Martha's Girls

by Alrene Hughes

‘God Irene, we were foundered, the temperature was below freezin’. I’d only a wee cotton dress on under me coat, thinkin’ I was goin’ te be in a bar or the Plaza all night.’

  ‘Myrtle! Will you tell me what happened?’

  ‘All right, keep your hair on! We waited ‘til nine, then me and Robert went for a drink, hot whiskey and lemon to warm us up. Sandy said he would wait a wee bit longer. Well it was all right for him, sure he had his big RAF overcoat on him.’

  ‘Is that it? Did he say anything about me?’

  ‘Not much. Then when we were goin’, I says te him do ye want me te ask Irene to write to you? I told him, something’s happened, Irene wouldn’t just not turn up.’

  ‘No, says he. And I’m thinking is that no, he doesn’t want you to write, or is he agreeing with me that you’re not the sort of girl who leaves a man who’s come a long way to see her on New Year’s Eve standing like an eejit outside the City Hall.’ Myrtle paused to draw breath.

  ‘So does he want me to write to him or not?’

  ‘God knows. I says te Robert come on then, let’s get a drink inside us before it’s 1941 and we’re still sober.’

  ‘Myrtle!’ screamed Irene.

  ‘Ach, sure why don’t you write te him anyway. He can ignore it if he wants.’

  *

  When Irene arrived home after work that evening she was horrified to see Ted Grimes in the kitchen drinking tea with her mother. They immediately stopped talking when she walked in. She ignored them both and went through into the front room intending to go to her bedroom, but at the foot of the stairs she stopped and quietly retraced her steps.

  ‘I’m telling ye, Martha, you’ve got to get a grip on those girls of yours. There’s no father to keep them in line. It’s you that’s got to impose some discipline.’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know that? I do my best with them, but they’re growing up. They’re young women now. I can’t lock them up in the house, even though manys the time I wish I could.’

  ‘Bad company, Martha, that’s what I’m talking about. It’s the undoing of many a girl, believe you me!’

  Martha stifled a cry and Irene could stand it no longer. She opened the door and went straight to Ted Grimes. ‘How dare you come in here telling tales and upsetting Mammy. It was bad enough that you tried to frighten me. You won’t get away with doing it to her as well!’

  He pushed back his chair and drew himself up to his full intimidating height. ‘Now listen here, young madam, you’re a disgrace that’s what ye are and if ye were mine I’d give ye a good hidin’!’

  Suddenly Martha was on her feet. ‘Ted, no one speaks to my daughter like that. You’re a grown man, an RUC officer, what are you doing frightening women? You come in here standing in moral judgement on us: how I bring up my children; how they conduct themselves. I won’t have it in my house. Now you get your belongings and leave.’

  Ted took his time placing the cap on his head, pulling down the peak.

  ‘Goodnight to you, Martha,’ he said and without another word went out the door.

  The two women breathed hard controlling their tempers. Each struggled to find appropriate words to begin to unravel what had just happened. In the end they both spoke at once.

  ‘What have you—’

  ‘I didn’t do—’

  ‘Irene, so help me, if you’ve been doing anything to let me down …’

  ‘I haven’t, Mammy, honest I haven’t.’

  ‘I’ll take my hand to you, don’t think I won’t! Now you’d better tell me what this is all about.’

  Irene wanted to tell her Ted Grimes had been reading her letters, to somehow put the blame on him, but then she’d have to explain about Sean and that would connect her with someone wanted by the police and suddenly Ted would look like a caring friend. No, she’d been secretive and underhand and her mother would surely blame her for that. But she’d done nothing bad, had she? She’d helped Theresa, her friend, how could that be wrong? Sean hadn’t killed the policeman of that she was certain and so she’d helped an innocent man evade capture. Her conscience was clear.

  ‘Mammy, I’m not going to explain everything that happened, it would mean betraying someone who’s a good person even if Mr Grimes says they aren’t. You’ve always taught us right from wrong and I’m telling you I haven’t done anything wrong. Please trust me, Mammy, and believe me it’s really important.’

  ‘Is this to do with you and the airman?’

  ‘No it isn’t.’

  ‘Have I your word that you’ll never do anything like this again?’

  ‘You have.’

  ‘And what about Ted Grimes?’

  ‘He’s a bully and he frightens me and I’ll never speak to him again.’

  Martha looked at her eldest daughter and knew full well her capacity for kindness and common sense. She nodded.

  ‘Then neither will I.’

  *

  ‘Here we are. This is it, Peggy, what do you think?’ Harry pulled up outside a boarded-up shop just past the Crumlin Road jail.

  ‘It’s not very big is it?’ said Peggy, her face revealing a distinct lack of interest.

  ‘No, but it’s deceptive so it is. It goes right back, plenty of room for ovens and everything we’ll need. Come on, I’ll show you.’ He was out of the car in a moment and round her side opening the door and helping her out. He jangled a bunch of keys and made for the shop. Peggy hung back looking up at the building, then she widened her gaze taking in the decrepit surroundings.

  ‘Right Peggy, do you want lifting over the threshold,’ he joked. She gave him a withering look and stepped inside. It was filthy and stale smelling. It had been a bakery; there was a counter, display cases and wooden shelves just the right size for loaves. On the walls were faded posters for Rank flour and Tate and Lyle sugar.

  ‘Do you see the possibilities, Peggy, do you?’

  She looked at the cobwebs spanning the ceiling corners and shuddered to think what made the floor gritty underfoot, but still she said nothing.

  ‘Come on through here to the bakery. You’ll be amazed at the size of it.’

  There was a row of ancient ovens along one wall and racks of shelving. A large work table stood in the middle of the room, some stairs led to a second floor.

  ‘We won’t go up, they’re a wee bit rickety. Now I think we could fit this out with modern equipment and do it all up so it’s nice and fresh looking. Same out the front of the shop and get a nice sign up above, ‘Ferguson Family Bakers established 1941’. What do you think, Peggy, eh?’ She wandered around the back room then into the shop again with Harry chatting all the while.

  ‘I think for three hundred pounds we could buy this and turn it into a wee goldmine. There’s no other bakery around here and there’s plenty of houses down all these streets, hundreds of families wanting bread every day. We can’t go wrong. Eh, Peggy, what do you think? You remember Dessie we met at the dinner dance on Christmas Eve? Well, he’d be interested in lending us the money to set up here.’

  ‘Dessie? I thought you said he was a chancer.’ Peggy had moved to the open door and stood looking into the road. ‘And I suppose that’s his car you’ve borrowed.’

  ‘Ach he’s all right. He’s plenty of money. I’ve done many a job for him, never let him down. He’d trust me to pay him back. Mind you we’d have to work hard. I’d be up from four in the morning baking the bread and then I could do a few cakes, provided I could get the sugar, maybe some gravy rings, Paris buns, wee Victoria sponges. Things like that would sell well round here. Then you’d open up at eight, we’d close at six.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Aye, we’ll close at six, try and catch people needing bread for their tea.’

  ‘You said I’d open up at eight.’

  ‘Well, I’ll still be busy in the back for a few hours.’

  ‘You want me to serve in this shop?’

  ‘That’s what we agreed, didn’t we? Sure you’ve the experience.’<
br />
  Peggy looked at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. ‘If you think I’m going from working in a music shop on Royal Avenue to a pokey wee bakery on the Crumlin Road you’ve got another think coming. I wouldn’t work here if you and Dessie paid me ten pounds a week and all the Paris buns I could eat!’

  They drove back to Joanmount Gardens in silence. Harry stopped the car outside the house and turned to her. ‘I’ll tell you what, Peggy, how about I employ a wee girl to work in the shop, someone from the Crumlin? I wouldn’t need to pay her much and you could carry on at Goldstein’s for the time being.’

  Aye, for as long as I like, she thought, and kissed him on the cheek. He drove off in search of Dessie, delighted that Peggy had agreed to something, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling of having been wrapped around a finger.

  Peggy pushed open the back door to find Martha engulfed in a cloud of steam draining the potatoes, Pat setting the table, Sheila stirring gravy and Irene wetting the tea.

  ‘I’m thinking about marrying Harry,’ she announced.

  Chapter 25

  They approached the Royal Air Force base at Aldergrove just as the light was fading, throwing the rows of Nissen huts into sharp relief against the horizon. Their passes were checked at the gate and the driver was directed to follow the road to the large hangar. They saw it loom out of the darkness, impressive enough, but nothing compared to the rows of Hurricane bombers lined up beyond it.

  ‘Look at all those fighter planes!’

  ‘What are they all doing here?’

  ‘They’re waiting for the Luftwaffe,’ said Goldstein.

  In the hangar there was an impressive stage at one end and, at the other, an elaborate gantry from which hung rows of lights.

  ‘This looks very professional,’ whispered Myrtle as a bright spotlight lit the empty stage then narrowed to focus on the single microphone in the centre.

  Goldstein disappeared and returned with three small RAF uniforms for the Golden Sisters. It had been such a success at their first concert for the armed forces that they’d continued to use this change of costume, but this was the first time they would wear air force blue.

  ‘Now Irene,’ said Goldstein, ‘I am told there is a corporal who is a really good dancer. He will be standing down to your right, a tall man with dark hair. Get him up on the stage and the Lindy Hop routine will be a sensation.’

  The sisters changed into their new polka dot blouses and black pencil skirts for their first half appearance and Pat suggested a run through on stage before the audience arrived. Peggy was delighted to find the piano was a baby grand and didn’t argue. She played the first few bars of ‘Zippidy Doodah’, but just before Pat and Irene’s cue, she stopped and went back to the beginning. She played it again, then the introduction to the second song. Pat had had enough.

  ‘Peggy what are you doing? You need to give us a chance to sing the opening line at least.’

  ‘This piano’s no use. I’m not playing it.’

  ‘What’s the matter with it?’ asked Irene.

  ‘Can you not hear? Pat, you can hear it can’t you?’

  Pat knew it wasn’t pitch perfect. ‘Ach, it’ll do rightly.’

  ‘No it won’t. I’m not playing an out of tune piano!’

  ‘You and I will be the only ones who notice, Peggy, and I’m prepared to put up with it.’

  ‘Well I’m not.’

  ‘You’ll have to, we can’t perform without accompaniment.’

  ‘I’m not playing it!’ Peggy shouted and left the stage.

  ‘I’ll find Goldstein,’ said Irene, ‘maybe he can talk to her.’

  He was in the officers’ mess talking to a well-decorated officer. ‘Can I have a quick word with you, Mr Goldstein?’

  She explained the problem and he nodded. ‘I’ll come with you and listen to the piano myself.’

  He sat at the baby grand and ran through the scales, his head cocked to one side. Then he played the few bars of ‘Zippidy Doodah’ that had so offended Peggy’s musical sensibilities. He tutted and walked purposely towards the dressing room. Within a few minutes Peggy returned, all smiles, and played the songs without a word of complaint.

  ‘Well, I don’t know what he said to her,’ said Pat, ‘but I’m going to find out for the next time she tries to give us a heart attack.’

  *

  Over the preceding months Sammy had learned to tailor his material to suit each audience and this time he had lots of jokes about RAF types and quite a bit of ridiculing the Luftwaffe at which the audience roared its approval. The conjuror known as the Great Horrendo had almost perfected his disappearing and reappearing doves routine especially for the night, until one of them flew into the rafters of the hangar and some wag in the audience offered to make the bird an honorary tail-end Charlie. The girls’ first appearance was greeted with whistles and their lively routine brought clapping and cheers. Pat had been asked to sing ‘The Wings of a Dove’ which drew warm applause. No one seemed to notice the very slightly out of tune piano.

  They changed at the interval. ‘I prefer this uniform to the others we’ve worn. It has much more shape and style,’ said Peggy. ‘I’m going to keep it on when we come off stage.’ Irene and Peggy exchanged puzzled looks. Usually Peggy couldn’t wait to change. The appearance of the girls in uniform had the audience on their feet and they took several bows, turning round as though modelling, before Peggy made her way to the piano and their military medley began. When it came to the moment when Irene was to dance with one of the men, she took the microphone off the stand and moved downstage, remembering her instructions from Goldstein.

  ‘For this next song I’m going to need someone to help me.’ There followed shouts and cat calls as dozens of men volunteered. ‘You don’t know what you’ll be asked to do yet!’ Irene smiled wickedly. ‘Are any of you good dancers?’ Still they shouted. She moved to the right where a tall dark-haired airman was waving at her.

  ‘Me! Me!’ he shouted.

  She moved closer to him, put her hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of the spot light. ‘Don’t I know you?’ she said. There were more whistles. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Tommy!’

  ‘It is you, Tommy! I’d know you anywhere!’ The audience were enjoying the joke. ‘Stranraer beach 12 July 1939.’

  Uproar!

  Irene came down the steps at the side of the stage and returned with Tommy by the hand. ‘Now then, last time we met you had your friend Sandy with you. Am I right?’ Tommy nodded. ‘And where is he now?’ She thrust the microphone towards him.

  ‘He’s up there!’ shouted Tommy and pointed up to the lights’ gantry.

  ‘He’s not!

  ‘Oh yes he is!’

  Irene moved to the front of the stage and shielded her eyes. ‘Hello, Sandy! Good to … not quite see you again.’ Then she signalled to Peggy and the music started. Pat stood beside the piano singing and Irene and Tommy, who was, as promised, an excellent dancer, gave a near perfect demonstration of the Lindy Hop.

  As Tommy left the stage to uproarious applause, Irene blew him a kiss and another in Sandy’s direction high above her in the darkness. Then she returned to the microphone.

  ‘This is our last song, ‘I’ll Take Romance’ and it’s dedicated to Sandy.’ As the last note died away, they left the stage to loud applause and cheering and Irene waved again to the gantry.

  ‘What was all that about?’ asked Pat as they changed out of the uniforms.

  ‘The airman who sent me the sari, you remember? I think he was operating the lights.’

  It was soon time for the finale. ‘Peggy you haven’t changed, hurry up!’ said Pat.

  ‘I told you I’m keeping the uniform on.’

  ‘You’re not supposed to.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  The finale was a huge success and went on for much longer than it should have done. It seemed that neither the audience nor the performers wanted the evening to end, but even
tually the Squadron Leader stepped on to the stage and asked for the house lights to go up.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the Barnstormers, that was truly a barnstorming performance. We are immensely grateful for your wonderful talent and dedication. But the evening is not quite over.’ He paused as though for dramatic effect. ‘Let me introduce you to our special guest this evening who flew here secretly from London this afternoon. Please welcome our illustrious Prime Minister, Mr Churchill.’

  All eyes turned to the back of the hangar from where the instantly recognisable form of the man emerged. The audience were on their feet straining for a view of him as he walked down the aisle drawing gasps, then applause and cheers. Leaning heavily on his cane he climbed the stairs to where Goldstein was waiting to introduce the performers. The sisters were towards the middle of the line.