by Paul Kelly
“Sit quietly my love and I’ll get the tea.”
***
Willie returned from work that evening after Rita Watts had left the house and gone home. He was tired, but happy as he kicked off his boots and then removed his shirt, carrying both into the bathroom. Mary followed him quietly and opened the bathroom door just as he was preparing to wash.
“Willie. Willie darlin’”
He pulled a towel from the airing cupboard.
“What is it Mammy. I’m just goin’ to have a bath. Is the water hot?”
Mary wanted to speak but the words she wanted to say would not come. She nodded.
“Yes, it’s hot, my dear.”
She handed the crumpled telegram to her son and he was confused at her attitude until he read it. He stood tense for a few seconds, his lips silently forming the words he was reading until the crushed message fell away from his hand and dropped to the floor. Mary put her hand on his chest. His heart was pounding and he was hot. His face ached and his eyes felt as though they would burst from their sockets. As she embraced him, she could feel a warm tear fall on her forehead and she left him to his own emotions as she closed the bathroom door quietly and returned to the kitchen.
Willie turned the hot water tap off and knelt beside the bath. His body quivered and he could feel his heart pulsating wildly throbbing violently as the blood coursed through his veins and he could do nothing to control it. He leaned across the bath and cried for Wattie as he heard the words again in his heart; the words of his last conversation with his friend.
“If anything should happen to me, I want you to think of me as you do for Charlie... I want to thank you for the great years we have been friends together...”
The steam invaded the room as he undressed and stepped into the bath where he lay motionless. His body was cold, even as he lay in the warm suds. He could scrub his body clean and rid it of all the impurities of that day, but he could never scrub his heart, nor his mind to rid them of the heartache that tortured him.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Tom had approached Aggie about her trousseau for her entrance into the noviciate and she was pleased and grateful, if reluctant to accept his generous offer.
“I can’t Tom I know you mean well and I do appreciate your thoughts, but the other postulant will be using the convent dress and I don’t want to look any different from her on that great day. Please understand Tom. I don’t want to stand out from the others. I don’t want to be singular that’s why nuns all dress alike, so that there is no singularity. Please understand Tom ... Please.”
Tom was hurt, but in admiration of this lovely girl who sat beside him in his disappointment as he nodded shyly of his understanding.
“Am I allowed to take your hand?” he asked, hardly above a whisper and Aggie smiled.
“I’m not behind the grill yet, Tom Carey, Sir,” she said and took his hand in her own, warmly and kissed it. His eyes filled with tears and Aggie tried to make light of her apparent virtues. “Besides, I’m trying to forget about this old body of mine not decorate it,” she laughed and Tom could see the beauty of her nature that certainly needed no further decor.
***
The day of the investiture arrived and the nuns were singing in the choir stalls. It was a beautiful morning and the sun was shining in the heavens.
‘Veni, creator Spiritus .
Mentes tuorum visita .’
All the family, including Robert Wells, filled the little convent chapel to witness the engagement of their daughter and sister to her spouse, Jesus Christ. Three of the new postulants had left the convent and had returned to their homes again and only Aggie and the French girl, Anna, remained to be clothed in the habit of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. The Mass began and the Priest read a short lesson.
Aggie and Anna came from the back of the chapel, followed by the white veiled novices and then the professed nuns with their black veils. They walked erect and with grace; their heads held high and the two postulants bore a garland of flowers over their head veils and each held a lighted candle.
‘Something old something new
Something borrowed ... something blue... ‘
The new brides of Christ would not be outdone in the old tradition of the bride and Aggie wore the simple white dress of the convent, which had been used many times before. Her white satin shoes were new. . a present from Tom and Mary and she had borrowed the family christening veil and wore it with pride. Underneath her collar, nearest her neck, she had sewn a little blue medal of Our Lady, which had been given to her by Willie and she was a complete bride in every sense as she walked with love towards her God.
“Do you renounce Satan and all his wicked works?”
The priest chanted the verse and the thurible clicked its holy dust over the high altar as clouds of incense pervaded the air.
“I do,”
Each postulant replied in turn.
“Do you enter this convent of your own free will, to live in the sacred vows; poverty chastity and obedience to your lawful Superiors, for Christ’s sake?”
Six young altar boys varying in size and shape stood by in awe. Their white surpluses against the sophisticated black soutane, stood out in contrast to their shiny, innocent and somewhat cheeky faces.
“I do,”
“And do you seek only the will of God and His pleasure, renouncing all else?”
Mary watched her daughter’s face with sadness but with pride as she answered,
“I do,”
Reverend Mother Gabriel then slipped a piece of paper to the priest and he adjusted his spectacles.
‘Te Deum laudamus; te Dominun confitemur.’
Tom dried his eyes as the harmonious and eerie chanting of the nuns seemed to sanctify the scene.
“Miss Anna Maria Danielle you will be received into the Order of Our Lady of Mount Carmel and will be known henceforth as Sister Genevieve,” The priest checked the names against the tiny slip of paper he held in his hand.
“Deo Gratias,”
The nuns all answered in chorus ...
“Miss Agnes Veronica Blair you will be received into the Order of Our Lady of Mount Carmel and will be known henceforth as Sister Celine of Jesus.”
“Deo Gratias,”
The two new novices genuflected and Reverend Mother took their candles and extinguished them, before she removed the flower garlands from their heads and the trio left the altar by a side entrance as the nuns continued to sing in Gregorian chant.
‘O Salutaris Hostia, quae coeli pandis Hostium.’
A few moments elapsed between the chant and the ‘O Salutaris’ before the nuns returned once more in procession where the two novices, now in the garb of a nun, led the line of figures as they glided gracefully onto the Sanctuary. Sister Celine held her head high and her hands were joined together in prayer. Sister Genevieve walked shyly beside her.
Mary could not believe her eyes that this new young nun could possibly be her Aggie. Her daughter’s face was pale and tranquil under the white coif that enclosed her head and her large, dark eyes bore a smile of peace and serenity, whilst her lips moved slowly in praise of her Beloved. Her tiny feet were shod in rough sandals and her brown scapular was draped over the voluminous habit of Carmel. A cream mantle hung from her shoulders and her white veil, depicting her as a novice, completed the picture. Mary gasped with pride and turned to look at Tom for a second, but she did not want to look too long away from the picture that stood before her. Willie’s feelings of love for his ‘nun-sister’ were too much. He blessed himself and silently left his pew.
The family gathered in the larger convent parlour to see and speak to the new nuns, in close proximity and in touching distance for the last time. On their next visit, they knew that Sister Celine of Jesus would only be able to see them through the
convent grill and then only with her veil shrouding her face. There were tears and laughter and everyone was excited as Robert Wells came towards the new nun.
“I can’t thank you enough, Sister. You have helped to change my whole way of life. Will you pray for me that I will continue this way as I don’t want to drop back again ... Not ever...”
Sister Celine was embarrassed, but proud of Robert’s achievements and of Sadie’s smile of adoring approval. Little Fiona stared with starry eyes all through the ceremony. Perhaps later in life, she would understand the significance of what had happened that day and Aggie, thinking of her old name as she turned to Willie, blushed as she portrayed her love for him unashamedly and her face grew pink under her snow-white veil.
“I was sorry to hear about Wattie,” she whispered and Willie shifted from one foot to the other but he did not answer. Instead, he swallowed hard and his nostrils tightened in control of his emotions but the effect was more than he could bear.
“Aggie Aggie,” he cried and threw himself into her arms. She held him close and pressed her lips to his forehead.
“You smell nice, Willie,” she exclaimed through her tears, but he was at a loss as to how he should address her.
“I’ve never hugged a nun before .” he said with his head held low and his sister smiled in amusement as her large, clear eyes widened in mock surprise.
“I should think not, indeed,” she said and held him at arm’s length to see the beauty of the brother she had forsaken for a stronger and more positive Love. “But it has been very nice Sir. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime, eh?”
Willie did not laugh as she had expected he might but he looked at her for a very long time before he spoke again.
“I love you Sister Celine of Jesus and I would want the whole world to know it.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
There was great merriment and joy everywhere in the streets. Bells rang out joyously from every church and chapel, in and around the city of Glasgow and everyone was dancing. Fireworks whizzed through the air in the gayest of colours, making loud, exciting noises, to the whoops of the crowd. Bottle corks popped and champagne spilled over the pavements as people hugged and kissed each other, not knowing who they were, but without a care. Everyone and anyone qualified for a hug. Everyone was glad to be alive. It was the day of victory in Europe. It was V.E. Day at long last.
The scene was one of great joy and happiness for everyone well, for everyone except for one poor lady who sat alone with her mongrel dog. Rita Watts squatted on the floor of her tiny bedroom with only Florry as her companion. A month had passed since the death of her son and the war was virtually over. What a needless waste ... Why could he not have lived just that little longer so that he too could have enjoyed the frivolities that she could now hear out in the streets? She rose lazily from where she had been sitting and sighed. She knew she would have to conquer this grief but how to do it and how long it would take, was another question and she took a duster in her hand to move around the room like a zombie. Florry followed her and whimpered. She was a big dog now and her large, soft eyes pleaded for the lover that she missed and who would never more return. She whined pathetically and Rita patted her head.
“We both miss him Love but what is to be ... will be,” Rita whispered, afraid to draw her curtains and preferred to remain in the darkened room where she could mourn without interruption. Florry licked her fingers and looked at her appealingly for a better explanation of her sad loss, but Rita did not know the answer. She glanced at the calendar, narrowing her eyes to note the date in the flickering shadows that blazoned across the wall from the light of the fireworks outside, with brazen abandon.
“Monday May 8th 1945,” she read aloud “V.E. Day Victory day for whom,” she muttered before she sat down again exhausted and gave vent to her grief. Florry crept up towards her and lay her head on Rita’s lap. She yawned and shifted from paw to paw and Rita understood the depth of her sorrow ... canine though it was.
They both accepted the silence of sorrow that was theirs and that overshadowed every waking moment as they huddled together in the lonely darkness and she poked the dying fire in the grate for some warming comfort. It hissed and died .but the mad, frenzied illuminations from the streets defied their loneliness as the noise of the celebrations went on all through the night.
Chapter Sixty-Six
The letter box clicked open and snapped shut again as the postman dropped his mail and Willie came downstairs to pick up the letters that had fallen on the mat and went into the lounge just as the door bell rang.
“There’s a registered letter for you, Sir. Will you sign please? It’s been re-directed from an address in the Gorbals district of Glasgow, but I can’t make out the writing. The post stamp has blocked it out. Is that O.K?
“For me... For William Blair?” he asked and seeing that it was indeed for him by name, he signed and the postman went off whistling.
Willie studied the postmark before he opened the letter, but it meant nothing to him.
He opened the envelope and read;-
Dear Willie,
Perhaps you will be surprised to hear from me after this long time of not knowing whether I was alive or dead, but I do hope you remember me and I also hope that all the family are well and happy. As you probably know, we all moved to Fleet in Hampshire when my father was recalled after an abortive draft overseas and my parents are still here both well, thank God and I am with them.
Rachael has moved to Dublin in Ireland, where she is presently studying for a degree in medicine and we hope she will make a good doctor when she has completed her studies, which shouldn’t be too long now. Next year, I think. My parents are now together again and we hope, now that the war is over, that they will never need to part ever again. No more wars, we hope. One is enough in any man’s life. It has done so much damage all around the world and to so many people that I wonder what it was all about and was it all worth it whatever the achievement was. Are we any better off now and will we find life any better in the future? I think it is time to look forward to peace and happiness from now on ...
Willie, I am enclosing a cheque for £1,000 which was left to you in my grand mother’s will. She always spoke highly of you and we all know you deserve the money from the care you took of her when she was alive and living near you in Glasgow. I hope you will be able to put the money to some good use and as for my gratitude, Willie ... Well, you were always my hero, ever since the time you saved me from the gang who were fighting in the streets, shortly after I came to live up north, in Scotland. Do you remember ‘the old tin can’ who was nearly massacred by the Billys and the Dans on that fateful day ... I guess I shall always be an’ old tin can’ Willie but I am better able to look after myself now .Ha! Ha!
I am going up to Oxford next Spring to study law, so who knows, some day I might be called to get you out of a fight Wish me luck, will you please?
Please write to us if you can find the time. We’d love to hear from you and any news of the family.
Thank you again for all you have ever done and been to us. I am sure Rachael would share my sentiments if she were here.
SHALOM!
Nathan Harris.
P.S. Mother tells me that Rachael won’t qualify for another TWO years yet. Doesn’t time fly ... I haven’t seen her for ages.
P.PS. I am sending this letter to your address in Glasgow. I hope it reaches you O.K. I have registered it so that it will be returned if it doesn’t. ‘N’
***
Willie passed the letter to his mother, but his thoughts were not with the money that it contained it was with a young Jewish girl who was studying medicine in Dublin.
“That’s an awful lot of money, Willie.” Mary remarked and Tom joked that he would be able to retire from the building Site at last but Willie did not hear their remarks.
*
**
He spoke very softly down the telephone and someone replied at the other end.
“Hello ... Hello. Is anybody there?”
Willie licked his lips and waited, but the voice was still. He wanted to be sure that he was speaking to the right person.
“Is that Miss Golding-Potts?” he croaked and coughed to clear his throat.
There was a moment’s silence followed by a merry chuckle.
“That’s the handsome Willie Blair, isn’t it?”
He blushed but he had to make an acknowledgement.
“It’s nice that you think so Are you alright?”
“Of course I am and even better now that I’m talking to my number one pin-up lad. Where are you?”
Willie shuffled where he stood in the telephone box and peered out into the darkness of the evening. It was pleasant outside and the blackout had been lifted, but the lights were still very dim.
“I’m only a short distance from your house. I can see your lighted window from where I am in this phone box.”
Trottie gasped.
“Is that the one at the corner of Grafton Street?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
He wanted to add, it was the one where someone had written some rude words on the small mirror inside but he thought Trottie might be offended.
“Stay there, Willie. I’ll be with you in a jiffy, O.K?” Trottie replaced her receiver and rushed upstairs to get her coat, passing Miss Carson as she went.
“What’s happening dear? Why are you rushing about like that?”
Trottie grinned and her eyes lit up.
“I’m meeting a man, Beattie I’m going out into the dark of night to meet a man. Isn’t that exciting?”
Beattie Carson caught her breath and clasped her hand to her bosom.
“Do be careful my dear. Do be very careful, INDEED,” Beattie replied and her eye twitched as she mopped her brow with her scented hankie, but Trottie left the house like a banshee in a tornado and ran down the road in the direction of Grafton Street, grunting and panting; her hair flying in the wind and with a jubilant smile on her large, round pink face.
