by Rosie Harris
‘No, I’m not.’
‘From where I stand it certainly looks that way,’ Helen said heatedly. ‘You’ve changed.’
‘I’ve learned to speak up for myself. I wouldn’t survive long in married quarters if I didn’t … you should know that.’
‘I never found it necessary to contradict your father every time he said something.’
‘I don’t argue with Hugh … except when it’s necessary – and when I know I’m in the right and he isn’t. I’m not just going to agree with him for the sake of peace and quiet like you used to do with Dad. You needn’t bother denying it. I’ve seen you back down time and time again when you should have taken a stand.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Helen denied hotly.
‘Oh yes you do, Mum. Things are different today. Marriage is a partnership. I don’t accept Hugh’s word as law. I have a perfect right to my own opinion about things.’
‘Of course you do, dear.’
‘And I expect Hugh to do his share of the chores. I don’t go along with the way you treated Dad. I have no intention of waiting on Hugh hand and foot. When Dad was at home, our whole life had to revolve round him. He had the best chair, chose what we all watched on telly, and where we should go if we went for a walk. He was even given first pick of the cakes at tea-time! It makes me sick just to think about it.’
‘Ruth!’ Helen’s face was white with shock and anger. ‘How dare you talk about your father like that.’
‘Because it’s the truth – and before you start to criticise the way I am with Hugh, think about how you acted with Dad and then decide which of us is right. I’m pretty sure Hugh loves me as much as I love him, but that doesn’t make him perfect and it doesn’t mean that I have to put him on a pedestal. Neither do I have to be a martyr and go along with everything he says when it’s not what I want.’
‘Yet you are going to Ireland with him!’ Helen pronounced triumphantly.
‘Of course I am! Like I said, he’s human. If I let him go over there on his own for two years he may find someone else.’
‘Ruth! Hugh hasn’t got a roving eye already?’ Helen exclaimed in dismay.
‘Not as far as I know, but, as I said, he’s only human. If I stay in England, when I could be over there with him, then I would only have myself to blame if he strayed.’
Desperately Helen tried to find the words she needed to counsel Ruth, to warn her that unless she treated Hugh more tolerantly she’d lose him anyway.
‘You do tend to shout at him, Ruth,’ she blurted out.
‘’Course I do. He’s a soldier. Orders are all he understands. If I speak in a reasonable tone and ask him to do something he’ll simply mumble “Yes” and go on reading or watching telly, or whatever. If I shout an order at him then he automatically springs to attention.’
‘And you argue such a lot,’ Helen persisted.
‘He’s got to learn what my opinions are, hasn’t he?’
‘But, Ruth …’
‘Look Mum, we’ve only been married a couple of years, not a life-time like you and Dad. You knew what he felt about most things and you either shared his views or gave in quietly. I’m not like that, nor is Hugh. He doesn’t want me to accept his opinions if I don’t agree with them … and I don’t intend to do so, anyway. OK we settle things rather noisily, but we do communicate. We’re still individuals. I don’t intend to end up as Hugh’s shadow, without any opinions of my own, or being too scared to voice them.’
‘I wasn’t scared of your father …’
‘Oh, come off it, Mum. You wouldn’t ruffle his feathers no matter what the issue might be and you brought us kids up to be the same. As long as Dad didn’t mind, we could do anything and go anywhere. The moment he raised so much as an eyebrow, it was taboo. We were shit-scared of him. The only good times were when he was away. Then we all breathed freely and even you became more human. When Dad was around you didn’t even have Nesta Evans and Sheila Wilson in for coffee because you thought Dad mightn’t like it.’
‘The Wilsons and the Evans often came in for a meal …’
‘Yes, as long as Jock and Taffy were there to keep Dad company. Then he’d play the big man of the house. You’d do all the work, all the cooking and baking, and he’d just pour the wine, or the beer, and lord it over everyone. And did he ever give you a hand with the clearing up afterwards?’
‘Nesta and Sheila used to help.’
‘Sometimes. More often than not the dishes were left until after they went home and then you were the one that did them. Well, it’s not like that in my house. If we have friends in for a meal then Hugh plays his part. If he’s at home he helps with the preparations as well as with the clearing up.’
‘You seem to have it all worked out,’ Helen murmured as they reached Aunt Julia’s gate. ‘I hope you’ve got it right. Time will tell. But all I can say is that my marriage was as near perfect as it was possible to be. Your father was a wonderful husband and I never had a moment’s worry about him when he was away, whether it was a field exercise or a trip overseas. I hope you will be as lucky.’
‘I hope so too, but, as I said, Hugh is only human.’ Ruth grinned. ‘And since he’s not on a pedestal, he won’t be able to fall off, will he?’
Chapter 20
Ruth found living in Northern Ireland very different from Chelsea. Hugh was stationed just outside Londonderry and they had been allocated a house in Robin Road, a cul-de-sac on the opposite side of the road to the barracks. A multi-stranded barbed-wire fence at the bottom of their garden and pill-box lookouts at the end of the road, segregated the Army property from that of the local inhabitants.
The road blocks were manned right around the clock and the soldiers on duty had the power to stop and search everyone using the road, as well as ask them for proof of identity. As it was, they quickly knew the people living there by sight and such formalities were generally overlooked.
Londonderry itself was in a state of siege. The bridge spanning the River Foyle formed a natural barrier. It divided Waterside, where the barracks were, from the main part of the city which was out of bounds to Army personnel.
The bridge leading into the city was heavily guarded both by the Army and the Royal Ulster Constabulary, who were responsible for carrying out searches. These were in addition to the searches made at various check-points in the city itself, as well as at the entrance to all shops and stores.
At first Ruth resented it when her shopping-bag and handbag had to be emptied out, so that the contents could be checked. After narrowly escaping a bombing incident inside a store, and reading almost daily of similar happenings, some of which killed and maimed women and children, she came to accept the need for such stringency.
Everybody was cautioned never to go out alone, not even in the streets on their own side of the river. It was even considered risky to go alone to the little local supermarket near the barracks.
When she first arrived in Derry, Ruth had thought it hilarious to see off-duty soldiers out walking in pairs, often pushing babies in prams. When Hugh had explained the reason was that if one of them was fired at, the other would be there as a witness and to fetch help, her amusement turned to incredulity.
The Army community was tight-knit and friendly. In less than a week, Ruth found she knew everyone living in Robin Road. Because of the restrictions about going out, or into the city, they made their own entertainment. They had organised a very active social club and they also visited each other’s homes a great deal so that the children could play together.
Ruth never felt nervous about going out to the social club when Hugh was on duty, since she knew that at the end of the evening they all left together. When they reached their own homes they waited in the hallway, until the last of them had gone indoors and put on all the lights.
Transport was always provided when there were dances and social events at the barracks, although it was only a hundred yards or so away. On these occasions, since th
e men outnumbered the women by about five to one, Ruth usually found herself danced off her feet.
So much activity and entertainment helped to keep her mind off the dangers that surrounded them. Even so, she was always tense when Hugh was on duty. Coffee mornings were spiced with gruelling stories of border incidents, of men who had been injured, of IRA terrorist flare-ups, of petrol bombs, killings and mutilations. Yet, when once a week she travelled to Coleraine on the special shopping bus organised for the wives, the townspeople there all seemed so neutral that she found the reports of violence hard to believe or understand.
As Christmas approached, Ruth began to feel homesick. The days were so short that there were only a few hours of daylight when it was safe to go out. No one dare chance going into Derry itself, as feelings between the British Army and the IRA were running high and wives were considered a fair target once they crossed over the bridge into the city. Even in Waterside, houses were daubed with anti-British slogans, and bombing campaigns were becoming more and more frequent, so that Ruth even felt nervous about shopping locally.
The weather was bitterly cold and a biting wind and driving rain kept her indoors most of the time, heightening her feeling of homesickness.
‘Shall we ask my family to come over for Christmas?’ she asked Hugh at breakfast one morning.
‘We could, but I doubt if they would come. Who is going to milk the cows and feed them and see to all the other livestock?’
‘Jim Baines.’
‘On his own! Be too much for him. He is getting on in years, you know.’
‘Well, let’s just ask Mum and Lucy,’ she pleaded.
‘Your mother would never leave Mark by himself, not at Christmas-time.’
‘And there’s no chance of you getting any leave, so that we can go back to England and spend Christmas with them?’
‘Not a hope. You go if you want to, though,’ Hugh told her. ‘I’ll be on duty some of the time over Christmas, anyway. The IRA have already started to step up their campaign and it’s bound to get worse over the holiday.’
Ruth shook her head, blinking back the sharp tears of disappointment. ‘No, I wouldn’t want us to spend Christmas apart.’
‘We could have a party,’ Hugh suggested, reaching across the table to take her hand and squeeze it reassuringly.
‘We’ve received so many invitations to other people’s parties we’d never manage to fit one in. No, forget it.’
‘I must go. I’m going to be late on parade,’ Hugh said, pushing back his chair. He ruffled her hair as he kissed her goodbye. ‘You can always phone your mother on Christmas morning. If you’re feeling lonely, how about inviting Gary Collins to come and stay over Christmas?’
Ruth’s grey eyes widened with astonishment. At the mention of Gary’s name, a mental picture of Hugh’s tall, powerfully-built friend with the coppery-red hair and square, handsome face, flooded her mind and brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks.
Whenever she was in Gary’s company she always felt breathlessly aware that he was paying her rather more attention than he should. There always seemed to be an unspoken message in his intensely blue eyes as they met hers, and, even though she told herself she was being fanciful, her pulse quickened whenever he was around.
For a brief moment, she wondered whether Hugh had noticed their attraction to each other and was trying to provoke her in order to find out how she felt about Gary.
She quickly dismissed the idea as nonsense, just her guilty conscience because of the rapport she sensed between herself and Gary.
There was something so dynamic about the man that even to be in the same room with him left her feeling bemused. To have him actually staying in their house would be out of the question. He might even think it was her idea and take it as an open invitation to extend his friendship.
‘No, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ she said firmly.
‘Why not? He’s a nice enough guy. I thought you got on very well with him,’ Hugh said in genuine surprise.
Ruth didn’t know what to say. How could she tell him that on more than one occasion Gary had come very near to making a pass at her and that far from resenting it, she’d found it quite flattering?
‘Come on, where’s your spirit of goodwill?’ Hugh persisted. ‘He mentioned it the other day. He wants to bring his girlfriend as well.’
‘Oh!’ Ruth felt so completely taken aback that her mind went blank. The nerve of the man! To have chatted her up as he had done and then go behind her back and ask Hugh if he and his girlfriend could come and stay. Frantically she tried to think of a reason why they couldn’t come. ‘They couldn’t both stay here … we’ve only got one spare bedroom,’ she protested feebly.
‘So? Gary won’t mind about that!’ Hugh grinned. ‘Think about it. I must dash.’
A couple of days later, Hugh reminded her about their Christmas arrangements. ‘Gary’s girlfriend is flying in from London on Friday night.’
‘You mean you’ve already said “Yes”?’ Ruth stormed, her grey eyes darkening angrily.
‘Not me, my darling,’ Hugh told her laughing. ‘Gary made all the arrangements and then thought to tell me. He said it would be OK by you so I thought you’d already hatched it all up between you.’
‘Oh really!’ For a moment Ruth felt so furious she could hardly speak.
Having Gary in her home would be bad enough, but having him sleeping there with his girlfriend was much worse.
As her anger at his cavalier treatment subsided, she reasoned that the outcome could work in her favour. He could hardly flirt with her if his girlfriend was there, so it should put an end to the feelings he engendered in her.
Sheila was about the same age as Ruth. She was so petite that her honey-blonde head barely came up to Gary’s chest. Her huge, violet eyes dominated her heart-shaped face and gave her a fragile doll-like quality. She bubbled with Cockney good humour and Ruth found herself enjoying her company immensely. Having someone else in the house all the time took her mind off the rioting, the shootings and petrol bombs that raged in every part of Londonderry.
When Hugh and Gary were on duty the two girls had plenty of opportunity to get to know each other. Sheila talked non-stop and, since her favourite subject was Gary, Ruth was fascinated by what she learnt about his background.
‘We’ve known each other ever since we were kids,’ Sheila confided. ‘His mum died just a couple of days after he was born. His granny brought him up, poor little devil.’
‘Why, was she very strict with him?’
‘Strict! That’s a laugh. Half the time she didn’t know where he was. She kept a pub, see. Real knees-up type of joint. Winter and summer, Gary used to be sent up to bed around seven o’clock so that he’d be safely out of the way before the pub got busy. Once his gran had been up to check he was asleep, Gary used to nip down the fire escape, and go back out to play. He’d have a right old time!’
‘Where was his father?’
‘Don’t reckon he ever had one. Leastways, not that anyone knew. It was wartime, see. My mum went to school with Dora, that was Gary’s mum. She said she couldn’t believe it when she found out that Dora was in trouble.
‘Even though she been brought up in a pub, and worked behind the bar and all that from the time she was fourteen, she wasn’t a bit flighty. She was nice and friendly; everyone liked her and talked to her, but she didn’t put it around or anything like that. My mum says she seemed to go the other way, as if all the drinking, and so on, had turned her off men, if you know what I mean. She did have a steady boyfriend, but he was killed.
‘My mum says she reckoned Gary’s dad was a bit special. She remembers Dora going on about this soldier and how good-looking and nicely-spoken he’d been. Seems he turned up at the pub one night, when Dora was working there on her own, feeling a bit sorry for himself and trying to drown his sorrows. He’d been trying to get home to see his wife who had just had a miscarriage, but he’d missed the last train. On top of
that he’d just heard his kid brother had been killed. When it came to closing time he’d had a few too many, so Dora took him up to the flat to try and sober him up. It seems he stayed the night and you can guess the rest. Next morning, of course, he’s off back to his unit.’
‘And that’s the last Dora ever heard of him?’
‘Right! Next thing is, Dora discovers she’s pregnant. As soon as her mother finds out she goes mad and rants and raves and tells her she’d best have an abortion.’
‘She wouldn’t agree to that?’
‘No! Everyone told her to get rid of it, but Dora wouldn’t. She’d really fallen for this soldier. My mum says that Dora hoped right to the end that he would turn up again. Sad really, but ever so romantic.’
‘And you say she died when Gary was born?’
‘Well, within a couple of days. My mum reckoned it was from a broken heart.’
‘And his grandma was left to bring him up. So now Gary has no family at all?’ Ruth said sadly.
‘His grandmother is still alive. Right old card, I can tell you. Still runs the pub. I think she hopes that one day Gary will go back and take over. I don’t think he ever will, mind you. He loves the Army. Says it’s in his blood because his father was a Guardsman.’
‘Has he ever tried to find his father?’ Ruth asked.
‘Shouldn’t think so. Nothing to go on, really. Dora didn’t even know his name. The only thing she knew was that his younger brother, the one who’d just been killed, was called Gary. That’s why, when she knew she was dying, she wanted the baby to be called that.’
‘I don’t think Hugh knows any of this,’ Ruth said reflectively.
‘Gary never talks about it, that’s why. My mum only told me when she thought I was getting serious about him.’
‘And are you serious about him?’
‘Of course I am! Do you think I’d have come over here to spend Christmas with him if I wasn’t?’ Sheila’s violet eyes grew dreamy. ‘I’d marry him tomorrow if he asked me.’
