The Linen Queen

by Patricia Falvey

  “Miss McGee?” Mrs. McAteer’s sharp voice startled me and I moved back to my chair.

  In between the noise of the children in the back room, I overheard pieces of the goings-on in the main hall. Mr. Carlson made a long speech, welcoming his special guests, and then the chaplain said grace. Then came the clatter of dishes and the clink of silverware as the food was served. I realized I was starving, and the smell of roast beef made my mouth water. You’d think Carlson would have had the decency to feed us. In fact, I didn’t understand why I, as Linen Queen, should not have been up there at the head table chatting with the general.

  Eventually the dishes were cleared, and Mr. Carlson began to speak again. Something about thanking the troops and hoping they would enjoy Irish hospitality. Well, they wouldn’t be enjoying much of it tonight, I thought, with not a drop of drink in sight.

  “A hospitality committee has been formed,” Mr. Carlson went on, and I pricked up my ears. “My sister, Mrs. McAteer, will head the committee of worthy local women to arrange entertainments for your men—introduce them to suitable young ladies of good backgrounds.” A cheer went up from the guests. I winced. I knew the word “suitable” would never be applied to me.

  The youngsters fled out behind their teacher into the hall. The lilt of tin whistles filled the air as the wee boys played. I imagined their faces solemn in concentration and I smiled. When they stopped, accordion music sounded along with a fiddle, and I could hear the beat of the children’s feet on the wooden floor as they performed some traditional dances. The performance was greeted by wild cheers and applause from the guests. I smiled. These Yanks were an outgoing lot, a far cry from stuffy old Mr. Carlson and his cronies.

  “Get ready,” Mrs. McAteer said from beside me. “Your cue is coming up.”

  I stood.

  “Northern Irish linens are the best in the world and the pride of our province,” I heard Carlson say. “Our very own Linen Queen, Miss Sheila McGee, will make the presentation.”

  Mrs. McAteer attempted to shove me out the door, but I turned and glared at her. Something strange had taken possession of me.

  “I heard the cue!” I said.

  Then I fixed a broad smile on my face and sailed into the main hall like the queen of Sheba. Ignoring everything Mrs. McAteer had told me, I turned and waved to all of the guests. The men cheered in response. When I reached the head table I looked General Turner straight in the eyes and gave him a flirtatious little curtsy. As I presented the package of linens to him, I spoke out as loudly as I could to make sure the entire hall could hear me.

  “You are all very welcome here, sir. And you needn’t worry about your soldiers. All of the girls here are just dying to entertain them.”

  I gave him a dazzling smile, and General Turner grinned back at me.

  “Thank you, Miss McGee. I’m sure my men will appreciate it.”

  I gave him the package and turned towards the guests. Many of the men were on their feet whistling and cheering and applauding. I didn’t even look at Mr. Carlson or the mayor as I made my way back, but I knew they were seething.

  Mrs. McAteer reached out through the door and grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the anteroom. Furiously, she snatched the tiara from my head, tearing out strands of my hair as she did.

  “You’ve cooked your goose now, my girl,” she said.

  I turned around and smiled at her. “Oh, I don’t think so, Mrs. McAteer,” I said sweetly. “I think General Turner was very pleased with me.”

  Chapter 8

  After my Saturday night at the Temperance Hall, I went back to the mill with a new spring in my step and a new bold attitude.

  “I met General Turner,” I said casually. “He’s the boyo in charge of the whole lot of them, you know. Lovely man. There were only officers there, of course, no enlisted men.” I said these things in order to rub it in. I loved making the other girls jealous. “I’m sure I’ll be invited to more events, what with me being the Linen Queen and all.”

  “Me ma says you disgraced yourself,” said Mary McAteer. “She says you carried on like a real tart, waving and smiling and offering to entertain the troops. Me ma says everybody there was scandalized.”

  I didn’t care what Mary or her busybody of a ma thought. In fact, the hint of scandal pleased me. Anyway, she was just jealous. Who wanted the Linen Queen runner-up at their events when they could have the real McCoy?

  After the arrival of the American soldiers I was not the only one with a new spring in my step. It was as if everyone felt more important now that the Yanks had come to our wee part of the world. Some people threw themselves headlong into the war effort—joining the auxiliary, patrolling the streets to make sure windows were blacked out and headlamps were turned off at night, piling sandbags on rooftops in case of fires, and all the rest of it. Now that the Yanks were here, I swear these bloody volunteers puffed their chests out even more—they thought they were part and parcel of the army itself. They were comical to look at. But I didn’t complain. It had put a smile on everybody where there had been only long oul’ faces before.

  Army camps were set up around the area. Big estates like Narrow Water Castle near Warrenpoint were taken over. Officers were accommodated in the main house, while enlisted men were given quarters in outlying buildings on the estate or were housed in small huts erected for that purpose. The troops were seen doing training exercises up on the Flagstaff or on nearby Slieve Gullion. The local streets were filled with soldiers, adding an air of festivity and adventure. Some went to Mass, and attendance by the local people went up accordingly. Others went to Protestant churches. Many of them seemed very religious—but they were hooligans when they drank. They were young—many of them the same age as myself and, like me, out for a good time. Two girls couldn’t walk down the street without catcalls and whistles. We loved every minute of it.

  The mill boys turned into sulky wee brats. They complained that they wouldn’t stand a chance with the girls now that the Yanks had come to town. And they were right. Within a week, American soldiers started showing up at pubs around Newry. They threw money around like water, buying drinks for all and sundry. Of course the girls wouldn’t give the locals the time of day. I was right there with them, making a beeline to wherever I heard the Yanks had been seen.

  I had decided now that I was going to concentrate on getting to know officers. An ordinary enlisted soldier was hardly worth my time. The officers had more money and clout, and who knew, there might be a lovely single chap looking for an Irish bride to bring back home and set her up in style. There might be some fine pickings among the Yanks. For the first time I was glad I had not been able to run away to England.

  I was very popular with the newcomers. I flirted to beat the band and soon I had half the regiment in love with me. At first, Ma was after me about being out every night in the week. She had fallen back into one of her down moods since the soldiers first arrived and now she sat home nights sulking and waiting for me to walk in the door. No matter her disapproval, she made a grab for anything I brought home—cigarettes and silk stockings. Then she asked could I not get butter or tea, sometime, or even chocolate. I shrugged and gave her what she wanted, hoping it would keep her quiet. There was always more where that came from.

  While I knew the local lads were wild with jealousy over my new admirers, they couldn’t hold a candle to Gavin’s rage. He found me one Sunday afternoon on the Flagstaff. I was sitting in my usual place, leaning against a big rock, when he appeared. Something in his face and the way he stood put me on alert. This was not going to be our usual relaxed meeting. I went on the offensive.

  “What’s got into you?” I asked. “You look like you lost a shilling and found a penny.”

  He took a long puff on his cigarette and said nothing.

  “Well, I for one am having a grand time now the Yanks are here,” I went on. “It took something to chase the fecking boredom out of this place—God love them.”

  Still Gavin said nothi
ng.

  “They go out every night of the week,” I went on, ignoring him, “and they throw money around like men with no arms. Patsy and Kathleen and the rest are all in love with them. Not me, of course, I’m much more particular than they are. I wouldn’t be throwing myself at just any Tom, Dick, or Harry.”

  “Aye, I hear you ignore the whole lot of them,” he said. The sarcasm in his voice was heavy. “I suppose it’s not your fault if they turn up just where you happen to be, minding your own business.”

  I felt a shot of anger. “I can’t help it if they follow me around,” I said, ignoring the fact that I’d been the one doing the following. “Anyway, what’s it to you?”

  He knocked the ash from his cigarette. “Nothing at all,” he said, his voice defiant.

  But it was clear it was something to him. I thought back to the way he had kissed me on the boat. I had not seen him since that afternoon, but he had entered my thoughts often enough at idle moments. I had found myself wondering what he was thinking, but then I would bat away the thought like an annoying fly. I needed to forget about the whole episode. I cursed myself for coming up here to the Flagstaff. I should have known I would run into him sooner or later. Just as he knew he would eventually find me here. No matter what else was happening in our lives, it drew us back like a magnet.

  “I thought what we had that time on the boat was special,” he said suddenly, turning his eyes directly on me. “I thought it might have changed things between us.”

  I bristled. “It was one bloody kiss,” I said. “Sure I kiss a dozen chaps a week, if I kiss one!”

  I said it to hurt him. And I said it to deflect my own feelings. I didn’t want to be confused anymore. I had my plans made. I wasn’t going to get sidetracked by Gavin or anyone else.

  “Aye, including the whole American army,” Gavin said, throwing down his cigarette and grinding it into the ground with his heel. “Bloody army of occupation,” he said. “They’ve no right here on Irish soil.”

  “They have every right. They’re here to protect us. And anyway it’s my duty as Linen Queen to see they have a good time.”

  A dark scowl spread over Gavin’s face as he bent and picked up his bicycle. “I can see there’s no talking to you,” he said. “I must have been astray in the head to think you might change your ways.”

  “You’re leaving already?” I said. “You just got here.”

  “I’ve things to do,” he said.

  He strode off down the hill, wheeling his bicycle beside him. I watched him go. Had that kiss really meant so much to him? Where had this sudden change come from? Gavin and I had been just like brother and sister. There’d never been anything romantic between us. I’d liked things that way. This new relationship frightened me. I leaned back and lit a cigarette. Men! You never knew where you stood with them. Bloody eejits would never come out and say what was annoying them. They’d just sulk, or throw a fit of temper, or get drunk. There was no point trying to understand what was going on in their minds. Not that I cared, anyway. Gavin O’Rourke was just like the others, I thought, lads to be used for a bit of fun when you needed them. But even as I thought it, I knew I was wrong.

  Gavin’s disapproval didn’t stop my gallivanting one bit. I was the most popular girl at the Castle ballroom in Warrenpoint and the toast of every soldier in Newry. But the only Yanks I was meeting were enlisted men. I needed to go where the officers went for entertainment. Of course, they had the officers’ clubs on the bases, but you had to have a pass to get in. I needed to meet them on neutral ground.

  I was glad for once that Mary McAteer had such a big mouth on her. One Friday afternoon she couldn’t help boasting to anyone who would listen that her ma had organized a special dance for the officers at a private club on Canal Street in Newry. I stopped what I was doing and listened.

  “Of course, the committee has only selected special girls to be invited,” she said. “You know they don’t want riffraff there. Just girls from good families. Only the likes of Doherty the draper’s two daughters and the mayor’s daughter are invited. Of course I’m going on account of Ma heading up the committee.”

  I could have slapped the self-satisfied smile off her face. Well, we’d see about that, I thought. After all I was the Linen Queen. If anyone should be invited it should be me.

  Chapter 9

  The Canal Club was housed in a stately old building on Canal Street, which ran alongside Newry Canal. I had passed by the building often enough in the past but it may as well have been invisible. Places like that were never part of my life nor ever likely to be. Only the well-off went there, the toffs with money and connections. Nobody the likes of me would ever have call to set foot inside.

  But on this Saturday night I walked towards the Canal Club with my head held high. I tried to ignore the fact that I was freezing in my flimsy dress and thin coat, my bare legs and peep-toe shoes. I passed by the dock at the Albert Basin and looked over out of habit to see if Gavin’s boat was in port. There was no sign of it. Canal Street bustled with people—late-night shoppers, early revelers, sailors going home with their kit bags over their shoulders. It was an ordinary Saturday night, and then again it was not. I had made up my mind to go to the affair even though I had not been officially invited. They’d have to let me in, I thought. What else could they do?

  I opened the front door that led into the hallway. The breeze from outside blew in with me, fluttering the edges of a white cloth on the reception table and causing the women sitting behind it to let out little shivery cries. I hesitated for a moment, taking in everything around me. The hallway was filled with young women in colorful silk and taffeta dresses and fashionable coats, older women in hats and stoles, and men in smart army uniforms. I didn’t know a soul. A set of stairs with a brass handrail ascended from the hallway to an upper floor. From upstairs I could hear music—a piano and a horn, slow and restrained, along with the clink of glasses, and laughter. In the hallway, male American voices mixed with the lilt of female Irish brogues above the rustle of dresses as the women gave their coats over to the cloakroom attendant at a small window. The smell of roast beef cooking in a back kitchen blended with the fragrances of perfume and cologne. When the front door was opened I caught the occasional whiff of the brackish canal water across the road. The air was stifling, and I began to sweat. I removed my coat and took a deep breath and pushed my way over to the reception table.

  “Name?” said a bony woman with a long jaw, eyeing me up and down.

  “Sheila McGee,” I said firmly. “I expect Mrs. McAteer has me on the list. I am the reigning Linen Queen.”

  I thought I heard some giggles behind me as I spoke, but I did not look around.

  The bony woman frowned. “I don’t see a badge for you.”

  Her long fingers crawled over the white printed badges to which pink ribbons were attached. “I shall have to find Mrs. McAteer. Wait here!”

  I waited. Another woman at the table smiled at two newcomers—well-dressed girls with wee cloche hats and coats with fur collars.

  “Well hello, Clara, hello, Evelyn, how well youse are looking.”

  I looked sideways at the two of them and they looked back at me. They were no oil paintings, I thought, neither one of them. Oh aye, the clothes cost a fortune but you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. I shrugged. As they took off their coats and hung the badges on the pink ribbons around their necks I was aware of their eyes on me. Let them look, I thought, and tossed my hair back off my shoulders. Another pair of girls joined them, and soon I was aware again of giggles and hushed whispers. I knew they were talking about me. I looked down at my frock. I had bought it with the money I’d set aside in the mill savings club. I was tired of Kathleen’s blue frock, which, as Mrs. McAteer had pointed out, had seen better days. This frock was made of a thin cream muslin material, and while it was a bit skimpy on me, I thought it showed off my figure well enough. I was a bit embarrassed about my bare legs, but Ma had stolen my last pair
of nylons.

  “Phew, and the perfume.” One of them sniffed. “D’you think she filled up a bottle from the canal?”

  Before I could do or say anything, Mrs. McAteer appeared beside me, her daughter, Mary, in tow. Her face was the color of an overripe beetroot.

  “Well, of all the nerve!” she began.

  “I told you this wasn’t for the likes of you,” Mary said.

  A pair of soldiers walked past. One of them winked at me and doffed his hat. They exchanged grins. They must have recognized me from the presentation at the Temperance Hall. I smiled back and turned to the McAteers with renewed courage.

  “I would have thought the Linen Queen would be automatically invited,” I said as loudly as I could.

  I was aware of a silence around me. Everyone had stopped to watch.

  “You are not on the list and that’s that!” Mrs. McAteer’s voice was cold. “Leave now, and nothing more will be said about it.”

  My anger fared. “I won’t leave,” I shouted. “I have as much right here as any of these ones.” I looked around the foyer. “I’m the Linen Queen. I represent all the mill workers in the North of Ireland.”

  Giggles and sighs ran through the watching crowd. An elderly usher in a ridiculous red and gold uniform pushed his way towards me and grabbed me by the arm.