She plunged into the crowds again. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her between two stalls.
‘Well, look who it is – cloakroom girl or should that be failed musical director? I’m glad we’ve run into each other again.’
‘Devlin!’ Peggy tried to pull back from him, but he held her fast. ‘I heard you’d left the Plaza.’ She tried to keep her voice light.
‘Not so much left it, as escorted from the premises by the police who wanted to charge me with fraud.’ His fingers tightened round her arm. ‘You walked out and left me to face all that.’
‘I didn’t! You threw us out. You were horrible to Pat and it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t sing.’
‘You were responsible for that whole disaster – it was your big idea. I lost everything because of you.’ He pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her like a vice. ‘You owe me.’
His whiskey breath disgusted her and she dropped all pretence at politeness. ‘I owe you nothing!’ She tried to pull away from him, but still he gripped her.
‘Oh come on, you were after me from the moment we met, you know you were,’ and suddenly his lips were on hers, his hands pulling at her clothes. She twisted away from him, but he lifted her off her feet and lurched towards the darkness behind the stalls.
‘Let me go!’ she shouted, but his mouth stifled her screams.
Then there was shouting. Devlin was being pulled away from her, but still he held on. She tripped and fell on the hard ground. She felt someone tall and powerful grab Devlin, heard a fist connect with Devlin’s jaw and floor him. Then the man picked him up and hit him again.
Devlin backed off. ‘That’s enough,’ he shouted, ‘I’m going. I’m going.’ He spat out blood at her feet. ‘You’re welcome to her, the bitch!’
‘Are you all right?’ Her rescuer picked her up and drew her close, stroked her hair. ‘Don’t worry, you’re safe now. Did he hurt you?’
Peggy was shaking and close to tears. ‘No, but I was scared. He was so strong.’
‘Well, he’s gone now and he won’t be back.’
‘I saw you ring the bell and I was trying to find you, but he–’
‘Sssh, Peggy, I’m here, you’ve found me.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were home?’
‘It’s a long story. Why don’t we find a warm bar where we can talk.’
‘Give me two minutes,’ her voice was breathless with excitement.
Her sisters had come looking for her. ‘I’ve met someone I know,’ she said. ‘Tell Mammy I won’t be late,’ and she ran back the way she had come.
‘What’s that all about?’ asked Sheila.
Pat pointed towards the tall soldier with a look of Humphrey Bogart about him who had put his arm around Peggy and had bent to kiss her. ‘It’s Harry Ferguson, he’s home.’
The Belfast entries, a series of interconnecting back alleyways, cut across the main city streets. There, among the sleazy bars and brothels, was the oldest inn in Belfast – White’s Tavern. Peggy and Harry came in from the chilly night into a fug of tobacco smoke and the warmth of a blazing fire. He ordered hot toddies and they found a quiet corner away from prying eyes where for several minutes they alternated between gazing at each other in amazement and holding each other close. Where to start a conversation that had ended so abruptly months before when Harry fled Belfast on the day of Irene’s wedding?
‘I’ve missed you,’ he started
‘Why didn’t you write?’ Peggy asked.
‘Ach, you know me, I’m a talker not a writer.’
‘Are you home on leave?’
‘Not exactly. My father died, we buried him today.’
‘Oh, Harry, I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Aye well, it’s the rest of the family I feel sorry for. It’ll be hard leaving them.’
‘How long are you here for?’
‘I got two days leave. So I’m back on the boat tomorrow.’
‘When you left you said you couldn’t come back – you owed Dessie all the money you’d borrowed to set up the bakery.’ A look of horror crossed Peggy’s face and she caught her breath. ‘What if he finds you?’
‘It’s all right. I was talking to some fellas at the funeral and they said Dessie was doing six months in the Crumlin Road Gaol for black-marketeering. But never mind all that,’ his voice softened and he caressed her cheek and kissed her tenderly, ‘what about my best girl in all the world?’
She smiled shyly. ‘Oh I’m fine now I’ve seen you, but these last months have been hard, with the bombing and the rations and everyone so miserable.’
‘Ach sure you’ll have cheered them up with all the singing and the concerts.’
‘That’s just it. There’s been no singing.’ She told him about William dying in the Dublin bombing and the terrible time with Pat and how she hadn’t been able to sing since. ‘And Mammy and Sheila were away in Dungannon for ages and we’ve hardly seen Irene since she started trailing round air force bases with Sandy.’ Her lip trembled and tears welled in her eyes and when Harry wrapped his arms around her she laid her head on his shoulder and let them fall.
‘And did you not have some fella to take care of you and make you laugh and take you out dancing?’
Peggy squeezed her words out through the sobs. ‘No, no, there was no one. I’ve been all alone.’
‘And what about that eejit you were wrestling with back there?’
‘He’s been pestering me for a while, but I never gave him the time of day.’ She sniffed and raised her head. ‘What about you? The uniform suits you and I bet there’s been plenty of girls chasing you, like there always was.’
‘Aah, Peggy pet, sure there’s no one for me but you, only you.’
She almost believed him.
Outside, with the moon obscured by the clouds, the blackout was total. Harry took a small torch from his greatcoat and shone it on the pavement. ‘I’ll see you home,’ he said.
‘Well that’s better than the last time we had a drink in White’s.’
‘I never took you to White’s.’
‘No, you asked me to meet you there one night after a concert. When I got there you forgot you’d asked me and that you’d promised me a lift home.’
‘Don’t remember that.’
‘Not surprising – you were drunk and I had to walk home in the blackout!’
‘I wasn’t very reliable, was I?’
‘No,’ Peggy laughed, ‘but you were always good fun.’
They started walking, hoping a bus would come past but none did. They walked quickly in an attempt to keep warm, but every now and again Harry would pull her into a doorway out of the wind, open his coat to wrap her close and kiss her until she was warm again.
Neither of them had a watch, not that they would have looked at it anyway – when they were together, it felt as though time didn’t exist. The walk was long, but all too soon they were in Joanmount Gardens.
‘I’ll go with you to the back door,’ said Harry, ‘just in case you can’t get in.’ The door was unlocked and as they stepped into the back hallway they could see the light was still on in the kitchen.
‘Is that you, Peggy?’ Martha’s voice.
Peggy put her head round the door. ‘Yes, Mammy, I’ve someone with me. ’
‘Who? Who’s with you at this hour of the night?’ Martha’s voice was sharp.
Peggy came through the door, drawing Harry by the hand behind her.
‘Mercy me!’ shouted Martha. Peggy held her breath, but she needn’t have worried.
Harry stepped forward, his hand outstretched and with a broad smile said, ‘Hello, Mrs Goulding, how in the world are you?’
‘Mr Ferguson, you’re a sight for sore eyes, so you are!’
Peggy stood amazed as her mother reached up and hugged Harry, who tipped a wink at Peggy as he returned the embrace.
‘No, no, remember you were calling me Harry when I was last here?’
‘Aye well, Harry, you
certainly suit the uniform. Now give me the coat or you’ll not feel the benefit later. Pull that chair up to the range, why don’t you, and I’ll make you a hot drink.’ As Martha busied herself with cups and milk, she kept up the constant chatter. Peggy was astonished at her mother’s pleasure in seeing Harry.
‘How long are you home for?’ asked Martha.
‘Just for my father’s funeral. I’m going back tomorrow.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your father.’
‘Thank you.’ He took the cup of tea Martha handed him. ‘I’m sorry to say I’ve brought you no cake this visit.’
Martha laughed, ‘I tell you, your cakes were the best, better than the Ormeau bakery. You don’t still bake, do you?’
‘Indeed I do. I’m in the catering corp. When we can get the sugar, a well-risen Victoria sponge can raise the morale of the whole battalion!’ he joked.
When Harry was warmed and ready for the long walk back home, Martha shook his hand and told him he’d always be welcome. ‘Now I’ll away to my bed and, Peggy, don’t you be long,’ and she left them to say their goodbyes.
Harry took Peggy in his arms and kissed her until her head was light and her heart pounded with excitement. She had thought she loved Harry once long ago, but tonight she understood that those feelings had been just the first stirring of passion. Now her love consumed her and she wanted all of him for ever and ever.
He reached up and took her arms from round his neck and eased his body away from hers. She opened her eyes and saw he was smiling down at her.
‘Peggy,’ his voice no more than a whisper, ‘are you still mine?’ She nodded. ‘Then say it, say it.’
‘I’m still yours.’
‘And?’
A moment’s hesitation and she knew the answer. ‘And I love you.’
He released the breath he had been holding and took Peggy’s beautiful face in his hands. ‘And I love you, Peggy Goulding.’
Chapter 27
Peggy stood shivering outside Goldstein’s shop, stamping her feet on the pavement, blowing on her bunched fists and silently cursing her boss. At last, half an hour late, she spotted Esther hurrying down Royal Avenue towards her.
‘Where’s your uncle?’ she shouted when Esther was still ten yards away.
‘He went out early to a meeting. I’ve had to come on the bus.’
Once inside they locked the door behind them and went straight to the office where Goldstein kept a one-bar electric fire for his personal use.
‘We’ll leave the shop blinds down and get warm in here for a bit,’ said Peggy, pulling Goldstein’s comfortable chair round to the front of the fire. ‘What’s this meeting he’s gone to?’
‘I’m not sure, but it must be very important. He had on his best suit and shirt with his favourite dicky bow and’ – Esther paused before delivering her conclusive evidence – ‘he was whistling while he cooked his breakfast!’
‘Are you sure he isn’t off somewhere to negotiate the sale of a grand piano? That usually puts a spring in his step.’
‘No, if that was it, he’d have said where he was going. No, this is definitely something mysterious, something exciting.’
‘Oooh!’ Peggy laughed. ‘You don’t think he’s meeting a woman, do you?’
‘What, during business hours? I don’t think so, do you?’
Peggy stretched out her legs to toast her freezing feet in front of the fire.
‘You’ll get chilblains,’ said Esther.
Peggy ignored her. ‘Do you want to hear something really exciting?’
Esther caught the change in Peggy’s voice and pulled her chair closer.
‘I went to the carnival on Saturday night and I met someone there …’
‘Who was he?’
‘How do you know it was a “he”?’
‘It wouldn’t be exciting if it wasn’t.’
‘It was … it was …’ Peggy wished she could orchestrate a drum roll. ‘It was … Harry Ferguson!’
If Esther felt a stab of envy, she hid it well. She had fallen for Harry’s charms during one of the many occasions when he and Peggy had fallen out. Of course, he’d been using her to make Peggy jealous and his plan had worked. They had got back together leaving Esther brokenhearted. Looking back, she knew it had been a silly infatuation but even now, when she had Reuben to love her, her heart leapt at the sound of Harry’s name.
‘Can you believe it?’ Peggy was rushing on. ‘I spotted him in the crowd. Oh Esther, I can’t tell you how handsome he looks in uniform.’ Esther had no trouble imagining. ‘We went to a bar and talked for hours, then he walked me home and he came inside with me …’ Peggy’s voice trailed off.
Esther’s eyes widened. ‘What happened?’
At that moment there was a loud banging on the shop door and Peggy jumped up, knocking over the little fire. ‘Who do these people think they are?’ she shouted. ‘It’s a music shop for goodness sake, how desperate can you be for some sheet music?’
Esther had gone to unbolt the door and Peggy heard the sound of Goldstein’s voice. ‘What’s going on? Why is the shop not open? Get these blinds up right away!’
She quickly moved the chair back and was just switching off the fire when he appeared in the doorway.
Caught off guard, Peggy tried to explain, ‘I’m sorry–’
‘Never mind all that. Come into the shop. I have amazing news to tell you.’ Peggy had never seen him so animated.
‘I had a telephone call last night inviting me to a meeting with Basil Dean, no less.’ He looked at the girls’ blank faces and tutted. ‘Basil Dean,’ he repeated, ‘the impresario who runs ENSA. You know what that is, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do,’ said Peggy, ‘I’m a member. It’s the organisation that puts on shows for the troops.’
‘Quite right and Mr Dean is here in Belfast to set up some concerts with a big star from England.’ He grinned at the two girls, no doubt expecting to see his excitement reflected in their faces. ‘Do you not see? He needs someone here, on the ground so to speak, who has the experience to make it all happen. That someone is me. He wants local talent on the bill and has asked me to provide it.’
Peggy saw the possibilities and understood why he was so excited. ‘So you’ll be in charge of it all?’
‘Yes indeed and you two are going to help me. Peggy you will be assistant director and Esther you will be my personal assistant. We have only six weeks until the first concert. Mark my words, this will be the biggest theatrical event ever seen in Northern Ireland. We’ll need to choose our best acts to show these English people what we can do!’
‘Just one thing, Mr Goldstein,’ said Peggy.
‘What’s that?’
‘Who’s the big star from England?’
He pursed his lips, considering. ‘I’m not supposed to tell anyone yet, but as you are my production team I will tell you in confidence.’ He paused for effect. ‘Our star is none other than George Formby!’
He watched as the two girls danced around the shop pretending to strum ukuleles and singing ‘When I’m Cleaning Windows’ at the top of their voices.
Goldstein spent the rest of the morning in his office making plans and phone calls. When Peggy brought him his afternoon tea he was kneeling on the floor surrounded by lists of performers, venues and set designs.
‘Peggy, if we need ten Northern Ireland acts to support Mr Formby, who would you choose?’
As she began to name her chosen performers, Goldstein ticked them off, or added them if they were not his own list.
‘Hmmm,’ he mused when she had finished. ‘You hesitated when you mentioned Sheila. Do you worry that it would be too much for her?’
‘No, I think she’s got a great voice, but it’s a tour with lots of concerts. She’s just started a new job at Belfast Royal Academy and I’m not sure they’ll let her take time off to do it. And, to be honest, I’m don’t think my mother would agree to it.’
‘Ah yes, Martha
worries about her girls. I noticed you did not include the Golden Sisters in your list of acts?’
Peggy didn’t hide her frustration. ‘Pat’ll never sing. I can’t tell you how often I’ve talked to her about it, but either she can’t or she won’t. Whatever’s going on, you’ll not get a note out of her. And don’t forget Irene’s away in Enniskillen. I’m sorry to say it, but the Golden Sisters are finished.’
‘Hmmm.’ He stared at his list for a while then handed it to her. ‘Right, we will include all those I’ve ticked. Send them a postcard asking them to get in touch – just say it is a big new show, do not mention anything else. In the meantime, I’ll get on with contacting these military bases.’
In the days that followed, Goldstein was like a man possessed as he inspected army camps to assess their suitability for hosting a concert, all the time making copious notes about staging, dressing rooms and distances from Mr Formby’s base in Belfast. He drew up a demanding rehearsal schedule of evenings and weekends for the local performers. At his side, Peggy caught some of his fervour and, after the disaster at the Plaza, she was determined to taste success.
At the end of their first gruelling week of rehearsing Peggy asked, ‘Mr Goldstein, do all the shows have to be in military camps?’
Golden Sisters Page 26