Читать книгу Love Me Tender - Anne Bennett - Страница 8

After all the storms, Sunday 3 September 1939 dawned sunny and warm, a perfect late summer’s day. Kathy was up early and got breakfast just for Danny, as everyone else would be taking communion. ‘The broadcast is at eleven, isn’t it?’ she asked Barry.

‘Aye, and you can bet every person in this land will be listening in, and we’ll be no exception.’

The church was fuller than usual and Kathy wondered if they were all praying as fervently as she was. Peace was out of the window now, and Kathy sat head in hands, almost overcome with sadness at it all. There was little chattering in the porch that day, everyone wanted to be away home to get the dinner on so they could listen to the broadcast.

Just before it began, Kathy was startled by how still it had become outside. She glanced out of the window. The streets were deserted, no baby cried, no toddler shrieked or chuckled, and no dog barked. Even the children seemed to know what an historic moment it was, for they’d picked up the atmosphere from the seriousness of the adults. So many people were crowded into the O’Malleys’ house that Lizzie and Danny, as usual, had crawled under the table, but even amongst such a mass of people there was an uneasy silence, and Kathy realised she could hear no tram rattling along Bristol Street, nor the drone of the occasional car or the clop of horses’ hooves. It was as if the world was holding its breath, waiting, and then they heard the dreaded words.

‘I am speaking to you from the cabinet room of Ten Downing Street. This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now, no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany.’

For a moment there was silence, and then everyone began speaking at once, saying that it was only to be expected and that the Jerries needed teaching a lesson. Underneath the table, Lizzie told Danny, ‘We’re at war.’

‘What’s that?’

Lizzie wasn’t sure, but no way was she going to admit it. ‘Oh, it means there are lots of soldiers about,’ she said. ‘And guns and bombs and things, and Daddy might have to go away and fight bad people.’

‘Oh,’ said Danny, mightily impressed.

People were dispersing back to their own homes, Lizzie noticed, peeping out from between the chair legs, until there was just Auntie Bridie and Uncle Pat with Sheelagh and Matt between them.

‘Well,’ Pat said, looking across at Barry, ‘I’m away for a pint.’

They exchanged a look that Kathy didn’t really understand then, and Bridie snapped scornfully, ‘Away for a pint? Any excuse for a drink, you. It’s nothing to bloody well celebrate.’

‘Oh, let them go,’ Kathy said despondently. ‘I’m away to Mammy’s anyway. She’ll feel it badly, and Daddy too, with them both remembering the Great War so well. Are you coming?’

Bridie shrugged. ‘Might as well. We won’t see the pair of them till closing time.’

We might, Kathy thought, if you moaned less about it, but she said nothing.

Rose was already at the Sullivans’ house when Kathy arrived with Bridie and the children, Sean having gone with the other men. ‘They called for Michael,’ Mary said. ‘And that bloody Maggie’s slipped out somewhere.’

Only Carmel was left, and she suddenly looked very young and vulnerable. ‘All right?’ Kathy said.

‘I suppose,’ Carmel said uncertainly, with a slight shrug, and then she asked, ‘What’s it all mean, Kathy, will there be bombs and things?’

‘Maybe,’ Kathy said. ‘But don’t worry, you’ve got a stout cellar like ours. We’ll be fine.’

How easy it was, thought Kathy, to reassure children. Not so easy to reassure adults, and she noticed for the first time that her mother’s jet-black hair that she’d passed on to her three daughters and her youngest son was liberally streaked with grey, and deep lines scored her face.

There were tears in Mary’s eyes and Kathy was shocked, for she’d never seen her mother cry before. ‘Ah, Mammy, don’t upset yourself.’

‘What’s the use of crying over it at all?’ Eamonn said, almost roughly. ‘Wasn’t the last one supposed to be the war to end all wars, and what did I get out of it but buggered-up lungs and a partitioned Ireland?’

Kathy felt a lump in her throat. She’d heard this before, but it had never seemed to mean that much. All men of her father’s time would probably feel betrayed, she thought, all those who had fought through the carnage, the blood and the mud of the trenches to make a land fit for heroes. As for the Irish, who had fought in order to obtain home rule for their country, it was even worse, because at the end of it all they’d only gained control of twenty-six of the thirty-two counties.

Disillusioned, and with no wish to return to his native soil, for his home in Beleek, Fermanagh, was still under British rule, Eamonn Sullivan and his wife Mary had settled with their two sons and one daughter in Edgbaston, Birmingham. His chest had a constant wheeze and rattle and he could do little without getting breathless. Kathy had never worried much about it; it had been like that all the years of her growing up. Once she’d asked her mother what was wrong with her daddy and had been told that the unit he was in had been gassed in the war, and that it had wrecked his lungs.

Mary knew that Eamonn, fit only for light duties, would have found it hard getting a job in that bleak time if it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d saved an officer’s life in France in 1915 by dragging him across the sludge of Flanders to the relative safety of a dugout. The injured officer had proved to be the son of the owner of a small button factory, based in Duddeston, a Mr Charles Sallenger.

Sallenger had sent five sons to the front, and one by one they’d all died, except for the youngest, Henry, saved by the young Irishman. The man’s gratitude was sincere and touching, and when Henry explained about Eamonn’s lungs, eaten away with gas, he was given a light job and knew he was set for life, and all because he’d been in the right place at the right time.

Now, however, Eamonn felt old and tired, and he looked it. Kathy was quite worried about him. Like Mary, his hair – or at least the bits he still had at the sides – was grey; the only trouble was, his face was the same colour, and he had deep pouches under his eyes, while the skin on his cheeks and around his mouth had begun to sag.

‘Didn’t you fancy a pint, Daddy?’ she asked softly.

‘No, child, I’d be no company for anyone this day,’ Eamonn said sadly. ‘I let the young ones go.’

‘Don’t need much of an excuse, do they?’ Bridie said with a nod at Kathy. ‘Any excuse for a drink.’

‘They’ll be talking over the declaration from this morning,’ Kathy said. ‘It’s what they always do, you know that.’

‘Talking, my arse. Tipping it down their necks, more like.’

‘Oh, Bridie, give over,’ Kathy said. ‘We’ve a lot to be thankful for in our husbands.’

‘Speak for your bloody self.’

Stung at the implied criticism of her favourite brother, Kathy snapped, ‘Pat’s a good man and a good provider. I don’t know why you’re always on at him.’

‘Oh, of course, you won’t hear a bloody word against him, will you?’ Bridie said. ‘Bloody saint, your Pat.’

‘That will do!’ Eamonn said. ‘Haven’t we enough troubles facing us without turning on one another?’

‘I’ll make a drop of tea,’ Mary said. ‘Sure, the news is enough to make anyone a bit edgy.’

Kathy glared at her sister-in-law, but didn’t reply. She wished Maggie was in, and wondered where she’d gone, for between them they could have lightened the atmosphere that grew stiffer and stiffer as they sat together, almost in silence. Carmel was too young and her father too saddened by the news.

None of the children had spoken, and Lizzie had sidled up to Carmel. She liked to have someone at her back when Sheelagh was in the room, or in fact anywhere near her at all. Sheelagh put out her tongue as she passed and Lizzie elected not to see it, though her hands tightened into fists. If she ever hit Sheelagh again, she thought, she’d make a better job of it and really hurt her, and she reckoned it would be worth having the legs smacked off her afterwards.

Mary had just come up the cellar steps with the tray when the front door opened and the men almost fell into the room. At first Kathy thought they were drunk, but there was no smell of alcohol and she realised it was a forced gaiety, and yet she could also feel the exhilaration flowing through them all. Suddenly she knew what they’d done and understood the look that had passed between Barry and Pat earlier that day. Yet still she asked, ‘What is it?’

‘We’ve enlisted.’

‘You have, begod!’ The exclamation was torn from Eamonn. Mary stood with the tray in her hands, staring at them.

‘We wanted to be together,’ Barry exclaimed, and crossed to Kathy. ‘I’m sorry, love, we agreed between ourselves to say nothing till it was done.’

Kathy felt the tears in her eyes, but held them back. She knew they didn’t have to join up at all, being Irish citizens, but all she said was, ‘It’s probably better this way.’

‘Not Michael,’ Mary said, and she turned to her youngest son. ‘Not you?’

‘Aye, me and all, Ma.’

‘But you’re not eighteen yet, you’re too young.’ Mary’s complaint was almost a moan.

‘I’ll be eighteen in January, Ma,’ Michael said. ‘Ah, don’t cry, I had to do it.’ He crossed to his mother, took the tray from her and placed it on a table, then put his arm around her shaking shoulders.

‘We’ll look after him, Ma,’ Pat promised. ‘We’re all in the Royal Warwickshire Fusiliers and we can look out for one another.’

‘You knew what they’d do,’ Eamonn said. ‘They made no secret of it.’

‘Course they didn’t,’ Bridie snapped. ‘They couldn’t wait to get into uniform and be given guns to play with.’

‘Shut your mouth,’ Eamonn snapped, and the family was shocked into silence, but it was to Bridie he spoke. ‘You know nothing about it,’ he said, ‘and I hope you never will, but there’s no playing in war.’

Bridie said nothing. Eamonn had never spoken to her like that before and she was shaken. Perhaps she might have retaliated, but before she had a chance Pat said, ‘Someone else enlisted with us today too. He’s waiting outside.’ He opened the door and Maggie came in, leading Con Murray by the hand.

‘He enlisted, Daddy, like he said he would,’ Maggie cried. ‘Like he would have got a decent job if there had been any to be had. Now will you let us bloody well get married?’

Eamonn looked at the man before him whom he’d previously dismissed and refused even to talk to, and liked what he saw. Con’s face wasn’t exactly a handsome one, but it was open and, for all his shady dealings, looked trustworthy and honest. His eyes were clear blue and his hair was almost blond, he had a wide mouth and a determined set to his jaw, and one hand was holding Maggie’s as if it belonged there. Certainly, Eamonn thought, the fact that the lad had enlisted put a different complexion on matters. ‘Well, young man?’ he said.

Con stepped forward and grasped Eamonn’s hand. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, sir, and I hope you will allow Maggie to become my wife.’

Mary had tears in her eyes again, and the room was so blurred she couldn’t see, but she knew from Eamonn’s voice that he was moved, as he said gruffly, ‘Well now, I see no reason why not, but it will have to be done speedily. We must remember that your time is not your own any more, so we’ll have to see about it without delay.’

Con swept Maggie into his arms and a cheer went up from the men. ‘Stupid bloody sod,’ Bridie said, but only Kathy heard; everyone else was too busy congratulating the young couple and welcoming Con to the family, while Maggie was kissing her parents and expressing her thanks.

Eventually Eamonn said, ‘I have a bottle of ten-year-old malt put away for just such an occasion, and we’ll drink a toast to the young couple and a speedy outcome to the God-awful mess the world is in.’

‘I have tea,’ Mary said.

‘Ach, tea, what good’s that, woman?’ Eamonn said. ‘Sure, this is a celebration.’

As the glasses were raised a little later, Kathy’s silent prayer was, ‘Keep them safe, God, please, bring them all home safe,’ and she caught her mother’s eye and knew her sentiments would be exactly the same.

Lizzie missed her father greatly, and the man who came home on a week’s leave in October didn’t seem like her daddy at all. He was dressed all in khaki that was rough against her legs when he pulled her against him. ‘How’s my little girl then?’ he said, and she wanted to put her arms around his neck and sob into his shoulder because she was scared that everything had changed in her young life, and yet she said nothing, knowing without being told that she shouldn’t spoil her daddy’s leave with a list of complaints.

The second day of the leave was Con and Maggie’s wedding day, which both were anxious to have finalised before Con went overseas. Lizzie was quite disappointed in the sober cream suit Maggie wore, though she had to admit it looked good on her as she walked down the aisle of St Catherine’s Church on Eamonn’s arm. She’d expected a long, flowing white dress, but her mother said there wasn’t time to go to so much trouble and anyway it wasn’t right in wartime.

It seemed the war affected everything. The local pub, The Bell, put on a spread for the few friends and family who called to wish the couple well, and the landlord Johnny McEvoy said it was the least he could do.

No one could deny Maggie’s happiness, Kathy thought; it shone out of her and affected everyone, even Mary and Eamonn, who’d have liked their girl to have had a better send-off. Con went round with a proud smile on his face and his eyes followed Maggie’s every move.

There was no time or money for a honeymoon, but the newly-weds had one night together in a hotel. After that, it was back to Mary and Eamonn’s, for all had agreed there was no point in Maggie looking for her own place until the war should be over and Con discharged. However, for the duration of the rest of his leave, Michael and Carmel lodged with Kathy so that Con and Maggie could have the attic bedroom to themselves.

Lizzie loved having Carmel share her room and wished she could do it all the time; it was like having an older sister. Carmel was thirteen now and anxious to be leaving school in the spring. ‘What will you do?’ Lizzie asked, and Carmel shrugged.

‘I’m not sure, but anything has got to be better than school, hasn’t it?’

Lizzie liked school, but answered, ‘Oh, yes.’

‘Since the war’s been declared there’s more choice,’ Carmel said.

‘Is there?’ That was the first Lizzie had heard of the war being good news for anyone.

‘You bet,’ Carmel said emphatically. ‘My friend’s sister is making munitions, that’s where the money is. She’s making a packet.’

‘Gosh.’

‘Shame you’re so young, really,’ Carmel said a little disparagingly. ‘The war will be over before you grow up.’

Lizzie remembered all the men going off to fight and thought she hoped it would, but said nothing. ‘March next year I’m off,’ Carmel went on. ‘I’ll be fourteen then.’ She sat up in the bed she was sharing with her niece and squeezed her knees tight in excitement as she said, ‘Just over four months. Ooh, I can hardly wait.’

They heard the footsteps on the stairs and quickly lay down in the bed again, thinking it was Kathy or Barry come to scold, but it was only Michael, who was also sharing the bedroom. ‘You two still awake?’ he said quietly, to avoid waking the sleeping Danny.

The two girls kept their eyes closed and pretended to be asleep, and Michael chuckled. ‘Don’t be codding on,’ he said. ‘We could hear you talking and giggling downstairs. Kathy was for coming up, she thought you’d wake Danny.’

Lizzie opened her eyes and looked at her uncle. ‘Danny never wakes,’ she said. ‘He’d sleep through an earthquake; he’s boring.’

‘Maybe he thinks bed’s the place for sleeping,’ Michael said, his voice muffled by the curtain Barry had set up for him to change behind.

‘That’s what I mean, he’s boring,’ Lizzie said.

Carmel put in, ‘You can’t expect our Michael to understand that, he’s just a man,’ and Michael’s throaty chuckle was the last thing Lizzie remembered about Maggie’s wedding day.

The five-day leave was almost over before Barry talked to Kathy about the war, not wanting to spoil their time together before. They were by themselves for once. Carmel had returned home; Sean and Pat were with their own wives and children; Con, Maggie and Michael were about their own concerns, and Barry was grateful for it. ‘I think it’s the big push for us when we go back,’ he said.

‘You mean overseas? France?’

‘I can’t be sure, but it’s odd to have a week’s leave like this, and rumours are flying about everywhere,’ Barry said.

‘It’s so soon,’ Kathy said.

‘Hitler’s hardly likely to wait around while we go through a six-month training period.’

‘I know that.’

‘And they’ve been putting us through it, I can tell you,’ Barry said.

‘You’re looking forward to it,’ Kathy said accusingly, looking at Barry’s excited face.

‘Partly,’ Barry admitted. ‘After all, it’s what I joined up for, and it’s nice we’ll be going together, wherever we end up.’

‘Pat seems a bit quiet,’ Kathy said. ‘Is he all right?’

‘That’s Bridie, I think,’ Barry said. ‘Putting him down all the time. He’s different at the barracks, life and soul. Very popular bloke.’

Something in Barry’s tone alarmed Kathy, and she asked, ‘He isn’t…you know…like, cheating on her or anything?’

Barry didn’t answer. Instead he dropped his eyes from Kathy’s and said, ‘She hasn’t let him near her for years, you know, not since she had Matt. Many a man would have insisted, a bloke can be too easy-going. Well now, if he is seeking comfort elsewhere, Bridie only has herself to blame. He’s flesh and blood same as the rest of us. Mind,’ he went on, ‘I don’t know that he is, not for certain, and I don’t ask, but there’s plenty of girls who would be only too happy to…well, you know. Like I said, he’s popular. You’d have to go a long way to find another like Pat.’

Didn’t Kathy know it; she couldn’t blame him, and God alone knew he needed a medal for putting up with Bridie. Barry was right, a man could be too easy-going; another man would have given Bridie many a clout for half the things Kathy had heard her say to Pat. She didn’t doubt what Barry had told her about Pat and Bridie’s sex life, for hadn’t Bridie said the same to her? But God, wasn’t she a stupid fool denying her husband, and it was a sin too. Many would have had the priest to see her by now, but Pat likely wouldn’t want to embarrass her like that. Suddenly she gave a huge sigh.

‘Come on,’ Barry said, pulling her to her feet. ‘Stop worrying about Pat. Worry about me for a change. I’ll be away in the morning, so I want something to remember in the weeks ahead.’

‘Oh, maybe I’ll say I’m not in the mood, like Bridie,’ Kathy said with a smile.

‘Try it, my girl, and I’ll have you across my shoulder and carry you to bed, where I’ll insist you carry out your wifely duty,’ Barry told her with mock severity. ‘I’m no Pat Sullivan.’

Lizzie heard them later, going laughing up the stairs. She was glad they were friends, but somehow it made her feel more lonely than ever. She knew her father would be gone in the morning and she hadn’t told him how she felt, and she’d not get the chance again.

With Maura Mahon and a couple of Lizzie’s other friends either evacuated with the school or sent away privately to relations and friends, Sheelagh was the only one near Lizzie’s age in the road, and so they were always being grouped together. Sheelagh never seemed to mind, and Lizzie thought she derived malicious pleasure from having someone to taunt and make fun of all the way to school in the morning and back in the evening. She’d go round in the playground with gangs whose aim in life was to harass Lizzie O’Malley. They thought her fair game, being a year younger, and singled her out mercilessly.

Lizzie, depressed and miserable, considered complaining to her mother, but she’d probably think she was making something out of nothing and say Sheelagh was just having a game, and it wasn’t as if they ever did anything.

Anyway, she knew that she couldn’t worry her mother, however bad it got; she already had enough on her plate, without Lizzie adding to it. Barry had asked Kathy to keep an eye on his own mother, Molly O’Malley. She was a widow with no daughters, and none of Barry’s three brothers were married, but all of them were overseas, so Kathy felt in some way responsible for her. She didn’t live far from the O’Malley home, just at the top end of Grant Street, and Kathy had no objections to looking out for her.

‘She’s bound to feel it,’ Barry had said. ‘Especially with us all gone,’ and she did, for Kathy said she was a bag of nerves worrying about them all and she made a point of going up to Grant Street a couple of times a week. Kathy’s father was fire-watching too, and that was another cause for concern, for Lizzie knew her grandad’s chest was terrible.

Then there was the black-out, which had to be fixed to every window before the gas could be lit and the ARP wardens parading outside to see it was done properly. Lizzie hated the black drapes at the living-room windows and the black shutters on the bedrooms. They made her feel closed in and uneasy, but her mammy said it had to be done.

And in addition to all this, October had been particularly cold and dismal, and after a warm September it was hard to take. Then November proved to be the same, with biting winds driving the sharp spears of rain bouncing on to the grey pavements. And in the cold and the rain the Royal Warwickshire Fusiliers were part of the British Expeditionary Force that headed for France.

Then December was upon them, and there was also talk of rationing being introduced just after Christmas. Kathy was worried about how they’d cope. ‘Same as everyone else, I suppose,’ Bridie said gloomily one day, and added, ‘I suppose our soldiers will be fed all right and it won’t matter if the rest of us starve.’

‘I don’t think it will come to that,’ Kathy said. ‘And at least with rationing it will be fair; rich or poor will all have the same.’

‘Huh, we’ll see.’

Kathy couldn’t make Bridie out; she never seemed happy about anything or anyone. She decided to change the subject. ‘Have you heard from Pat at all?’ she said.

‘Aye, though he never has much to say.’

‘Their letters are censored, I suppose,’ Kathy said. ‘Though Barry is usually able to drag up something to amuse the weans.’

‘He writes to the weans?’

‘Aye, he always includes a wee note, you know. They miss him so much, especially Lizzie.’

Bridie gave a snort of disgust and said, ‘If you ask me, he spoils that girl.’

‘I didn’t ask you.’

‘Well, if I can’t express an opinion…’ said Bridie, rising to her feet.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Kathy. ‘I’m all on edge, worry I suppose, and with Christmas nearly on us and hardly anything in the shops it’ll be a lean one this year, and strange without Barry.’

The conversation was cut short by the children bursting through the door, Lizzie dragging Maura Mahon after her. ‘Maura,’ said Kathy, addressing the child in surprise, ‘I thought you were away?’

‘I was, Mrs O’Malley,’ Maura replied. ‘Mammy came to fetch me home. She said there was no point in it.’

‘Your mammy told me you were staying just outside Stratford.’

‘Aye, a tiny wee place called Preston upon Stour.’

‘And did you like it?’

‘No, I didn’t, no one likes it, not even the teachers,’ Maura said vehemently. ‘It was cold and damp all the time and there was nowhere to go and nothing to do.’

‘So the country isn’t nice then?’ Lizzie asked.

‘No it ain’t, it’s blooming awful,’ Maura declared. ‘Mammy says I haven’t to go back.’

Lizzie didn’t care why or how Maura had come back; she was here and that was all that mattered. Her prayers had been answered. Life was almost back to normal again and if only her daddy was home, it would be nearly perfect.

The rationing of basic foodstuffs began on Monday 8 January that year, with every person allowed four ounces each of bacon, sugar and butter per week. Kathy knew it was only the beginning, and she wondered how she would stretch it all to last. She herself was allowed extras like orange juice, cod liver oil and vitamins, because she was pregnant again. She was glad in a way because she still pined for the baby she’d lost, but her pleasure in a new life beginning inside her was tinged with trepidation. She thought back to her last pregnancy, which had been trouble free at first. There had been no reason at all for her little son Seamus to be born so prematurely. ‘Just one of those things,’ the doctors had told her, which was no help at all. She was terrified of it happening again and this time Barry wouldn’t be there beside her either. But then it was no use worrying. Weren’t they all in God’s hand at the end of all? And yet another mouth to feed on army pay would not be easy. Barry had earned good money making guns at BSA, especially with the overtime he was almost forced to work, but now, as a serving soldier, his pay was substantially reduced and Kathy was glad she’d been prudent enough to save some of his earnings in the post office. Eamonn said it was scandalous that men fighting for their country were so undervalued, but nothing could be done.

Kathy was amazed and pleased to find that both Rose and Maggie were pregnant too, all three babies due in late July. Sharing their pregnancy pulled them closer together, but Bridie, as soon as she discovered it, would be ready with the cutting remarks Kathy knew only too well. She found out one day in late January when they were all together in Mary’s house and she overheard Kathy discussing morning sickness with Rose.

‘God in heaven!’ she exclaimed. ‘Are you on again?’

Kathy stared at her sister-in-law. Though she’d told Rose and Maggie and her parents, she’d dreaded telling Bridie. ‘Aye, aye I am,’ she said, almost defiantly.

‘Well, what kind of a bloody fool are you?’ Bridie burst out. ‘Christ, as if you haven’t enough on your plate.’

‘I’m only having a baby, for heaven’s sake, like plenty more.’

‘Aye, and there’s a war on, in case you haven’t noticed.’

‘Leave her be,’ Rose said. ‘Like Kathy said, she’s not the only one.’

‘Not you and all,’ Bridie exclaimed. ‘Mother of God, what’s the matter with the pair of you? And as for you,’ she said, addressing Rose directly, ‘what are you trying to do, populate the whole of the bleeding earth by yourself? I mean, Pete’s only three and Nuala just a baby herself.’ She shrugged and went on. ‘Well, if you want to go through life with a clutch of children hanging on to your skirt, that’s your look-out.’

‘That’s right, it’s our business,’ Maggie broke in. ‘You live your life and we’ll live ours. And you might as well know, I’m expecting as well, so what are you going to say to me?’

Bridie gave a mirthless laugh and said, ‘Well, all I’ll say is that your old man must have plenty of lead in his pencil.’

‘Bridie!’ Mary cried. ‘Less of that talk.’

But Bridie wasn’t finished. ‘Unless, of course, the wedding was rushed forward for a reason.’

‘You malicious cow!’ Maggie cried. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, let me tell you, my baby is due on the thirtieth of July. Not everyone’s the same as you, you know.’

‘What d’you mean?’ Bridie snapped.

‘Well you didn’t wait till the ring was on your finger, did you?’

Bridie was white with fury. The reason for her rushed marriage had been covered up and Maggie had only been a child then, so it must have been discussed by them all since. She glared over at Kathy and Maggie cried, ‘Don’t be blaming anyone, Bridie. No one said a word to me, but I’m not stupid. I was eleven years old and well able to count to nine, but you’d only been married six months when Sheelagh appeared. Now treat me like a bloody simpleton why don’t you, and tell me she was premature?’

‘Come on now,’ Mary said, flustered by the way the whole conversation was going. ‘Let’s not have all this snapping and snarling at one another, but save our bad temper for the enemy.’

Bridie for once had nothing to say. She threw them all a look of pure hatred and flounced out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Later, Mary said to Kathy, ‘I wonder if she’s jealous of you all. I mean, there’s been no sign since young Matt. Maybe she wants one herself and that’s what makes her so crabby at times.’

‘I think she was just born that way, Mammy,’ Kathy said. She thought over what Barry had told her before he left and went on, ‘and I don’t think she wants any more but the two she has, not really.’

A few months later, the three expectant mothers listened, horrified, to the news that Hitler had invaded France, not through the Maginot Line that the French had thought impregnable, but through Belgium. German paratroopers had blasted their way through the Belgian defences, and the road through the country lay wide open.

It soon became clear that many soldiers of the British Expeditionary Force were trapped on the shores of France, and when the news finally broke on 31 May, Operation Dynamo was revealed. Many small, privately owned boats of all shapes and sizes were pressed into service to run a shuttle service from the beaches of Dunkirk to the ships forced to lie offshore in deeper water, battling under heavy bombardment to lift as many men as possible to safety.

Kathy listened to every news report and scoured the papers, and prayed like she’d never prayed before. Her prayers were partially answered, for in early June she got a letter saying that Barry was in a military hospital on the south coast. Her relief was short-lived though, for only minutes later Bridie arrived wailing at the door, waving a telegram in her hand and crying that Pat was missing, presumed dead.

Kathy, though bitterly upset over the news about Pat, was nevertheless determined to see Barry and check he was all right. Her parents thought it was the last thing on earth she should do. ‘They’ll transfer him nearer later,’ Mary said.

‘I don’t want to wait till later. I must see him now and at least know he’s all right. Maybe he has some news of the others.’

‘Cutie, dear, think about it,’ Mary said. ‘Traipsing the country in your condition isn’t wise or sensible. God above, look what happened to wee Seamus.’

‘You’re taking a big risk, Kathy,’ Eamonn said, agreeing with his wife.

Kathy knew she was taking a big risk and her parents were justified in their concern – and she knew this headlong dash she was determined on could bring about the very thing she dreaded: a premature birth. But the urge to see Barry and reassure herself overrode her other fears. ‘I can’t just sit here fretting over him. I’ll go mad,’ she cried. ‘One way or the other, I’m going to make it to that south coast hospital as soon as is humanly possible. And what if he has news of Con, or Michael or Sean,’ she went on. ‘Don’t tell me you’re not as worried sick about them as I am?’ She looked at her parents, their faces creased and lined with anxiety and said more gently, ‘I’m going. Sensible or not, I’m going. Will you mind the weans for me?’

‘Aye, surely we will,’ Mary said. ‘You don’t have to ask, if you’re determined to go.’

‘I’m determined well enough,’ Kathy said. ‘And I’m away now to tell his mother, give her the good news that Barry is alive.’

‘Aye, poor soul,’ said Mary with feeling. ‘She’ll need something to hang on to, with the telegrams she had the other day. Lord, to hear of two sons killed in one day is hard to take.’

‘Och, woman, don’t be so daft,’ snapped Eamonn. ‘It doesn’t matter a damn when you hear it; to lose two sons would rip the heart out of you.’

The room fell silent and all had the same thought. The only one of the family they were sure about was Barry, and he was in hospital with God alone knew what injuries. Pat was missing, and of Sean, Michael or Con there was no news. They could all be casualties of this war, Kathy thought.

But Barry was alive, she told herself, and she held on to that thought. Nothing else mattered at that moment. She knew she wouldn’t rest until she saw him for herself. She needed to hold him close and tell herself that he was alive and going to stay that way.