All the good seemed to have gone out of the day. Joel’s earlier enthusiasm for Carlingford had faded.
He turned on me. “Don’t you read?” he said sharply. “Don’t you know anything about what those people are doing to us?”
“To who?” I said. I didn’t much like his tone.
“To the Jews, for God’s sake.”
“No,” I said, “I don’t. So why don’t you tell me.”
“Hitler and his soldiers are rounding up men, women, and children all across Europe and stuffing them into big rooms and turning on the gas and suffocating them to death.”
I was stunned. I could hardly take in his words. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were blazing.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I never heard a word about it.”
“That’s because very few people want to admit it’s happening,” he went on more evenly. “The American and British governments have yet to acknowledge the severity of the situation. It’s the Jewish communities around the world that are getting the word out.”
He stopped outside the car. “If more people knew, they’d understand why we have to beat the bastards. They have to be stopped. Who knows what they’d do to other people they took a dislike to? What if they won the war and decided to annihilate all the Catholics?”
We drove in silence back towards Omeath. The sky had clouded over and rain began to spit on the windshield. Whitecaps rolled over one another on the gray waters of the lough.
“I’m sorry I shouted at you, Sheila,” he said at length. “It’s just that it makes me so sick to think about it. And it wasn’t fair to accuse you of not reading—heaven knows there’s been very little in the newspapers. The New York Times published an article back in December, and that was the first one anyone paid attention to.”
He reached over and squeezed my hand. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”
I nodded. There was nothing I could think of to say. I wasn’t happy about the turn of the conversation. I had gone out with him expecting a good time, and until we got to O’Hare’s pub things had been grand. But then he had forced me to think about things I didn’t want to think about. I didn’t want to think about people being poisoned in gas chambers. I no more wanted to talk about things like that with Joel than I did when Gavin brought up politics and the Uprising and his da being shot and all the rest of it.
Eventually we pulled up outside my house. As Joel helped me out of the car he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. His lips were warm against my frozen face. Something in his eyes looked so sad my heart sank a little in my chest. I had never met the likes of him. While his moods changed as quickly as Ma’s often did, it was not the same thing at all. There was a sweetness and a sadness that always lay underneath whatever other mood Joel was showing the world. The sadness seemed to come from somewhere far away. I wondered again about his life, and his da’s death, and all the rest of it. Did something happen to him as a child? Was there some hurt he had never got over? I fought back my feelings of sympathy and curiosity. This was more than I had bargained for. I’d have to think long and hard as to whether this boyo was the right one for me to be spending my time on or not.
Later that night as I lay in bed listening to Grainne’s soft breathing, I couldn’t get Joel’s face out of my mind. There was something about him that seemed to have crept inside me and taken up residence. And despite what I had told myself earlier, I knew I would see him again.
Chapter 13
I stayed close to home after my date with Joel. I was in a strange mood that I couldn’t seem to shake. Normally my reaction to sadness or confusion was to run out and find some distraction, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to do it this time. March came in like a lion and went out like a lion as well. I bundled up and waited for spring. It took Kathleen, with her innocent wee face, to finally coax me out.
“It’s Ollie’s birthday next week,” she said one day in early April. “We’re going out with some of his friends to the Ceili House. Won’t you come, Sheila? Everybody will be there. We’ve missed you something awful.”
The Ceili House was the oldest pub in Newry. It had been famous during the Uprising. The Irish Republican Army members and some of the musicians used to meet in a secret room above the pub to plan their missions. The older people still told stories about those days. Glorious days, they said. I had no interest in it myself. I was just an infant when those things happened. But Gavin always talked about it as if he, and not his da, had been the one in the thick of it.
The warm, stale smells of turf and stout assaulted me as I opened the front door. The big room was dark, with a heavily carved wood bar and an old wooden floor full of splinters. How many feet, I wondered, had thudded on this floor in time to the traditional music that was played over the years? The walls were covered with photos of men in uniform and newspaper clippings about events in Newry during the Uprising.
The place was already packed when I arrived. Patsy waved and called to me the minute I came through the door. I pushed my way through the crowd at the bar—local lads, soldiers, seamen just off the boats, and mill girls—and squeezed in beside Patsy and Sylvie and Kathleen. Ollie sat beside Kathleen looking shy as some of his Welsh soldier friends hoisted drinks in honor of his birthday.
Soon a céilí band began to play and part of the floor was cleared for dancing. Patsy and Kathleen and I got up to dance the Walls of Limerick. We hadn’t danced together in years—ever since we’d been in dancing school together when we were young. I smiled at the old memories and was glad that I had come. The crowd clapped as we danced, but none more than the Yanks who were there in force tonight. They were great ones for the drink. They could match any Irishman. And when they drank they grew loud. Between Ollie’s friends singing in Welsh and the Yanks shouting the noise was deafening.
When the dance ended, we came back to the table and ordered another round of drinks. But something had changed. The earlier good humor had ebbed, and something dark was taking its place. I glanced around. The Yanks had become even louder. They had spotted Ollie and his friends.
“Will you look, it’s the goat lovers,” yelled one. The mascot of the Welsh regiment was a goat, which led all their parades.
“Can’t get a gal, a goat will do!” crowed another Yank to loud laughter.
Ollie and his friends stiffened. Ollie took Kathleen by the arm.
“We should leave,” he murmured. “I don’t want trouble.”
Patsy, who had been drinking all night, pushed Kathleen back down in her chair. “It’s Ollie’s birthday, for God’s sake!” she yelled. “Don’t let them chancers drive you out.”
She looked at Sylvie, who was glancing anxiously from one group to the other. “Sorry, love, I know they’re your mates, but they’ve awful bad manners.”
The Yanks kept up their taunts. One of Ollie’s friends could take it no longer.
“Shut up, you big-mouthed louts,” he yelled. “If it wasn’t for Pearl Harbor you lot would still be sitting on the sidelines watching us get our arses shot!”
Boos went around the crowd. “You had no hope of winning the war without us,” shot back one of the Yanks. “Old Churchill came begging for us to come and save you.”
“Youse have no right here,” said a drunken voice from the crowd. “Youse are an occupying army, all of youse. Get out of Ireland and leave us alone. We want nothing to do with England’s war.”
We held our breaths as the insults few. Long-held resentments were erupting on all sides. A couple of the Welsh soldiers threw their fists at the loudest Yanks, and a free-for-all started in earnest. Tables were shoved back and chairs began to fly. Local lads cheered on the Welsh soldiers—their jealousy of the Yanks showing through. A beer bottle spiraled through the air and hit Ollie on the side of the head. Kathleen screamed. Both Patsy and I turned on Sylvie at the same time.
“Do something!” we both cried.
Sylvie looked around. I could see he was torn as to what to do. Ollie was bleeding from the head, Ka
thleen trying to stem the blood with her handkerchief. Sylvie jumped up. Good, I thought, he’s going to show what he’s made of. But he ran over to his mates and started throwing punches along with them at the Welsh soldiers. Patsy stared at him with her mouth open. Kathleen began to cry. I looked down at my hand and saw blood. Splinters of flying glass had lodged there. I got up and ran to the bathroom. As I ran I bumped straight into Gavin, who stood in the hallway watching the fight. My heart leaped at the sight of him.
“Oh, thank God, Gavin,” I cried. “Can you do something to stop it? They’re killing one another, and Ollie’s hurt and…”
He looked down at my bleeding hand. I expected him to grab it and wrap his handkerchief around it. Instead he merely shrugged and nodded towards the soldiers.
“They deserve each other,” he said. “None of them have any right to be on Irish soil.”
“I never took you for a coward, Gavin O’Rourke!”
“What do you want me to do? It’s none of my business. It’s not my bloody war.”
“Well, it should be your war. It’s disgusting the way you and your southern countrymen are refusing to lift a finger to help. You don’t care if the Germans win even though they’re doing awful things to the Jews.”
Gavin raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I see Joel the Jew has been filling your head with nonsense.”
I stiffened. “How do you know about Joel?”
“You forget it’s a small world here, Sheila. You were seen in O’Hare’s pub with him and him in a Yankee uniform. And I heard he’s different from the rest. Keeps to himself. Word got around that he’s Jewish.”
My temper rose. “For a boyo you’ve never met,” I said, “you’re taking a quare interest in him.”
Just then the bathroom door opened and a tall, fair-haired girl came out. She smiled at Gavin and took his arm as if she owned him. I stared at her, forgetting about the blood that was beginning to drip from my hand to the floor.
“Did you miss me?” she said to him.
I glared at her. Gavin patted her arm. “I did indeed,” he said. “Let’s get a drink.”
He took her elbow and steered her towards the main bar. As he walked he looked back at me. “You’d better take care of that hand,” he said.
Later the military police arrived and escorted the Yankee soldiers out of the pub. The Welsh soldiers cheered and started singing hymns. The band came back up onstage and began to play as if nothing had happened.
The fight at the Ceili House was all the talk at the mill on Monday morning. As to be expected, the local boys who’d been there made heroes out of themselves—you’d have thought they’d taken on the entire American regiment by themselves—and beat them.
“How’s Ollie?” I said to Kathleen as I cranked up my machine.
“Och, he’s grand now,” she said. “Not much of a birthday, though.”
“No,” I said.
“It’s Patsy I’m feeling sorry for at the minute,” said Kathleen quietly. “She’s in an awful state and she won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“Well, I suppose there were ructions between her and Sylvie after he joined up with the Yanks against Ollie and his friends. Maybe they fell out.”
Kathleen nodded. “Aye, they did. But I think there’s more to it than that. Maybe you can get it out of her, Sheila.”
I really didn’t want to know about Patsy’s problems. I had enough of my own. Anyway, she’d tell me eventually. Patsy could never keep any news to herself—good or bad. I threaded the bobbins on my machine and went on about my work trying to put the events of that night out of my mind—particularly the way Gavin had acted. At first I’d been ft to be tied. How dare he walk off with some floozy and leave me standing there helpless? I tried to tell myself I was angry with his attitude about the war, but deep down I knew that was not the real cause. It was that I no longer held the special place in his heart that I had occupied since we were children. I had lost him. Granted I was the one who had pushed him away. And granted I was the one who was seeing another man. But I had always counted on Gavin to be there when I needed him. I realized now how selfish that had been of me. Well, there was nothing I could do about it. I would just have to get along without him.
At the beginning of May, Patsy came to my house after work with a face on her as long as a drink of water. I pulled her into the granny room away from Ma’s prying ears. Grainne sat on the bed reading a book. She had gone back to school, even though she still wasn’t over the moon about it. Patsy eyed her and then looked back at me.
“I’ve something to tell you,” she said. “In private.”
If you’re looking for privacy in this house, you’ll be searching a long time, I thought. There were eyes and ears everywhere.
“She’s all right,” I said, nodding towards Grainne. “She’s good at keeping secrets.”
Grainne looked up and rolled her eyes and went back to her book. “Pay me no mind,” she muttered. “I’ve heard it all before.”
Patsy opened her mouth to say something but hesitated. That’s when I knew something was up. Patsy never missed a chance for a smart remark.
“Sit down,” I said to her, pointing to a rickety old chair in the corner. I went over and closed the door while Patsy cleared some dirty clothes off the chair. I sat at the bottom of the bed with my back to Grainne.
“Well?”
Patsy took a deep breath. “I’m in trouble,” she said.
I heard Grainne shift suddenly behind me. The girl had understood.
“Och, Jesus, Patsy,” I said. “Didn’t I warn you?”
Patsy nodded. She looked miserable. “Aye, you did, Sheila. But it just—it just happened. I didn’t mean for it to.”
“Are you sure you didn’t do it on purpose?”
Her face reddened. “Jesus, Sheila, and why would I do such a thing?”
I shrugged. “So he’d marry you and take you away from all of this,” I said, my voice full of sarcasm. The truth was I had no pity for Patsy at the minute. She had cooked her own goose.
“What am I going to do?”
“Have you told him?”
“Aye,” Patsy said. “I told him the other night when we were celebrating Ollie’s birthday. I wasn’t even sure—I was only a fortnight late—but you know me, I can never keep me mouth shut.”
“And?”
“And, nothing. He said nothing. Just ordered more drinks. And then the fight started, and I was so annoyed with him for not helping Ollie that I was raging at him.” She paused to stifle a hiccup. “And all he did was rage back at me and said that the only thing that mattered to him was being a Yank and the rest of us could go to hell.”
We were silent for a while. Grainne slid over closer to the only lamp in the room. It was pitch black outside and a ferocious wind blew. In the parlor I could hear Ma laughing and carrying on even though she was only getting one-word answers from Aunt Kate and grunts from Uncle Kevin in reply. I suddenly wondered if Ma had had a friend to talk to when she found out she was pregnant with me? Such a thing was bad enough now, but in her time it must have been an awful disgrace. I felt a rush of sympathy for her.
I turned back to Patsy.
“Was that all was said between the two of you?”
She shook her head from side to side. “No. I met him at the Savoy on the Sunday evening after our night at the Ceili House. We had arranged to go to see the new film and then go for fish and chips at Morocco’s. To tell you the truth I was shaking in my boots afraid he wouldn’t come. So I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I saw him waiting.” Patsy looked up, smiling briefly. Then she bowed her head again. “But he said he wanted to go for a walk instead of seeing the film. He had something to say to me.”
I waited. Something told me Grainne was not reading a word of her book.
“We walked up across Sugar Island Bridge and down by the docks and sat on one of the benches there. It was friggin’ cold, I can tell you. Anyway, he looks at me and he says, ‘Patsy, if
it’s true and you are pregnant, you can keep the child or get rid of it, but I won’t marry you. I can’t, you see, because I’m already engaged to a nice Italian girl back home.’ I didn’t even hear the rest of what he said.”
I sucked in a breath. I wasn’t shocked that he had a girl at home. But to tell Patsy to get rid of the child! “But I thought he was Catholic?” I burst out.
Patsy shrugged. “I suppose Italian Catholics must be different than the Irish Catholics. Jesus, Sheila, what am I going to do? Me ma will be disgraced, and me da will take the strap to me and then he’ll throw me out of the house.”
“Are you sure you’re not just late?” I said.
Patsy bowed her head. “I prayed that was the case. But deep down I knew. I’ve never missed once since I was eleven years old. And now I’ve missed twice in a row. I’ve never had any luck, Sheila, and that’s the truth.” She looked up then and laughed. “If I wasn’t the age I am, they’d probably put me with the nuns beyond at the Convent of the Holy Mother.”
I winced at the mention of the convent. It was housed in a stern gray building on a hill overlooking Newry. No matter where you walked in the town it seemed to be watching you, its eyes following you. Mothers used the threat of the place to put the fear of God into their daughters. While the nuns who taught me at my convent school were for the most part kind, the word was that the Convent of the Holy Mother nuns were devils dressed up in habits. Many’s the story I heard about girls up there being beaten and half-starved and their heads shaved. The poor unfortunate girls left there by their family because they were pregnant, or maybe just too hard to control, were seldom seen again. Their babies were taken from them, as well as their own names and all their belongings. Many of them went mad.
After Patsy left, I sat up on the bed beside Grainne.
“Ma used to threaten me with that place—that convent.”
“Mine too,” Grainne said. She leaned against the pillow, having given up any pretense of reading her book. “I suppose there’s one of them places in every town.”
The Linen Queen Page 14