The Linen Queen

by Patricia Falvey

  He insisted on seeing me to the door. “I’ll have to go to England in the next few days,” he said.

  “But you’re hardly fit to travel.”

  He smiled. “Duty calls. I’ll come and see you when I get back. It may be a couple of months.”

  I nodded. There was no point asking questions. I kissed him gently on his bruised lips and lifted my bicycle and rode away.

  Chapter 24

  Winter faded into spring, and by early May the world began to look brighter. Sun shone, flowers appeared on the roadside, and the birds sang more loudly. The only thing that was apparently not looking brighter was the war. I was now fully part of something larger than myself—I was part of the war effort. In that way, I was like most of my neighbors in the North of Ireland. Before the war we had been like orphaned children, unsure of our place in the world and without a strong purpose to hold us together and give us an identity. It had just taken me longer than most to realize how this war could change my outlook on the world and, more importantly, on myself. I had found a purpose, and I wasn’t sure I wanted the war to end too soon, selfish as that was. I wanted the Allies to win eventually of course, but in the meantime I yearned for a chance to try on this new life and adapt to the changes it was bringing.

  I kept up my volunteer work with the ARP. Mary McTaggart turned out to be a good friend. Over time, she told me more about what had happened to her and her sister in England. Neither of them had seen any war action. Anne had been killed when a plane she was flying from the factory to the airfield malfunctioned. Mary had lost her arm in a horrible accident when she was trapped beneath a jeep at the same airfield.

  “Some fighters we turned out to be,” Mary joked. “We never even got near the battle.” There was a dark edge to her laughter.

  “We should have gone into nursing like our ma and da wanted us to,” Mary said. “That way we might still have been doing some good.”

  “You’re doing good here,” I said. “You could have sat on your arse at home feeling sorry for yourself, but instead you marched right back out again into the world.” I put my hand out to touch her arm. “And I’m glad you did.”

  I wanted to tell Mary she was an inspiration to me. She was living proof that what Joel had told me was right.

  I hadn’t seen Joel since he’d gone to England. I knew there was no point going to look for him. He’d said he’d see me when he returned. I would have to wait. One Sunday morning a knock came to the door and I rushed downstairs. I pulled open the door, a big smile on my face, but instead of Joel, there stood Ma. My smile faded.

  “What do you want?” I said, more harshly than I intended.

  “Lovely way to treat your mother,” Ma said as she pushed past me into the hall.

  I shut the door and followed her in. Mrs. Hollywood poked her head out of the parlor and then shut the door again. Ma marched into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

  “Don’t stand there like a statue, you lazy bitch,” she said. “Make me a cup of tea.”

  I’d hardly ever seen Ma in such a bad temper. I braced myself for the worst.

  “Kate wants me out of the house,” she said. “It’s your fault. Ever since that Grainne business she’s just been looking for an excuse to get rid of me.”

  Her breathing was ragged and her eyes bright. I set a cup of tea down in front of her. “We’ve no milk,” I said.

  She sniffed and blew on the tea to cool it. I sat down opposite her.

  “What happened?”

  Ma rolled her eyes. “That oul’ hypocrite. Just because I brought a friend home a couple of times she—”

  “You did what, Ma? You brought men to the house?”

  Ma shrugged. “I need a wee bit of company the same as the next woman,” she said. “I’m not dead yet.”

  I stared at her. I didn’t know what to say. I knew she had been seeing soldiers but I hadn’t asked questions. I didn’t want to know the details. But I never thought she would dare to bring them home. Part of me wanted to smile at the thought of Kate’s face when she caught them, but it was no laughing matter and the thought passed.

  “In the name of God, Ma, did you not think she’d throw you out?”

  “She wouldn’t have if you hadn’t poisoned her against me. She would have given me a second chance. I blame you, miss.”

  What else was new, I thought. People were always blaming me for everything. “Well, you can’t stay here,” I blurted out. “There’s no room.”

  “It’s your duty to look after me,” she said. “Where am I going to get the money for rent?”

  “You have a job,” I said.

  “I’m not a well woman,” she said. “I don’t know how long I can last at that oul’ mill.”

  Anger and guilt fought inside me. “Get one of your soldier boys to pay for it then.”

  Ma reached across the table and slapped me on the face.

  “You ungrateful girl,” she said.

  The pitch of her voice rose. She was on the edge of hysteria.

  “Oh how I rue the day I married your father. He should have taken you with him when he left. It would have been good riddance to both of you. What have either of you ever brought me but trouble? I should have poisoned you years ago along with that old dog. God help me, what’s to become of me?”

  I sat up and looked at Ma. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and yet I believed it totally. She had always resented me. She had resented my relationship with Da. And when he left she resented the little crippled dog that I had come to love. She’d always had to be the center of attention. She was a selfish, hateful woman. And I had been well on my way to becoming just like her. I jumped up and ran up the stairs and rummaged in a drawer. I pulled out a fistful of pound notes and ran back down to the kitchen. I thrust the money at her.

  “Here. And get out. I never want to see you again. You’re nothing to me. You never were. You’re a selfish, mean old woman. And don’t come back looking for more money, because that’s the last you’re ever getting from me.”

  She snatched the money and stood, calm as you please, counting it.

  “Is this all?” she said. “This won’t last me very long.”

  “That’s all I have.”

  “What about that prize money you stole from me?” she shrieked. “You owe me that too.”

  I stared at her fighting with myself as to what to answer. Then the stubborn Sheila rose up.

  “I told you, I never got the prize money,” I lied. “After Belfast was bombed all the records were lost. Who knows if I’ll ever get it.”

  “You’re lying,” she said. “I came right out and asked that McAteer girl, and she said you got the prize money the night of the competition! You stole it from me.”

  “I did not! It was mine. I won it.”

  I was trembling now, fighting back the tears that pricked my eyes. All the memories of fighting with Ma flooded back. Was I to find no peace at all? Och, why hadn’t I gone with Joel when he’d offered me a way out? I beat down the self-pity that threatened to drown me. I would not give in to her. I would hold on to my dream with everything I had.

  Rage blinded me. I pulled her up from the chair. “Get out!” I yelled. “And don’t ever come back.”

  She stuffed the money I had given her in her handbag and left the room. Out in the hall I heard her greet Mrs. Hollywood in a sweet voice, as if nothing had happened. I sat down at the table and began to sob. Mrs. Hollywood came running in.

  “Sheila, love, what’s wrong? What did that horrible woman say to you?”

  I looked up. “Am I that bad a person, Mrs. Hollywood? Am I that bad that everybody turns against me? Haven’t I done any good in the world at all?”

  Joel came on a beautiful late spring night in the middle of May carrying flowers for me and a big box of chocolates for Patsy, Grainne, and Mrs. Hollywood. He brought a present for the baby too—a wee gold cross on a delicate gold chain. Patsy was delighted.

  “Get your coat. I wan
t to take you out to dinner,” Joel said.

  He looked well and fit.

  “How do you know I’m not on duty?” I said, smiling.

  “I checked your schedule.” He smiled. “Don’t look so surprised, Sheila. I’ve learned that this is a very small town and news is easy to obtain. One of your comrades, Hugh I think his name was, told me you were off tonight.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll get my coat,” I said.

  As I went upstairs, I couldn’t help smiling, imagining the face of Hugh when an American army captain came looking for me. We drove to the Balmoral Hotel in Warrenpoint. Had it really been a year since we had last been there? Since we had spent the night together? Since I had come home filled with excitement at the prospect of escaping? It all seemed so distant now. It was as if it had never happened at all.

  We enjoyed a quiet dinner in the hotel’s dining room at a table overlooking the water. The days had begun to stretch out, and it was still light enough to see across the lough to Omeath and Carlingford. I wondered why I had never appreciated the beauty of the place before. The Cooley Mountains, already lush with bracken, rose gently behind Omeath, and gulls played above the lough, gray and white and graceful. A boat came through, blowing its horn. A group of children on the seashore jumped up and down and waved.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Joel, looking out the window.

  I nodded.

  “I’m going to miss it.” He turned back towards me. “And I’m going to miss you.”

  I swallowed my tea. Whatever it was he was trying to tell me I didn’t want to know. So I said nothing. Joel called for the bill, paid it, and stood up. He reached out his hand to me.

  “Come upstairs with me, Sheila. I just want to talk somewhere private. We haven’t been alone in a long, long time.”

  Silently I stood and took his arm. This time I didn’t even pay attention to the stern-faced clerk as Joel picked up the room key. I felt neither embarrassed nor defiant.

  We sat down in two armchairs beside the window of the third-floor room. It was the same room we had stayed in before, and the memories felt good. I took the glass of champagne that Joel offered, and we sat in silence watching the sun set over Carling-ford Lough.

  “I’ll be shipping out at the end of the week,” Joel said.

  I nodded. It was what I had expected.

  “I wanted to see you before I left.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “I was wrong, Sheila, and you were right.”

  I looked up at him, trying to read his face in the dim light.

  “I was doling out advice to you when I had no right to. I was telling you to buck up and pull up your bootstraps while I myself was ready to give up on life. I was a hypocrite, and you were right to point it out.”

  I waved my hand. “Och, that was a long time ago.”

  Oddly, as I listened to him I had no sense of satisfaction. The old Sheila would have been delighted and would have made the most of the situation, insisting he repeat his words and drawing out the apology. But all I felt was his sadness.

  “I shouldn’t have said those things just the same,” I said.

  “I’m glad you did, Sheila. And I’ve been thinking about them ever since.”

  He sighed and turned away from me and stared out the window as he spoke.

  “Ever since my father died, I’ve had this strange feeling that I have no right to be living when he’s dead. You see, I worshipped my father, and I couldn’t understand why he should be gone and I was still here.”

  “But he took his own life,” I said. “He had a choice.”

  Joel went on as if he hadn’t heard me. “At the time I went through a lot of emotions. I was angry with him for leaving us, and ashamed that he had not been brave enough to face his troubles. Afterwards, I was guilty for being angry, and I buried the anger. What took its place was fear—fear that I might do the same thing. And over the years, my fear took the shape of a premonition about my own death. I was convinced I would not live very long. And, as I think about it now, that’s maybe why I joined up. If I put myself in harm’s way, then my fear could be realized.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

  “Aye, it does actually,” I murmured. “I’ve felt anger and shame at my mother. I recognize now that my own fear of being stuck here was that I might turn out just like her. But instead of wanting to end my life, I suppose I just wanted to end this particular life here. I wanted to start a new life, as somebody else entirely.” I shrugged. “Anyway, in the middle of it all, I lost who I was. I’m only now finding out who I really am.”

  I reached in my bag for a cigarette and lit one. I inhaled deeply and blew the smoke up towards the ceiling. We did not speak for a while. A noise came from downstairs, like somebody moving furniture about. Footsteps sounded on the landing outside the room, and the voices of a man and a woman drifted through the door. Their key sounded in the lock and the room door across the hall banged shut. Then all was silent again.

  “I’ll make a deal with you, Sheila.” Joel’s sudden voice startled me.

  “I’ve decided to take my own advice and get out there and do something useful besides wallowing in my own self-pity. If nothing else I owe it to my men to have a positive attitude about our mission. But more than that, I owe it to myself, and…” He hesitated. “And to us.”

  “Leave me out of it,” I said, a sudden panic rising in me.

  Joel chuckled. “I didn’t mean it that way, Sheila. I need to do this regardless of whether or not you are in my life. I just meant that, well, if we are ever going to have a chance at a future, I need to embrace life, not run away from it.”

  He got up from the chair and came over to me. Taking me by the arms he pulled me up to face him. He brushed the hair away from my face and stroked my cheek. I felt myself tremble. “The next few months are not going to be easy for either of us, Sheila,” he whispered. “If I know that you are waiting for me along with my future it will keep me brave. And, maybe, knowing that I am coming back to you after the war’s over will keep you brave as well. We were meant to help each other, Sheila.”

  I listened to his brave words, but I was not convinced he really believed what he was saying. I prayed that I was wrong.

  His lips closed on mine. We stood in that embrace for a long, long time.

  “Say you’ll wait for me, Sheila.”

  “Aye.” I nodded. “I will.”

  We slept together that night, although we did not make love. I did not expect to. We would save that moment for when he returned. I clung to him as he rose to leave the next morning, the sun not even up yet. He leaned over and kissed me.

  “Remember me, Sheila. Always remember me.”

  Joel’s battalion shipped out along, it seemed, with most of the troops who had been stationed in the area. Newry was like a ghost town, as was Queensbrook and Warrenpoint and everywhere else. It was as if a cloud had fallen over the place and we were all in mourning for departed friends. Young girls sulked, pining for departed lovers, or at least pining for the fun that was now over. Older people talked as fondly about the “lads” as if they were their own sons. All around there was a heavy sense of dread. Everyone knew something major was about to happen—something that could change the outcome of the war. But optimism was a rare commodity. The war had been rough sledding for the Allies, occasional victories always matched by new German assaults into more countries. Hitler showed no signs of backing down. Everyone sensed an impending crisis.

  For myself, though, after my night with Joel, a calm I had never known before settled over me. There was nothing I could do now except wait and hope that Joel would keep his promise. The gravity of the situation made all the other problems in my life seem trivial.

  We went about our daily routines, while keeping a watchful eye and ear for news of the soldiers.

  “That Joel seems like a nice chap,” Patsy said one evening as she and Kathleen sat in the pink parlor. “That was a lovely cross
he brought for Sylvia.” She looked at me and hesitated. Then almost shyly she asked, “Did he ever say anything about Sylvie? After all, Sylvie’s in his battalion.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Patsy.”

  She shrugged. “No bother. I didn’t really expect ever to hear from him again. It’s just, well, I thought he might have heard about Sylvia, you know?”

  Mrs. Hollywood rushed in to change the subject. “More tea?”

  “No thanks.”

  A knock on the door interrupted us. Mrs. Hollywood opened it and in came Alphie, and behind him, Gavin. I stared at him as if I’d seen a ghost. I’d been so preoccupied with Joel that I hadn’t stopped to think about him.

  “What’s wrong?” I said, without even knowing why I said it.

  “Why would anything be wrong?” he said. “Alphie and I have come to visit the lovely Mrs. Hollywood. We’re sailing out in the morning.”

  There was something more to it, I knew. Gavin had not come to the house since the night Grainne and I had moved in. Mrs. Hollywood waved us all into the kitchen and rushed about like a little bird making the men comfortable and making them tea and slicing brown bread. Gavin picked up Sylvia in his arms and cooed at her.

  “Lovely child,” he said, and Patsy glowed.

  Alphie gave Patsy a fond look, a silly oul’ smile on his face. I was convinced he had taken a notion for Patsy, even though she didn’t seem to notice. Better him than that blackguard Sylvie, I thought. Mrs. Hollywood would have approved as well—she had no time for Alphie’s “fancy woman” as she called her.

  Alphie scoffed at the tea Mrs. Hollywood offered.

  “I think something a little stronger is called for, Ma. I don’t know what you’re saving the good whiskey for.”

  I got up to fetch the whiskey and some glasses. I felt Gavin’s eyes on me as I moved around the kitchen. The talk had turned to war. Some sort of invasion, Alphie said. Gavin said little, but I suspected he knew more than he was letting on. Grainne took up her seat by the fire. She stroked Pirate the cat, but she never took her eyes off Gavin. Every time he looked her way, she blushed. I smiled to myself. So, she had a notion for him? That was why she’d been defending him so hard. I wondered if Gavin noticed it too.