When the Lights Come on Again

by Maggie Craig

  Liz went for the look of astonishment and an accent like Cordelia Maclntyre’s. ‘You have got it bad for my brother. You poor dear girl.’

  Helen stuck her tongue out at her. Liz grinned.

  ‘Tell me something. Have you put this point of view to Eddie?’ She stirred the air with her index finger. ‘About him being misguided in matters of religion, I mean?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And he said?’

  Helen tilted her head to one side and made a self-deprecating face. ‘We argued all evening about it. I had to kiss him eventually, just to get him to shut up. It’s the only thing that does. Shut him up, I mean.’ She narrowed her eyes at Liz’s reaction to those statements. ‘Don’t snort like that, MacMillan. It’s unladylike.’

  ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Miss Gallagher, but I don’t think I’ve heard you tell Eddie very often what a good person he is, have I?’

  ‘Well,’ said Helen with a sly smile, ‘I have to keep him on his toes, don’t I?’

  The course of true love hit a serious reef one week later. Unable to stand it any longer, Brendan Gallagher exploded, demanding to know what Eddie’s intentions were towards Helen. Fatally, he put the question of any Clydebank father who saw one of his offspring falling in love with someone of a different religion. Was Eddie going to turn? That is, was he going to become a Roman Catholic?

  Eddie, passionate about his beliefs, and too honest for his own good, hadn’t the sense to be diplomatic - or to know when to stop. Brendan Gallagher, normally the most peaceable of men, soon had steam coming out of his ears. Marie Gallagher and her sons - chiefly Conor, her most trusted lieutenant - had her work cut out calming her husband down.

  Brendan’s anger was not surprising, especially when you took into account that Eddie had told him exactly what he thought of all organized religions - particularly the Roman Catholic Church. Not content with that, he proceeded to tell the man who thought he was looking at a prospective son-in-law that he didn’t actually believe in marriage and had in fact always been in favour of Free Love.

  The lovers were banned from seeing each other. It took two weeks of the most strenuous intervention by Liz on the one side and Conor Gallagher on the other to persuade Helen’s father to relax his edict. She and Eddie were allowed to meet again, but only under the strictest of conditions, as Eddie grumblingly explained to Liz.

  ‘We can go dancing, but only if one of the Irish giants comes with us. We can have five minutes alone in the close together to say goodnight. Five measly minutes! We can go to the pictures, but only if you or one of the Irish giants comes with us. Preferably sitting between us,’ he added gloomily. ‘We can go for a walk in the hills, but only if Conor comes with us - and the hound of the bloody Baskervilles.’ He drew a great sigh and ran a hand through his mop of hair.

  ‘Do you know,’ he went on, his voice full of righteous indignation, ‘we were up there the other night and nobody was looking so I tried to hold Helen’s hand.’ He was the picture of injured innocence. ‘That was all I wanted to do, Liz,’ he said, ‘hold her hand. The damn dog spotted me and do you know what he did?’

  Liz shook her head, trying not to laugh.

  ‘The beast fixed his beady eyes on me, and he growled. Every time I moved my hand closer to Helen’s. Can you believe that?’

  ‘Well, Eddie,’ said Liz, amused by this description of Finn’s behaviour, but exasperated with her brother at the same time, ‘what do you expect? You can’t go shooting your mouth off about Free Love and not believing in marriage and expect any father to welcome you in as his daughter’s boyfriend. Can you, now?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ he said, heaving a great sigh, ‘but I do have my principles, Liz.’

  ‘And what’s more important? Your principles or Helen?’

  ‘We haven’t done anything,’ he mumbled in embarrassment. ‘Not to speak of, that is.’ His pale skin went a beautiful shade of dark red. ‘I love Helen and I’ve got too much respect for her.’

  ‘Phooey,’ said Liz. The breath expelled by the force of the exclamation lifted a lock of brown hair which had fallen over her brow. ‘Respect doesn’t come into it. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. If I were Mr Gallagher I wouldn’t let you out without a chaperone either.’

  In the spring and early summer of 1940, despite a gallant struggle, Norway fell to the Germans. That made a lot of people stop and think. The Scandinavian country was Scotland’s nearest neighbour across the North Sea, no distance away – particularly if you were a Luftwaffe pilot.

  Denmark was already under Nazi control - large parts of Northern Europe too. Hitler’s forces were beginning to look pretty unstoppable, resistance crumbling before them. That included the British Expeditionary Force, pushed further and further back until they were eventually evacuated from Dunkirk. Heroic it certainly was, but it was also a defeat - a crushing one.

  The crisis precipitated another fall - the end of Neville Chamberlain’s career as prime minister. He was succeeded by Winston Churchill, who immediately proposed to the Labour Opposition that they should come in with the Conservatives and form a coalition government for the duration.

  That made sense to most people, but it did little to calm growing fears of an invasion of Britain. News of devastating bombing attacks on the city of Rotterdam by the Luftwaffe and of German troops landing in Holland and Belgium by parachute fanned the flames of that anxiety. When France fell, that was it. Britain stood alone.

  As spring gave way to summer, all sorts of wild rumours began to circulate. There had already been an aborted invasion. The bodies of German parachutists had been found on beaches on the south coast of England. The government was keeping it secret for fear of causing a panic. Parachute landings might take place anywhere, a silent descent by the enemy into the heart of Britain.

  These Germans were clever. Even a handful of them could do untold damage, infiltrating towns, cities and villages and reporting back to their masters in preparation for the invasion of the British Isles. They might be men or women, or even men disguised as women. Any stranger might be a spy, particularly any foreigner. For a few panic-stricken months in 1940 the fear turned into xenophobia. It was an ugly many-headed hydra and it was to have terrible repercussions for many people.

  ‘It’s true, Doctor! Honest!’

  Adam glanced at Liz over the woman’s head. As the expected civilian air-raid casualties had not materialized, the Infirmary was busy dealing with what it had always dealt with: the ailments and emergencies of the community which it served. It was back to business as usual.

  The woman had cut her hand on a broken milk bottle. Using tweezers to lift out the shards of glass, Adam was cleaning the wound preparatory to its being dressed by Liz.

  ‘German parachutists disguised as nuns? Do you not think that’s a touch far-fetched?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ve all got to be alert,’ the woman maintained. She looked furtively around her. ‘Walls have ears, you know, and loose talk costs lives. But it’s all right, Nurse,’ she went on, turning her attention to Liz and nodding sagely. ‘You can recognize the Germans because - although they speak very good English - they say y when they mean j. They cannae pronounce j properly.’

  She herself pronounced the letter the Glasgow way: jie, to rhyme with tie.

  Adam and Liz exchanged another look. They were getting good at it, the ability to silently share a joke.

  Eddie sat his final exams in history and politics in May. There was a big push on to mark the papers quickly so that those students who were joining up would be able to graduate before they did so. Eddie had already received his call-up papers and his departure date was set. He was to leave Glasgow at the end of the first week in June, the day after the graduation ceremony.

  In public Helen and he carried on as before, alternately laughing and arguing with each other. It made their friends laugh too, the way she seemed to prefer to tell him off rather than exchange sweet nothings with him.

&nbs
p; In private Liz was pretty certain it was a different story. During the days and weeks before Eddie was due to leave, Liz often intercepted a wistful look passing between the two of them. It was as if they were trying to commit each other to memory. Not only looks, but every characteristic - voice, gestures, mannerisms.

  She saw Helen watch the way Eddie tossed his unruly head before he launched into some political argument. She observed Eddie drinking in the mischievous smile Helen wore when she was telling a funny story.

  Her heart aching with sympathy for them, Liz relaxed her chaperonage. She’d hated playing gooseberry anyway, but she was more willing now to yield to Eddie’s pleading that he and Helen needed some time alone together.

  The young lovers lost two other chaperones as well - Conor and Finn. Meeting Helen at Radnor Street one evening, Liz initially thought her friend’s red-rimmed eyes had to do with Eddie’s imminent departure, but that wasn’t the source of Helen’s distress this time. Conor had received his call-up papers too.

  Dominic was too young, and Joe and Danny were in reserved occupations, having been taken on by the shipyard some time before. Working full tilt to replace British losses at sea, managers and foremen were less choosy now about the workforce’s religious and ethnic backgrounds.

  Conor, reluctant to surrender his independence in return for a regular wage packet, was the only member of the family to be conscripted. The consequences were entirely predictable. Unable to face the prospect of separation from his beloved dog, he’d done what he’d always said he would. He and Finn had taken to the hills.

  ‘He was supposed to report to some office in Glasgow this morning, and he didn’t, of course, so the police have been round to the house, and two military policemen as well, and Ma’s so upset and they won’t believe that she or I don’t know where he is, and och, Liz, today’s been bloody awful!’

  Coming, finally, to the end of this rambling sentence, Helen burst into tears. Liz put a comforting arm around her shoulders and proffered a handkerchief.

  ‘There, there, pet,’ said Peter MacMillan, patting Helen’s hand. ‘I take it your brother deliberately didn’t tell you or your mother where he was going?’

  Helen blew her nose on Liz’s hankie. ‘Aye, to protect us, he said. He’s going to try and slip back now and again, once the fuss has died down. Och, but everybody’s that upset about it, especially Ma and Daddy. What if something happens to him while he’s out there living rough?’

  Liz hastened to reassure her. ‘Helen, Conor knows the hills like the back of his hand. He’ll be fine.’

  ‘Aye, but he’s made himself a criminal, Liz. He could get into real trouble over this.’

  Liz did her best to console her. So did Eddie. In the weeks between finishing his exams and getting his results, he took Helen for a run on the train to Balloch. They spent the day there, taking a picnic so they could wander through the dappled sunlight by the bonnie banks of Loch Lomond. They were by themselves, of course, without Conor or Liz - or the hound of the bloody Baskervilles...

  Twenty-eight

  ‘Question,’ said Mario, reading out from the newspaper. ‘What should you do if you look up and spot a German parachutist floating down towards you?’

  ‘Move out of the way before he squashes you to a pulp?’ suggested Liz.

  Mario gave her a dirty look. ‘Thank you. No, according to this you should great him with a friendly Heil Hitler! He’ll automatically raise his arm in the salute. Then you shoot the swine.’

  There was general laughter, but one of the girls protested. ‘Oh, what a pity! Shouldn’t you check to see if he’s good-looking first?’

  ‘Are there any good-looking Germans?’

  It was Liz who had spoken. Cordelia, who hadn’t laughed with the others, gave her a cool look. ‘I don’t suppose it occurs to you that most Germans are people like us? They didn’t all choose Hitler, you know.’

  ‘They’re a cruel race,’ Liz insisted. ‘Look at the Athenia. What sort of people attack an unarmed passenger ship full of women and children?’

  ‘One man made that decision,’ said Cordelia quickly. She was very pale. ‘Perhaps he panicked and made the wrong one. It happens.’

  Jim Barclay tactfully changed the subject.

  ‘What was that story you were telling us about how you can recognize German spies by the way they pronounce their jies, Adam?’

  That produced more chuckles, but Adam indicated that Liz should relate the story.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Mario thoughtfully after Liz had told the tale, ‘hairy-handed nuns who’re actually German parachutists. That’s a neat combination of two prejudices: the sneaky Roman Catholic and the evil Hun.’

  Cordelia excused herself. Adam rose too, but she waved him to sit down. He did, but continued gazing after her with a worried frown as she left the café.

  Liz turned with relief to Mario. As usual he was choosing to see the funny side, putting on his cod Italian accent.

  ‘As I was-a saying to my Uncle Benito ze ozzer day, I will do anything for my beloved Italia, but don’t ask me to dress up as a nun. Think of the psychological damage.’ He leered at Liz, lifted her hand and kissed it. ‘Especially to my love life.’

  ‘I don’t think you should joke about it,’ said Adam sharply. ‘Do none of you realize how serious this could get? You most of all, Mario. It’s people like you and your father it’s going to affect. I’m going after Cordelia,’ he announced. ‘She’s upset.’

  He rose to his feet and strode briskly out of the café.

  ‘Well,’ commented Naomi Richardson, ‘the Honourable Miss Maclntyre really does have our young Mr Buchanan on a string, doesn’t she?’

  Liz’s heart was filled with pride. Eddie had passed his finals with flying colours. He’d got first-class honours.

  ‘I’m pretty chuffed myself, Liz,’ he told his sister with a diffident smile. ‘Helen says I’m like a dog with two tails.’

  ‘You deserve it, Eddie,’ said Liz stoutly. ‘You’ve worked hard for your degree.’

  ‘So,’ he asked, putting an affectionate arm around her shoulders, ‘are you coming to Gilmorehill next Friday to see your big brother dressed up in silly clothes?’

  She was, of course. She wouldn’t have missed it for the world. The surroundings were magnificent - the Bute Hall of Glasgow University. It was all carved wood and heraldic shields and centuries of history and heritage. Liz wished she could have enjoyed the experience unreservedly, but she was filled with trepidation. Today was the day Eddie was going to introduce Helen to their parents.

  No more procrastinating, he’d said. It was now or never. He’d proved himself more than equal to the academic challenge, surpassing every ambition his father had ever had for him. He was about to go off to fight for his country. There wasn’t ever going to be a better time for his parents and the girl he loved to meet one another.

  It was a reasoned and logical argument, but it failed to calm Liz’s anxieties. Helen was in another part of the hall throughout the ceremony, insisting that Liz had to sit with her parents. They’d all meet up again afterwards. And Liz was to stop worrying. Everything would be fine.

  Afterwards, resplendent in his hood and gown, Eddie led Helen by the hand over the carefully manicured lawns of the University grounds towards his parents and sister. Helen was wearing the brown georgette dress and a new hat she’d spent months saving up for.

  Liz’s heart was thumping as she watched them approach. They were a handsome couple, Helen so fair and pretty and Eddie so dark and solemn in his academic robes. Liz darted a glance at her father. He was smiling. His wife, unable to contain herself, walked forward to greet Helen.

  ‘I knew there was a special lassie!’ she said triumphantly. ‘I knew it. Och, and you’re so bonnie too!’ She seized Helen’s hand. ‘What’s your name, my dear?’

  ‘Helen, Mrs MacMillan. My name is Helen Gallagher.’

  It was like watching time stand still - or perhaps go backwards. Liz knew, withou
t having to look, that the smile had slid off her father’s face. Sadie was frozen to the spot. Eddie too. Like his sister, he was transfixed, watching it all go horribly wrong. It was only Helen who kept moving. Taking her hand out of Sadie’s grasp, she extended it to William MacMillan.

  ‘Hello, Mr MacMillan, you must be very proud of Edward. I know I am.’

  He ignored that outstretched hand, and the lovely and open face behind it. He ignored Helen Gallagher completely. Turning to his son, he asked one question.

  ‘Is she a Fenian?’

  Eddie spent his last night as a civilian at Queen Victoria Row only because Liz and Helen begged him to.

  ‘For your mother’s sake,’ said Helen with tears in her eyes. ‘For your mother’s sake. And for mine too,’ she added when she saw his face harden. ‘Please, Eddie!’

  ‘He insulted you,’ he said, his lips compressed. ‘He looked through you as though you weren’t there! He wouldn’t shake your hand. And you expect me to spend another night under his roof?’

  But he gave in at last, unable to resist Helen’s tears and Liz’s pleading. He left after breakfast the next morning, although his train wasn’t till the afternoon. He hugged his mother and refused his hand to his father, looking him straight in the eye before he left the house with Liz.

  ‘You wouldn’t take Helen’s hand yesterday,’ he said, his intelligent grey eyes cool and unforgiving. ‘Why should I give you mine today?’

  Liz and he spent the morning with the Gallaghers, enjoying a midday meal with Helen and her family as rumbustious as any that household had ever seen. William and Sadie MacMillan sat at their kitchen table alone and found nothing to say to each other for the rest of the day.

  Liz couldn’t speak. There was a lump in her throat the size of a tennis ball. It was the way they were looking at each other. When Eddie bent his head to kiss Helen for the last time, Liz turned her back and walked away from them. Then she heard her brother calling her name.