Once the show was underway it was obvious that the acts had raised their performances to a new level. The audience response ranged from enthusiastic and lively to quietly attentive and, at some points, the soldiers were deeply moved. It was often the case that soldiers would send messages backstage to the performers they had enjoyed or to ask a girl for a date. The stage manager would collect the scribbled notes and leave them in the dressing room.
One of the Tappers was looking through them and shouted, ‘Hey Irene, there’s a message here with your name on it.’
‘Are you sure?’
Usually the sisters got messages addressed to ‘the Golden Sister on the right’ … ‘the left’ … or ‘playing the piano’. This message was addressed to ‘Irene Goulding’ – odd enough for someone to know her full name, but even odder that it was her maiden name. She thrust it into her pocket and after a few minutes stepped outside the dressing room to read it. There were two lines in the middle of the page. Her eyes widened – a shock, a memory, a leap of the heart.
It was usual for the performers to join the officers for a few drinks after the show. This gave the audience enough time to return to barracks. Irene went with her sisters to the mess and stood talking a while with Pat and Tony. She knew instantly that the relationship between the two of them was different now. She was struck by how beautiful Pat looked, how handsome Tony was in his captain’s uniform and she envied them that tentative time, before love was declared, when the anticipation of what might be charged every moment together. She made an excuse and slipped away.
In the gathering twilight the stage was silhouetted against the sky. On one side Irene could see a GI pacing up and down and she headed towards him, her breathing quick and shallow. He turned and ran towards her. He held her then, tighter than she had ever been held, his face buried in her hair. They did not speak though there was much to say. At last, he unwrapped his arms from around her to look at her face in wonder.
‘I can’t believe it’s you, Irene. There you were up on that stage singing and I wanted so much to shout your name. I can’t believe you’re here.’ His voice had the traces of an American accent.
‘I’m here, Sean, but you shouldn’t be! Someone might recognise you.’ His dark hair cut close to his head had altered his appearance a little and he seemed broader, stronger than he had been, but still recognisable as the boy who fled Belfast. ‘What are you doing here? And in this uniform?’
‘A lot of people I knew joined up after Pearl Harbour and I decided to give it a go. It sounded more exciting than working on a building site. I knew we’d soon be sent to fight, but I never dreamed I’d end up back here.’
‘But the police, will they not find you?’
‘No I don’t think so. I haven’t used my real name since I left here. The army records show no trace of Sean O’Hara, but I wouldn’t risk going into Belfast, just in case.’ He pulled her close again. ‘Oh Irene, it’s so good to see you. There’s not a day I don’t think about you,’ and he bent to kiss her.
‘Wait,’ said Irene. ‘Wait, this is all too much. A lot’s happened since you left. I can’t–’
‘Sssh! There’s someone coming.’
They waited while a group of GIs went by laughing and calling out, ‘You doin’ okay there, buddy?’
Irene stepped back, ‘I have to go now. We’ll be leaving soon.’
‘Not yet. We need to talk. This is such an amazing thing that’s happened, you and me meeting up again.’ He rushed on, words tumbling from him. ‘There’s so much I want to say. And I want to ask you about Theresa. I haven’t heard from her in a while. Is she all right? But you can’t tell her I’m here because–’
‘Stop! I have to go, Sean.’
There was panic in his eyes and he gripped her arm. ‘You can’t just walk away! I have to see you again. Look, I don’t have leave until next month – the last Sunday in September I’m scheduled to drive some officers to a planning meeting in Larne. Will you meet me so we can talk?’
‘I don’t know if I can.’
‘I’ll be there for most of the day. I’ll wait for you outside the railway station. Say you’ll come and meet me – it isn’t far. Please, Irene, say you’ll come.’
Irene hesitated. She knew she couldn’t possibly meet him, but his grip on her arm and the look in his eyes was desperate to see. ‘I … I just don’t know. I have to go.’
But he pulled her towards him and his lips were on hers and his desperation made her shiver.
Macy had been a bit withdrawn all morning while she and Irene had worked on a cockpit door. True, it was a tricky job in a confined space, but usually Macy would talk Irene through what she was doing and then allow her to try a few rivets herself. Instead she had worked in silence leaving Irene to give her basic assistance. At dinner time they went and sat outside in the warm September sun and ate their sandwiches. It wasn’t until they’d finished and Macy had lit up a cigarette that she spoke.
‘They hanged that man today, the one who shot the policeman.’
‘Yes, it said in last night’s paper that it was happening today. The other five men they arrested were lucky, they could have been hanged too.’
‘It could have been Finn or Theresa’s Michael if they’d found them. Running away has maybe saved them from the hangman’s noose. I wonder where they are now?’
It could have been Sean, thought Irene, if he hadn’t got away. Could still be Sean if anyone found out he had come back. ‘Do you think Finn was involved?’ she asked.
‘I don’t think he’d kill anyone. I suppose he might have been caught up in something. You hear things about factories being set alight and equipment being sabotaged.’
Ever since the night of the concert Irene hadn’t been able to get Sean out of her head. Every night she had tossed and turned thinking about his demand to meet him and the crush of his arms around her.
‘Macy, if I tell you something you won’t …’ – she looked at her friend – ‘no, of course you wouldn’t.’
‘What is it? Is something wrong?’
‘You remember I told you about Sean?’
‘Theresa’s brother?’
Irene nodded and looked across at a group of girls laughing in the sunshine. ‘I’ve seen him; he’s come back.’
‘Back from America? You saw him?’
‘Sssh,’ Irene hushed her and whispered, ‘he was at the concert last week. He’s a GI now. I spoke to him.’
‘Wow. What happened when you saw him?’
Irene sighed. ‘It was so strange, as though he’d never been away. He …’ How much should she say? The way he held her, kissed her? ‘He asked me to find out about his sister Theresa, wanted to know if she was all right.’
‘But you haven’t seen her in a while, have you?’
‘I really should go and see her anyway. I don’t know where she went to live after she got married, but I could go round to her father’s house. It’s off the Falls Road, not far. I might go after work one day.’
‘Be careful, Irene, there’ll be a lot of bad feeling after the execution. They won’t want strangers asking questions. Look what happened to me for getting too involved.’
‘I’ll be careful, keep my head down. I’d like to make sure she’s all right.’
When the hooter sounded for the end of dinner time, Macy finished her cigarette and ground the butt under her foot. They were well into their afternoon’s work when Macy suddenly said, ‘How will you let him know about his sister?’
In their Stormont office, Pat and Tony were poring over a set of architectural drawings. In the space of just a few weeks the US Army engineers had surveyed and drawn up detailed plans to convert the Plaza into an American services club. The proposal had been approved and the finances secured through the American Red Cross.
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Pat. ‘Do things always get done so fast in America?’
‘Sure do,’ said Tony. ‘Throw some money and enough man-hours at something
and it gets done real quick. We’ll be able to have a grand opening in October.’
Pat leaned over the plans and tried to get her bearings. Starting with the entrance, her finger traced a route through to the ballroom with its bar and stage, on to the mess hall and kitchens, then upstairs to the sleeping areas and finally a lounge and library. Tony stood beside her, his head bent towards hers watching her finger wander through the rooms. Her hair had fallen forward and she caught it and shaped it behind her ear. That’s when she became aware of his eyes on her. She turned. His face was so close to hers she felt embarrassed and straightened up. He did the same and she found herself looking at the weave of his tie. He reached out and took her index finger from the plan and brought it to his lips … a pause … she looked up as he kissed first her finger then her mouth.
All the way to Northumberland Street on the bus Irene convinced herself that she was going to see Theresa, not because Sean had asked her to, but because Theresa was her friend and she was worried about her. Her husband and brother-in-law had most likely fled the city and she might need someone to talk to, or to help her in some way. Then a voice in her head would chide, What kind of friend are you? You haven’t bothered with her for months!
The street was just as she remembered it – rows of terraced houses opening straight on to the pavement on both sides of the road. In the light of the September evening some children were playing a game of tig in the road, others were swinging on ropes round lamp posts. Theresa’s family home was towards the end of the street on the left, just beyond where a group of women stood chatting. Irene smiled at them as she passed. Their conversation halted and she felt their eyes follow her. As she came closer to Theresa’s house she sensed something odd about it, but it wasn’t until she drew level that she saw the windows were boarded up. Her steps slowed as she looked upwards and she gasped at the sight of the blackened brickwork and the collapsed roof.
There was a shout from one of the women she had passed, ‘You need to be careful coming round here, love – there’s been trouble. They’re a good family but some around here have taken against them.’
‘I’m a friend of Theresa’s. Would you know where I could find her or the family?’
‘No idea, haven’t seen any of them since all that bother.’
At the corner of the main road she hesitated outside Theresa’s uncle’s bar where she and Macy had attended Theresa and Michael’s wedding reception. She’d come all this way and achieved nothing. The light was beginning to fail and the more she thought about the burnt-out house the more worried she became. She searched in her handbag for a pencil and a scrap of paper to write on. It wasn’t about having something to tell Sean – of course it wasn’t – she had no intention of going to meet him.
The smell of stale cigarettes and the whiff of hops pervaded the dimly lit interior of the bar. A couple of old men sat in one corner nursing their half-pints. Irene’s heart sank when she saw the heavily built man behind the bar – she’d had a run in with him once before when she had come looking for Theresa. He glared at her, but said nothing.
Irene spoke up, ‘I’m–’
‘I know fine rightly who ye are.’
‘I need to find Theresa.’
‘Aye, you and plenty of others.’
‘Can you not just tell me if she’s all right?’
He turned his back on her. In desperation she held out the piece of paper, ‘Will you not just give her this wee message?’ He walked away.
She put the paper back in her pocket and walked out. She’d done her best, but as she walked away the tears of frustration were stinging her eyes and she nearly didn’t hear the call behind her.
‘Missus, will ye wait!’ One of the old men from the bar was trying to catch her up. ‘If ye’ve a message for Theresa I’ll try and get it to her. Her da’s a friend of mine.’
Irene pressed the paper into his hand and felt in her bag for her purse. ‘You’ll take something for your trouble.’
‘Ach no, missus, sure I couldn’t do that,’ and he tipped his cap and went back the way he’d come.
Chapter 33
Pat loved the newness of everything. Every morning when she arrived for work at the Plaza she looked forward to the sounds of sawing and hammering, the whistling of the workmen, and the smells of plaster, freshly sawn wood and paint. Every evening when she left she marvelled at the transformations the day had brought. By late September the most exciting part of the renovation was ready to begin.
The ballroom was the heart of the building, and pride of place in it would be its unique dance floor, made of specially imported Canadian maple. She had been astonished by the cost, but Tony had shrugged it off.
‘It ain’t so much,’ he said, ‘less than it costs to keep a battalion fed and watered for a couple of days.’
It took the best part of a week to lay it and as the maple slowly covered the floor, some of Tony’s excitement began to rub off on Pat.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ said Pat.
‘It’s real classy,’ Tony said and crouched down to run his hand over the grain. The top of his head was level with her hand. She looked down at his short dark hair, a crew cut he called it, and she felt a sudden urge to touch it, to feel its sharpness against her hand. She saw too the glint of the dog tags around his strong neck and how his broad arms strained the material of his shirt …
‘What do you think then, Patti?’ He looked up at her, smiling broadly.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she whispered.
It was early on a Friday evening that the floor was finally finished and, when the workmen had gone, Pat and Tony stood in the middle of the ballroom with all the lights blazing and the magnificent Canadian maple floor all around them.
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Pat. ‘I love it so much I want to stay here forever!’ and she threw back her head and laughed.
Tony stared at her in amazement. ‘I’ve never seen you laugh.’
‘Yes, you have.’
‘Not like that. Sometimes I wonder why you’re sad.’
‘Am I sad?’
‘Oh, don’t look serious again, Patti. I’ve got a surprise for you, fixed it up today.’ He went off to the back of the stage, and returned to stand in front of her a few minutes later, empty-handed.
‘What is it? What’s the surprise?’ said Pat.
‘Just wait. Listen.’
Moments later there was the sound of violins and then ‘The Blue Danube’ waltz filled the room. Tony stepped forward, took Pat’s hand and drew her to him and together they swept across the ballroom floor. His eyes never left her face and she studied him too – his gentle smile, the slight cleft of his chin, his kind eyes.
When the music faded, they danced on, the closeness of their bodies and the rhythm in their heads making every step faultless. The ballroom disappeared, the floor was forgotten. She was safe in his arms.
Gently he slowed them down until there was no reason to hold each other, but still he held her and she wished she could stay in his arms forever. His lips parted and she waited, her heart beating fast. He had kissed her once before and now she longed for him to kiss her again. But he straightened up and withdrew his arms.
‘Hey, guess what? We’re the first people ever to dance in the ballroom of the American Red Cross Services Club!’ The spell was broken and Pat felt only embarrassment. It was time to lock up and go home.
The jeep was parked outside. ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said.
‘There’s no need,’ said Pat. He had never offered her a lift before and after what happened in the ballroom she didn’t want to sit with him in the close confinement of a car. Besides, she had nothing to say to him.
Tony opened the passenger door. ‘I insist, get in.’
His tone brooked no argument. She climbed into the seat and they drove out of the city, Pat staring out of the passenger window, Tony with his eyes on the road. For a while neither spoke.
‘I’d like to see where you
live,’ he said at last and the sharp tone had gone. ‘I grew up in a small neighbourhood and on warm evenings people would sit a while on the stoop, just chewing the fat. Kids would play on the sidewalk until it was time for bed. When I joined the army it was like moving to a new neighbourhood with a whole bunch of new friends. Then they assigned me the liaison job and, I’ll not kid you, it was tough working with one girl instead of a platoon of guys!’ he laughed, ‘I guess what I’m trying to say–’
‘This is it, on the left,’ said Pat and the jeep pulled up sharply at the kerb in front of the grey pebble-dashed house with the neat privet hedge. ‘Oh there’s Mammy talking to Jack next door.’
‘Oh, that’s your mom?’ and he was out of the jeep and walking quickly over to Martha, his hand outstretched. ‘Hi, Mrs Goulding, good to meet you,’ he said. Next he turned and acknowledged Jack – ‘sir’ – and shook his hand.
Then Irene was at the door, smiling broadly. ‘Hello, Tony, come on in.’
Martha made Pat and Tony something to eat and afterwards they all sat chatting about the new club and she marvelled at the sight of a US Army captain in her sitting room.
It was after nine when Tony left, promising them all tickets for the opening of the club, and Pat walked with him to the jeep. He opened the passenger door.
‘Come sit a while,’ he said.
The twilight had gathered, but she could still see his face turned towards her as they sat side by side.
‘I’m just a regular guy,’ he began, ‘I don’t do clever talk, so I’ll just tell it like it is.’ He paused and Pat’s heart beat a little faster. ‘Patti, you know there’s something between us. These last few months working together, I’ve got so used to you being next to me. I get up in the morning and I can’t wait to be with you. I go to bed at night and it’s like a movie where I remember the day – I see you in the clothes you wore and little moments like when you smile at something stupid I said. Or that little frown that appears when you’re not sure about something, and your voice … Tonight, when we danced, it was beautiful and having you in my arms I wanted to kiss you so much and I think maybe you wanted that to happen too. But … ’
Golden Sisters Page 33