‘But she will be here when we need her,’ said Ben. ‘She said so in that letter.’
Granny smiled sadly. ‘So she did, pet.’ Then she looked beyond Ben and her face changed. He whirled around.
Under cover of the wireless, while they were absorbed in Ben’s story, his father had silently entered the room and was leaning against the wall, an ugly expression on his face.
There was a tense silence. Granny closed her eyes, as if summoning strength. As always, when faced with Dad’s anger, a sick fear began to course through Ben.
‘So, I come home early from the pub, like you’re always telling me, and ye’re busy hatching plots behind my back!’ Dad grinned bitterly. ‘And ye’re going to save this young one, this “refugee” – more likely a spy – and keep her here where she doesn’t belong, and put us all in danger wit’ your sentimental rubbish.’
Granny stood, small and indomitable. ‘Listen here to me, Stephen, it’s not sentimental to try and save a young girl, wherever she’s from, and whatever her religion.’
‘And she’s not a spy–’ Ben tried to say.
But Dad’s rage was building up as it always did. ‘I’m going for the Guards!’ he shouted.
At that point, Sean came in, dragging his bike, so taken aback by what was going on that he said nothing, just stared.
They all stood there, like a scene in a play. Into Ben’s terrified heart a word flashed like a beam from a searchlight. Courage. He must summon it up. He had learned that you could show courage in small ways – like Mam’s loving cheerfulness when she was so ill; Granny, losing her daughter but finding the strength to take care of the family; the golden-haired girl in the sanatorium; Hetty, determined to help Renata even if it got her into trouble; Eddie, ready to help her, and also friendly and funny despite his damaged leg; and, of course, Renata, battling alone in a strange land to find her father. It was his turn to find the courage to face his father, and he knew now it was in him.
As all this flickered through his mind he stood up straight. He must show his dad that he wasn’t just a frightened little boy, that he too had courage.
At first his throat seemed to have closed. But though his heart was thumping, he said quietly to Dad, ‘All we’re asking–’
But Dad snarled: ‘So it’s we now is it? Let me remind you that us here, we’re your family, not that crowd next door.’
‘Of course they’re not my family.’ Ben kept his voice even. ‘They just want to help this girl stay till she finds her father.’ He noted that despite his bluster, Dad hadn’t actually banged out and gone for the Guards.
Struggling on, ignoring Dad’s interruptions, willing him to listen, he outlined Renata’s story. And from somewhere the words came to him and his panic was held at bay until he had finished. ‘It’s dangerous for her next door with people knocking at the door an’ all, so we’re asking Uncle Matt and Auntie Bridie to take her in, but they’re not back yet.’
For a moment no one spoke. Ben was aware of Sean looking at him with the same sort of grudging respect as when Ben had first told him about the job in the Goldens.
Dad growled, ‘And who decided to bring Matt into all this?’
To Ben’s relief, Granny seized the moment. ‘Never mind that now. We all know Matt and Bridie wouldn’t refuse to give an unfortunate girl shelter, whoever she is.’ Her voice trembled. ‘And neither would poor Marie, God love her, if she was here.’
Granny had made a telling point. Dad crumpled like a burst balloon into the súgán chair, his expression changing from rage, to wariness, to sadness. ‘Yes … poor Marie …’ And echoing Granny, ‘If only she was here.’
Sean broke in impatiently. ‘If you’re waiting on Uncle Matt to take in the girl,’ he demanded of Ben, ‘where’s she going till he gets back?’
‘Well, she’s not coming here,’ grunted Dad, but his rage had sputtered out.
‘Well, I hope Uncle Matt comes soon, so,’ Sean said, wheeling his bike through the house and out the back. ‘I’m starving with the hunger.’
Granny hurried into the kitchen, murmuring to Ben, ‘Don’t worry, pet, it’ll be all right. You go and get that girl as soon as we’ve finished. I’ll make up a mattress on the floor in my room.’
‘She’s called Renata,’ whispered Ben joyfully.
***
Granny made a pot of tea, and, as if the row had never happened, Sean related in detail how he’d learned to staunch a bleeding wound, put a broken leg in a splint, and revive someone who’d passed out; he didn’t seem to mind that there was no great interest.
They all brightened up when Granny brought in the jam sponge. Offering the first slice to Dad, she announced quietly but firmly, ‘Until Matt gets back, that young one’s to come here.’ Dad half-rose, then sank back and shrugged, muttering, ‘We could end up in jail for this, lose the job …’ But it was only a token protest. Ben felt calmer, as though a violent storm had threatened, buffeted them briefly, and then passed.
When Sean got his bike out to go off to a late-night ARP shift, Granny reminded him, ‘Remember what Uncle Matt said to you that time. Not a word, mind.’
‘Ah, sure, I’ve more important things to be doing,’ he replied. ‘Anyways, I can keep a secret if I hafta.’ As he passed Ben he hissed, ‘Specky, I never knew you had it in you,’ and slammed the door before Ben could say a word.
Dad sat on in the súgán chair, finishing the paper, as Ben helped Granny wash up.
‘It’s late. Matt and Bridie should be here by now,’ worried Granny. ‘I hope Paddy’s all right.’ She had addressed Dad, and he muttered, ‘Sure, the mail boat’s always late these days.’
Ben whispered to Granny, ‘I’m going in to get Renata.’
‘Right, pet.’ Raising her voice she added, ‘And I want her to have the kind of welcome we’re known for in Ireland.’
Dad looked up. ‘What’s done is done, I suppose,’ he said grudgingly. ‘I’m off to bed. I’ll keep my mouth shut, for the sake of Marie, but that girl needn’t expect a céad míle fáilte from me.’
Ben smiled to himself. They’d never be able to explain ‘a hundred thousand welcomes’ to Renata anyway.
***
But when he stepped outside, a nasty shock awaited him. In the rainy night, he watched in dismay as three figures left the Goldens’ house, walking towards the South Circular Road – a uniformed Guard and another man, with the slender figure of Renata between them, clutching her suitcase.
He was too late! Ben, devastated, and guessing the state Hetty would be in, was desperate to rush in to Number 17 and find out what had happened.
But Granny, who came up behind him, touched his arm. From the opposite direction Uncle Matt was hurrying towards them, with Auntie Bridie tottering in her high heels, and Paddy between them, on crutches.
Ben turned back to watch Renata until all he could see in the gloom was the distant bright sheen of her hair. Then, knowing he couldn’t leave now to find out what had happened, he forced himself to join in the welcome for Paddy.
24
Caught
In Number 19 that evening, just before the gas had gone off, Granny had cooked Matt and his family a big fry for their homecoming and did her best to keep it warm on the glimmer. As they tucked in, Paddy showed them his bandaged leg and explained how a piece of shrapnel had sliced into him when his ship was attacked by U-boats.
‘You could see torpedoes slithering through the water towards you,’ he said, bruises discolouring his face. ‘There were explosions all around the convoy.’
‘Poor lad, God love you,’ said Granny. ‘Such a world – war, refugees, violence everywhere!’
‘Is it … does the leg hurt a lot?’ Ben asked hesitantly. But even Paddy’s narrow escape from serious wounds, or worse, couldn’t quite blot out the image of Renata and the two officers walking away down the road.
‘It’s not bad. I was lucky. We shook ’em off, but one of my mates w-was …’ Paddy stopped, swallowing hard. ‘He
was from Belfast.’ Auntie Bridie put her arms around him, and Uncle Matt covered Paddy’s hand with his. ‘Your mate fell in the line of duty,’ he said gently. ‘It’s against terrible evil that you’re fighting.’
‘Still, many poor souls are grieving tonight,’ said Granny quietly.
As the hungry visitors ate, the mood lightened. Dad came downstairs, greeted Matt and Bridie, gripped Paddy’s shoulder warmly and enquired about his injury. He seemed in much better form, as if the row with Ben and Granny had somehow cleared the air. ‘Glad to be home, eh?’ he asked Paddy.
Paddy grinned. ‘It’d be even better without those oul’ birds.’ Auntie Bridie nodded in silent agreement, and Matt chewed his pipe impassively as Ben and Granny smiled.
What Ben wanted now was to talk to his uncle about Renata. After the row they’d just had, he expected Dad, at best, to ignore him, but to his astonishment Dad said casually, ‘Matt, Ben here wants to ask you about this girl who needs a home.’ He didn’t use the word ‘refugee’, but added, with the ghost of a smile, ‘There’s been a lot going on here tonight.’
Ben briefly told Renata’s story. When they heard he’d seen her being taken away only an hour earlier, they were all shocked. Even Dad was silenced.
‘We’d have taken her in.’ Uncle Matt was upset. ‘She’d have been safer in Ovoca Road.’
‘We’d never turn away a young girl in trouble,’ agreed Auntie Bridie.
‘It would’ve been nice,’ said Paddy quietly. ‘A sort of foster sister.’
‘You never know,’ put in Granny. ‘Maybe she’ll get away. She knows where to come now.’
But Ben still felt an overwhelming sadness at what had happened after all their efforts – and guilt. If only he’d called for her earlier …
As the family left to go home, Uncle Matt took him aside. ‘Benny,’ he said gently, ‘you’ve grown up these last weeks, the hard way. However it turns out, you tried to do the right thing this time, and I’m proud of you – and so would your mam be.’
***
As soon as he could the next morning, Ben called to the Golden house. Hetty opened the door. There was no one else up.
‘I’m really sorry, I was just coming for her–’ Ben began.
But she said quickly, ‘It wasn’t your fault. You did your best.’
She took his hand and pulled him inside. More miserable than angry, she told him the whole story.
The the two men who’d called for Renata had been polite but firm. Ma had protested that Renata was a visitor. But once the men had checked her identity, they’d insisted she go with them.
‘At least tell us where you’re taking her,’ Da had appealed, but the Guard said, not unkindly: ‘Well, she is here illegally. But don’t worry, she’ll be all right.’
Da, distressed, had handed over her small case.
‘We’ll look after the sewing machine for you,’ Ma told her. ‘Maybe we’ll be able to send it on.’ But could Renata use it, wherever she was going?
Everyone had embraced her, Hetty whispering, ‘Try and let us know where you are.’
And then she was gone.
Hetty and Ben were both silent, Renata’s hopes dashed, and theirs too.
As the family started to appear for breakfast, no one said much. Even Solly – and even Mabel – were quiet. Ben had to leave. He’d promised Granny to go with her to early Mass to give thanks for Paddy’s return. If only he could have given thanks for Renata too.
Very late the previous might, after Renata had been taken away, Hetty, sitting up in bed had groaned, ‘Another hour and she would have been safe.’
Mabel, too dispirited to curl her hair, crawled into bed beside her. ‘She’s only a bit older than me. I thought we’d be friends. And she’s got such a sad story.’
‘I’d like to know how they found out she was here,’ said Hetty, frowning.
‘Well, Ben’s family hadn’t a chance to tell anyone,’ said Mabel. She yawned. ‘Renata did say at supper that she thought a Guard might have spotted her making her way to Martin Street.’
Through the window the moon was a silver disc in the dark sky. As the clock ticked on the mantelpiece and Mabel began to snore, Hetty noticed in the pale moonlight that the painted girl had emerged from the weather house. Tomorrow would be fine. But where would Renata be, and when would they see her again?
***
Sunday passed in a kind of blur in both households. Hetty had to go her Hebrew class and then do her homework and help with the chores.
After Mass, though Granny and even Da had tried to cheer him up, Ben moped for the day, devastated that his hard-won plan had failed and wondering what on earth was happening to Renata now. Sean and Smiler couldn’t even get him out for a football game.
Hetty was desperate to think of some way of finding Renata, and stormed around the house on her return from school, trying desperately to come up with a plan. But there was nothing she could do. Finally, Ma told her to take Solly for a long walk and to please keep out of the way for the whole afternoon.
25
Following Orders?
The sound of the milkman’s horse clip-clopping up the street woke Ben the following morning. Sean heaved over, pulling the shrunken blanket off Ben and jerking him fully awake. Ben got out of bed and noiselessly pulled back the curtain. Below in the street the unmistakable figure of Renata, alone, suitcase in hand, was stepping into the Goldens’ house!
Pulling on his clothes, Ben sped silently downstairs. He could hear the first birds singing in the trees beside the canal, and in the east the sky above the rooftops was streaked with pink. As he followed Renata inside, Hetty, an old coat over her pyjamas, held the door open for him with a welcoming smile.
The whole household was awake. Renata, exhausted and footsore, was back in the armchair, with Solly on her lap and Mossy barking a welcome. Ma and Mabel were making tea on the glimmer, though no one was watching out for the glimmer man. Every face was beaming, especially Renata’s.
‘What happened?’ asked Ben urgently.
‘I do not believe!’ Renata’s eyes shone. ‘It is for me a miracle.’ Ben, mystified, looked at Hetty. She laughed at him, her blue eyes bright, and offered him a hunk of bread.
Gradually the facts emerged. Renata was escorted first to the Garda Station, as they told her there was no train till early Monday morning. They had been quite nice to her, given her a sandwich, but no information. Because of her fear and worry, she’d got little sleep.
The next morning the immigration officer had come back for her, but when they got to Amiens Street Station very early on Monday morning the Guard had departed, leaving the immigration officer to deal with the situation alone.
‘The Guard was nice,’ said Renata. ‘He carry my case. He wish me good luck.’
‘But the immigration officer?’ asked Mabel, bringing in the tea, while Hetty rushed to the kitchen to get bread and milk for Solly, and dump a bone from yesterday’s soup into Mossy’s tin dish, all at top speed for fear of missing anything.
‘He look cross, and hold my arm while he buy ticket and bring me to platform.’ She sniffed, and said to them all, half-laughing and half-sobbing, ‘Where is Zaida with his, how you say, hanky?’ Da smiled and handed her his own white linen handkerchief which Hetty recognised as one she’d embroidered with his initial, L, for his last birthday.
‘Poor child, she’s exhausted,’ murmured Ma.
‘But now I happy, too,’ said Renata, burying her face in the hanky.
‘But what happened then?’ prompted Hetty.
Renata told them the officer was ‘tall man in raincoat, with spectacles like Ben’ – and she grinned across at him as he sat perched on a stool, listening.
She and the officer had sat on the bench in the chilly station to wait for the train.
‘I am weeping, I cannot help …’ She sniffed again. ‘The man say nothing but I know he is, how you say, not comfort?’
‘Uncomfortable,’ put in Ma.
The man had answered awkwardly that he could not say; that she did not have a valid residence permit and the law said she had to be deported.
‘Back to Germany?’ she had asked, horrified. ‘Don’t you know what happen there, to Jews?’
He told her uncomfortably that his orders were to put her on the Belfast train. The authorities there would decide whether she could stay or be sent to England. After a moment, he added quietly that she could be classified as an ‘enemy alien’ and might be interned. He lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes.
Renata tried to describe how a wave of anger had shot through her. ‘Enemy?’ she told him. ‘I not enemy to Britain! I on same side. Coming to Ireland save me. The Nazis are my enemy and Britain enemy, and enemy of all good people. They destroy my family, they take everything, they send Jews to terrible camps, they kill us–’ She broke off, flooded with emotion.
The man glanced around anxiously, though there was no one else on the platform. He repeated very quietly, ‘I have orders to put you on the train. But,’ and he looked at her meaningfully, ‘I’ve no way of knowing where you get off.’ As he handed her the ticket he continued, ‘Sure, you might even get off at the next station!’ Renata waited, not sure if she understood.
Then he rose, saying he had to leave. ‘D’you understand, Miss? Everyone will assume you’re on the Belfast train.’
Only then did she realise that though she was still an illegal immigrant in Ireland, if she got off the train – or never actually got on it – no one would be looking for her.
‘He say he has daughter at home of my age,’ Renata told them, ‘and he think it shame I cannot be safe with my family like her. He left, and I did not go on train. I come here.’
Amid the exclamations, Da said, ‘In spite of this government, there are indeed many decent people in Ireland.’
17 Martin Street Page 13