After the concert the performers were in high spirits backstage – laughing and hugging each other. The audience may have been small, but the applause and cheering at the curtain call was enthusiastic and it was not just for the wonderful show they had seen, it was also for helping them to forget about the bombed buildings outside for two hours.
Outside, Sandy took Irene’s hand as they strolled towards the City Hall.
‘Where are you staying?’ she asked. He raised an eyebrow.
‘You don’t have anywhere to stay do you?’
‘Well, I was hoping …’
Ten minutes’ walk away, in the Plaza Ballroom, Peggy was coming off stage for a short break.
‘I want a word with you.’ Devlin caught her by the arm, ‘You’re playing too fast.’
‘I think you’ll find the tempo is correct,’ said Peggy. ‘It’s the singer who’s too slow.’
‘Must you argue about everything?’ Peggy opened her mouth to protest, but Devlin held up his hand. ‘I’m telling you to slow it down; you’re making him sound ridiculous.’
‘That’s not my fault.’
‘As far as I’m concerned it is and, if you want to get paid, you’d better do what I say.’
Any other time Peggy would have stood her musical ground, but her head was thumping and her stomach was queasy. She went to the toilet to rinse her hands and face in cold water but, as she turned to leave, she began to retch and within moments was vomiting. When she finally emerged from the toilet and made her way back to the stage Devlin was waiting for her.
‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘I’ve been–’ she retched again.
‘Oh for God’s sake, you’re nothing but a liability!’ He reached into his breast pocket and took out a small silver flask. ‘Here, drink some of this.’
‘I don’t think I could–’
Devlin shoved the flask into her hand, ‘Drink it. It’ll settle your stomach. Then get up there and play!’
The brandy burned her gullet and her head was spinning, but Peggy hadn’t the strength to argue when he pushed her in the direction of the stage.
‘And slower this time, do you hear?’
The crooner nodded in her direction. ‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘I ate some bloody sprats.’
When Devlin placed the silver flask on the piano fifteen minutes later, Peggy reached out and drank it straight down and, for the first time in her life, her sense of timing deserted her, bar by bar, until the last waltz resembled a dirge. By the time the band played ‘God Save the King’ she had her head on the keys and was snoring gently.
She had a vague recollection of being carried across the deserted dance floor to Devlin’s office where he laid her on a sofa and threw a blanket over her. She might have heard the screaming of the air-raid alert an hour later, but it’s doubtful that she’d have registered Devlin manoeuvring her under his heavy desk and crawling in beside her.
At the Goulding house no one was asleep when the alert sounded. Pat’s head was too full of the duets she had sung with William and the fluttering of excitement in her chest returned as she sang every word again in her head. Then, without warning, the notion that she might accompany him to Dublin would scatter her thoughts in different directions: the long journey; the two of them alone; dinner and maybe dancing. No, she chided herself, they were colleagues. William had vital work to do and it was her job to assist him, so she’d no business dreaming about it like a lovesick schoolgirl.
Across the landing, Irene was lying in Sandy’s arms and in the darkness they were bold enough to speak of their hopes and fears.
‘I want us to be together. Why won’t you come and live with me in Ballyhalbert?’
‘I won’t know anyone and I’ll be on my own all day.’
‘There are other wives.’
‘I’m needed here; I need to earn a wage.’
‘But you don’t know when the factory will open again.’
‘I’ll get another job.’
‘Don’t you want to be with me?’
‘I do, but–’
‘But what?’
The sound of the alert saved Irene from saying something that was bound to be hurtful. Instead she jumped out of bed and shouted, ‘Quick! We need to get under the stairs.’ And at that moment Pat pounded on the door.
‘Did you wake Peggy?’ asked Irene as they crept on all fours into the confined space under the stairs.
Pat, already embarrassed by the fact that she was squashed up against Irene’s husband, a man she hardly knew, hesitated. ‘Ah … she wasn’t there.’
‘Wasn’t there? You mean she didn’t come home from the Plaza? Where is she?’ The question hung unanswered in the air.
Irene was grateful for the fresh eggs Betty had given them the day before which, together with the end of the pan loaf, meant that there was a decent breakfast to give Sandy before his long journey back to base. She walked him out to his motorbike and, when he pulled her towards him, she spoke the words she had rehearsed as they sat shivering under the stairs in the early hours before the all-clear sounded.
‘I will come to Ballyhalbert for a while.’
‘As soon as you can?’
‘When I find out how long I’ll be off work and when Mammy’s coming home.’
He nodded reluctantly and kissed her again with the same intensity as he had when she awoke in his arms in the early dawn.
‘I see love’s young dream has been ignited once again.’ Peggy called as she walked past them.
‘Where have you been all night?’ Irene called after her.
‘Mind your own business.’
Pat was sitting at the table adding up columns in a jotter and Peggy was frying the last egg when Irene came back into the kitchen.
‘We’re going to be short this week with the rent money,’ announced Pat. ‘We’ll have to cut down on food.’
‘But we eat little enough as it is,’ protested Peggy, ‘and I can’t be doing with the awful food you keep buying. I won’t tell you what those sprats did to my insides.’
Pat ignored the moaning and asked Irene, ‘When do you think you’ll be back at work?’
‘I’ve told you – nobody knows!’
‘What about you, Peggy, any chance of doing an extra night at the Plaza?’
‘I’m not going back there,’ she said bluntly and tossed a ten shilling note across the table. ‘That’s the last I’ll take from that place, you’re welcome to it.’
Pat picked it up. ‘With this we might be able to manage this week, especially as I’ll be away from Thursday to Saturday.’
Her sisters turned to face her. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Government business, I’m not allowed to say.’
‘Go on,’ laughed Peggy, ’you’re sneaking off somewhere with William Kennedy!’
Pat blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘How dare you! We’re not all like you, staying out all hours. So never mind me, where did you spend last night?’
‘Don’t change the subject,’ snapped Peggy. ‘Wait ’til Mammy gets back, she’ll get it out of you.’
Irene could see Pat was deeply embarrassed, but she had no doubt she was telling the truth about government business, even though she hadn’t denied William was somehow involved.
‘Actually,’ said Irene, ‘I might be going away myself. Sandy wants me to go to Ballyhalbert for a while and I’m thinking I might as well if I have no work to go to. There’ll be less food needed if I’m not here.’
Peggy whooped with excitement. ‘I’ll have the house to myself,’ and she reached across the table and snatched back the ten shilling note. ‘I could have some decent meals with this. I’ve heard the Pam-Pam is very good!’
Chapter 13
Pat wore her Sunday-best dress – navy cotton with a fine pinstripe – that she hoped would look slimming. Her coat was a little heavy for the time of year and she secretly hoped that, despite it being the end of May, it wou
ld be unseasonably chilly in Dublin.
On the train south they shared a carriage with a woman and her two children as far as Newry and exchanged no more than a few pleasantries. When they were alone, William cleared his throat. ‘What did you tell your family about the trip?’
There was something in his tone that put Pat on her guard. ‘I said it was government business.’
‘You said that!’
‘Well it is, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, yes, but you didn’t tell them where you were going?’
‘You told me not to.’
‘And they don’t know you’re going with me?’
‘I didn’t tell them who I was going with.’ She decided not to mention that they had presumed she was going with him.
‘Just remember, Pat, that these negotiations with the Dublin government are, shall we say, delicate and you are bound by the Official Secrets Act.’
She had been so caught up in her desire to be alone with William that only now, with talk of delicate negotiations and secrets, did she wonder why just the two of them had been sent to Dublin. She detected, too, a nervousness in William’s small talk, as though something was being left unsaid. They arrived at Amiens Street Station late morning and walked a short distance in the direction of North Strand to a modest-looking hotel.
William stopped outside. ‘Pat, there’s something you should know before we go in.’ He didn’t meet her eye. ‘I’ve … ah … booked a double room for us.’ He quickly held up a hand. ‘Hear me out, please. It’s a twin room, so you needn’t worry–’
‘William, you’d better tell me what’s going on, or I’m getting the train home.’
‘It has to seem as though we’re a married couple but,’ he hesitated, searching for words to calm her, ‘of course we’re not. This is a business arrangement.’
‘A business arrangement!’ Pat wanted to slap his face, but how could she? He might think she was insulted by the idea of a business arrangement because she had been expecting … Oh, she wanted to die of embarrassment!
‘Just listen will you? It’s complicated. No one must know that I’m here to negotiate with the Dublin government. It could jeopardise their neutrality if word got out. That’s why it’s just you and me – a couple taking a little holiday over the border. No one would suspect you of being involved with government negotiations, now would they?’
Pat opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. She couldn’t begin to unravel the excitement and hope of the past few days and come to terms with yet another, perhaps the greatest, disappointment inflicted upon her by William Kennedy. The man had no heart!
She endured the checking in under a false name and the knowing smirk of the hotel manager. Her face was still flushed with shame and anger when they arrived in the room and William began moving furniture.
‘See, I’ll push my bed right over here as far away from you as I can.’ William looked towards the ceiling, ‘Maybe I could rig up a curtain with one of the sheets.’
‘Will you stop?’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘What’s wrong? What’s wrong? For a start, I thought you needed me here to help you and because you wanted to spend time with me. Now it seems I’m here just to make this trip look like some seedy affair.’
‘No, no, it’s not like that at all. I do want to be with you. Remember what we discussed when we were in the Pam-Pam? You agreed to be my colleague and to help me do what needs to be done.’
‘I did, but I thought coming here would bring us closer together.’
‘Do you want me to move the bed back?’
Pat grabbed the nearest heavy object and threw it at him. The pitcher of water smashed against the wall, narrowly missing William’s head. The shock seemed to bring him to his senses. In seconds he had crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. She struggled to be free, weeping with frustration, but he would not let go. When all resistance was gone, he lowered them both on to the bed and stroked her hair and kissed her wet cheeks.
‘Help me, Pat,’ he whispered. ‘Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.’
What happened next was completely out of character, but the closeness of William and the pleading in his voice were more than she could bear. She pulled him towards her. ‘Kiss me,’ she said.
Their first meeting was at one o’clock in a lawyer’s office in a Georgian town house on Merrion Square. They were shown into a grand room with a marble fireplace and ox-blood leather chesterfields. On a stand behind the door hung black robes. A collection of legal wigs was arranged on a nearby bookcase.
‘Just get as much of the conversation down as you can and make sure you get the exact wording of what is agreed,’ William reminded her.
There was the sound of whispered discussion outside the door and two men came in. The first, a man in his sixties, formally dressed in a morning suit with winged collar and dark tie, went straight to William and shook his hand. No names were mentioned. The second man, younger, also soberly dressed but in a more modern style, crossed the room, sat on an upright chair and took a notebook and fountain pen from his pocket.
The discussions covered ways in which the Dublin government could give help to the north: supplying food to relieve growing hunger; caring for refugees from the north; help in clearing bomb debris. Time and time again the words ‘to relieve the suffering of the population’ were stressed. Then the emphasis shifted to defence – searchlights, barrage balloons and shelters. There was less agreement here, with everything seeming to be based on ‘maintaining neutrality’. Pat carefully noted down everything.
After two hours the elderly gentleman suggested a break for refreshments, adding, ‘Perhaps my clerk could take the young lady to the common room.’
Pat saw through this suggestion at once. He was to keep her out of the way while the serious discussions continued, that was obvious, but as she and the clerk drank tea she was surprised to find herself being closely questioned.
‘Where are you staying?’ he began.
Instinctively, she was on her guard. ‘Somewhere past the railway station, I can’t remember the name of the hotel.’
‘Mr Kennedy must be held in high regard by the Stormont government to be responsible for such important talks.’
‘I don’t know Mr Kennedy that well. I’m just the clerk who collates the reports about civil defence.’ He looked sceptical. She leant towards him, opened her eyes wide and whispered, ‘Is that de Valera Mr Kennedy’s been talking to?’
The young man laughed at her naiveté. ‘No, that’s not the Taoiseach! Let’s just say he’s been talking to a senior civil servant in the Department of Defence.’
Almost an hour later William poked his head round the door and, with a quick nod, indicated to Pat that it was time to go. Anyone watching Pat and William as they walked hand in hand exploring the city would have seen only a young couple, showing all the signs of being in love. William had spent three years studying at Trinity College and knew what Pat would find interesting. He took her there first to see The Book of Kells with its beautiful illuminated pages. On O’Connell Street she listened in fascination as he told her the story of the Easter Rising and she touched the bullet holes in the walls of the GPO. They climbed the one hundred and sixty eight steps to the top of Nelson’s Pillar and watched the people and traffic far below them. In between, they drank Guinness, ate fish and chips and wished the day would never end. And not once did they talk about why they were there.
Later in their hotel room, William was anxious to go through Pat’s notes before the next meeting the following morning. ‘I want to look at what he’s likely to agree to and where I’ll have to push him hard. He’ll certainly agree to send medical aid if we’re bombed again, but I’ll need sound arguments to convince him to send us manpower for building shelters or supplying us with food at low cost.’
‘What about your conversation when I wasn’t in the room? Did he say anything significant then?’ asked Pat.
&nbs
p; William’s tone changed. ‘You don’t need to know about that. Nothing important was said.’
‘I just thought you might like me to add the details so that the notes are complete.’
‘Not necessary.’ He took the notebook from her and lay on his bed reading through it. It was as though he had forgotten she was there.
The daylight slowly faded until it seemed too dark to read, but he did not stir. In the end Pat drew the curtains and switched on the light. At ten o’clock she went down the hall to the bathroom and got ready for bed. When she returned he was staring at the ceiling. She went and knelt beside him and stroked his forehead. ‘William, I’m sure it’ll go well tomorrow. He was convinced by your arguments, I know he was.’
He rolled over to face her, his eyes level with hers. ‘You’ve no idea what’s at stake. We could change the course of the war. I have to find the words to persuade him.’
‘And you will, you will, but it’s time to go to sleep now.’ She took the book from him and went to put it on the dressing table.
‘Pat, come here.’ At the urgency in his voice, she turned to see him staring at her. The cotton nightdress reached to her ankles, covered her arms, the neckline was not low, but her shape beneath the thin material was clearly visible. With a sweep of his eyes William suddenly saw what he had previously only dreamt of: full breasts, narrow waist, the curve of her hips. Puzzled, she crossed the room and took his outstretched hand. He pulled her on to his bed and into his arms.
The following morning when William and Pat arrived at the barristers’ chambers the clerk was waiting for them in the entrance hall. The meeting would not be minuted or recorded, he told them, so the young lady would not be needed. If William was surprised by this, he didn’t show it.
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