Till the Sun Shines Through (42 page)

He stopped at the door and stared at Bridie in shock. She looked ill, very ill, and he was filled with terror so acute that he felt his heart banging against his ribs. He was across the floor and holding Bridie tight in seconds.

Bridie proceeded to tell her parents how it was in Birmingham. She didn't just describe the raid on 19
^th
November, but from when it had all started. Jimmy and Sarah sat and listened to a catalogue of events they could barely comprehend, for all they'd read the papers and listened to the news bulletins on the wireless Jimmy had insisted they buy at the beginning of the war. No report was any substitute for hearing it first-hand from their own daughter who'd been living through it. Neither Ellen or Mary could tell them anything in the few letters they wrote during the time; besides the censor would have cut such things out anyway.

But now Bridie spared them nothing, because she couldn't. The words spilled from her lips once she'd begun. They were appalled by the number of deaths and those injured and then Bridie finally came to the last raid. She didn't think she'd have the words to describe the horror of that night and their terror, but she needed few words – her face said it all. Her sensitive eyes spoke volumes, as did her tremulous lips and shivering body that rocked slightly backwards and forwards as she spoke.

And so Jimmy and Sarah knew it all. Wee Jay in hospital and Bridie and Mary without a home or possession in the world. ‘That's the reason for these clothes,' Bridie said, pulling at the coat she still wore. ‘This is Ellen's – she altered it for me. Mine was nearly in rags, dust laden and stinking with smoke.' She stretched out her legs. ‘Between us, Mary and myself, we didn't have a decent pair of stockings to our name. Ellen offered us hers, but … Well, she needs them, she's an old woman – I didn't want her to take a chill. Uncle Sam relies on her now. He's virtually bedridden and Aunt Ellen can't afford to be sick.'

‘Oh, my darling child,' Jimmy cried. ‘What can we do to ease this for you?'

But it was to Sarah that Bridie spoke as she said pleadingly, ‘Will you take the children? Will you look after them until the bombings eased? Mary's as well as mine? And will you love them as if they were your own?'

Sarah was ashamed that she'd not offered a place of sanctuary earlier, at least for the children. Whatever Bridie had done was hardly their fault and so, though her eyes shone with tears, she answered, firmly enough, ‘We will, Bridie,' she said. ‘And we'll be glad to do it.'

Bridie sighed in relief and looked from one to the other with gratitude, certain many of her troubles were over.

Bride slept like a log that night; she was tired out anyway, but she slept well because there had been no raids in Birmingham the previous night, at least there hadn't been one up until the time Bridie went to bed, according to the reports on the wireless.

She was woken by the sound of the garrulous Beattie talking to her mother and remembered it was Friday, one of the days that Beattie and her husband came to help out in the farm and in the house. She looked at her watch and was horrified to see that it was ten o'clock. She'd never slept so late in her life and she told herself she should have been up earlier, helping her mother but when, later, she opened the door sheepishly, Sarah beamed at her. ‘You look better already,' she said. ‘God, Beattie you ought to have seen the cut of her last night. Hadn't slept in nights with the bombing and all.'

‘And your Mammy tells me you and your sister were bombed out.'

‘Aye, the whole area was flattened,' Bridie said, and gave a shudder at the memory of it. ‘I thought we were all going to die. Mammy is going to see to the children while things are so bad.'

‘Aye, it's no place for children,' Beattie said. ‘And aren't they better with their own flesh and blood when all's said and done? Jesus, haven't your parents this fine farm and all for them and isn't it a grand place for weans to grow up? Won't they be delighted so at the space and freedom and fresh air after the city streets?

‘My man was over there before we married,' she went on, ‘and he said the air in the city would nearly choke the life out of you. And that was before any war. You're doing the right thing, bringing the weans to your mammy. I mind when I was …'

The woman continued to talk as Sarah drew her daughter to the table and put a steaming bowl of porridge before her, with a jug of cream to one side and a dish of sugar to the other. Beattie continued to talk, but Bridie found she had to contribute little, but nod and make the occasional grunt, for Beattie liked the sound of her own voice best. But, for all that, Bridie sensed she was kindly and Sarah got on with her, as well as she would with anyone who took control in her kitchen.

When there was a gap in Beattie's monologue, Bridie asked where her father was.

‘He was away to town in the cart just as soon as he'd had a bite after milking,' Sarah said. ‘I gave him a list of things to get as he was going in, but he really went to get the battery charged up for the wireless. You mind it was losing power last night?'

Bridie did and was glad that her father had thought of it. She really needed the wireless to find out what was happening, especially when she was away from everyone. ‘When d'you plan to leave?' Sarah asked.

‘Tomorrow,' Bridie said. ‘I want the weans gone from the place as soon as possible and I'll return with them straightaway. One thing, Mammy – they haven't many clothes to bring. Everything was destroyed, you see.'

‘I'll see to it don't worry.'

‘I'll give you some money and Mary will too.'

‘You'll do no such thing.'

‘I will, Mammy, I must,' Bridie said. ‘You don't know how you've relieved my mind in agreeing to take them in for a while. I don't want you to be out of pocket. Everything will have to be replaced.'

‘If it eases your mind I'll take a wee contribution,' Sarah said. ‘But there's no need of it. Let's talk about it again when you return and the children are safe.'

Aye, that was the one important thing, Bridie thought. She wished she could be back with them now with a click of her fingers, for every minute away she worried.

That evening, with the meal over and Bridie packed and ready to be off first thing in the morning, she settled before the fire between her parents. As usual Jimmy turned the wireless on for the news. The news was of Irish issues initially, and Bridie took little notice, but then it switched to the raids in Derry. Derry was in the six counties belonging to England and as ships were stored and made in the docks there, they suffered much enemy damage.

Then the broadcaster switched to the news from Britain, concentrating primarily on the nightly raids over London and the damage incurred. But he then said words that made Bridie's heart almost stop beating,

Reports are coming in of a large body of enemy planes attacking a Midlands town. Approximately two-hundred and fifty bombers are involved. All areas of the city are being targeted with incendiary flares, followed by ordinary bombs, parachute bombs and land mines
.

The raid is continuing with great intensity. There is much damage reported and a great deal of casualties expected …

‘Oh God!' The roof of Bridie's mouth seemed suddenly very dry.

‘No saying it's Birmingham, pet,' Jimmy said, seeing the blood drain from Bridie's face. ‘A Midlands town. You heard him. Could be anywhere.'

‘It's what they always call Birmingham in any national paper or BBC broadcast,' Bridie cried. ‘No one really knows why when they name other cities. Only the Birmingham papers called it Birmingham. He's talking about where my sister, my aunt and uncle and all the children are. I wish now I'd brought them all with me.'

‘You weren't to know.'

‘I'm not stupid, Mammy,' Bridie snapped. ‘I ought to have guessed. God, I might have known Hitler would have something like this planned. He's done this before, giving us a day or couple of days' respite. It does no good. You lie awake for hours, waiting for the shriek of the siren and then you're struggling into clothes, and away in the cold inky black night. ‘Only now, of course Bristol Street shelter is gone and so they'll have to take their chance in Ellen's cellar. We stopped using them because we heard of people gassed in their cellars when the pipes were fractured by bombs.' She turned horrified eyes upon her parents. ‘What if that should happen to them? What if I go home and find they've been choked to death?'

‘Bridie, stop it!' Sarah said. ‘This does you no good. You all survived before and you'll do it again.'

‘Only just, Mammy,' Bridie said plaintively. ‘That raid! God, it was the worst I've seen and many times that night I thought we'd die, all of us. I prepared for it, I held the children close, so close that if we were going to die, it would be together. Who's holding my babies this night?'

‘Bridie, what are you thinking of?' Sarah said. ‘Dear God, won't Mary care for them as if they are her own and Ellen's there too.'

‘Ellen doesn't leave Sam now,' Bridie said. ‘She's stopped using the cellar and stays with him in the bedroom. And Mary, she has Jay in hospital. What if she were visiting him and the raids were so bad she couldn't get back?'

‘Bridie, stop torturing yourself like this.'

‘Mammy, you've no idea.'

‘Maybe, I haven't,' Sarah said. ‘But I don't believe in crossing bridges before I come to them.'

Really Sarah and Jimmy were as worried as their daughter and yet they felt powerless to help. But Sarah doubted if Bridie even heard what she said, for the hourly news reports brought her little ease as they stressed the raid continuing unabated in ‘the Midlands town', and said there was much damage and many casualties.

Bridie turned to look at her mother after one of these reports and said, ‘If they die, if anything has happened to my children, it will be my fault.'

‘No, Bridie,' Sarah said. ‘It's the people dropping bombs that will have hurt your children.'

But Bridie shook her head. She thought to herself that if they were dead it would be another two deaths laid on her door. Peggy McKenna would have her wish at last and Bridie wouldn't care any more, for her reason for living would be over.

And what would Tom do then, if he lost them all, and after urging Bridie to take the children to a place of safety, long before the war began in earnest? What now if it was too late?

Sarah was worried about her daughter, what she'd find back in Birmingham and how she'd cope with it. She already looked far from well and more than thin, gaunt almost, so that her ill-fitting clothes hung on her frame. But it was the look on her face that worried her most. It was her face, white as snow and her eyes, which seemed to stand out in her head, looking huger than ever and filled with terror, with blue smudges beneath them.

Sarah so wished she could enfold her daughter in two good strong arms and tell her everything would be all right, but the time for such things, such assurances, was passed. She could do nothing but wait, for she was worried herself. Hadn't she another daughter and a much loved sister going through it, not to mention her grandchildren?

Sometime in the long night, Jimmy went to his bed, exhausted beyond measure. But rather than disturb the women folk grouped around the fire, he undressed behind the curtain. Sarah was also tired, but she stayed as support for her daughter.

Bridie's eyes felt gritty and sore, but she knew there would be no sleep for her that night. The extreme terror she felt had made everything around her of no importance. She drank the seemingly endless cups of tea her mother pressed on her, and was aware that they knelt at least once and said the rosary together. Time had no meaning for her and she sat hunched forward, gazing into the fire, her hands clasped and between her knees, immobile except for the odd shudder that ran through her. Every hour the newscaster spoke of the raid continuing and the whole of the city centre blazing out of control.

As the raid began that night, back in Bell Barn Road, Ellen watched her husband's laboured breathing and knew he hadn't long to go. Dear God, she thought, this war was no place for the young, the old and anyone vulnerable. It was no place for anyone, but not everybody could run away. There comes a time when people have to stand and fight evil and this was one of those times and, if she'd been younger and hadn't had Sam to consider, she'd have been alongside of them.

But, Sam, dear Sam, her husband of many years was on his way out. It had been a good and happy marriage, the only disappointment being that they'd not had children. And yet with Mary and then Bridie and their families living around the doors, she'd not felt the lack so keenly. Still, she thought, Bridie was right to get the children away. She listened to the whistle and whine of the falling bombs and the crashes, thumps and crump of impact and shivered, especially at those falling close, and imagined the children's fear.

Sam had seen the shiver and it bothered him. He was no fool; he knew his days were numbered. Hadn't Father Shearer given him the last rites earlier in the day. Heard his confession too. That had made Sam smile. ‘God love us, Father,' he'd said. ‘You can't get up to much wrongdoing tied to your bed. This is probably the most sinless time in my life.'

Father Shearer had smiled and gave Sam absolution, followed by Communion and then the last rites to prepare him for the afterlife. Sam wasn't afraid of dying – he was prepared for it – but Ellen had years ahead of her yet. ‘Go down to the cellar,' he urged now.

‘I will not.'

‘Ah go, Ellen. To please me.'

There was a catch in Ellen's voice as she said, ‘Not even to please you will I leave you alone in this bedroom tonight.' She caught hold of his weather-beaten hand and said, ‘We'll stick it out together, as we always have.'