The Wasted Years Page 19

  Now she must see to it that Joe enjoyed the next few days. He was far too thin; needed to be fed and loved. Loved … why did the word love make her feel desolate? There were all kinds of love. Joe was probably right. Sex was just one facet of marriage, and a minor one at that. It was up to her to work at her marriage, and when the war was over, Joe would go and see about himself, wouldn’t he? She could only hope so. But for now? Life must go on.

  Chapter 6

  It was with horror that Rosaleen learnt of the damage that was inflicted on Belfast on the night that her father was killed. Devastated by his death and preoccupied with arrangements for his funeral, she had only half listened when neighbours spoke of the raid, and her mother forbade the radio to be played whilst her father’s body was in the house; said it would be disrespectful. So it was after the funeral before she became aware that the shipyard had been devastated, with three-quarters of its buildings destroyed, three corvettes burnt to a cinder and a transport ship sunk at her moorings. Three other vessels were also destroyed and many others were damaged. Like the shipyard, Short and Harland aircraft factory received direct hits, and planes, some already on the assembly line, were destroyed.

  But then, things like this were expected, had to be tolerated. After all, this was what war was all about. This was why the soldiers went to Germany, to destroy their ships and planes. It was the news regarding the number of dead and the destruction of the centre of town that dismayed Rosaleen. She could not take it in that the town was almost flattened. Shaftesbury Square, she knew, had been hit, remembering how the young hospital doctor had made a detour away from that part of the city when going to the morgue. He had taken the back streets over Sandy Row, to the Donegall Road and by-passed that part of town, but they had seen in the distance the fires that raged; had been aware of the severity of the fires from the dense smoke.

  Now she was being told that Donegall Place, Chichester Street, Castle Lane, North Street and Bridge Street were all wiped out, and the left-hand side of High Street was completely gutted. All those beautiful shops like Arnotts, Thorntons and the Athletic Stores, to mention but a few, were no more. Fires were the main cause of the damage. The whistling fire bombs had shot balls of fire far and wide, and lack of water to put out the flames had helped to destroy the town. All this, in spite of help once more sent post haste from the south.

  St Paul’s Parish escaped with only minor damage, a bomb at Beechmount and a few delayed bombs going off during the course of the next few days, but all, with the exception of her poor father (why did it have to be him?) and the family at Beechmount, without loss of life. It was hard to believe that the town was demolished, hundreds of people dead, thousands wounded and thousands more homeless. Indeed, she would have to go downtown and see for herself the devastation before she would be able to take it all in.

  She also learnt that the City Hall had been hit, half of it demolished – the half that housed the beautiful banquet hall – and close by, the Water Commissioner’s Office had received a direct hit.

  Because of burst pipes, in some districts there was sewerage in the streets and water carts were touring the areas, delivering clean water. This meant that after spending nights in the fields, tired, depressed people had to queue, sometimes for hours, to have their buckets and pots filled, adding to the sense of hopelessness and despair. There was also an acute shortage of essential food, and many grocery shops were closed, with their owners lamenting that they were ruined. With nothing to sell and, because of another rush of refugees from town, unable to track down people who owed them money, they were in despair. How could they survive? Personally, Rosaleen thought that they should be grateful to be alive, and their shops still standing.

  All this had been going on during the days of Joe’s leave and she completely unaware of it. It was Amy who queued up at Hughes Bakery for bread and at the butcher’s shop for meat, supplying them with their needs, and they were grateful to her for giving them these few short days to themselves. Even at night when the sirens wailed their warning, they had remained in the house, seeking refuge in the cubbyhole under the stairs, clasped in each other’s arms; Laura asleep on the floor. They were content, if they must, to die together. However, after another slight raid on the 6th, no more bombs had been dropped, so far.

  Joe needed a respite before returning to war and Rosaleen was determined to see that he got it, lifting and laying him, listening to his tales of hardship and, when he suffered nightmares, holding him in her arms and hushing him as she would a child, murmuring endearments, until the terror passed and he slept again. When he left to rejoin his regiment, she was glad to note that he was more relaxed, although she could detect the reluctance with which he departed.

  ‘Surely it won’t be long now?’ she questioned him. ‘Can the war last much longer?’

  He hugged her close. ‘I hope not. All I want is to be back here with you and Laura.’

  Human nature being what it is, the retort hovered on her lips: ‘Well, you didn’t have to go! You didn’t have to enlist!’ But, hearing the misery in his voice, she bit back the words and defying the tears to fall, smiled brightly.

  ‘If the Americans enter the war, it won’t last much longer. We must pray that they join the fight against Hitler, and then you’ll be home in no time,’ she consoled him.

  He nodded, but it was a mournful sight. He put her firmly away from him as the taxi drew up to the door. Lifting a weeping, bewildered Laura up in his arms he kissed her fiercely, then thrusting her at Rosaleen, hurried from the house. Rosaleen rushed to the window. Lifting the net curtain, she watched him enter the taxi. Then, with a final wave, he was gone.

  Later that day, Annie and May arrived together. Rosaleen greeted them warmly, but with a surprised, questioning look in her eyes.

  Seeing the look, Annie explained, ‘We met at the corner, so we did.’

  ‘Rosaleen … imagine me not being at your da’s funeral!’ May exclaimed. ‘But I didn’t know. I only heard last night that he was dead. Ye see, we don’t get the Irish News.’

  ‘It’s all right, May,’ Rosaleen assured her kindly. ‘I guessed that’s what happened.’

  She turned to Annie. ‘How’s me mam?’

  Annie rolled her eyes towards heaven. ‘Oh, Rosaleen, you don’t know the half of it. Sean and I spent his entire leave roaming the streets looking for her. And he only got three days’ leave, so he did. He wouldn’t have got home at all only his ship was in port for repairs.’

  Concerned, Rosaleen pressed her: ‘What do you mean? Roamed the streets? Why did you roam the streets?’

  ‘Every time we left me mam alone for a minute, she took off. The first time was the day after the funeral. When Sean was down here telling Joe how well she was, she took off … just a coat over her nightdress, and slippers on her feet. It was three hours later that she was found, wandering on the Shankill Road, and we had to go to the Shankill Road police station to collect her.’

  Rosaleen groped behind her for a chair and sat down. ‘Oh, my God! Why on earth didn’t you come for me and Joe?’

  ‘You weren’t very well.’ Annie examined her face intently. ‘How are you now?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Rosaleen felt colour rush to her cheeks as she recalled her behaviour on the day of her father’s funeral, and overcome with embarrassment, she muttered, ‘I feel such a fool. I don’t know what came over me. Imagine me getting on like that.’

  ‘Well, you were always closer to me da than I was. You were his favourite,’ Annie said sadly, and Rosaleen was dismayed. Had her father favoured her?

  But her sister was continuing: ‘Mam was great at the funeral… and afterwards. When people came back to the house she sat and chatted, praised me da to the heavens, but the next day … oh boy! She went berserk. The thing that surprised us most was that every time she took off, it was always the Shankill Road she headed for. Imagine! Her that hated the Shankill. Wouldn’t set foot on it when she was normal.’

  Rosaleen’s
breath caught in her throat at these words, and she whispered fearfully. ‘What on earth do you mean … normal?’

  Annie grimaced. ‘She’s in a bad way, Rosaleen. Sean told Joe that she was coping, but she wasn’t. We thought that she would improve, but she hasn’t. I haven’t been able to get to work. I’m afraid to leave her alone.’

  ‘Huh! You should’ve come for me. She’s my mother too. I’d a right to know.’

  ‘I waited ’til Joe’s leave was over because … well, God knows when you’ll see him again.’ She watched Rosaleen covertly as she added, ‘Doctor Hughes wants us to put her into Grahame’s Home.’

  At Rosaleen’s start of dismay, and seeing her mouth open to protest, Annie hurried on, ‘Just for a short while, Rosaleen. He says she’d be well cared for, so he did.’

  ‘And what did you say to that? Did you agree?’ Rosaleen’s voice was indignant, her look threatening.

  Annie shook her head. ‘No … I said I’d have to talk it over with you first.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that. ’Cause no way is she going into that madhouse.’

  Annie’s head reared back defiantly. ‘Hey, hold on now! It’s all right you talking like that, Rosaleen, but I’ve to go to work.’ The face she thrust at her sister was flushed with anger. ‘Will you be able to look after her during the day, eh? Will you?’

  ‘You don’t have to go to work,’ Rosaleen retorted, her face matching Annie’s for bright colour. ‘I’m sure Sean sends you plenty of money, and me mam has some insurance left, and … she’ll probably be back to work in no time. Anyhow …’ her lips tightened and her eyes flashed ‘… we’ll work something out between us. No way is she going into Grahame’s Home. No way! Do you hear me? Good God, do you want to send her around the bend? It’s only natural that she’s upset at the moment. Give her time to get over the loss of me da.’

  ‘Doctor Hughes says it’s not an asylum … just a hospital for nervous disorders and people unable to cope. People like me mam who’ve had a bereavement. He says it would give her a chance to recover.’

  May squirmed uneasily in her chair; she didn’t want to sit listening to this private business. At the first lull in the conversation, she rushed in.

  ‘Look, Rosaleen, I’ll go down and see me mam and come back later, OK?’

  Rosaleen came back to reality with a start, and turned to her friend.

  ‘No! No, May. That won’t be necessary. You’ll have to excuse us, getting all het up in front of you. I’ll go up and see me mam tonight. That’s what I intended doing anyhow.’ She glanced across and nodded at Annie. ‘We’ll talk then. Meantime, I’ll make us all a cup of tea.’

  Annie rose quickly to her feet. ‘Not for me, thank you. I’ll leave you and May to have a chat. I don’t want to be away too long. Me mam’s in Mrs Murphy’s.’ She turned to May with a wry smile. ‘Wish we were meeting under happier circumstances, but that’s life. Hope your mother recovers.’

  May jerked her head in a hopeless gesture. ‘We can only keep our fingers crossed, Annie. See you soon.’

  When the door closed on her, Rosaleen turned to May.

  ‘What did she mean about your mother?’

  ‘Me mam’s had a stroke, so she has. She’s bad, Rosaleen, paralysed from the neck down.’

  ‘Ah, May, I’m sorry to hear that.’

  May blinked furiously to hold back the tears. ‘I wish it’d been me da,’ she ground out through clenched teeth.

  ‘Oh, don’t say that. Whatever you do, don’t say that,’ Rosaleen begged her. ‘Never wish ill on anyone. It always rebounds on you.’

  May grunted. ‘Huh! You sound like Father Docherty. When I said that to him, he nearly ate me.’

  Picturing the big, stern parish priest of St Peter’s, to which May belonged, Rosaleen gasped, ‘You said that to Father Docherty?’

  ‘Why not? It’s what I was thinking.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Huh … he said me mam was ready to meet God and me da wasn’t. He said I should pray for me da. Pray for him? I pray all right. I pray he’ll roast in hell!’

  ‘Oh, May, don’t … don’t,’ Rosaleen whispered, and a shiver ran down her spine. She wasn’t really superstitious, but still… ‘Will your mam recover?’

  May’s head swung slowly from side to side and the tears could be contained no longer. ‘A couple of weeks … maybe a couple of months. She knows nobody, can do nothing for herself, and the worst of it is …’ great sobs choked her and tears ran unheeded down her cheeks, to fall on her tightly clenched hands ‘…me da won’t let me stay to look after her.’

  ‘Is he back in the house then?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He arrived the minute he heard about it, playing the concerned, doting husband. But he fools nobody. Everybody knows that he tortured me mam. And, Rosaleen … I just know he won’t look after her properly.’ Once more sobs caused her to pause. ‘The lads will do their best, but they’re on shifts and a woman’s touch is needed. Our wee Jenny’s too young.’

  ‘Ah, May.’ Rosaleen’s arms stretched out and clasped her close.

  After a few moments, May wiped her eyes and pushing Rosaleen back, grimaced at her.

  ‘It’s me who should be comforting you. At least my mam’s still alive. Your da’s dead. I cried when Billy came home last night and told me. Your da was such a good, caring man. No wonder your mam’s had a breakdown.’

  Rosaleen shook her head sadly and went to the bureau in the corner. She didn’t want to talk about her da. It was too soon; the pain too close to the surface, ready to fill her with guilt and remorse. Forcing it into the back of her mind, she opened the bureau and produced a bottle of gin.

  ‘I think we need something stronger than tea, May, a wee drink, eh? Widow’s ruin.’ She held the bottle, which was half full, up for May’s inspection. ‘It’s all I have. Do you fancy a drop?’

  May was looking at her, a comic expression on her face, and Rosaleen, in spite of the misery that engulfed her, laughed aloud when her friend exclaimed, ‘I never thought I’d see the day that you’d drink gin! But I’ll be glad to join you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m a changed girl, May. You’d never believe half the things I get up to.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t!’ May bestowed a wry smile on her. ‘Your conscience wouldn’t let you go far wrong.’

  Rosaleen smiled grimly and changed the subject. If only May knew! Why, she’d be horrified.

  ‘Where’s the child, May?’

  ‘Mrs Mercer has him. She’s awful good, so she is. Says I’m to stay as long as me mam needs me, but that aul bugger won’t let me. He got a great kick out of showing me the door, but I’ll go back tonight when Colin’s there. He won’t take any nonsense from him.’

  ‘Stay here, May. I’d be glad of your company and you’ll be able to nip down to Spinner Street any time you feel like it.’

  ‘You mean … bring Ian here?’

  Rosaleen nodded her head excitedly. ‘Of course! Why not? Billy can come and stay as often as he likes, and I’ll be glad of your company.’

  ‘Billy’s only working half time, ye know. You might be fed up looking at him.’

  ‘Not working? I thought the Falls Flax had plenty of orders.’ Rosaleen’s eyes were wide with wonder. What on earth was wrong?

  ‘They have! Loads!’ May assured her. ‘But the raw material’s not getting through, what with the docks and the railways being bombed, so they’re working a three-day week, until further notice.’ The look May gave Rosaleen was puzzled. ‘All the engineering works are either closed down or on short time. There’s hardly anybody working. There’s thousands on the outdoor relief. Only the like of Mackie’s is working full time. They’ve taken over orders that Short and Harland can’t do and they’re working around the clock. I can understand Annie wanting to go back to work. If she doesn’t, she’ll lose her job. They’ll give her a wee breathing space on account of your da dying in the blitz, but the work has to be got out. If she delays too long, someone else will
be only too glad to fill her shoes.’

  Rosaleen sighed. ‘May, I’m not with it. With Joe being home, I haven’t been out of the house. While he was here Amy kept us supplied with food and I didn’t realise it was so bad.’

  ‘We’ll take a walk downtown this afternoon and let you see just how bad it is. Or …’ May grimaced, ‘… on second thoughts maybe we shouldn’t, it’s enough to depress a saint. You wouldn’t know where one street ends and another starts. Honest to God, Rosaleen, you can stand in Castle Street and right down to the Albert Clock at the bottom of High Street is flattened.’ Her gaze was vacant as if seeing the ruins in her mind’s eye. ‘The right-hand side of High Street is still standing, but Bridge Street’s rubble … so is Lower North Street and Donegall Street. All those big beautiful shops destroyed. And the clock itself is tilting to one side. Maybe it’ll have to come down and all.’

  Rosaleen took a gulp of the gin, grimaced with distaste, and proffered the bottle to May.

  ‘No, thank you, I’ve enough here, I’ll have to stay sober. Did you mean what you said just now? About me staying here?’

  She watched Rosaleen closely, ready to back down if her friend looked dismayed. In case she had made the suggestion on the spur of the moment, and now regretted it.

  She need not have worried, Rosaleen replied quickly, ‘Of course I mean it. I tell ye, I’ll be glad of your company.’

  And they touched glasses and drank to that.

  However, they had not reckoned with Billy. When May put the idea to him, he hit the roof.

  ‘Are you mad? Do you think I’d let you take Ian over to live beside Mackie’s? Wise up, woman.’ He saw her lips tighten and softened his tone. ‘Look, I know you want to be near your mother, but Ian must come first. Eh, love?’