“C’mon now, miss,” he said. “No need to be making a scene in front of these fine people. Plenty of other places you can go. You don’t want to stay where you’re not welcome.”
I tried to free myself from his grip, but he took me firmly by the elbow and turned me around and guided me towards the door. Just then a tall, dark-haired officer came towards us. I had not noticed him earlier, but he must have been watching the proceedings with the rest of the crowd.
“Let me handle this,” he said firmly to the usher, and the old man dropped my arm as if it were on fire.
The stranger guided me back towards the reception table, where he bowed slightly and smiled around at the women. The two receptionists and the McAteers stared at him, but said nothing.
“This is Miss Sheila McGee, your Linen Queen,” he began, turning his attention to the bony woman at the table. “She made a lovely presentation some weeks ago to General Turner at a dinner in Queensbrook. I am delighted to be her escort this evening. I doubt that she needs a name tag, but perhaps you should make one up anyway. I’m sure it was just an oversight.”
His voice was soft and firm. The bony woman stared at him as if frozen, and then she grabbed a badge and quickly scrawled my name on it, her fingers shaking as she did so. She attached the badge to a pink ribbon and thrust it at me without a word.
“Thank you, ma’am,” said the stranger. “Now, Sheila, let’s check your coat and go upstairs.”
I was in a trance as I allowed him to steer me towards the cloakroom window. The onlookers parted so that we could move through. Then, his hand still on my elbow, he led me to the staircase with the brass banister. As we climbed, the sound of the music grew louder. When I recovered myself I could not resist turning around and smiling down at the crowd as they stood gawking after us.
When the shock wore off I took a good look at the chap who now waltzed me around the dance floor. He was tall and slender with black hair and brown eyes darker than any I had ever seen. His skin was the color of polished teak—a color that reminded me of the wood on Gavin’s boat. He was not as dark as the wee darkie soldiers we’d seen the day all the Yanks had arrived, but he was much darker than the local boys. I wondered if he might be Italian or Greek, maybe. He had a long thin face, a long nose and a wide mouth that stretched into a shy smile when he looked down at me. His smile was beautiful, I thought. It was the nicest thing about him.
“Thanks for the rescue,” I said at last. “Not that I needed it. D’you think I would have let them throw me out on the street? I’m a match for them oul’ biddies, so I am.”
He smiled again and gave no hint that he saw through my false courage.
“I was glad to help.”
“Aye, well thanks anyway.”
He seemed not to notice the stares of the other dancers. I held my head up high as the same girls who had ridiculed me down in the hallway waltzed by. I wasn’t going to let them see how their words had been like a knife through me. I was dancing with a good-looking officer—a captain, so his name tag said—so bad cess to all of them.
“How did you know my name?” I said.
“As I said, I remembered you from the officers’ reception in Queensbrook.” He smiled broadly and his brown eyes creased up in merriment. “You’re not easy to forget, Miss McGee.”
I flushed slightly. “Aye, I suppose not,” I said, remembering how I’d turned and flirted with the soldiers after I’d made the presentation to General Turner.
The music stopped and we separated and stood looking at each other. A sudden panic rose in me. What now? Had he done his duty by me? Would he leave me now to fend for myself? Were there other girls who had taken his eye?
“Forgive me,” he said as he took me by the elbow and led me towards the refreshment table. “I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Joel Solomon.”
“Like the wise man?” I said without thinking. “You know, the king who threatened to cut the baby in two.”
He sighed. “The same name, yes. But the wisdom? Well, that’s another matter. Would you like a lemonade?”
I would have preferred a whiskey or a shandy just then, but I decided to be on my best behavior. I nodded and took the glass from him. He led the way to the far side of the room, where there was a leather sofa. I noticed he walked with a slight stoop but he was graceful all the same. I was careful to sit a respectable distance away from him on the sofa and arranged my skirt just so, trying to look as much like a lady as I could. We were silent as we watched the other dancers.
Slowly, I felt myself relax. I felt comfortable beside this man. I looked around the room. I had never set foot in a private club before. I took in as many details as I could so I could describe it later to Ma, provided she was in one of her good moods. The walls were paneled in dark wood and covered in gilt-framed mirrors and prints of red-coated men on fox hunts. The sofas were brown leather and the end tables a dark mahogany. Heavy table lamps cast a gold light on the room. A few green leather armchairs that had seen better days were placed here and there. All the furniture had been pushed back to allow for the dancing. The band was a quartet with a piano, bass, trumpet, and drums. They were all right, but no match for the bands that came to the Castle ballroom. So this was how the rich lived? To be honest, I wasn’t impressed. It all looked a bit shabby and through-other to me. Give me the Castle anytime, in all its gaudiness.
“I suppose you must be used to these kinds of places,” I said to Joel Solomon. “Is this what it’s like in America?”
He threw his head back and laughed aloud. People turned to look at him.
“Well, some places in America are like this I suppose,” he said, “but they’re not places where the Solomons would be welcome.”
“Why not?”
He stopped laughing and looked at me. “Because we’re Jews.”
I’d never met a Jew before. I wondered if he would think I was very ignorant if I told him that.
“What’s that got to do with it?” I said.
“There are many places Jews aren’t welcome,” he said.
I shrugged and looked around. “You don’t have to be a Jew not to be welcome in places,” I said.
We settled into silence again. My earlier fears about his leaving me alone disappeared. He seemed perfectly content to sit with me just watching everything and not having to say much. And for the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t feel any need to chatter away and try to impress him. I didn’t even flirt with him. Not that he wasn’t attractive—he was a very good-looking man. In an odd way it reminded me of the way things were with Gavin. Although even so Gavin and I seemed to spend a good deal of our time fighting with each other. I couldn’t imagine fighting with this man. Odd, I thought, that I was so convinced I knew so much about him, when I hardly knew him at all.
We danced the next few dances, and at ten o’clock sharp, the lights dimmed and the band struck up with “God Save the King” to signal that the evening was over. I felt a brief stab of defiance. Why should I stand up for the king of England—what had he ever done for the likes of me? And I had a strong sense of not belonging with these women who stood proudly with their hands over their hearts. It was funny, I thought, because I stood up for the same anthem at the Castle without a second thought. It meant nothing to most of us there, but here was a different story—here it seemed like an alien thing to me. But Joel had stood up and so I stood along with him. I had caused enough scenes for one night. When the music finished Joel led me down the stairs and waited while I fetched my coat.
“It’s still early,” I said to him, as we strolled along Canal Street. “Mrs. McAteer and her cronies are devils for following the closing-time rules. There’s plenty of places still open.”
He shook his head. “Thanks for the invitation, but I think I’d rather take a walk before I head back to the barracks. You’re welcome to join me.”
For once, I was not the self-centered Sheila I usually was. I threw no tantrum to get my ow
n way, nor did I attempt to flirt with promises of a good time if he took me where I wanted to go. I realized the man wanted to be alone. There was something in his face told me so. And after all, I thought, he had done more than enough for me tonight.
“No.” I smiled. “Just dancing in these shoes is torture enough. I’ve no need for a long walk on top of it.”
I put out my hand to shake his. He took it and held it briefly.
“Will you be safe going home alone?”
I laughed. “Aye,” I said. “I’m an old hand at wandering the streets at night. Didn’t you hear what the oul’ biddies were saying about me?”
“I’m sure they didn’t mean it.”
“Oh yes, they did. And worse. Anyway, it was lovely meeting you. I hope to see you again.”
He gave a slight bow, shyness spreading across his face.
“I hope so, Miss McGee.”
“For God’s sake, will you call me Sheila,” I said, dropping my hand and shoving it in my pocket.
“Sheila, then. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I turned and walked away as if I had pressing business to attend to. The truth was I didn’t know where I was going. Suddenly, the idea of the sweaty-palmed soldiers at the pubs held no appeal for me. There was still time to get the last train down to Warrenpoint and the Castle ballroom—it was Saturday night after all and the craic would be going strong. But I had no heart for it tonight either. I sighed. There was nothing for it but to take the tram home to Queensbrook and pray that Ma was already in bed. I didn’t feel like putting up with her tonight, no matter what mood she was in. I understood now completely why Joel Solomon had wanted to go for a walk alone and in silence. I craved silence too.
Chapter 10
By Monday morning, Mary McAteer had filled the ears of the mill girls with details of the battle at the Canal Club and how they had tried to throw me out.
“Aye, but my Prince Charming came along just in time,” I said, tossing my head, “and he was just gorgeous.”
“And will you be seeing him again?” asked Patsy.
“Och aye. Any time I like. Sure he’s mad for me.”
But a week went by and there was no sign of Joel Solomon. I don’t know where I had expected to meet him. Would he come up to the house in Queensbrook carrying a glass slipper? Not bloody likely. I was embarrassed of course and now I had opened my big mouth at the mill I had to keep coming up with excuses as to why I had not been out with him. Deep down I was also disappointed. There’d been something about him. Och well, easy come, easy go, I thought. And so I went back to my old habits of hanging around the pubs and dances with the enlisted men even though none of them interested me the way Joel Solomon had.
At home not much had changed. Ma still went in and out of her moods. Aunt Kate complained that she had heard very bad stories about me. Uncle Kevin tried to pin me in corners and paw me when he was drunk. And the girl, Grainne, was sullen as ever. We hardly spoke a word to each other. We had made our peace sharing the bed. She kept well over to her side and me to mine. But one evening I walked in on her when she was taking off her blouse in order to put on her nightdress.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”
I blurted the words out without thinking. On the girl’s back was a mass of ugly red scars, some the width of her back, some running diagonally from her shoulder down to her waist.
“Mother of God,” I said.
She swung around, clutching the nightdress in her hands. Her normally ruddy face was pale. She stared at me, her green eyes boring through me.
“What happened to you?” I began. “Who did that—”
“None of your bloody business,” she said.
She pulled the nightdress over her head and turned off the lamp. She climbed into bed and pulled the bleached four sacks up over her head. I said nothing as I got myself ready and slipped into bed beside her. The mattress shook as her body trembled. What if she starts bawling, I thought, then what will I do? But she didn’t cry. She was a stubborn wee thing. I felt a sudden rush of pity for her. Some bastard must have beaten her—or worse. Those scars could have been from burns. What bloody pervert would do that to a child?
I turned my back to her and tried to go to sleep. But instead, I lay tracing dim, moving shadows on the wall. Grainne’s breathing became heavy and I knew she had fallen into a deep sleep. Best thing for her, I thought. I decided I would keep her secret. What was the point of telling anyone? The damage was done. But my resentment towards the girl eased and while I showed her no pity in the days that followed, at least I gave up glaring at her every time I saw her.
The following Sunday I went up to the Flagstaff. I had heard that the Yanks performed their drills up there and idly wondered if I might see Joel. But the place was empty and I sat down on my usual stone bench and gazed out over the river and down towards Carlingford Lough. I was glad there was no one around. I wanted to think. As I sat a late October wind came up and I shivered. I shoved my bare hands in my pockets. As usual, I was not dressed warmly enough for the weather.
After all the excitement of the arrival of the Yanks, my life was back to going nowhere. I was as bored now with the enlisted soldiers as I had been in the past with the local lads. The Yanks weren’t that much different. They were all after just one thing—to find a girl who was easy, have their way, and move on to the next one without so much as a here’s your hat what’s your hurry. There’d been some awful stories of gangs of drunken soldiers cornering girls in alleyways and pushing themselves on them like a pack of louts. But it was never the soldier’s fault. If a girl complained she was the one made out to be a tramp—she must have been asking for it, the police said. The authorities were bending over backwards to keep the Yanks happy and they weren’t going to let some little nobody of a mill girl or farm girl cause a problem. It was a disgrace. And God help any girl who got in the family way. It was a rare soldier who would stand by her. I was determined it was not going to happen to me. Oh, I led them on all right, and I enjoyed a wee bit of slap and tickle as much as the next girl, but they were getting nothing else from me—condom or no condom. Aye, condoms. Sure we had never heard of the likes of them things before this. The priests would have been scandalized at the mere mention of the word. But the local authorities, nice as you like, provided the soldiers with condoms. Weren’t they just encouraging them to prey on women?
I smiled to myself. I was beginning to sound like my aunt Kate.
I supposed in truth the officers would not be much better than the enlisted men if they could get away with it. But I hoped they were more respectable. They were better educated anyway. Some of the enlisted men, I learned, were just as ignorant as the local country lads. They were only just off the farms themselves and swaggered about as if they owned the world. But the officers had the education and seemed to be from a better class of people.
Mary McAteer had blathered on about the ones she had met through her mother’s committee. Her mother had forbade her to mix with the enlisted men—only an officer would be acceptable, she said. According to Mary many of them were very well off and had joined the army to bring honor to their families, blah, blah. I laughed—in Ireland you brought honor to the family by becoming a priest; in America, it seemed, you went to war. Mary had attached herself to one boyo—a short, stocky chap with a big nose and a very loud voice. From Philadelphia, wherever in God’s name that was, and from a very good family, Mary said. I had rolled my eyes as Mary was talking—but a wee wisp of jealousy floated through me. I had not been back to any of their officer receptions since the time at the Canal Club.
I straightened myself up on the bench as the wind whipped at my hair. Out on the lough the small outline of a boat appeared. I wondered if it was Gavin’s. I hadn’t seen him in a dog’s age, not since the time he had walked off disgusted with me. It worried me to think that we might not get over this last argument as easily as before. But I shook the thought away. I wanted to believe things could no
t have changed that much. Gavin was still my best friend.
I thought back to the day I had tried to take the train to Belfast. I wondered if the two McTaggart sisters had joined up yet. Would it have been a better choice for me than running back here with my tail between my legs? I could still go, I supposed, but surely there must be an easier way.
Well, if I was to find another way, I thought, it would have to be with the help of an officer. I would have to make more of an effort to find one. Joel Solomon would have been a fine choice but he seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. I shrugged. Sure one was as good as another. I just needed a fella who could help me get papers to go to England—or even America. I didn’t have to fall in love with the man.
As the winter days grew short and the darkness drew in, my mood darkened as well. I had just turned twenty and my life seemed to be at a standstill. One night I pulled the Linen Queen sash out of the drawer and rubbed my fingers along its length. How foolish I had been—thinking I was on my way to a grand adventure. Life, I had learned, had a way of crushing all your dreams and you were better off not getting too carried away with hopes. But still the sash gave me an odd comfort. Life had not denied me everything. I had been granted this one brief moment of success. Maybe God would grant me more in time.
“Is that all you got for winning the title?”
I swung around. I had not heard Grainne come into the bedroom. I stared at her. Those were the most words she had ever spoken to me.
“Well, this sash and two hundred pound that Ma’s still dying to get her hands on.”
Grainne sat down on the bed. She wore a jumper that I recognized as one of my castoffs and a long skirt and boots. The clothes hung on her like rags on a scarecrow. She would be a drab wee girl, I thought, if it wasn’t for the bright crown of red curls and those piercing eyes. She ran a thin white finger gently up and down the sash.
“It must have been nice to win, all the same,” she said. “I never won anything in my life.”
The Linen Queen Page 11
