by Rachel Quinn
‘All right,’ Aileen found herself saying before she could think. ‘Only the once.’
‘Next Saturday?’ he said.
‘Yes. Next Saturday.’
‘Great. I’ll be here at seven, yeah?’
‘Yes. Grand.’
He stepped away and Aileen went inside.
She shut the door behind her and leaned on it, wondering why the heck she’d agreed to see him again.
Mrs McDonald’s head popped around the edge of the door. ‘Did you have a nice time?’ she said.
‘I did, thank you, Mrs McDonald.’
‘And who was the fine gentleman in the uniform?’
‘Oh, he’s just a friend,’ Aileen said. ‘Just a friend.’
Mrs McDonald gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded slowly. ‘Ah, good. That’s good. If he’s a friend you know you’re welcome to invite him in, don’t you?’
‘Thank you, Mrs McDonald. We’ll see.’
The next Monday, Aileen was almost disappointed to find that she’d been moved to another desk, well away from Mary. It was only during the morning tea break that Aileen felt a tap on her shoulder.
‘Coming out for some fresh air, Aileen?’
‘Mary? I’m sorry. They told me to sit here and—’
‘They like to swap us all about. Keeps us from chattering too much. C’mon.’ She hooked her head toward the back door and a few minutes later they were outside and Mary was lighting up a cigarette. She took a long drag and tilted her head back to blow the smoke straight up. ‘Did you get back home all right on Saturday?’ she said.
‘I did.’
‘Good.’
‘And what about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Did you enjoy your evening with Steve?’
‘Ah, I did that, all right.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘Go?’ Another pause to smoke. ‘I spent most of the time in the back of a truck.’
Aileen giggled. ‘Mary, you’re awful bold, so y’are.’
‘Do I shock you?’
‘Ah, no,’ Aileen lied. ‘Sure, it does nobody any harm.’ Except yourself, she wanted to add.
‘What about you? Did Square Marvin take you anywhere nice?’
‘Square Marvin?’
‘That’s what they call him, the rest of the American sailor fellows.’
‘What does that mean?’
Mary shrugged. ‘Boring, I suppose. Did you find him boring?’
‘I didn’t, no. We had a good talk, but I was a little tired so I came home early.’
‘Early?’
‘About eight.’
‘Eight?’ Mary laughed, but with a bitter undertone, Aileen thought. ‘You’re joking.’
‘No, I mean nine – nearer half nine, really.’
‘You don’t know what you missed, girl.’
‘What did I miss?’
Mary lifted her cigarette up a few inches. ‘Twenty of these, some chewing gum, and some prime American beef.’
‘Beef ?’
‘As in flesh.’
Now Aileen couldn’t hide her shock and felt her face warming. Mary clearly noticed the blushing and looked her up and down, her smile only disappearing when her lips locked on to her cigarette.
‘Mary?’ Aileen eventually said.
‘What?’
‘Well, if you don’t mind me asking . . .’
‘C’mon. Spit it out, girl.’
‘Do you do that sort of thing all the time?’
‘Whenever the opportunity arises. And whenever I want to.’
‘Don’t you think . . . perhaps it’s dangerous?’
‘Perhaps danger is exactly what I like.’
‘No, but, I mean, when you go with one of those men, do you, I mean, when you’re alone with him, do you let him . . . ?’
Mary blew out a cloud of smoke and tilted her head toward a rare gleam of sunshine. ‘Like I said, if the opportunity arises and if I want to, then yes.’ She aimed a look at Aileen and shrugged. ‘But not always.’
‘Do your mammy or daddy know what you do?’
‘Well . . .’ Mary smiled, but Aileen thought it a sad smile. ‘Mammy got done by the Blitz, so she did. And Daddy? Well, he might as well have gone with her.’
‘Why’s that?’ Aileen said, immediately regretting it.
‘He got injured. Badly. In the head. Ended up in a special hospital. I visit him when I can, but there’s hardly any point – he hardly knows who I am. The stairs don’t go all the way to the attic, you might say.’
It was a terrible thing to say about your own daddy, Aileen thought, but she also thought better of saying that to Mary. All she said was, ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘So life’s for living. That’s what I tell myself. And I have a good time.’
‘But . . . I know it’s awful about your mammy and daddy, but don’t you worry you’ll never find a husband?’
‘Oh, I already found one of those, all right.’
‘You did? Really?’
‘Yes, really.’ Mary took another few breaths while fixing her gaze to the distance. She gulped and her jaw trembled slightly as she spoke. ‘We were married for seven and a half months. Two hundred and twenty-six days it was; I remember counting them all. And even now I feel as though I can remember every last glorious one of them. He was such a lovely man. William, his name was. Everyone else called him Bill, but I called him Will and he liked that. He bought me flowers every Sunday. Whenever I found something funny and was about to laugh, he got there first, as though God had put the same sense of humour in our heads. And there was never a cross look between us in all that time, never mind a cross word.’
‘So . . . are you still . . . ?’
Mary took a deep breath, her nostrils dilating. ‘I begged him not to go. I’d had this dream a few nights before, but he told me not to be so daft, that he had to go, that it was orders. He told me he’d be back before I knew it.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘Dunkirk.’ She wiped a tear from her cheek and sniffed. ‘Dunkirk happened to him.’
‘Oh, Mary. I’m so sorry. It must have been terrible for you.’
She nodded, and now Aileen saw frown lines on Mary’s face that hadn’t been there before. ‘More than I could describe to you, Aileen. I wanted to die – and I mean really die – for a few weeks, and it was months before . . . I . . .’ She sucked sharply on the cigarette, then dropped it, even though it was only half smoked. ‘C’mon,’ she said. ‘Back to work.’
‘But the whistle hasn’t gone.’
‘C’mon.’ Mary marched back inside.
Chapter 14
25 January 1944
My dearest Aileen,
I’m afraid I can only manage a short letter today. This morning I took my first steps without help and I just had to tell you. Well, I say without help, but in all fairness I’m using crutches. It sounds stupid, but it feels grand just to be able to get around under my own steam. I’m overjoyed, and the doctors say the more walking I do the stronger my bone will get. I do find it tiring though. That’s right, walking twenty yards has me exhausted.
The nurses here are real grand (and pretty, although none of them are as pretty as you).
I feel alive again.
Thank you so much for your last letter. I hope things are still going well for you in Belfast. And good luck with the girl you share a room with. Of course, I don’t know why she’s so quiet, but I think there are a lot of troubled people around these days due to the unpleasantness of the war.
Please remember that I only live for the day I see you again.
Your loving fiancé,
Niall.
Marvin knocked on the front door of the house at exactly seven o’clock. Aileen had come home from work, eaten and was almost ready to go out, but it was then that Mrs McDonald chose to hand her the letter from Niall. It was a short letter, but she’d read it four times, imagining Niall hobbling about and getting bored,
and had lost track of the time.
So it was left to Mrs McDonald to get the door. Marvin stepped inside and held on to his small bunch of flowers for the full eight minutes Aileen kept him waiting. Mrs McDonald remarked how hard it was to get fresh flowers of late, then kept him talking for all of those eight minutes, three times remarking how smart all GIs seemed to be, and so was duly rewarded when the flowers were handed from Marvin to Aileen and then on to her. She was as thrilled as if they’d been bought for her, and left to put them in a vase.
‘You didn’t need to do that,’ Aileen remarked as she and Marvin left the house and headed for the city centre.
Marvin frowned at her.
‘The flowers,’ she said.
‘They were for you.’
Aileen frowned at him. ‘I think we worked that out,’ she said. ‘And thank you, they were lovely, so they were, but I don’t want people getting the wrong idea, especially Mrs McDonald.’
He asked where Aileen wanted to go, and she suggested the Red Lion – the only pub she’d been in before. Soon they were sitting at a table in a darkened corner – Marvin, Aileen, a pint of Guinness and a glass of lemonade.
Marvin took a sip and licked the creamy line from his top lip. ‘So what do you do?’ he said.
‘Do?’ Aileen asked.
‘For a living.’
‘Aren’t I after telling you? I work at the dressings and materials factory.’
‘I meant back home. Back in . . .’ He pulled a crooked face. ‘I’m sorry. I forgot.’
‘Leetown, County Wicklow.’
‘Yeah. What do you do there?’
‘I . . . I don’t do much, to tell you the truth. There aren’t enough jobs to go around. I do a bit of cleaning when I can and help out on farms.’
He laughed as he looked her up and down.
‘Why are you laughing?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I just can’t imagine you as a farmhand.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Well, because you’re far too pretty.’
‘Sure, will you stop that?’ She curled a lip at him in admonishment. ‘Farm work is all there is – harvesting and dealing with animals, usually either the in-end or the out-end, if you know what I mean.’
Marvin almost choked on his second sip of beer, and had to cough a few times to recover. ‘The in-end or the out-end?’ he said, grinning. ‘Did you really say that?’
‘I do what I get paid to do – although I usually get paid in pints of milk or bacon or cuts of beef.’
‘Sounds like a beautiful place, this Leetown.’
‘You should visit, after the war is over.’
‘When you’ve gone back there, you mean?’
‘Preferably,’ she said. ‘Otherwise you won’t be seeing me there because I’ll still be here.’
He stared into space for a moment. ‘I think I follow.’
They talked more about what Marvin had done back in Upstate New York, and what went on in Leetown, but mostly Aileen listened to Marvin talking about how he missed the dairy cattle, apple orchards and vegetable patches of his family farm, and how he would have to stop working once in a while just to admire the sun glinting off the Hudson, a mighty and lazy silver ribbon of a river dotted with steamships at any time of the day. He also bought two more drinks, and Aileen told him about Niall, and how her family weren’t exactly keen on him because he’d joined the British Army, and how they were engaged to be married despite that. Marvin didn’t seem to listen much to that part, and twenty minutes later both glasses were empty again, and Aileen let out a deep breath and smiled at him.
‘Would you like another drink?’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘Thank you, but you could walk me home.’
‘You sure? I could get you something different?’
‘Thank you, but no.’
He nodded. ‘To tell you the truth, I didn’t really want another drink anyway. Come on, I’ll take you home.’
He stood and held up her coat, and after a casual stroll and more talk they reached 22 Kingdom Avenue. There, Marvin pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her. ‘Here,’ he said.
‘Chewing gum?’ she said. ‘I . . . I don’t think I’ve ever tried it.’
‘Well, now’s your chance.’
‘I’ll try it later. But thanks, Marvin. That’s very kind of you.’
He looked over at the house. ‘You gonna invite me in?’
‘I’m a little tired.’ She tried to smile sweetly at him.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Well, okay.’ He shrugged and smiled back, swapping his weight from foot to foot. ‘So I guess this is where we say goodnight,’ he said. ‘Did you have a good time?’
‘I did,’ Aileen said. ‘I enjoyed talking with you.’
‘Perhaps we could do it again.’
‘Perhaps.’
He held an arm around her shoulder and leaned in. Aileen saw his face coming toward her, then felt his lips touch hers and stay there. She pushed him away and made a noise she hoped would put him off. It did.
‘What?’ he said. ‘What is it?’
Aileen gave him a sour look. ‘No, Marvin. Really – I only wanted a bit of company.’
‘I could be company.’
‘I think you know what I mean.’
‘You don’t like me? I thought we were getting on pretty swell.’
Aileen held her hand up to him, the stone of her engagement ring glinting in the moonlight. ‘So you haven’t noticed this? You didn’t hear me talk about Niall?’
He shrugged, his face dropping slightly in disappointment. ‘So you’re engaged? So what?’
‘But . . . I’m engaged. To be married.’
‘Jeez, Aileen. I’m asking you to have a little fun – not to marry me.’
‘But doesn’t it bother you?’
He shrugged. ‘Well, I don’t mind if you don’t.’
Aileen looked up at the square jaw, the bright teeth still peeping through a thin smile, the neatly trimmed hair. Somehow the face didn’t seem quite so handsome now.
‘You know, Marvin, sometimes you’re a lovely man, but I think I do mind.’
Finally, Marvin seemed deflated. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry. I just thought . . .’
‘What, Marvin? What did you think?’
‘If you must know, I thought we were just two lonely souls, miles away from home, trying to make friends.’
‘Perhaps you’re right, Marvin, perhaps you’re right. But we’re clearly from very different parts of the world.’
Aileen turned and strutted to the front door. There were more words from Marvin but she didn’t listen to them. A few seconds later she was standing at the foot of the stairs and could no longer hear his voice. Perhaps she’d been a little harsh, lost her temper with him even. It might just have been his way – how things happened where he came from. Well, at least he was no longer under any illusions.
Aileen’s body jolted at the sight of Mrs McDonald’s head poking out into the hallway.
‘Are you all right, Aileen?’
‘I’m grand, thank you, Mrs McDonald.’
‘You . . . ah . . . you don’t look so well.’
All Aileen could manage was a nod.
‘Listen, Aileen. It’s none of my business, but . . . well, what I mean is, was he a bit brazen with you, this Marvin fellow?’
‘You’re right, Mrs McDonald. It’s none—’ She stopped herself saying it by taking a sharp breath. No, it wasn’t Mrs McDonald’s fault. ‘Thank you for asking,’ she said after calming herself, ‘but I’m grand. Marvin’s just a friend. Well, he was a friend.’
Mrs McDonald’s lips pursed and tightened like a string bag. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Can I get you a cup of hot milk?’
Aileen nodded, and was ushered into the living room.
Thursday came around again, and with it Aileen’s next payday. As soon as she got back to her lodgings she went into the backyard, where Mrs McDonald was busy shovi
ng sheets through a mangle, beads of sweat forming on her brow despite the chilly February air.
‘Mrs McDonald, I need to talk to you.’
‘That’s sounds a little serious, so it does,’ she replied jovially, half laughing as she spoke.
‘It’s about the rent.’
‘Oh.’ Mrs McDonald stood still, holding a sheet. ‘But I’ve told you, there’s no rent to pay.’
‘And I think I should insist. I can afford it. I’m not spending any of the money I’m earning.’
‘Ha! Isn’t that a good thing.’
‘But I’d really prefer to pay you rent.’
‘No. It’s grand. We have the room.’
‘But the heat, the hot water. Even if I only pay for my food.’
For the first time since Aileen had met her, Mrs McDonald’s face was completely devoid of humour or warmth, and it took Aileen aback. Had she offended her? She certainly felt like she’d offended Doreen. Perhaps there was something about Belfast people she’d misunderstood.
Mrs McDonald dropped the sheet she was holding into the wicker basket and stepped toward the door. ‘Let’s go inside. Quick. My Jack is due back soon.’ She gestured to the dining table and both women sat down, Aileen more than a little unsure and starting to regret her approach.
Mrs McDonald’s face was still blank and lifeless. She looked away from Aileen, down to her lap, and drew breath.
‘You won’t remember the Blitz,’ she said.
‘Wasn’t that in London?’
Mrs McDonald’s jowls trembled, and it took a few seconds to get them back under control. ‘We had our own. Perhaps the Germans didn’t want us to feel left out.’ She excused herself and hurriedly fetched a cup of water, sitting and taking a gulp before continuing. ‘Twas soon after Easter, three years back this April. Little Doreen didn’t live here back then; she was at home in Crown Street. But on that day she was out playing in Jubilee Park with her friends, so she was. Others weren’t so lucky.’
As Mrs McDonald steadied herself to continue, Aileen said, ‘You mean . . . her mammy and daddy?’
Mrs McDonald closed her eyes as she spoke. ‘My sister. Her husband. Two sons.’
‘Oh dear, Mrs McDonald. Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize, so I didn’t. Were they all . . . ?’