I nodded. Two pound a week out of my wages was far less than I gave to Ma. I thought of the ten shillings and sixpence a week Kate had been collecting for Grainne from the evacuation committee. I could do with that money now. But she was too old to qualify anymore.
Grainne must have been reading my mind. “I can get a job,” she said, jutting out her chin. “There has to be someplace will take me on.”
“No,” I said, looking over at Gavin. “It’s too soon. We don’t want anybody to know you’re here for a while.”
“So I’ll be as much a prisoner as I was in that oul’ convent,” she said. “Well, you may as well have saved yourselves the trouble and left me there!”
Ungrateful wee bitch, I thought to myself. Gavin stepped forward and put a hand on Grainne’s shoulder.
“Sheila’s right,” he said. “It’ll be better if you keep out of sight for a while until things die down. I don’t think they’ll come looking for you—I was told they’d been warned there’d be consequences if they did—but all the same, better not to tempt fate.”
Grainne turned a sullen face to the wall. I followed Gavin and Mrs. Hollywood down the stairs.
“Poor little mite,” whispered Mrs. Hollywood.
“She’ll get over it,” I said.
I followed Gavin to the door.
“Sorry, it was the best I could do,” he said.
“The best you could do—lodging me with an Englishwoman?”
“Mrs. Hollywood is different,” he said. “She was married to my da’s first engineer, Sam. He signed on to the Belfast Star after my da died, and after it sank she took care of Alphie. Stayed on here, when she could have legged it back to England.” Gavin grinned. “She’s a wee bit mad—all that pink and everything; even flies the Union Jack on St. George’s Day—but she’s harmless.”
I didn’t know what made me do it, but suddenly I put my arms around him, pulled him tight to me, and kissed him on the lips. He kissed me back hard. As we stood locked together the wild thing I had felt the time on the boat stirred in me. We pushed each other away. Without a word he climbed on his bicycle and was gone.
“Thanks, Gavin—for everything. Safe home,” I called after him.
Gratitude, I thought to myself as I went back into the house at number 6. Gratitude. That’s all it was.
At the end of the week, Patsy was sacked from the mill. Father Flynn had not been long in letting it be known that she was pregnant. Mr. Carlson might not have worried about it too much, but Mary let slip that Mrs. McAteer poisoned his ear with stories about Patsy and her wild behavior, and how she set a very bad example in front of the other girls. And what would the army think of one of his workers acting like that? And when Patsy’s da found out, he beat her and told her to pack her bags while her ma stood by and bawled. Patsy came to number 6 Walker’s Row because she had nowhere else to go. And there was nothing I could do but ask Mrs. Hollywood to take her in.
I fell into a routine of leaving early in the morning and catching the tram up to Queensbrook and the mill. I saw Ma once in a while but it was obvious we were doing our best to avoid each other. She had brought me the clothes I had asked for, but after that I had not spoken a word to her. I supposed she was frightened out of her wits to be seen talking to me, in case she’d be thrown out on the street as well. I didn’t want to cause her any more trouble, so I steered clear of her.
The summer turned into autumn. There was no word from Joel. Of course I had no reason to expect any. I assumed he was still in England. At nights in bed beside Patsy I imagined what my life would be like now if I’d gone with him. By all accounts the war was not going well, even with the Americans in the fight. The soldiers around the town seemed less lively than they had been at the beginning. I supposed they, like us, were getting sick and tired of the whole thing. The German bombers still flew overhead occasionally, and the blackout rules stayed in place. Sirens blared at all times of the day and night.
I hardly went out anymore. Instead I stayed at number 6 enjoying the craic with Mrs. Hollywood and Patsy. The two had become very thick. They shared the same sense of humor and love of gossip. Patsy was more relaxed than I had seen her in months. She looked in the best of health despite the circumstances. Mrs. Hollywood’s son, Alphie, took pity on her and brought her out for ice cream at Morocco’s Café. They made an odd couple. Alphie was a big bruiser of a chap who talked so slow you would have thought the words were coming all the way up from his big toe. I thought Patsy would have been better off if she’d fallen for the likes of Alphie than for Sylvie Sartori.
Once in a while I still made appearances as the Linen Queen. There had been no competition held in 1943 either. I was the longest reigning Linen Queen in history. It was a small triumph that I held on to with both hands. When I put on the sash and the tiara, my old confidence and defiance returned. I was somebody special. People looked up to me. I could still achieve my dreams. The only sour note was the constant presence of Mary McAteer and her ma, who stalked me like a criminal. Even when there was no invitation for the runner-up, they came anyway, Mary flashing her huge diamond engagement ring and trying to elbow me out of the way.
One evening at an event for local business leaders, Mary sidled up to me and whispered in my ear. The smell of her perfume nearly knocked me over.
“I know I have no business telling you this, Sheila, but I just wanted to warn you.”
I stiffened. What was coming now?
“You see, Mr. Carlson’s secretary has been asked to bring you in tomorrow morning for a meeting with Mr. Carlson. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but I do think it’s better if you hear it from me first.”
She paused and looked at me, a tight smile on her face. “You’re going to be sacked. You see the rumor was going around that you had moved in with an unmarried man.” She paused and covered her mouth as if scandalized by the thought. “I didn’t believe a word of it of course, and neither did my mother. But she owed it to Mr. Carlson to find out. And apparently it was true. You had been living with Gavin O’Rourke.”
“But I was only there a week,” I burst out.
Mary put a plump hand on my arm. “I believe you, Sheila. I’m sure there was no harm in it. But you have to admit it doesn’t look good—and what with your reputation and all…”
I shook her off. I wanted to reach out and smack the smug look off her face, but at that minute the band struck up my cue to go in to the dinner. A sweat erupted over me and it was all I could do to walk a straight line into the room and make the presentation of linens to the businessman of the year. My hands shook as I handed him the smooth tablecloths and serviettes all tied up in a blue ribbon. Then I turned and fled, ripping off the tiara and sash as I went.
I thought about not even going near the mill the next day. Why should I give them the satisfaction, when I knew what they were going to do to me? But I had wages coming, and if I didn’t show up, I probably would never see them. I said nothing to anybody as I trudged down the road and boarded the tram for what was likely to be the last time.
Mr. Carlson handed me a letter and told me to sit down and read it. The print blurred in front of me, but the words “unacceptable behavior” jumped out. It was all I needed to read. The rest of it was just blather. I looked up at him.
“I’m truly sorry, Miss McGee,” he began, his voice stern. “It always pains me to have to discipline an employee, especially when they are a good worker, as you have been, with a good attendance record. In your case, it especially pains me because you have reigned as our Linen Queen now for three years—a role that represents the highest standards of employees in our industry. I am very disappointed to think that you should have treated that honor with such evident disregard. However, it was the fact of your good record and service as Linen Queen that led me to make my own inquiries.”
He broke off and cleared his throat. I waited. Just sack me and get it over with, I thought.
“It’s not that I don’t respect the opi
nion of Mrs. McAteer but I believe she can sometimes be a little overzealous when it comes to protecting me and the mill.”
I thought I detected a slight smile on his craggy face.
“So I wanted to verify their reports for myself. As it turns out, yes you did indeed move into Mr. O’Rourke’s house but he was out to sea during that time. And you left after a week and are now living with a respectable lady down in Newry. It was these clarifications that led me to my decision to put you on probation, and to place that letter of reprimand in your file. I hope you will reflect well, Miss McGee, on the disgrace you could have brought to yourself and this mill, and I hope it will cause you to mend your ways in the future. That is all. You may go now.”
I was stunned. I could do nothing but murmur thanks and flee from his office clutching the reprimand letter in my fist. I could hardly believe it. I was not sacked after all. I still had a job. I ran to the toilet and splashed cold water on my face. Then I took a deep breath and walked back into the spinning room. I put my apron back on, ready to go to work. But as I walked towards my machine I realized the place had turned deathly quiet. The workers stared at me with their mouths open. Then I realized what had happened. Mary McAteer had been spreading the news that I was sacked faster than you could spread margarine on brown bread. I looked around and laughed for the first time that day.
“What’s wrong, girls?” I said lightly.
I took the letter out of my pocket and waved it around. “Mr. Carlson was just congratulating me on what a great job I’m doing as the Linen Queen. He even put a letter of praise in my file. Wasn’t that good of him? It’s nice to be appreciated once in a while.”
I shoved the letter back in my pocket and went to work, a contented smile on my face.
“But Mary said…,” began Kathleen.
“Och, that Mary,” I said loudly. “Thinks she knows everything.”
One by one the girls nodded and went back to their work. There was going to be no gossip to be had at my expense this day at least.
Chapter 20
On the following Sunday afternoon I came home from Mass and went straight upstairs to lie down. I was tired. I had been working all the overtime I could get at the mill. I needed to make money while I could. After all, I had people depending on me now. I heard a knock on the front door and Mrs. Hollywood speaking to someone. I felt sure it was a man because her voice went up a pitch or two the way it always did when she was flirting with a man. Silly oul’ bat, I thought, and paid no further attention.
“Sheila, oh Sheila love. You have a visitor. And a lovely one at that. Ever so ’andsome and well-spoken.”
Without leave, she pushed open the bedroom door and bustled into the room.
“Come on now, get up and don’t keep ’im waiting. I’m going down to make him some tea.”
Sighing, I pulled myself out of bed, finished dressing, and went downstairs. When I opened the door to the parlor, I froze. There, sitting on the pink sofa, surrounded by pink lamps and bric-a-brac, was Joel. My immediate instinct was to turn tail and run. How could I face him after admitting I’d been using him? But it was too late. I saw the pleasure in his eyes as he smiled at me. He stood up and came towards me with his hand extended. I did not move.
“Sheila,” he said softly, “it’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”
I looked at his outstretched hand but made no effort to take it. The truth was I was ashamed to do so after the things I had said to him.
“I’m back for a few weeks. I wanted to see how you were doing. I went up to Queensbrook but your mom said you had moved out. She gave me your address here. I have to say, I had a hell of a job finding the place.”
He turned briefly to Mrs. Hollywood, who was watching us with sharp eyes.
“Please excuse my language, ma’am.”
Mrs. Hollywood waved a hand at him. “Oh, I’ve heard a lot worse, young man. I was married to a sailor. Mr. Hollywood, now, he ’ad a colorful way of speaking you might say. Would even make other sailors blush.”
Joel smiled at her and turned back towards me.
“I’m glad you’ve found a place with such a charming lady,” he said, as Mrs. Hollywood preened. “Cozy,” he continued, looking around the pink room. If I hadn’t been in shock, I’d have been giggling my arse off at the cut of him bent over from the low ceiling trying to look comfortable in this doll’s room. As it was, I took pity on him.
“Would you like to go somewhere?” I said. “I can be ready in a few minutes.”
Relief flooded his face and he nodded. “Actually, I have just the place in mind,” he said.
Minutes later we were driving north out of Newry towards Belfast. Joel drove with confidence. It was clear he had made this journey before. I had never been as far as Belfast, so I sat back and let him take charge.
“You’re still at the mill?” It was an innocent question. He couldn’t have known I was on probation. I nodded.
“And I understand from Mrs. Hollywood that Grainne is living with you.”
I nodded again. I didn’t know where to begin to tell him all the things that had happened. So I chose to say nothing.
We drove on in silence, up through the towns of Banbridge and Hillsborough.
Eventually Joel spoke again.
“Is everything all right, Sheila?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
He hesitated. “Something about you has changed. I can’t put my finger on it exactly. But you seem more serious than you used to be. You were always as light and carefree as a bird. It’s one of the things I liked so much about you.”
“We can’t all go around like happy eejits all the time,” I said. “Times are supposed to be hard. There’s a war on.”
He sighed. “Yes, there is indeed. And it’s not going so well for the Allies.”
Grateful to get the subject away from me, I quickly peppered him with questions as to the state of the fighting. The truth was I couldn’t have cared less, other than wanting it to be over. But it kept him talking and it broke the tension between us. Joel was serious as he talked about the challenges the Allies were up against. It seemed like they were losing ground to the Germans everywhere.
“If we don’t score a major victory soon, we could lose the whole war,” he said at last. He paused. “And even if we manage to pull it out, I’m not sure I’ll be around to see it.”
There was something in his tone that sent chills through me.
“What d’you mean?” I said.
He shrugged. “It’s just that I have a premonition. I don’t think I’m going to make it to the end of the war.”
“Well that’s an awful thing to be saying,” I said. I was frightened by the way he was talking.
“It’s true. Ever since my dad died, I’ve always had this feeling I was not going to live a full life either. I don’t mean to be morbid. It’s OK. I’ve made my peace with it.”
“So you have a feckin’ death wish, is that it? What kind of bloody nonsense is that?” I was angry with him now. For all of my own troubles I had never for one minute thought I’d be better off dead.
“I know it’s hard to understand, Sheila,” Joel said softly. “I’m going to be involved in a major campaign in a few months. I can’t go into details, but it will be dangerous, and a lot of lives will be lost. If it works, it will be worth the sacrifce. If not… well, I’m not sure I’d want to go on living in a world dominated by Hitler.” He sighed. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. Forget I said anything.”
Forget he said anything? How could I ever do that? I cast a sideways look at him. He was troubled; there was no question. I wondered what part I had played in it. My rejection of him could not have helped matters. But surely there was more to it. I recalled his story about his da’s suicide. Did that run in families, I wondered. Again, I found myself pitying someone other than myself, and again it shocked me.
We turned east and then drove north again along the shore of Strangford Lough. I smiled
at the sight of it. I had never been this far up on the coast.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Yes. D’you remember that night after I played the fiddle at the Flagstaff when we sat looking out at the lough and you recited that beautiful poem—the one about the merrow?”
I nodded, remembering. What sweetness there had been in that night, and what sadness too. He reached over and touched my shoulder.
“You look like a mermaid, Sheila, with your blue eyes and your black hair and your white skin. You look just like the mermaids I used to read about when I was small. I’ve always had a fascination with the sea too. There’s a theory we all evolved from fish—and maybe the sea will claim us again. Maybe one day we’ll all return to the sea.”
“The sea claims many a one around here,” I said. “Many’s the boat has been sunk, particularly lately.”
He’d sounded sad and far away. There was no hint of the anger he’d shown when I’d last seen him, but the sadness was still there—a deep melancholy that hurt me.
“So how far is it now to Belfast?” I said to break the mood. “I’ve never been there before.”
“Oh, we’re not going to Belfast, Sheila. There’s somewhere much more important I want you to see.”
We drove through Newtownards, which stood at the northern tip of Strangford Lough, and across the Ards Peninsula into the small coastal town of Millisle. I’d never heard of the place before. My curiosity was choking me but I said nothing. We turned away from the sea and climbed a steep hill. Two twin-gabled buildings dominated the horizon. I had never seen anything quite like them. A farm appeared to our right, the fields dotted with haystacks. To our left were dense woods. Joel turned the car in through the farm gate.
As we drove along the gravel road towards one of the buildings I had seen, I noticed people working in the fields. It was late harvest season and they were gathering crops and baling hay. As we drew closer I saw that they were young, some mere boys. I peered at them. Just like the buildings, they looked different from boys I had seen before but I couldn’t put my finger on how. I twisted around and looked to my left. A few little girls were on their knees digging in a kitchen garden. They turned and waved as we drove by. I could stand it no longer.
The Linen Queen Page 21
