by Anne Bennett
‘That must help.’
‘Yeah,’ Molly said with a wry smile. ‘It would, I think, if the batteries for the torches were easier to get hold of. Granddad said he reckons that he could get hold of the crown jewels with less bother. I mean,’ she added, ‘there isn’t much light to be had from the stars and the moon in the smoky Birmingham skies.’
‘And that might be just as well, when all is said and done,’ Tom said.
Molly looked at Tom, but didn’t say anything. She was no fool and knew exactly what he was meaning, for a full moon shining brightly in the sky, as she had often seen it in Ireland, would surely light the way for any enemy planes determined to empty their load over Britain.
Tom saw the look on her face and wished he had kept his big mouth shut.
In mid-July, platoons of soldiers from the Irish Army arrived in Buncrana. It was strange to see soldiers thronging the streets, filling the marketplace and a fair few drinking at the hotel where Molly would meet up with her uncle on Saturday before walking back into the town.
‘Do you know what they are doing here?’ she asked Tom as they set off the first day.
‘Aye,’ Tom said. ‘Me and Jack had a fine chat with them. Apparently, they are here to guard Ireland’s neutrality.’
Molly stared at Tom open-mouthed. ‘You can’t be serious?’
‘That’s what they said.’
‘Yes, but, Uncle Tom, Hitler’s armies have goose-stepped throughout half of the world and emerged victorious. What earthly chance have a few soldiers got against such an army?’
Tom shrugged. ‘Better than doing nothing, I suppose,’ he said. ‘Anyway, it is even more important now.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the navy has commandeered Derry and that’s awfully close. They say Lough Foyle is filling up with naval craft, and the docks at Derry are now known as HMS Ferret. The soldier we spoke to said the British are building new airfields all over the six counties.’
‘For what, exactly?’
‘Well, I think it is all hush-hush,’ Tom said. ‘These soldiers weren’t told it chapter and verse or anything, but these things get about. One fella says they will be doing convoy duty, trying to protect the merchant ships that will sail up to meet them. Good thing too, I’d say, especially as the southern ports are having a time of it just now.’
They were too. Night after night they heard on the wireless of the blitzing of those coastal towns. Molly felt sorry for the families suffering from such a battering, and Hitler massing his troops just across the channel.
Churchill claimed ‘the Battle of Britain’ was about to begin, which he said would be fought mainly in the air. He warned those in Britain to brace themselves for he was certain the whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned upon them. Molly knew that was right, for though the threat of invasion seemed less, almost every night Hitler’s bombers began attacking London and other areas.
‘Birmingham isn’t mentioned,’ Tom said one night as he turned the wireless set off. ‘It just mentions a Midland town and that could be anywhere.’
‘I am pretty certain that it is Birmingham,’ Molly said. ‘Remember the raid last month that the newscaster said took the roof off the Market Hall in the Bull Ring in the city centre, and the later one that did damage to the church there, St Martin’s? Well, Birmingham’s Bull Ring has both places and it would be too much of a coincidence for another Midland town to have exactly the same buildings, I would have thought. Believe me, Uncle Tom, Birmingham is getting its share too.’
The nightly raids seemed to increase through October, and then the letters from Stan and Hilda ceased. At first, Molly wasn’t that bothered. Nellie told her that the shifting of letters might not be a priority for a country in the grip of war and to have patience. October gave way to November and Molly’s letters to those in Birmingham had a frantic edge to them. Deep anxiety dogged her from morning till night and invaded her dreams while she slept.
‘I don’t care what Granddad said,’ Molly declared as she walked home with Tom one Sunday in early November after telling him of the lack of the letters she so relied on. ‘I must go and see if they are all right. It’s the not knowing that gets to you after a while.’
‘It’s not a country I would be choosing to visit just now.’
‘Nor I, by choice.’
‘How will you manage it?’
‘The same as everyone else, I suppose.’
‘I mean …’
‘I have money, Tom, if that’s what you are worrying about,’ Molly said, and she told him about the fund set up by Paul Simmons. ‘Apart from the paper, stamps and envelopes, which I often saved your sixpences for, the money has been untouched for years.’
Tom’s face was one beam of relief. ‘You don’t know how good that makes me feel that you will have a bit of money behind you. It is one less thing to worry about.’
‘Next Saturday in Buncrana I will buy the tickets and make preparations,’ Molly said. ‘All I ask of you is that you cover for me on the morning I leave.’
‘I will help you in any way I can, you know that.’
However, before Saturday they heard of the massive raid on Coventry on 14 November, which began just after seven. Coventry had been attacked before but that night it was, according to the wireless, the fiercest yet.
Biddy gave a grim humourless laugh and said to Molly with gloating satisfaction, ‘Hah, there will be none of your precious country standing when the Germans have finished.’
‘Do you know,’ Molly said, ‘I think you are seriously unhinged. Why d’you think the Germans so wonderful? What d’you think would have happened to us all if the Germans had invaded? I tell you this much, they would have made short shrift of you. And don’t even think about that,’ she warned as she saw her grandmother’s fist raised. ‘You touch me and you’ll get twice as much back.’
Biddy was incensed, but saw that Molly meant what she had said. She had once told her grandmother that she could get away with hitting her only because she was bigger and stronger and said that it wouldn’t always be that way. Now, while Molly hadn’t grown terribly tall, she was hardened through the work on the farm, while the years had aged her grandmother, who had developed a slight stoop. Because of the indolent life Biddy had adopted when she had Molly to skivvy for her, she had become quite plump.
Biddy knew she was no match for Molly now and she lowered her clenched fist and contented herself with snarling, ‘I bet they’ll be none belonging to you left alive in that godforsaken place after this little lot is over. They will be burned to a crisp like those in Coventry.’
Molly didn’t even bother replying to this, knowing there was little point, and the following evening she found out the true extent of the damage to Coventry. In a raid that had gone on for over nine hours, the city was pounded by 500 bombers that destroyed over four thousand houses, three-quarters of the factories and annihilated the tram system, leaving nearly six hundred dead and countless others injured. The euphoric German papers were claiming to have invented a new word, Koventrieren, which was to signify the razing to the ground of a place. Molly knew with a dread certainty that Birmingham would be in line for some of the same.
That thought, however, only strengthened her determination. The next day being a Saturday, she visited Buncrana. Tom had barely brought the cart to a stop outside the Market Hall before Molly had jumped out of it. She was in too much of a tear to get things in motion to wait to set up the produce as she normally did and Tom knew this.
‘Away then,’ he said, and Molly needed no further bidding.
‘Where’s she off to?’ she heard her grandmother ask peevishly.
‘Running an errand for me,’ Tom replied.
‘What sort of errand?’ Biddy asked, and though Molly by then was too far away to hear Tom’s answer, she didn’t care what he said anyway. She had things to do here and no one was going to stop her. She made her way to Main Street and the post office. She had arranged w
ith Nellie already that she would remove all the money from her account bar one pound, as she didn’t know how much things might cost. Cathy and Nellie were both waiting for her when she burst through the door. ‘You have a letter,’ Cathy cried.
Molly felt relief flood all through her. ‘Oh, thank God!’
Her relief was short-lived, however, for she saw at once that the letter was from Kevin, the address almost illegible as it had been written in pencil. The note inside had jagged edges as if it had been torn from a pad, but even so, the cryptic plea for help was clear enough: ‘Molly, come and get me. It is horrible in this place – luv Kevin.’
‘What is it?’ Nellie asked, seeing the blood drain from Molly’s face. Silently she handed the note over.
‘What does it mean?’ Cathy asked. ‘Where is he?’
Molly shrugged. ‘I have no idea. But it is even more important now for me to go over there and find out what has happened.’ She remembered the promise she had made to her young tearful brother before she left, and knew whatever the risks to herself she could afford to lose no time in going to Birmingham and finding Kevin, however long it took.
‘If anything major had occurred that meant for some reason your grandfather couldn’t look after your brother, your grandmother would have been informed as next of kin,’ Nellie said.
‘Well, she hasn’t, has she? I mean, she hasn’t said.’
‘Did she tell your mother when her own father died?’
Molly went cold. ‘But she knows how much it matters to me?’
‘Would that concern her?’ Nellie asked. ‘And she has no idea you would ever know, or at least for years, because she doesn’t know that you have been receiving letters from them.’
‘Oh God!’ Molly cried. ‘Well, have official letters come for her that you can remember?’
‘I don’t know, Molly, really I don’t. There is such a volume of mail now – more since the war began – and I couldn’t say, hand on heart, that your grandmother has received official letters or that she hasn’t. Can you remember, Cathy?’
Cathy shook her head sadly. ‘No, sorry, Molly. I haven’t a clue. Why don’t you ask her?’
‘Because I would have to explain how I know and that would bring in the letters and involve you, and I would rather not do that,’ Molly said. ‘And it would achieve nothing, because she wouldn’t tell me.’
She looked from Cathy to her mother and admitted plaintively, ‘I am scared. More scared than I have ever been in the whole of my life.’
‘I know,’ Nellie said. ‘I don’t know what you will find in Birmingham, and I wish to God you hadn’t to face it on your own, but there is no help for it. Even without that heart-rending note, you have to go. And now the die is cast, as it were, we must turn our minds to practicalities.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like your clothes, my dear.’
‘My clothes?’
‘My dear girl, you cannot arrive in Birmingham with just two dresses,’ Nellie said, drawing Molly into their living quarters as she spoke. ‘You are smaller than Cathy, so you can have her old things. Don’t worry, I have discussed it with her and she is in agreement. I have bought you some pretty underwear as well and a couple of brassieres, though I had to guess your size.’
‘Nellie, you mustn’t do this.’
‘My dear girl, all the years you have been coming to our house I have never bought you a thing,’ Nellie said. ‘Not even on your birthday and at Christmas. I have felt bad about it too, at times, though it has been deliberate, because I didn’t want to make things worse for you at the house and I was pretty certain anyway you wouldn’t be allowed to accept things from us.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ Molly said. ‘I know I wouldn’t. In fact, she would probably take them from me at the door and throw them straight into the fire.’
‘I thought as much.’
‘But you don’t have to buy me anything,’ Molly said, ‘though I am incredibly grateful.’
‘Listen to me, child dear,’ Nellie said. ‘You are going to a country in the grip of war and you do not know what you will find, or where you will lay your head tonight or maybe many nights yet to come. You may have great need of clothes. Now, about those hobnailed boots …’
‘I’m not taking them,’ Molly said. ‘I know that much. Whatever the weather I am wearing these shoes that Uncle Tom forced his mother to buy for me.’ Molly well remembered the row when, as springtime really set in, Tom had declared that Molly had to have shoes for Mass and that his mother couldn’t expect the child to go along in hobnailed boots any more.
‘You are not shaming Molly, Mammy, but yourself,’ Tom had cried. ‘And if you refuse to have her decently shod, then I will shame you further and take her to Buncrana and buy her some shoes myself and let it be known why I am having to do it.’
And so Biddy was forced to buy her shoes, but they were summer-weight sandal-type shoes.
Now Nellie said, ‘Take them with you by all means but you really need to travel in boots. ‘What good timing that Cathy grew out of her boots only a couple of weeks ago. Your feet are so slender I know they will fit you.’
‘Nellie, I …’
‘All you need now is a nice case to put it all in,’ Nellie said. ‘And I have a lovely smart one that you can have a loan of.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Molly said. ‘Thank you seems so inadequate.’
‘It’s a pleasure, my dear girl,’ Nellie said. ‘I will worry about you every minute you are away, and though you have a fair bit of money, you will in all probability have to pay for lodgings. At least if you take plenty of clothes it will be one expense spared.’
‘Nellie, you are so kind and generous,’ Molly said. She felt her eyes well up with tears. ‘I will miss you so much –’ she said brokenly – ‘miss all of you – and I am so very grateful for everything you have done for me. Thank you so very, very much.’
Cathy and Nellie were crying as much as Molly as they embraced. When Jack took her in his arms too and said, ‘Look after yourself, bonny lass,’ Molly felt such despondency her heart was like a solid lump inside her.
FIFTEEN
‘Now are you sure you have everything?’ Tom whispered to Molly as she made ready to leave.
‘Everything,’ Molly said. ‘And there is no need for you to go with me.’
‘There is, and I would prefer it,’ Tom said, helping Molly through the window and following after her. ‘Anyway, I want to talk to you.’
‘Oh?’
‘Aye,’ Tom said. ‘Put your bag on your other shoulder and I will have your case, and we will walk arm in arm because it will be warmer, and I will tell you all about Aggie.’
‘Who’s Aggie?’ Molly said, glad enough to cuddle into Tom as they walked together through the raw, wintry night.
‘She was the eldest of the family.’
Molly wrinkled her brow. ‘Mom never mentioned a sister. In fact,’ she said surprised, ‘no one mentioned another girl. Did she die?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tom said. ‘I really don’t know what happened to her. She ran away from home when she was fifteen.’
Molly stopped dead and stared at her uncle. ‘Seriously?’ she asked. ‘She actually ran away from home?’
‘Yes,’ Tom said. ‘Your mother was only a year old at the time, and as we were forbidden to mention her name ever after it, she never even knew about her. That’s why, when your mother sent that letter to Mammy, it was probably like a double betrayal. Two daughters gone to the bad, as it were – not that that excuses her behaviour in any way.’
‘Did Aggie want to marry a Protestant too then?’
‘No,’ Tom said. ‘As far as I am aware she didn’t want to marry anyone.’
‘But … Uncle Tom, she was little more than a child,’ Molly said. ‘Where did she go and why?’
Tom shrugged his shoulders. ‘If she ever sent a letter to give any sort of explanation then I never saw it, or was told of it,’ he said.
‘Come on,’ Tom said. ‘We must walk before we stick to the ground altogether and it would never do for you to miss your train.’
Molly saw the sense of that, but her head was still teeming with questions about the unknown Aggie she had just found out about. She wondered why her grandmother hadn’t made enquiries of her whereabouts, get the Gardaí involved as Nellie had thought Biddy might if Molly had tried to leave before she was eighteen.
‘Did Aggie’s life with her mother just get that difficult?’
‘You could say that,’ Tom said gently. ‘Poor Aggie. As the eldest she had no childhood at all and was run off her feet in much the same way you were. Look,’ he went on, ‘though I can tell you nothing of what befell Aggie after she left here, and I was then only thirteen and not in a position to help her at all, that’s why I wanted it to be different for you.’
‘There is no comparison,’ Molly said. ‘I have a good case full of nice clothes and a money belt full of cash, even food for the journey, and that fine torch and a rake of extra batteries, as it will be dark by the time I reach Birmingham. Every eventuality is catered for and, look, I can see the lights of the station from here. You need come no further.’
But for all Molly’s brave words, Tom heard the quiver in her voice and knew she was perilously near to tears. For the first time, he put his arms around her and held her tight.
‘Don’t think the worst,’ he said. ‘Wait and see.’
‘It isn’t thinking the worst, Uncle Tom,’ Molly said, taking comfort from her uncle’s arms around her. ‘It is being realistic.’
Tom, who now knew Molly well, was aware she was very near breaking point, and though he could hardly blame her, it wouldn’t help for her to go to pieces now. He released her and said, ‘Come on now. You have to stay strong for young Kevin. If you are right – and I hope and pray that you are not – then how must he be feeling?’