Last night as she lay in bed thinking about him she had decided to ask him straight out about the wireless, but today, sitting next to him in the car speeding along, she really didn’t care whether he had or hadn’t stolen it. Maybe she’d ask on the way home. Meanwhile she relaxed into the leather seat and enjoyed the rush of wind in her face. ‘Do you play the piano?’ she asked.
At Carrickfergus they walked along the sea front and Harry offered her his arm. A family sat on the scrap of sand with brightly painted tin buckets and spades scattered around them. Two small children had taken off their shoes and socks and were daring each other to run into the brown sea.
‘You’d never believe there was a war on, would you?’ said Peggy.
‘No, everything’s just the same. That’s why they’re calling it a phoney war.’
‘So it won’t really happen then, bombs and invasions and everything?’
‘Oh, it’ll happen all right. It’ll just take a while to get going.’ He stopped and pointed over the Lough towards Bangor. ‘Did you know in the last war there was a prison ship anchored in the middle out there full of German prisoners of war?’
‘Away on with you!’
‘It’s true, honest, and I’ve heard they’re thinking of doing the same thing again, only this time they’re going to intern IRA men on it.’
‘Can they do that?’
‘It’s already started. There’s a bunch of them in the Crumlin Road jail already and, after the shooting and trouble there was last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if the RUC didn’t round up quite a few more.’
They climbed over the rickety iron bridge to the castle and passed under the raised portcullis into the inner courtyard. They looked into the dank rooms with earth floors and crept down a narrow spiral stone staircase to see the dungeons. All the time Harry treated her as if she was breakable, supporting her arm, taking a hand to help her up or down. In one tiny room there was virtually no light. Harry went in first and pulled her in after him.
‘Oh it’s freezing in here.’ Peggy shivered.
He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet. The last of the light caught her face and he kissed her full on the mouth. She didn’t resist, but when he set her down she said fiercely, ‘Who said you could do that?’
‘You did.’
‘When?’
‘Just then when you half closed your eyes and pouted.’ His smile mocked her a little.
‘I did no such thing!’ Peggy stormed out into the daylight.
Harry hurried after her. ‘I’m sorry, Peggy. I didn’t mean … Look I was only …’ Peggy turned away, pulled her coat tightly around her. Harry circled her to look into her face. ‘I think I made a mistake.’ No response. ‘Peggy? Peggy?’ He tried another tack. ‘I’m very sorry,’ he said. ‘Will you forgive me?’
She looked at him, as if weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of accepting his apology. ‘Very well, I forgive you.’ And she took his arm again and they walked back to the car in silence.
‘I’ve a surprise for you,’ said Harry as he unlocked the boot.
Peggy’s mood turned on a sixpence again, ‘Oh I love surprises!’
Harry produced a travel rug and a bag and, even though it was November, they went down on to the sand. When they were settled, he removed a Thermos and some china cups and a large round tin from the bag. He served her coffee then opened the tin. Peggy gasped in delight. ‘It looks delicious, is it home made?’
‘Yes, I made it just for you.’
Peggy laughed.
‘No really. I did.’
‘Did you?’ Peggy was incredulous. The fruit cake was beautifully iced with little sugar violets scattered across the top.
‘I did. I’m a baker.’ He grinned. ‘I work at the Ormeau Bakery.’
Peggy threw back her head and laughed. ‘You’re full of surprises, Harry Ferguson.’
Harry saw the delight in her face. ‘So are you Peggy Goulding, so are you.’
When they returned to the car, Peggy got in and watched him in the wing mirror as he replaced the rug and bag and slammed the boot. She was surprised to see that he had a brown envelope in his hand and as she watched, he opened it quickly and fanned out a wad of money as though checking it was still there. Unaware that she was watching, he put it into his inside pocket and joined her in the car.
‘I’ve a wee message to do on the way back,’ said Harry. ‘Just need to drop something off.’
They drove away from the seafront and turned into a narrow street where the houses on either side looked like they would fall down if they didn’t have each other to lean on. Harry stopped the car outside a house with its windows boarded up and knocked on the door. Peggy watched him glance nervously up and down the street and more than once his hand patted his inside pocket. He was about to knock again when the door was opened by a short, thick-set man who wore a shirt without a collar and braces hanging down by his sides. He was chewing and wiped his hand across his greasy lips before greeting Harry with a nod. Within seconds, the envelope was handed over, the door slammed and Harry was back in the car turning it towards the main Belfast road. The light was failing fast.
‘What do you think, Peggy? Should we stop and put the hood up, or will we beat the rain?’
Peggy shrugged.
‘Ach, sure we’ll leave it down and race back,’ said Harry and put his foot down.
They were just turning into the Cliftonville when the first drops of rain began to fall. Peggy had been quiet since they left the house in Carrickfergus. Harry was just the opposite, chatting all the way, glancing across at her every now and again trying to elicit more than a monosyllable in response: ‘What do you think, Peggy? That’s a good one isn’t it? Peggy?’ They pulled up at the end of Joanmount Gardens and Harry turned to face her. ‘Cat got your tongue again, Miss Goulding?’ He laughed. She didn’t.
‘Something happened in the shop yesterday after you left.’
‘Oh, what was that then?’
‘I noticed there was an empty space on the shelf; a wireless was missing.’
‘Missing? What do you mean?’
‘Gone. Stolen.’ She saw the thoughts move across his face.
‘What did you do?’
‘Telephoned Mr. Goldstein, of course, and he telephoned the police.’ Heavy drops of rain splattered on the windscreen.
‘Wait a minute …’ A worried look settled on his face. ‘You don’t think I took it?’
‘You were there. I didn’t see you leave. You could have taken it.’
Harry stared at her in disbelief, oblivious to the rain now falling on his face and clothes. ‘You do, don’t you? You think I took it. Walked in there to ask a girl I like to go out with me,’ his voice was rising steadily, ‘and when her back was turned, stole a wireless!’
Peggy scowled. Who did he think he was, shouting at her like that? ‘Well, you made a quick enough exit,’ she snapped and wiped the rain from her eyes.
‘I had to be somewhere. I was late. You were on the telephone.’
‘Just for a couple of minutes!’
‘And so you told the police about me, did you?’ No answer. The rain began beating on the streets. ‘I take it they’ve a full description … out combing the back streets of Belfast as we speak, are they?’
‘I didn’t tell them about you.’
‘Well, now you’ll be able to give them a name and a place of work.’
Peggy screamed, ‘I didn’t tell them!’
‘No doubt they’ll turn up at the bakery in the morning and haul me off to Mountpottinger. Thank you very much!’
Peggy’s arms were stiff by her sides, fists clenched. ‘Would you listen to yourself? Shouting like that at me. I’m only telling you what happened, so there!’
‘And I’m …’ Harry put his face close to hers, his dark hair falling over his eyes, rain running down his face. ‘I’m only telling you what didn’t happen. I didn’t steal your bloody wireless!’
/> ‘Don’t you swear at me!’
‘Don’t you call me a thief!’
‘I did no such thing.’ She opened the car door. ‘I never heard the like.’
In a split second he had reached over and slammed it shut and grabbed her arm.
‘Just a minute, you didn’t tell them? Why not?’
‘Because I … I …’ She stopped and looked down at his hand gripping her arm. ‘Let go of me.’ She spoke each word slowly, individually. Something in her icy glare made Harry unsure. He pulled his arm back. Peggy was out of the car in an instant, eyes blazing and shouted, ‘Of course there’s always tomorrow.’ Then she turned and ran.
Harry sat in the rain a while, then slowly got out of the car, put the hood up and drove back into the blackness of the city.
*
In the morning Goldstein was waiting for Peggy when she arrived in work.
‘What do you notice, Peggy? What do you notice?’
‘You’re more than usually excited to be in work on a Monday morning?’
‘No. On the shelf, on the shelf!’
There it was, the £9/19/11 missing wireless.
‘You got it back?’ Peggy’s eyes opened wide.
‘The police rang me at home on Saturday night and told me they had it. I picked it up first thing this morning.’ He raised his hands, palms upwards, as if to say, ‘Can you believe it?’
‘But how did they find it? Who had it?’ she asked.
‘Saturday night around closing time the police had a call from Mr Kavanagh.’
‘Mr ‘I buy anything’ Kavanagh?’
‘The same. He is in his shop on Smithfield Market and someone comes in to sell a wireless. He can see it is brand new with no dust on the valves inside. Also it is a new model, one he has not seen before. It seems Mr Kavanagh has built his reputation on being an honest trader. If he suspects he is being offered stolen goods, he telephones the police. They come.’
Peggy could hardly contain her excitement. ‘So, they caught him on Saturday night?’
Goldstein shook his head, ‘Unfortunately it was not that simple. When Kavanagh made an excuse to go into the office to use the phone, the young man became suspicious and ran away.’
Peggy interrupted, ‘But Kavanagh saw him clearly? Could describe him?’
‘Wait, there is more.’ Goldstein paused as though trying to remember the sequence of events as described to him by the police. ‘Kavanagh is on the phone to the police when he hears the shop bell ring as someone comes in; he shouts that he will be there in a moment. There is sound of a scuffle, followed by noise of something falling. Mr Kavanagh runs into the shop and sees an elderly gentleman on the floor with a hat stand on top of him. The shop door is wide open and so is the till. The thief has gone, so too has the day’s takings.’
Peggy closed her eyes; it all made sense. The envelope full of money …
‘Is something the matter?’ asked Goldstein, ‘You are happy the wireless is returned, yes?’
Peggy forced herself to smile. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, ‘I’m very happy.’
Goldstein gave one of his rare laughs. ‘But not as happy as you are going to be. I have two other pieces of news, we must discuss, but not yet. First we will have a cup of tea. I will have mine in the Crown Derby as usual.’
Peggy was scarcely aware of what she was doing as she prepared the tea. She’d hardly slept, going over and over in her mind what she’d said, how he’d responded, the hurt look on his face, his anger. By the time she’d got up for work she was convinced he was innocent. When Goldstein said the wireless had been recovered she was sure of it. But then there was the money. Oh yes, the money changed everything.
Goldstein sipped his tea, put his cup back in the saucer and turned to Peggy.
‘I had a letter this morning from my sister.’
‘In Poland?’
‘Indeed,’ he sighed. ‘Things do not go well for her and her family. Their shop has been closed. They are forced to stay indoors most of the time and there are rumours.’ He paused as if imagining the fears of his sister.
‘What kind of rumours?’
‘The worst kind; Jewish families arrested in the middle of the night and taken out of the city. To where, they do not know.’ He shook his head and Peggy thought he shuddered. Then he seemed to brighten.
‘But that is not my news. My news is good.’ He went on, ‘You remember I told you about my niece. She is close to your age. Her name is Esther.’
Peggy nodded.
‘Well, Esther has left the city.’
Peggy put her hand to her mouth, but Goldstein realising she had misunderstood went on quickly. ‘No, no she was not taken away. She managed to get on a train going west to Holland. A family, not Jewish, friends of my sister, agreed to take Esther with them. They got her a ticket by saying she was employed by them as a … what is the word? Ah! governess. Once in Holland, Esther will try to get a boat to England. When she arrives there I will send her the money to come here to me in Belfast.’
‘That’s wonderful; I’m so pleased for you.’
‘You can also be pleased for yourself, Peggy, because Esther has worked in the family music business in Warsaw since she was fourteen and when she comes here she will be able to help you in the shop.’
Peggy could see the possibilities and it was as if Goldstein read her mind.
‘Then we will see trade increase and you will have an assistant in the shop, while I concentrate on launching the Barnstormers!’
‘Barnstormers?’
‘Yes, our troupe of entertainers. That’s what they will be called. I was telling my very good friend, who is a lecturer at Queen’s, about you all and how I was trying to think of a name and he said, ‘A group of strolling players, wandering the country entertaining people to keep spirits up? Such people used to be called barnstormers!’
‘That’s brilliant.’
‘And the best bit of news is that the Barnstormers’ first public performance will take place in just over two weeks’ time in the Central Hall.’
‘So soon! Is it all set up? Is there—’
Goldstein put up his hand. ‘One thing at a time, Peggy. I have already got things moving. I contacted the Belfast Telegraph office this morning. They were very interested, it is a change to have some positive news, and will send a reporter round this morning to interview me about our group and the concert. ’
‘We’re going to be in the paper?’
‘Of course, that’s the quickest way to let everyone know about the event. We also need to get some posters printed and I want you to organise that. Here are all the details, so go quickly to McCann printers in North Street, they’re expecting you, and tell them we need one hundred eye-catching posters by Wednesday.’
‘And Peggy,’ Goldstein shouted, as she went out the door, ‘on the way back buy some plain postcards and twelve stamps. I will need to write to the performers about rehearsals.’
When Peggy returned, Goldstein was deep in conversation with a man in a tweed overcoat, trilby (which he hadn’t removed), and a camera around his neck. ‘Ah, here she is,’ Goldstein exclaimed, ‘one of the talented Barnstormer performers.’
The reporter eyed her up and down. ‘I think I’ve got all the detail I need. Now, how about a picture?’
*
On his afternoon off Ted Grimes spruced himself up and left his house, closing the door quietly behind him. His wife Vera had earlier complained of palpitations, which he suspected were caused by his suggestion that the cupboards could do with a good redding out, and she had taken to her bed leaving Ted to take himself up the Oldpark, yesterday’s Belfast Telegraph under his arm, to visit Martha. He was a man with decent manners, so he rattled the side gate before coming round the back of the house past the kitchen window and in the back door.
‘Hallo, anybody home?’ The kitchen was neat and tidy, cosy with the little stove lit. The table was set for the evening meal and there was a meaty smell coming from the o
ven. ‘Hallo, Martha! Are you in?’ He heard quickening footsteps above him followed by the sound of someone coming down the stairs. Martha’s face appeared round the door.
‘Well, well, would you look who’s here,’ she said. ‘Not at work the day, Ted?’
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