Martha's Girls (12 page)

‘Right, listen youse uns.’ He pointed at the basket. ‘Them’s a load of rubbish. Youse wasted yer day yesterday. There shoulda bin two hunred done and yer thirty short.’

‘Aye but, Mr Briggs, we were one down yesterday; Theresa was away,’ someone shouted from the back.

‘D’ye think I care if your woman was swinging the lead? Anyway, the colours isn’t right neither. The centres should’ve been magnolia cream with magenta petals on the outside. Not the other way about.’

There was uproar, all the women shouting at once that he’d given instructions to paint them like that. In the midst of the noise Irene noticed that Theresa had slipped in at the back. She looked drained and her eyes were red. Irene moved through the shouting women until she was next to her friend and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

‘I saw Sean last night.’ Theresa’s eyes opened wide and she made to speak, but Irene cut her off. ‘He asked me to tell you…’ Theresa listened, nodding, then mouthed ‘Thank you.’

‘Well, would you look at what the cat’s dragged in?’ Alan Briggs seized the opportunity to distract attention from himself. The women turned to stare. ‘And has your brother shown his face as well? If he has, we’d best ring Mountpottinger police station, I think there’s a few questions they’d be wantin’ te ask him.’

Irene could see Theresa was close to tears. ‘Mr Briggs, Theresa’s had a hard time over the last few days. I’m sure she’s just glad to be back to work.’

‘That’s as maybe, but I’m afraid there’s no work any more for somebody who misses two days because they’re in trouble with the police.’

There was another loud protest from the women, but he shouted them down. ‘Now look here! Youse had better quit arguing. This is insubordination!’ The grumbling continued, but the volume was lower. ‘If ye don’t like what goes on in this building then maybe youse need to find yersels an alternative place of employment.’ He pointed at Theresa. ‘And you Miss, can go and collect your cards right now. They have them ready for ye. An’ if there’s anyone thinks that’s unfair, well, ye can go with your Fenian friend and collect yours too.’

The room was silent. Theresa turned to leave. Pat caught Irene’s eye and shook her head in warning, but it was too late. Irene turned on her heel and followed Theresa out of the room.

The mill office was on the top floor, far above the clattering of looms, the lint-heavy air and the smell of sweating workers. Irene pressed the brass bell and when a woman appeared she spoke for both of them.

‘We’re here to collect our cards,’ adding quickly, ‘and our wages.’

The woman showed no surprise. Instant dismissals were common. ‘Names?’

‘Irene Goulding and Theresa O’Hara.’

She scribbled on a slip of paper and hurried away.

Theresa sat on one of the bentwood chairs, her head in her hands. ‘You shouldn’t have walked out, Irene. I knew they’d sack me, but you shouldn’t have got involved.’

‘What was I supposed to do? It’s not fair them sacking you like that. You’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘God Irene, Briggs is a bigot and he’s been looking for an excuse to get rid of me since I started here. I think me Da hauled off by the police and me brother on the run was too good an opportunity to miss, don’t you?’

They sat in silence a while then Irene said, ‘You know what, Theresa?’ It’s a matter of principle, so it is. You have to stand up to bullies whether it’s Adolf Hitler or Alan Briggs. We’ve struck a blow for freedom here …’ She stopped and laughed, suddenly struck by the absurdity of it all. ‘And that’s what I’ll tell Mammy when she hits the roof tonight after I tell her I’ve no job!’

Theresa hugged her. ‘You’re a good friend, so ye are. Will ye get in awful trouble?’

‘No, there’ll be no trouble at all.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Cause I won’t tell her!’

‘You’ll have to tell her. There’ll be no money.’

‘Look, it’s Thursday so I’ll only lose two days’ pay and I’ve a bit of overtime to come. That’s this week sorted and I’ll take myself down the town now and find another job. Go round the shops asking. I’ll get something. Why don’t you come too?’

‘No, you go on. Ye’ll have a better chance of getting something if you’re on your own. Anyway, I’ve an uncle runs a bar on Northumberland Street. He’s always asking me to work evenings. I’ll be all right.’

Outside the day was brightening up. ‘I’ve been wondering,’ said Theresa, ‘why Sean found you to pass on the message.’

‘Well he couldn’t risk going anywhere near a Catholic area, but nobody would think to look for him where I live, would they?’

‘But he—’

‘He knew no one would expect him to contact me.’ Irene went on quickly. ‘Now promise me you’ll keep in touch.’

‘I will.’ Theresa hugged her. ‘And, Irene …’

‘What?’

‘Thanks … for everything.’

*

‘And you’re to sing two duets in this concert, is that correct?’

‘Yes Aunt Kathleen, but William, I mean Mr Kennedy, and I are not sure what to sing. That’s why we need you to give us some advice.’

‘Your voice has developed over the six lessons you’ve had, and you are certainly capable of giving a passable account of yourself, but Mr Kennedy is the unknown quantity.’ She paused to consult her silver pendant watch. ‘I hope he will be punctual. This could take some time.’

At that moment the long case clock in the hall chimed the hour and there was a knock at the door. In the hallway, Pat made the formal introductions and Kathleen shook William’s hand.

‘Tell me, Mr Kennedy, are you one of the Lisburn Kennedys?’

‘No, I’m afraid I’m not. My family come from Ballymena.’

Kathleen stood a little taller. ‘Do they indeed? I’m not acquainted with any Ballymena Kennedys.’ She pronounced the word Ballymena as though it was something she would want to keep at arm’s length. ‘Do come into the drawing room.’

Kathleen sat at the elegant upright piano and had them warm up their voices. ‘Good, good, now let me see what you are thinking of singing.’ Pat produced the sheet music from her music case and Kathleen looked through it quickly, making two piles. ‘Suitable and unacceptable,’ she said, reaching for the smaller of the two piles. ‘We’ll start with these.’

‘But Mr Goldstein particularly wants us to sing “The Indian Love Call”’, said Pat, rescuing it from the unacceptable pile.

‘Good gracious, no. That’s pantomime music! You can do better than that.’

She set a duet from Puccini’s ‘La Boheme’ on the stand in front of her and played the introduction. Pat and William moved closer to read over her shoulder.

When they had finished, Kathleen swivelled round in her seat. ‘Pat, your voice is strong, but does not convey sufficient emotion. Mr Kennedy, your breathing is at fault. Have you forgotten you have a diaphragm?’

And so it went on. All afternoon they sang and Kathleen criticised. When the clock struck four, she announced that they would have a final run through of what she considered their four best songs. There was no doubt her coaching had made a difference and when the final note ended Pat and William were smiling with the exhilaration of it all. After Aunt Kathleen, two hundred paying customers would be easy.

‘Excellent,’ said Kathleen, standing up to shake them both by the hand. ‘You know, I think I’ll buy a ticket myself, just to check the quality of the final performance.’

*

‘Irene, you knew when you walked out of the mill that we couldn’t manage without your wage.’

‘But, Pat, I was sure I’d have another job by Monday.’

‘Oh aye, and now it’s Sunday and you’re still unemployed. And you know what the worst of it is? I’ll tell you − deceiving Mammy. Pretending to go out to work and coming home at the normal time.’

‘I’ve spent every day wandering the town looking for a job.’

‘Well, you’ll have to tell her now, won’t you?’

‘Maybe not, something could turn up next week and by Friday I could have a wage to give her.’

Pat shook her head. ‘I doubt it.’

‘You won’t tell her, will you?’

‘Irene, she’ll find out anyway. Mammies always do!’

*

The noise inside York Street Presbyterian Church Hall was deafening.

‘Can you please be quiet … we need to make a start!’ Peggy shouted from the stage.

No response.

At that moment the compere, Sammy Reid, gave a shrill whistle through his teeth. The room quietened and with a wave of his hand he left the stage to Peggy.

‘Mr Goldstein will be along at two o’clock, and a full run through will begin then. I’ve pinned up the running order at the back of the hall. So, I suggest you spend the next half hour practising.’

Myrtle flopped down in the seat next to Irene. ‘My God, ye look like you’ve lost a pound and found a ha’penny.’

‘Aye, well, you’re not far wrong,’ moaned Irene. ‘Trouble is, next week I won’t even have two ha’pennies to rub together.’

‘Why, what’s happened?’

Irene told her about Theresa and how she’d lost her job. ‘I’ve been tramping round the town for the three days and there’s no work to be had at all. I tell you, if the rag man offered me a job yelling from his cart I’d take it.’

Myrtle laughed again.

‘It’s no laughing matter. You haven’t heard the worst of it.’ Irene’s voice faltered. ‘I … I haven’t told Mammy yet.’

‘Can ye climb a ladder?’

‘What? Myrtle, this is serious. Without my wage we won’t be able to pay the rent.’

‘I know, but answer me this, can ye climb a ladder? And I don’t mean clingin’ on for dear life. Could ye run like a whippet up and down wi’ your hands full?’

‘Why?’

‘If ye can do that, ye could have a job same place as me − the aircraft factory.’

Irene’s eyes lit up. She could get a job and Mammy wouldn’t know she’d been sacked. She’d just tell her she’d got a new, better job. Only one problem; she’d never climbed a ladder.

It was dark and dusty at the back of the stage. Myrtle led the way. ‘I’m tellin’ ye, they do plays here and ye see thon lights.’ She pointed to the ceiling above the stage. ‘Well, they need a ladder te reach them and if we can find it ye can have a wee go.’

It took four of them ten minutes to manoeuvre the ladders on to the stage. They’d have done it more quickly if they’d had a better sense of right and left and hadn’t collapsed with laughter every time someone got caught in the side curtains. Then it took an age for them to stand the twelve foot ladders upright. Finally, Myrtle stood back and surveyed the scene.

‘Right Irene, go and put these on.’ She threw her a pair of trousers. Irene nipped behind a curtain and took off her skirt. The coarse material felt strange against her legs and fastening the fly buttons was even stranger, but walking on to the stage she felt a sense of freedom, or was it confidence? Whatever it was, she needed it to face the crowd of people, who, on hearing what Irene was about to do and why, stood waiting for her to appear.

‘All right, up ye go. Quick as ye can!’ shouted Myrtle.

There were a few shouts of encouragement and Irene took a deep breath. She could do this. People climbed ladders every day. She gripped both sides, tested the steadiness, put a foot on the first rung, then the next and the next …

‘Go on, ye can do it!’

‘Keep going!’

Up and up she went always looking at the top of the ladder, never down. She was aware of some noise, but kept moving one arm, one leg, other arm, other leg. Start again, one arm, one leg … then there were no more steps, only a flat square of wood, just right for sitting on.

Down below, people were clapping and cheering. There was Pat and Peggy and Myrtle, waving her hand in a turning motion and shouting. ‘Turn round now, Irene, and come back down. Careful, turn round …’

She swung out of her seat and felt for the rung with her foot. There it was. Easy. She watched the top move further and further away. At last, her feet touched the floor and Myrtle threw her arms around her. Everyone was clapping and cheering loudly and Irene, finding herself on the stage at the end of her performance, smiled and took a bow.

From the back of the hall came Goldstein’s booming voice, ‘What have I missed, a trapeze artist?’ He made his way to the front closely followed by Horowitz. Then he saw Irene’s trousers. ‘Or is it one of those Burlington Bertie impersonators? Now, let’s clear the stage and get rid of the ladders.’

Minutes later everyone was sitting quietly in the hall.

‘In five minutes we shall start the run through.’ Goldstein paused, and waited for two Templemore Tappers at the back to stop talking. Someone nudged them and he went on. ‘These instructions are very important: Everyone on in the first half will be back stage and ready. Sammy will be our compere and introduce you. Come on quickly and perform. Then you will bow and leave the stage. If anything goes wrong do not apologise, simply carry on as though nothing has happened. Then we will have the interval, when you can have something to eat and I will give notes before moving on to the second half. Five minutes, everyone!’