Peggy was astonished. ‘Me? The shop manager?’
Goldstein smiled broadly. ‘Why not? You have a wide knowledge of music, you are young, enthusiastic and an excellent saleswoman. I would have to go a long way to find anyone more suitable.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Peggy. ‘I never thought I’d be a manager.’ Her face fell. ‘But I don’t know anything about ordering stock or banking the takings.’
‘That is not an obstacle. I will train you to do those things. They are not difficult. Now what do you say?’
‘Mr Goldstein, more than anything in the world I would love to be the manager of this shop,’ she said, and then Peggy did something she had never done before. She hugged Mr Goldstein. ‘Thank you so much, I won’t let you down.’
He was a little flustered and patted her arm. ‘I know you won’t, Peggy. In fact, under your management, I’m expecting Goldstein’s music shop to go from strength to strength.’
By the time Martha arrived in the shop just before midday, there was a notice in the window advertising the position of sales assistant and inviting those interested to enquire within.
‘Goodness me,’ said Martha, ‘what’s going on?’
Peggy couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Such changes, Mammy, you’ll never believe it. Not only are we getting a new assistant, but Mr Goldstein’s going to make me shop manager.’
‘Ach, away on with you.’
‘Imagine me in charge of all of this. Anyway, Mr Goldstein’ll tell you all about it. He said you’re to go straight into his office when you arrive.’
Martha put her head round the office door. ‘Did you want to see me, Isaac?’
‘Come in, Martha, sit down. Did Peggy tell you about my plans?’
‘Indeed she did. I don’t know to thank you for giving her such an opportunity. She’ll not let you down.’
‘I know that. She has a good brain.’ He leaned back in his chair and made a tent of his hands. ‘You know, when Esther died I wanted nothing more to do with the shop. It was Peggy who kept it going and there was you supporting both her and me. I might have sold it, but I couldn’t come to terms with a stranger owning it, not after all these years. And yet, I knew I did not have the energy or the inclination to go on.’ He leaned forward, searching Martha’s face. ‘Do you ever think, Martha, that there comes a time when you have to take stock of your life? I’m not far off sixty and I’ve been asking myself, what do I really want in the time I have left? Yes, I know I want to organise concerts, but there’s so much more: reading, walking, going for a drive and there are always talks on such interesting topics.’ He smiled at the prospect and Martha smiled back.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think it’s about waking up every morning with the whole day ahead of you to do whatever you fancy.’
‘That’s it exactly.’
‘Are you thinking that Peggy will start managing the shop after Christmas?’
‘Indeed. By that time I hope to have employed a new assistant in Peggy’s current role. Now, I hope you will not think it indelicate of me to ask you whether you would like to continue working in the shop. You have been marvellous and I would be very happy for you to carry on if you wish.’
Martha had certainly enjoyed working in the shop, but she had never intended to stay there so long. The truth was that it had taken more out of her than she expected, coming in and out of town every day, especially in the bad weather, and more recently she found herself exhausted by the time she got home.
‘In a way, I feel like you do, Isaac. I was happy to be useful by helping in the shop, but it’s time to take some joy from the world, isn’t it? After these lost war years, we owe it to ourselves to make the most of the time we have left. So, if you could manage without me after Christmas …’
Goldstein looked thoughtful. ‘Well said, Martha. If that’s the case, I think I will employ a second young person full time. That will be three of them to make a go of it, while you and I enjoy our retirement from commerce.’
When Martha arrived home, she was delighted to see a letter from Irene behind the door. She took it upstairs with her when she went to change, then lay on the bed to read it. It was a bit shorter than Irene’s usual chatty letters, but the content was just what she wanted to hear. By the time Pat and Peggy arrived home together, she had already cleaned her bedroom from the top of the wardrobe to the oilcloth on the floor and everywhere in between.
‘It’s a quick tea tonight,’ she told them, ‘spam fritters with bread and butter.’
‘Ach Mammy, I hate spam, so I do,’ said Peggy.
‘Never mind, when you’re shop manager you can have black-market roast beef every night,’ said Pat.
‘I might just do that.’
‘So Peggy told you her good news, then?’
‘She did and I’m very pleased for her,’ said Pat. ‘Maybe now she won’t keep pinching my clothes.’
‘I never pinch your clothes. Sure, they wouldn’t fit me anyway.’
‘Will you two stop bickering? Now then, I have some news too,’ said Martha. ‘Irene, Sandy and Alexander are coming home.’
‘Really? All of them?’
‘For how long?’
‘Irene and Alexander will be staying with us for a good while, but Sandy’s being posted to India, so he’ll only be here for a few days.’
‘He was in India before wasn’t he? Remember, when he sent Irene the orange sari,’ said Pat.
‘Why’s he going to India?’ asked Peggy.
Pat explained. ‘Because the Allies are trying to retake Burma from the Japanese and the RAF will be based over the border in India giving them air support.’
‘I just can’t keep up with all these different places where they’re fighting,’ said Peggy. ‘So, when will they be here?’
‘Saturday,’ said Martha, ‘and I’d better get a move on if I’m to get this house shipshape.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with the house, Mammy, don’t be killing yourself. Irene won’t notice anyway.’
‘Well, I’ll notice,’ said Martha and she put the plates of spam in front of them.
Martha went round the house for the umpteenth time making sure everything was neat and tidy. She had aired the sheets and put an extra blanket at the bottom of the bed because the temperature was set to drop, according to the wireless. The neck-end stew was in the oven, although it was mostly vegetables; she would have to make sure she gave the bits of lamb to the visitors, especially the wee boy.
She stood in the front bedroom from where she would see them as they turned the corner into the street. The nights drew in early in December and it would soon be dark. She should have gone to meet them, for they would surely have a lot to carry. Even now she could walk down to the bus stop. She rushed to put on her shoes and coat, tied a scarf over her head and went quickly down the stairs. She was almost at the back door when it opened and there they were, coming into her kitchen.
‘Bless us, look at you all,’ she said and she hugged Irene and Sandy and touched Alexander’s head. The toddler buried his face in his mother’s coat.
‘He’s a bit shy, Mammy. He’ll be fine when he gets used to you again.’ Irene looked around the kitchen. ‘Just the same as it always was – I can’t believe we’re here.’
‘It’s great,’ said Martha, ‘just in time for Christmas and, Sandy, I’m so pleased you’re here too – it’s such a while since I last saw you.’
‘Aye, good to see you again, Martha.’
‘Now do you want take your bags and everything up to the front bedroom? I’ve put you in there where there’s more room. I’ll make you a bit to eat now because we won’t have our tea until Pat and Peggy get home.’
‘That reminds me,’ said Irene, and she took a brown paper parcel out of her bag. ‘It’s a piece of pork from Davey – you remember him, don’t you? He picked you up in Enniskillen when you came to visit.’
‘I do indeed,’ said Martha. ‘How nice of him. I’ll find somewhere cold t
o put it for now. It’ll be lovely on Christmas Day with the goose Bridie McManus sent us.’
By the time Pat and Peggy arrived home from work, Alexander had got over his shyness. Peggy made a fuss of him and taught him to roll his ball over the oilcloth and chase after it.
‘Isn’t he the handsomest wee boy you’d ever see, with his dark hair and blue eyes?’ said Peggy. ‘And the noisiest.’
After tea, they sat in the front room swapping news and catching up.
‘And what’s all this I hear about you being the manager of Mr Goldstein’s shop?’ asked Irene.
Peggy didn’t hide her pride. ‘Yes, I’ll be the one in charge after Christmas and I’ve got new staff. Bernadette’s a great singer and Lizzie is a pianist, so they’ll fit in right away. I’ve got lots of ideas to liven things up and drum up trade.’
‘What about Mr Goldstein? Has he retired?’ asked Irene.
‘Not completely – there’ll still be Barnstormers’ concerts.’
Irene pulled a sad face. ‘But no Golden Sisters and no Macy.’
‘I know,’ said Peggy. ‘Macy came into the shop to say goodbye. She really thinks she can make it in America and I think she will too, especially if she can get in with Bob Hope. He was so impressed with her.’
‘She wrote to me saying it was the right time to go back home,’ said Irene. ‘As soon as the war finishes she needs to be right there when work in the theatres and films picks up.’
Alexander had fallen asleep in Irene’s arms and she put him to bed. Martha said she was tired too and wished them goodnight and to make sure the fire was safe before they went to bed. When she had gone Irene said, ‘Mammy looks thinner.’
‘Ach, I don’t think she eats enough,’ said Pat. ‘That’s part of the reason she gets tired, that and all the cooking and cleaning.’
‘Well, I’ll be here every day to help. I could do the cooking and housework for her, give her a rest.’
‘You could … if she’d let you,’ said Pat.
‘So are you home for good?’ asked Peggy.
‘I’ll stay until Sandy comes back from India.’ Irene glanced at him. ‘After that it’ll depend where your next posting is I suppose.’
‘How long do you think you’ll be away, Sandy?’ asked Pat.
‘Och, I don’t know. Months certainly.’ Sandy’s voice was a rich Scottish burr and when he spoke it was with a quiet authority. ‘Never underestimate the Japanese. It’ll take powerful force to get them to surrender.’
The following evening, Irene and Sandy went out together for the first time since before Alexander was born. They caught the early house at the Ritz to see Champagne Charlie and they were still smiling and buoyed up by the fun of it when they reached White’s Tavern. There was a decent fire in the grate and the hot toddies warmed them up.
‘Are you happy now you’re back home?’ asked Sandy.
‘I’m glad to see everybody again, but I’m sad that you won’t be here.’
‘I know, but when the war is over we’ll be together all the time.’
‘But will we? You could get posted anywhere and who’s to say Alexander and I will be able to go to every new base. We’re not going to India this time, are we? We were really lucky to find lodgings with Dorothy at Castle Archdale. It might not be so easy next time and what about when Alexander’s old enough to go to school?’
‘Irene, who knows what’s going to happen? The thing is, I need to concentrate now on the job I’ve got to do. There’ll be time enough to sort out the rest of our lives when I get back.’
‘I’m not so sure. It seems to me we always end up doing something in a rush. Maybe this isn’t the right time to ask, but when do you think you’ll leave the RAF?’
‘You’re right, Irene. This isn’t the time to ask.’
On Christmas Day, Irene cooked the dinner, having persuaded her mother that she wanted to do it as a sort of Christmas present to her.
‘Mammy, how many dinners have you cooked us all these years?’
‘Thousands,’ said Martha, ‘but this is different. It’s not easy to cook a Christmas dinner, you know.’
‘But I want you to have a day off doing nothing except playing with Alexander and eating that chocolate we brought you.’
‘Do you know how to cook a goose?’ said Martha.
‘It can’t be that difficult.’
‘Irene, I’ll help you with it,’ said Pat and the two of them took charge of the kitchen.
The sounds from the kitchen ranged from hysterical laughter to screams of frustration with the chopping of vegetables and the clatter of pans in between. The goose was taken out at one point and put back in half-cooked. The gravy went lumpy and was saved by a sieve. The roast potatoes took an age to go brown. Eventually, Pat appeared in the front room to announce that dinner was served. The girls had taken longer than Martha would have done, but there were no complaints. Both the table and the food looked wonderful. Martha, sitting at the top of the table, said grace. ‘Lord, thank you for this fine dinner in a time of rationing. Thank you too for keeping us safe in dangerous times. We pray for the poor people in London who were bombed last night and our servicemen and women risking their lives today and every day to bring an end to the war. Amen.’
The dinner was praised by everyone and Irene and Pat bathed in the glory. ‘I’ll have to get you ones to cook more often,’ said Martha.
‘We’ll never be as good as you, Mammy,’ said Pat.
‘And we could never have made anything like this,’ said Irene as she set the Christmas pudding on the table.
‘It’s one of Gert and Daisy’s recipes I got off the wireless,’ said Martha, ‘but don’t ask me to tell you what’s in it.’
Irene and Peggy washed the dishes while everyone listened to the King’s speech. Sandy knelt on the floor with Alexander and put together the toy train set, a present from Santa, and by the time the child was ready for bed, everyone had spent time on their knees playing with him.
It had been a quiet Christmas night. The usual visitors, Betty and Jack, had gone to visit some friends and Goldstein too was missing. Martha explained that to visit them would bring back memories of that first Christmas he had spent with them when Esther had arrived from Poland. ‘He just said he didn’t want to bring his sadness into our home and I couldn’t get him to change his mind.’
They awoke on Boxing Day to a world transformed. The snow made a satisfying crump when walked on and everyone, even Martha, went out into the garden. Sandy built a snowman for Alexander and lifted him up so he could add the coal eyes, mouth and buttons and a carrot for his nose. The girls were throwing snowballs and Martha took Alexander inside to watch through the window. The battle was fierce and Sandy, who threw bigger snowballs faster and harder, was soon set upon by the sisters and defeated. Suddenly everyone was shivering at once and ran indoors to warm their hands and toes around the fire, laughing and arguing about unfair odds, while Martha delivered dire warnings about chilblains.
That night as Irene lay in Sandy’s arms, she thought that this Christmas was the best she had ever experienced because it was the first one with Sandy and Alexander and they’d shared it with Pat, Peggy and Mammy.
As if he had read her thoughts, Sandy pulled her closer. ‘You know, this is the first family Christmas I’ve had since I was seventeen when I joined the RAF. Mind you, Christmases were good fun in the mess, even during those years in India when the cooks somehow managed to cobble together a Christmas dinner.’ Irene could tell that he was smiling at the memory.
Sandy went on, ‘But these last few days have been better than I could ever have imagined. I don’t think I’ve felt this relaxed and contented since before the war. To be in a proper home with family … there’s nothing like it, is there? And our wee boy, isn’t he just a wonder? Loved his train, didn’t he? Playing with him on the floor was … was … I don’t know how to say it.’
Irene could hear the emotion in his voice. ‘I understand,’ she said
.
He kissed her tenderly and when he spoke again his voice was so gentle. ‘I never knew my father so I don’t really know what fathers do. I’ll teach him to swim and play football and I’ll read to him … but there’s a lot more to bringing up a child than that. I want him to be strong and brave and kind. We’ve fought a long, hard war and lost so many good men and it’s not over yet, but I’m sure we’ve won a future for our children.’
Sandy closed his eyes and sighed deeply. ‘Sometimes I feel like the days of Alexander’s childhood are slipping through my fingers. I understand what you said about leaving the RAF but, Irene, I’ve still got work to do.’
‘Sandy, don’t be upset. I know that in the end we’ll be together as a family.’
‘But when?’
Irene held him tight. ‘Soon, soon,’ she whispered.
The next day Sandy left for India.
Over the coming weeks Irene insisted on pulling her weight as far as household chores were concerned and she and Martha settled into a comfortable domestic routine that suited them both. Irene was grateful for her mother’s help with Alexander and repaid her by taking on some of the cooking and most of the cleaning. It wasn’t long before she began to see an improvement in her mother’s health; her cough cleared up and she felt less tired. Best of all, Irene came to realise that motherhood and the time she spent away from home had helped her see her mother in a different light.
On a bright Sunday afternoon, Pat and Irene went for a walk up the road with Alexander in his pram, and the talk turned to their upbringing. ‘I understand now why she worried about us all the time,’ said Irene. ‘We were so precious to her that she was frightened something would happen to us. All she wanted was for us to grow up, not just happy, but as decent people.’
‘She still worries, doesn’t she?’ said Pat. ‘She’d wrap us in cotton wool if she could, even though she’s mellowed quite a bit.’ They walked in silence a while then Pat said, ‘She wants me to accept that Tony has died; thinks I should be grieving, not waiting.’
A Song in my Heart Page 32