Kathy in a voice laced with a veiled threat, ‘I could always force their hand, you know.’

‘Don’t be a bloody fool,’ Kathy had snapped. ‘Don’t suggest bringing a child into this mess till you have something sorted.’ She looked at her sister and asked, tentatively, ‘You haven’t…you don’t…’

Maggie had tossed her mane of black hair so like her elder sister’s, flashed her eyes that had a greenish tinge to them and snapped, ‘That’s my business.’

‘Maggie, you’ll get your name up.’

‘Don’t be such a fool. Con loves me.’

‘You’re the fool! If he loved you, he’d wait.’

‘Till when? Till we’re drawing the old age pension?’

‘Oh, Maggie,’ Kathy cried. ‘Be careful.’

‘I am careful,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m just saying that if Mammy and Daddy keep being awkward, then I might not be so careful, that’s all. We’re not made of stone, we can’t wait forever.’

Lizzie knew that her family were worried about Maggie and Con, who went arm-in-arm down the street together. But she also knew that it wasn’t just these ordinary worries that gave everyone the serious look to their faces; it was something more. They’d gather at Grandma Sullivan’s to hear the news on the wireless broadcasts and talk about someone called Hitler, Chamberlain and Czechoslovakia. It was a while before Lizzie realised Czechoslovakia was a country and not a person’s name, and that Hitler wanted to dominate it.

Her daddy, who seemed to know more about the situation than the others from the reading he’d done during his time of unemployment, feared that war, at least between Czechoslovakia and Germany, was inevitable. ‘Whether we’ll just stand by and watch this time is the question,’ he said.

‘Like we did when he marched into Austria, you mean?’ Pat asked.

‘Right,’ her daddy said. ‘The Anschluss he called it, but whatever name he puts on it, Austria ceased to exist from March this year. It’s become another part of Germany, and Czechoslovakia will be next, and if Britain do what they’ve done so far, it will be bugger all.’

‘He won’t be finished till he has the whole of Europe,’ Eamonn commented.

‘Aye, you’re right,’ Lizzie heard her daddy say. ‘And we’re allowing him to. That’s not all, though. Some desperate tales are coming from those places about the terrible things he’s doing to the Jews. I think the man has a screw loose and is a sadistic sod into the bargain.’

Lizzie felt her eyes widen. Her daddy had said two bad words, and it seemed to be catching, for she heard her Uncle Pat ask angrily, ‘What the hell do you expect us to do, Barry? Go over there and bloody well stop the whole of the German army?’

‘It might come to that, aye, it might.’

Mary said quietly, ‘You mean war?’

‘I mean just that.’

‘Dear God!’

Suddenly the room was very quiet. Everyone was looking at Barry, and even Kathy was viewing her husband with new eyes. He spoke with some authority, as if he knew what he was talking about, though the subject of the talk chilled her to the marrow.

‘Look,’ Barry said, ‘we can either let this bugger Hitler march into country after country, killing Jews and anyone else who disagrees with him on the way, or we’ve got to stop him. I think those are the only two choices.’

No one disagreed, but everyone hoped he might be wrong, that something would happen to avert the war Barry could see them heading straight for.

For a time, it seemed hopeful, for the prime minister, Chamberlain, took a hand in proceedings to promote peace at any price, and everyone was optimistic again. Barry, though, wasn’t convinced. He read the papers avidly, and even suggested to Kathy that they buy a wireless set, but she didn’t give out to him and said they had plenty of other things to buy before that. Instead, she said he should keep his eye out for a second-hand one.

The day Barry brought a wireless home, just a week or so later, was one of great excitement. It was even bigger than their grandad’s, Lizzie noticed, and there was hardly room for it in the fireplace alcove by the door down to the cellar. The accumulator, which Barry would have to have charged up at the garage in Bristol Street, sat beside it, and Lizzie and Danny and all the neighbours who had crowded in to see couldn’t wait to hear something come out of the polished wooden box.

The children soon had their favourites. Both enjoyed Children’s Hour, where Uncle Mac told them the stories of Toytown. They particularly liked Larry the Lamb and Denis the Dachshund and the tricks they got up to together, and they booed enthusiastically when the villain, Mr Crowser, came into the story. Uncle Peter read stories and poems and played the piano, but Lizzie preferred Uncle Mac and was always sorry when she heard him say, ‘Goodnight, children everywhere.’

But then there was always Radio Normandy, which told the tale of Flossie, a naughty girl who went to Dr Whacken’s School, which made everyone laugh. The very best of all, though, was Radio Luxemburg and the Ovaltineys. Lizzie, Danny, Maura Mahon and others would settle down on Sunday evening to listen to it. Many of the children in the street joined the club, and got a badge and a rule book, and on the programme they used to give out a message in code that the children had to break. Maura and Lizzie would puzzle over it and then help Danny, who hadn’t a clue what a code was.

It became one of their favourite games, sending messages in code, and they all knew the Ovaltineys’ song and sang it together every time the programme came on.

Kathy and Barry were pleased the children enjoyed the wireless so much, but its only value to them was to find out what was happening in the world, and they really only listened to the news. Lizzie couldn’t understand it. ‘Why don’t you listen to music like Grandma?’ she said. ‘She likes the BBC Variety Orchestra and Victor Sylvester, but Carmel likes Tune In from Radio Luxemburg with Jack Payne and his band better. They’re good, Mammy.’

‘I haven’t time to listen to music,’ Kathy said dismissively.

Lizzie knew she made time to listen to the news all right and that was deadly boring. It was very puzzling altogether.

What wasn’t puzzling was when her cousin Sheelagh, catty as normal, attacked her one day as the children were playing in the street together.

‘My mammy says your daddy’s a warmonger,’ she said.

‘He is not.’ Lizzie didn’t know what a warmonger was, but it didn’t sound very nice.

‘He is. She says he likes going round scaring people.’

‘He doesn’t, and anyway he doesn’t scare people.’

‘He might, going round saying there’s going to be a war all the time,’ Sheelagh said. ‘My mammy says people like him should be locked up.’

Lizzie bounced on the pavement in temper. ‘Don’t you dare say that about my daddy.’

‘I can say what I like, it’s a free country.’

‘I hate you, Sheelagh Sullivan.’

‘I’ve always hated you, Lizzie up-the-pole O’Malley, and you’re stupid and so’s your precious daddy.’

The slap took Sheelagh by surprise, and she staggered back holding her hand to her face, where the mark of Lizzie’s fingers showed scarlet streaks on her pale cheek. ‘You! You…!’ she screamed, as angry tears spouted out of her eyes. ‘I’m telling me mammy about you.’

Aunt Bridie came round later, shouting about it. Lizzie had slunk home and was buried in a chair with a book, but was yanked out of it by her mother to stand before her furious aunt. ‘Auntie Bridie says you slapped Sheelagh across the face,’ Kathy accused her.

Lizzie was silent, and Bridie said angrily, ‘Insolent little sod. Answer when you’re spoken to.’

‘I’ll deal with this,’ Kathy snapped, tight-lipped, and then she went for Lizzie herself. ‘Well, did you, or didn’t you?’

Lizzie, knowing denial was useless, said, ‘Yes, I did, but she said—’

Her attempt at an explanation was thwarted, for Bridie leapt in. ‘There, what did I tell you? You should see the mark on my Sheelagh’s face. Child should be walloped for that.’

‘How many times have I told you not to fight with Sheelagh?’ Kathy shouted, ignoring Bridie. ‘How many times?’

Lizzie shook her head dumbly, and Kathy grasped her shoulders and shook her soundly. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘maybe this will remind you.’ And she delivered two ringing slaps to the back of Lizzie’s legs. Tears sprang to Lizzie’s eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. She looked defiantly at her Auntie Bridie, but said nothing until Kathy, terrified lest she say anything that would cause her to be punished again, grabbed her and ordered harshly, ‘Go and get into bed. Go on! Before I give you another one, and there’ll be no supper for you tonight.’

Much later, after Lizzie had cried so much her pillow was damp, her father came in with a mug of cocoa and a hunk of bread and jam. ‘I couldn’t have you hungry,’ he said, and though he must have noticed the red-rimmed eyes, he made no comment about them. ‘Want to tell me about it, pet?’

Lizzie nodded and recounted the row to her father, and at the end of it he said, ‘Well, don’t tell your mother, let it be a secret between us two, but I don’t blame you one bit.’

‘You don’t?’

‘No, but next time don’t let her get to you. What is she anyway but a bag of wind?’

‘Oh, Daddy.’ The tears were falling again, and Barry said, ‘No more of that now. Eat up your supper. Danny will be up in a wee while and I’ll tell your mammy you’re sorry, shall I?’

‘You can tell her,’ Lizzie said flatly. ‘But I’m not really.’

Barry winked and said, ‘We’ll keep that a secret too, I think.’

Lizzie wished the priests were like her father, for she imagined that when she told it in confession – because she knew she’d have to tell – they’d take a very dim view of it altogether.

Downstairs, Barry explained to Kathy what the row had been about.

‘Oh, how I hated to smack her,’ Kathy said, ‘and in front of that woman too, but I had to do something. Lizzie admitted hitting the child. If it had been anyone else it wouldn’t have mattered so much.’

‘It wouldn’t happen to anyone else. No one gets our Lizzie going like Sheelagh,’ Barry said. ‘And the child’s got a tongue on her like her mother, but our Lizzie’s sorry now.’

A little later, when Kathy took Danny to bed, she said to Lizzie, ‘Daddy’s told me all about it and we’ll say no more. I’m pleased you’re sorry for what you did. I want you to try not to be such a bold girl in future, will you do that?’

‘Yes, Mammy,’ Lizzie said, and was glad of the dimness of the room that hid her smile.

Czechoslovakia was suddenly the name on everyone’s lips, and some of the family and neighbours came round to the O’Malley house each evening now to listen to the news. Even easy-going Pat and his father, Eamonn, had begun to realise there was reason for concern, as had Michael, now a good friend of Barry’s. Sean was the last of the men in the family to become aware that things were serious, but then his energies and worries were with his wife, Rose, who’d given birth to a little girl in mid-August but hadn’t seemed to pick up as she should have done.

The children were back at school when the news came through about Hitler demanding control of the Sudeten area of Czechoslovakia. He claimed that three and half million German-speaking people there were being discriminated against by the Czech government. Kathy and Barry were by themselves early one evening, and Barry read the news out of the paper as Kathy sat knitting for the new baby, due in November.

‘He might be satisfied with that, then?’ Kathy asked hopefully, but she sensed Barry’s unease.

He gave a grunt of disgust. ‘Satisfied?’ he repeated. ‘He’ll not be happy till he has the whole of Europe. I don’t believe a thing the bugger says, Kathy, and neither should anyone with any sense.’

Chamberlain didn’t share Barry’s views and prevailed on the Czech government to make concessions to prevent a German invasion. When Chamberlain and the French prime minister, Daladier, met with Hitler in Munich on 29 September 1938, they agreed to Germany occupying the Sudetenland after guaranteeing the rest of Czechoslovakia safe from attack.

As Chamberlain arrived back waving his piece of paper and declaring, ‘I believe it is peace for our time,’ many were lulled into a false sense of security that war had been averted. Barry was not one of them.

However, he hadn’t time to worry about it much, for in October, six weeks early, Kathy gave birth to a little boy. He was baptised Seamus and lived only for four days. Kathy was inconsolable for some time and her mother took over caring for her and Barry, as well as the children.

Mary, worried as she was about Kathy, was worried still further by Sean and Rose and their wee girl, Nuala. Then there was Maggie, who, seeing the advantage of her mother’s time and energy being diverted elsewhere, was out till all hours and probably up to God alone knows what mischief with Con Murray.

Only Bridie seemed unaffected by anything. ‘You’d think she’d help a bit,’ Mary complained angrily to Eamonn one night. ‘After all, the weans are off her hands at school all day, and yet never a hand’s turn does she do for anybody.’

‘Ah well, sure, that’s Bridie for you.’

And that was Bridie, that was the trouble, concerned only for her own welfare and that of her children. She was jealous of Kathy and Barry and always had been, and it was all because of their house. Pat and Bridie lived in a communal courtyard, criss-crossed with washing lines. The yard also housed the dustbins, shared toilets and the brew or wash house. Kathy and Barry’s house, on the other hand, opened on to the street, and had two doors, the second one on to the entry that led to the yard Bridie lived in. It had a large cellar lit with gas mantles and a huge white sink underneath a grating with a cold water tap. That tap meant Kathy could do her own washing in her own house. She even had a gas boiler beside the sink to boil the whites, and there was still plenty of room to get the bath down from the hook on the back of the door and fill it up for the children’s weekly bath.

Mary thought them lucky to have the house, but she imagined they’d more than earned it. After their marriage they had lodged there with Barry’s gran, who was the tenant. No sooner were they in than the old lady, seeing someone there to fetch and carry for her, took to her bed, and Kathy had a time of it, especially when she was expecting Lizzie.

Then the old lady became senile and began accusing Kathy of trying to poison her, and yet Kathy didn’t lose patience, telling Mary she was just an old lady terrified of being put in the workhouse. When they got the house afterwards, Mary was pleased for them and Kathy said that in many ways she missed the old lady. Bridie, though, could never be happy for someone else’s good fortune.

Mary sighed. Pat really deserved a medal for putting up with it all the way he did, but just now her energies had to go to Kathy, for the baby’s death had knocked her badly and it was beginning to affect the whole family.

Kathy wouldn’t even go to the bonfire down the yard on Guy Fawkes night, but sat huddled over the fire as if she were cold. She said she didn’t feel up to it. In the end Eamonn went out and bought fireworks for the weans and Mary cooked the sausages to share, as was the custom, and Barry went down to keep an eye on the weans and let off the fireworks.

When they returned, they were sticky, smoke-grimed and tired, but happier than they’d been since their little brother had died. Mary, who’d been keeping Kathy company, decided the time had come for a straight talk with her daughter. When the weans were tucked in bed and Barry dispatched to the pub with the men, she began. ‘Kathy, you can’t grieve forever, love. God knows it’s hard, pet, but you have two other weans to see to.’

‘Lord, don’t I know it!’ Kathy cried. ‘But Mammy, I can’t.’

‘You can and you must,’ Mary said firmly. ‘The weans miss you.’

‘Sure, they have me.’ But they hadn’t, and Kathy knew that as well as her mother. They had a shadow of their old mammy, one with no substance and no life. And as for Barry, as far as Kathy was concerned, he might as well not have existed.

Kathy did try, but it was not until after the start of 1939 that she began to feel anything like herself. Even then she avoided Rose, as looking at the chubby, smiling Nuala was like a dagger in her heart. Danny began school in January, although he wasn’t five until March. She’d hadn’t even to leave him at the school, or collect him. ‘Lizzie’s well able to take him,’ Mary said firmly, and she was right. Lizzie, now turned seven and a half, was proud to take her young brother along Bristol Street and into Bow Street, where the school was.

While the O’Malleys were coming to terms with the loss of their child, the Czechs were just beginning to realise that in agreeing to Hitler’s demands, they had lost seventy per cent of their heavy industry. Slovakia, feeling let down by their government, demanded semi-independence. Fearing a revolt, and with the country in total disarray, President Hacha requested Germany’s help ‘to restore order’. German troops took possession of Czechoslovakia in March 1939. Britain and France complained, but did nothing; Hitler claimed he’d not invaded but been invited in, and turned his attention to Poland and, in particular, the city of Danzig.

Every night Barry would listen to the news reports, usually with Pat, often with young Michael and occasionally with Sean too. For a long time they’d discuss the news items together before dispersing.

No one now tried to convince themselves that the world wasn’t at crisis point. Barry and Michael had been making anti-tank rifles, and now they’d been put on to making Browning 303 machine guns. No one objected to the long hours put in; everyone seemed to realise it was a race against time, and there was a sense of inevitability during the spring and summer of that year.

The summer holidays dawned wet, miserable and dull, but when July gave way to August there was a heat wave and the temperatures were sometimes the highest they’d been for thirty years. ‘I wish we could go to the seaside,’ Lizzie complained one day to Carmel, who agreed. They’d never been but had heard it was grand.

The pavements seemed to radiate the heat, so that it shimmered above them and they were dustier than ever. Lizzie sat on the step and watched three little boys building dust castles, which they then destroyed with their toy cars, making a great deal of noise about it. Others huddled in groups over piles of marbles. One little girl, younger than Lizzie, pushed a pram with a fractious baby inside, while a bit further down the street, two older girls wielded a long, heavy rope while another girl skipped inside the loop. Lizzie wondered how they could be so energetic. She was so hot, her clothes were sticking to her body. ‘If we went to Cannon Hill Park, we could paddle at the sides of the lake,’ she suggested. ‘If Mammy would let us.’

‘We’d have to take Sheelagh and Matt too, at least,’ Carmel said.

‘Couldn’t we go on our own just once?’

‘You know full well we couldn’t.’ Carmel was older and wiser than her niece. ‘Sure, Bridie would play war if she found out.’

Suddenly Lizzie wasn’t sure if she wanted to go, and have Sheelagh goading and sneering at her. She wasn’t sure whether it wasn’t a better prospect to stay in the hot street and swelter. But in the end she went, and her mammy and Auntie Rose went too.

Kathy was also feeling restless and unsettled and a day out with the children was maybe just what she needed. Also she thought she’d ignored Rose’s baby daughter long enough; sure, it wasn’t Rose or Sean’s fault her baby had died.

They sat on a grassy incline overlooking the lake and watched the ducks and swans swimming between the circling rowing boats. The children had stripped to the bare minimum, as had many others, and were squealing and giggling as they played together. Nuala was practising the new art of walking and now and again would tumble over and chuckle to herself.

‘It’s hard to believe dreadful things are going on in other parts of the world on a day like this,’ Kathy remarked.

‘I know Sean’s really worried. Is Barry?’

‘Everyone’s worried. God, Rose, what if war comes and our husbands are called up and there are enemy planes in the sky?’

‘You don’t think it can be averted?’

‘Not now, it’s too late,’ Kathy said. ‘We heard it on the news, Hitler wants the town of Danzig, and if it’s given up to German control he has a corridor straight through to Prussia, cutting off Poland’s access to the sea. I don’t see them agreeing to it, do you?’

Rose shook her head sadly. She looked at her little boy Pete, now a sturdy three-year-old, and Nuala still a baby, and shivered, and yet she believed her sister-in-law. Sean said Barry had a better grasp of the world situation than many of the politicians, which came from all the reading he’d done while he was on the dole.

It was as the women and children made their way home that they came upon men digging trenches. ‘What are they doing?’ Danny asked.

Rose and Kathy exchanged glances. Everyone was aware of the policy of digging trenches in parks and other open spaces; it had been on the news, but to actually see it being done was dreadful.

‘What will they have us do? Cower in the mud like rats?’ Bridie had said scathingly.

‘Well, it will surely be better than nothing if you’re caught in a raid,’ Pat had retorted.

Kathy knew her brother was right and, as war was inevitable, and everyone knew that this time civilians everywhere would be targeted too, she should have felt reassured seeing the trenches being dug. Instead it filled her with dread. But she had to answer her small son. ‘They’re just digging,’ she said shortly.

Danny walked to the rim of the trench to look in. The two men digging were stripped to the waist, their backs gleaming with sweat. One of them grinned up at him and all the children began edging forward to see.

‘Come on now,’ Kathy snapped.

The children, even wee Pete, took no notice and edged closer to look in.

‘Pete,’ Rose called warningly. ‘Come on.’

Pete turned and looked but didn’t move, and when Carmel attempted to pull him towards his mother, he began to shout and struggle.

‘Come away out of that, the lot of you,’ Kathy yelled impatiently, and the children came reluctantly, all except Danny. He continued to stare at one of the men, who suddenly rubbed his dirty hand across his brow. Danny was very envious. He thought it would be great to do work like that – fancy being able to dig all day long!

‘Danny!’

Danny ignored his mother and rubbed his hand across his brow, imitating the man, who leant on his shovel and gave a bellow of laughter.

‘Just a minute, Mammy.’

‘I will not “just a minute”, my lad,’ Kathy said, marching over and grabbing her son by the arm. ‘For once in your life you’ll do as you’re bloody well told.’

‘Ah, missus,’ said the man in the trench, understanding Kathy’s mood far better than Danny did. ‘Let’s hope they’re not needed.’

‘Yes indeed,’ said Kathy, dragging her protesting son away. She couldn’t wait to get them home.

‘Mr Brady came from the school,’ Bridie told Kathy later that night. ‘While you were away at the park.’

‘They’re on holiday, what did he want anyway?’ she asked, surprised. The headmaster had called round: he’d never done such a thing before.

‘He was talking about the evacuation programme.’

‘They’re not being evacuated,’ Kathy said firmly. ‘I talked it over with Barry. I’ve got the cellar and I’m not sending my weans to live with strangers.’

‘Me neither. I told him I’d come into your cellar if there were air raids.’

Kathy knew she would, and however she felt about her sister-in-law, she couldn’t deny her shelter if the bombs came. ‘What did he say?’ she asked.

‘Well, he wasn’t pleased. He said the government wanted to empty the cities of children, but it had to be our decision.’

‘I wonder how many will go,’ Kathy said. ‘I mean, I wonder if they’ll close the school.’

‘Surely to God they can’t do that, they can’t leave our children running mad through the streets.’

‘We’ll have to wait and see,’ Kathy said.

It was Lizzie who brought it up next. ‘Mammy, Maura’s going to the country.’

‘I know.’

‘Can I go?’

‘No you can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because, that’s why,’ Kathy snapped.

‘That’s not a proper answer, Mammy.’

‘Lizzie, do you want a slap?’

Lizzie looked at her mother reproachfully and Kathy reddened. She’d overreacted, surely. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I don’t want you away with strangers. You’re only eight, and Danny’s just five.’

Lizzie looked at her mother and saw her fear, but didn’t fully understand it. She didn’t know what the country was, she’d never been, but Maura had made it sound fun, and she said that if Lizzie stayed at home, she’d be blown up. Lizzie wouldn’t have minded going away for a while – well, as long as it wasn’t for too long and she could look after Danny.

Suddenly she remembered her little brother Seamus; how her mammy had lost him and how ill she’d been over it, and she thought that must be it – she and Danny couldn’t leave their mammy because their baby brother had died. She was even more convinced of it when her mammy put an arm around her and said, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without the pair of you, and that’s God’s truth, especially if your daddy gets called up.’

Then Lizzie knew she had to stay with her mother, and she’d explain it to Danny, and if they were blown up at least they’d be blown up together.

The priest thought that was the reason too. Father Cunningham had been a regular visitor after Seamus died and had eventually encouraged Kathy back to mass. Father Flaherty was a different kind of man altogether, and he sat in the easy chair as if he owned the place, while Kathy ran round feeding him tea and biscuits.

‘I’m glad to see you’re over that other business at last,’ he said.

That other business! He was my son, Kathy thought, but the years of having manners drummed into her held firm, so she said nothing.

‘Now,’ Father Flaherty went on, ‘you must protect the children you have.’

‘I intend to, Father.’

‘Oh, then you’ve changed your mind about evacuation? I was talking to Mr Brady, and he…’

‘No, Father, no I haven’t,’ Kathy said. ‘But you see, I don’t understand how sending them off to live with strangers is any way to be looking after them.’

‘And if the bombs come, what then?’

‘At least we’ll be together, Father, and my weans will have their mammy beside them, not some stranger, however safe the place.’

‘They won’t be alone. Many have chosen to send their children away.’

‘That’s their choice, Father. This is mine and Barry’s.’

‘It’s because of the wee one you lost,’ Father Flaherty said with authority. ‘You’re overprotective of the two you have left. It’s understandable, but you must think of the children, not of yourselves.’

Kathy’s eyes flashed. ‘Father, it really is our business, and why I don’t want them to go is just between me and Barry.’

‘That’s your final word?’

‘It is.’

When the priest had gone, Kathy had set down on a chair, her legs trembling, for she’d never stood up to the man before. She knew he was a priest, but God forgive her, she couldn’t like him, there was something about him that made her skin crawl.

Almost a week later, the lovely weather broke in Birmingham. Thick black clouds had rolled in and the air was heavy. ‘Going to be a storm,’ people said. ‘We need one to clear the air.’ Kathy looked at the purple-tinged sky and agreed. Her head felt muzzy and she knew she’d probably end up with a headache.

But when the storm came, the ferocity and intensity of it shocked everyone. For three hours the lightning flashed and the thunder roared and rumbled. Rain hammered and bounced on the dusty pavements till they gleamed and streamed with water. The newscaster said Staffordshire had had the worst of it, and Kathy looked out at the depth of water outside, far too much for the gurgling gutters to cope with, and felt sorry for those worse off.

The news that night, though, wiped out worries about the weather, for there had been heavy troop movement from Austria to Slovakia and fanning out along the Polish border. Seventy Polish Jewish children arrived in Britain, where they would stay with foster parents until they were eighteen.

‘Poor little devils,’ Kathy said. ‘They’re coming to strange people, strange language and strange ways. It must have been a wrench for the parents, for they might never see them again.’

‘At least this way they’ve got a chance,’ Barry said. ‘Hitler’s record with Jewish people is not good. Oh, and thinking about children reminds me, have you picked up the gas masks yet?’

Kathy flushed. The very thought of putting one of those strange contraptions on her children terrified her. But then she remembered what had happened to her father, his lungs permanently damaged with the mustard gas he’d inhaled in the Great War. She knew she’d have to overcome her fear if there was gas about – to protect her children, at least. ‘In this downpour?’ she said indignantly to cover her unease, and added, ‘I’ll go up tomorrow.’

‘See you do,’ Barry said. ‘It’s as well to be prepared.’

It seemed everyone was getting prepared, for on the news the next day they heard that Paris had begun evacuating people, children first, and the Poles had issued a call-up to all men under forty. At home, the government issued guidelines on what to do in an air raid, black-out restrictions were about to come into force and Kathy and her neighbours were kept busy making shutters and curtains for their windows.

By Thursday, the navy had been mobilised, and working on the assumption that fire could cause as much damage as bombs, people were urged to clear their lofts and attics of junk and keep a bucket of sand or dirt on every landing.

On Friday the children who were being evacuated left from the school. Lizzie went with her mother and Danny to watch them marching out of the playground. In the event there were not many of them, twenty or twenty-five or so, Kathy thought, together with two teachers. The children had haversacks on their backs, or suitcases or carriers in their hands, gas masks in cardboard boxes slung around their necks and labels pinned to their coats. They were singing ‘Run, Rabbit, Run’ and waving and shouting like mad as they got into the waiting buses to take them to Moor Street Station. It all looked tremendous fun. Lizzie wished, just for a moment, that she was going too. But she knew her mammy needed her.

On the news that night, they learnt that German tanks had invaded Poland. The towns of Krakow, Teschan and Katowice were bombed before dawn, and Warsaw suffered a heavy bombardment and had many, many casualties. Chamberlain issued an ultimatum to Hitler to pull out of Poland or face the consequences, but Hitler had not replied.

‘This is it,’ Barry said, and indeed it was. The call-up of men under forty-one would begin immediately and the black-out became law.

‘Bloody right,’ Pat said. ‘They can’t back down now.’

‘Well, why don’t they declare war and be done with it?’ Sean said. ‘Rather than all this pussy-footing around, we should have taken Hitler out long ago.’

‘Oh, listen to the big boys,’ Bridie sneered. ‘Jesus, when they have you all in uniform, you can go over there and show the others how it’s done.’

‘Be quiet, Bridie,’ Pat said quietly.

Bridie bristled. ‘Oh well, if I can’t express an opinion, I’ll be away home.’

‘Ah, stay a while,’ Kathy said. Really she wished Bridie far enough away, but fearing Pat would get the rough edge of her tongue later, she said, ‘Have a drop of tea before you go.’

‘No,’ Bridie said. ‘I’ve got Sadie next door giving an ear to the weans and she likes me to pop in with the news, so I’ll be off now.’ She looked across at Pat and said sharply, ‘And you be in at a reasonable hour.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Pat in a fake American accent, and gave her a salute.

Bridie glared at him and slammed the entry door, and Pat remarked to no one in particular, ‘Should have her in the bloody army, if you ask me. She’d make a good general.’

Kathy spluttered over her tea, but she said nothing. She had wondered if Pat ever got fed up of his wife’s constant carping, but he’d never said anything about her before. Pat met his sister’s eyes over the wireless and smiled at her as he reached for his coat.

‘Are you away?’ Barry asked.

‘Aye, but not home,’ Pat said. ‘Bridie can order all she likes, but I’ll go home when I’m ready. I’m away to The Bell.’

‘Wait,’ Barry said. ‘I’ll come along with you.’ He glanced over at Kathy and said, ‘OK?’

‘Fine, but I’ll likely be in bed when you get in,’ Kathy said. ‘I’m beat.’

‘You on, Sean?’

‘You bet, lead the way.’

When they’d left, Kathy sat thinking. She wasn’t tired really, but she was depressed. She faced the fact that in a day, two days, bombs could be raining down on England’s cities, killing, destroying and maiming. Her husband and brothers would be there in the thick of it, and she began to shake with a fear deeper than any she’d experienced so far.

Saturday’s news bulletin depressed Kathy further. Poland was fighting for its life. Many towns and cities had been attacked, with heavy civilian casualties, and even an evacuation train carrying women and children had been blown up. It seemed no one could stop the German monster sweeping Europe, and Kathy wondered if Britain would be strong enough. The only cheering news was that the Empire was on their side: Australian troops had arrived in Britain, New Zealand had promised support and Canadian forces were being mobilised. A report from the prime minister was promised in the morning.

That night in bed, Barry said, ‘This is it, old girl, you know. After tomorrow, life will never be the same again.’

‘I know.’

‘I knew it was coming, but I wish to God I’d been wrong.’

‘I know that too.’ Kathy gave a sniff.

‘You’re not crying, are you?’

‘A bit,’ Kathy answered with another sniff. ‘Isn’t a war worth crying over?’

Barry gave a laugh. ‘I’m damned if you ain’t right,’ he said. ‘But for now, what are you going to give your husband to make up for the fact he’ll not be sharing your bed for much longer?’

Kathy smiled and said, ‘I’m sure I’ll think of something.’