A Sister's Promise (20 page)

That thought, however, only strengthened her determination. The next day being a Saturday, she visited Buncrana. Tom had barely brought the cart to a stop outside the Market Hall before Molly had jumped out of it. She was in too much of a tear to get things in motion to wait to set up the produce as she normally did and Tom knew this.

‘Away then,’ he said, and Molly needed no further bidding.

‘Where’s she off to?’ she heard her grandmother ask peevishly.

‘Running an errand for me,’ Tom replied.

‘What sort of errand?’ Biddy asked, and though Molly by then was too far away to hear Tom’s answer, she didn’t care what he said anyway. She had things to do here and no one was going to stop her. She made her way to Main Street and the post office. She had arranged with Nellie already that she would remove all the money from her account bar one pound, as she didn’t know how much things might cost. Cathy and Nellie were both waiting for her when she burst through the door. ‘You have a letter,’ Cathy cried.

Molly felt relief flood all through her. ‘Oh, thank God!’

Her relief was short-lived, however, for she saw at once
that the letter was from Kevin, the address almost illegible as it had been written in pencil. The note inside had jagged edges as if it had been torn from a pad, but even so, the cryptic plea for help was clear enough: ‘Molly, come and get me. It is horrible in this place – luv Kevin.’

‘What is it?’ Nellie asked, seeing the blood drain from Molly’s face. Silently she handed the note over.

‘What does it mean?’ Cathy asked. ‘Where is he?’

Molly shrugged. ‘I have no idea. But it is even more important now for me to go over there and find out what has happened.’ She remembered the promise she had made to her young tearful brother before she left, and knew whatever the risks to herself she could afford to lose no time in going to Birmingham and finding Kevin, however long it took.

‘If anything major had occurred that meant for some reason your grandfather couldn’t look after your brother, your grandmother would have been informed as next of kin,’ Nellie said.

‘Well, she hasn’t, has she? I mean, she hasn’t said.’

‘Did she tell your mother when her own father died?’

Molly went cold. ‘But she knows how much it matters to me?’

‘Would that concern her?’ Nellie asked. ‘And she has no idea you would ever know, or at least for years, because she doesn’t know that you have been receiving letters from them.’

‘Oh God!’ Molly cried. ‘Well, have official letters come for her that you can remember?’

‘I don’t know, Molly, really I don’t. There is such a volume of mail now – more since the war began – and I couldn’t say, hand on heart, that your grandmother has received official letters or that she hasn’t. Can you remember, Cathy?’

Cathy shook her head sadly. ‘No, sorry, Molly. I haven’t a clue. Why don’t you ask her?’

‘Because I would have to explain how I know and that
would bring in the letters and involve you, and I would rather not do that,’ Molly said. ‘And it would achieve nothing, because she wouldn’t tell me.’

She looked from Cathy to her mother and admitted plaintively, ‘I am scared. More scared than I have ever been in the whole of my life.’

‘I know,’ Nellie said. ‘I don’t know what you will find in Birmingham, and I wish to God you hadn’t to face it on your own, but there is no help for it. Even without that heart-rending note, you have to go. And now the die is cast, as it were, we must turn our minds to practicalities.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like your clothes, my dear.’

‘My clothes?’

‘My dear girl, you cannot arrive in Birmingham with just two dresses,’ Nellie said, drawing Molly into their living quarters as she spoke. ‘You are smaller than Cathy, so you can have her old things. Don’t worry, I have discussed it with her and she is in agreement. I have bought you some pretty underwear as well and a couple of brassieres, though I had to guess your size.’

‘Nellie, you mustn’t do this.’

‘My dear girl, all the years you have been coming to our house I have never bought you a thing,’ Nellie said. ‘Not even on your birthday and at Christmas. I have felt bad about it too, at times, though it has been deliberate, because I didn’t want to make things worse for you at the house and I was pretty certain anyway you wouldn’t be allowed to accept things from us.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ Molly said. ‘I know I wouldn’t. In fact, she would probably take them from me at the door and throw them straight into the fire.’

‘I thought as much.’

‘But you don’t have to buy me anything,’ Molly said, ‘though I am incredibly grateful.’

‘Listen to me, child dear,’ Nellie said. ‘You are going to
a country in the grip of war and you do not know what you will find, or where you will lay your head tonight or maybe many nights yet to come. You may have great need of clothes. Now, about those hobnailed boots …’

‘I’m not taking them,’ Molly said. ‘I know that much. Whatever the weather I am wearing these shoes that Uncle Tom forced his mother to buy for me.’ Molly well remembered the row when, as springtime really set in, Tom had declared that Molly had to have shoes for Mass and that his mother couldn’t expect the child to go along in hobnailed boots any more.

‘You are not shaming Molly, Mammy, but yourself,’ Tom had cried. ‘And if you refuse to have her decently shod, then I will shame you further and take her to Buncrana and buy her some shoes myself and let it be known why I am having to do it.’

And so Biddy was forced to buy her shoes, but they were summer-weight sandal-type shoes.

Now Nellie said, ‘Take them with you by all means but you really need to travel in boots. ‘What good timing that Cathy grew out of her boots only a couple of weeks ago. Your feet are so slender I know they will fit you.’

‘Nellie, I …’

‘All you need now is a nice case to put it all in,’ Nellie said. ‘And I have a lovely smart one that you can have a loan of.’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ Molly said. ‘Thank you seems so inadequate.’

‘It’s a pleasure, my dear girl,’ Nellie said. ‘I will worry about you every minute you are away, and though you have a fair bit of money, you will in all probability have to pay for lodgings. At least if you take plenty of clothes it will be one expense spared.’

‘Nellie, you are so kind and generous,’ Molly said. She felt her eyes well up with tears. ‘I will miss you so much –’ she said brokenly – ‘miss all of you – and I am so very
grateful for everything you have done for me. Thank you so very, very much.’

Cathy and Nellie were crying as much as Molly as they embraced. When Jack took her in his arms too and said, ‘Look after yourself, bonny lass,’ Molly felt such despondency her heart was like a solid lump inside her.

‘Now are you sure you have everything?’ Tom whispered to Molly as she made ready to leave.

‘Everything,’ Molly said. ‘And there is no need for you to go with me.’

‘There is, and I would prefer it,’ Tom said, helping Molly through the window and following after her. ‘Anyway, I want to talk to you.’

‘Oh?’

‘Aye,’ Tom said. ‘Put your bag on your other shoulder and I will have your case, and we will walk arm in arm because it will be warmer, and I will tell you all about Aggie.’

‘Who’s Aggie?’ Molly said, glad enough to cuddle into Tom as they walked together through the raw, wintry night.

‘She was the eldest of the family.’

Molly wrinkled her brow. ‘Mom never mentioned a sister. In fact,’ she said surprised, ‘no one mentioned another girl. Did she die?’

‘I don’t know,’ Tom said. ‘I really don’t know what happened to her. She ran away from home when she was fifteen.’

Molly stopped dead and stared at her uncle. ‘Seriously?’ she asked. ‘She actually ran away from home?’

‘Yes,’ Tom said. ‘Your mother was only a year old at the time, and as we were forbidden to mention her name ever after it, she never even knew about her. That’s why, when your mother sent that letter to Mammy, it was probably
like a double betrayal. Two daughters gone to the bad, as it were – not that that excuses her behaviour in any way.’

‘Did Aggie want to marry a Protestant too then?’

‘No,’ Tom said. ‘As far as I am aware she didn’t want to marry anyone.’

‘But … Uncle Tom, she was little more than a child,’ Molly said. ‘Where did she go and why?’

Tom shrugged his shoulders. ‘If she ever sent a letter to give any sort of explanation then I never saw it, or was told of it,’ he said.

‘Now,’ Molly commented, ‘why doesn’t that surprise me? But …’

‘Come on,’ Tom said. ‘We must walk before we stick to the ground altogether and it would never do for you to miss your train.’

Molly saw the sense of that, but her head was still teeming with questions about the unknown Aggie she had just found out about. She wondered why her grandmother hadn’t made enquiries of her whereabouts, get the Gardaí involved as Nellie had thought Biddy might if Molly had tried to leave before she was eighteen.

‘Did Aggie’s life with her mother just get that difficult?’

‘You could say that,’ Tom said gently. ‘Poor Aggie. As the eldest she had no childhood at all and was run off her feet in much the same way you were. Look,’ he went on, ‘though I can tell you nothing of what befell Aggie after she left here, and I was then only thirteen and not in a position to help her at all, that’s why I wanted it to be different for you.’

‘There is no comparison,’ Molly said. ‘I have a good case full of nice clothes and a money belt full of cash, even food for the journey, and that fine torch and a rake of extra batteries, as it will be dark by the time I reach Birmingham. Every eventuality is catered for and, look, I can see the lights of the station from here. You need come no further.’

But for all Molly’s brave words, Tom heard the quiver
in her voice and knew she was perilously near to tears. For the first time, he put his arms around her and held her tight.

‘Don’t think the worst,’ he said. ‘Wait and see.’

‘It isn’t thinking the worst, Uncle Tom,’ Molly said, taking comfort from her uncle’s arms around her. ‘It is being realistic.’

Tom, who now knew Molly well, was aware she was very near breaking point, and though he could hardly blame her, it wouldn’t help for her to go to pieces now. He released her and said, ‘Come on now. You have to stay strong for young Kevin. If you are right – and I hope and pray that you are not – then how must he be feeling?’

Molly straightened her shoulders and wiped her eyes, for her uncle was right and if some second terrible tragedy meant that they were left alone in the world, then it was down to her, because she was eighteen, almost an adult, and old enough now to see to her brother. As soon as she reached Birmingham, she intended to seek him out.

Tom saw with relief that Molly had recovered herself and said, ‘You will write? Even if you have no permanent address for me to write back to, let me know you are all right. Nellie will hold any letters you send me?’

‘I will be glad to write to you,’ Molly said. She stood on tiptoe and kissed her uncle on the cheek. ‘Thank you for your kindness to me over the years.’

Tom’s face was flushed crimson with embarrassment and his voice gruff as he said, ‘Everything I did for you was a pleasure, and you may as well know that I will miss you greatly, more than I ever thought possible. But now you must go, for the train will not wait.’

Tom watched Molly walk away until the darkness swallowed her up. Burned into his memory was the day many years before when Aggie had climbed out of the window to make for England and to the very city that Molly was making for. From the night he’d watched her climb into the cart at the top of the lane, he never saw or heard from her
again and he knew he wouldn’t rest until he got a letter from Molly saying she was all right.

Molly knew the train she would travel to Derry on would be a goods train really, but she would be comfortable enough in the passenger coach they attached to the end. When she booked her ticket, the stationmaster warned her the journey would be slow with plenty of stops, but this was the only convenient train. The other passenger trains didn’t go out until too late for Molly to catch the mail boat when it sailed with the tide at about ten to eight.

That early winter’s morning, Molly entered the carriage with a sigh. She could hardly credit that she was here at last, on her way to Birmingham, and on this date, Tuesday, 19 November, more that five years after she had left it. Had she just been going home in the normal way she would have been in a fever of excitement, but the nagging knot of worry about the safety of her loved ones had crystallised into real alarm at the arrival of Kevin’s note and she wished the journey was over and she was safe at the other end.

She stacked her case in the rack above her and sat back in the seat. Thanks to Nellie and Cathy’s generosity she was warmly and respectably clad for the journey. She had delighted in the feel of the soft underclothes against her skin and the brassiere that cupped her breasts so comfortably as she had dressed that morning, and she had chosen to wear the tartan skirt and the red jumper that Nellie and Cathy had insisted she had. The thick black stockings were her own, but the fine boots had once been Cathy’s and she smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she unplaited her hair and coiled it into a bun, which she fastened at the nape of her neck. It was the way Nellie wore her hair, and Molly knew that immediately she looked more grown up.

It was a shame she thought that she had to cover her fine clothes with the old black coat, which was as drab and shapeless as ever, though even that looked better when
teamed with the tam-o’-shanter and scarf that Tom had bought her that first Christmas.

The journey was, as she had been warned, very stop and start, and so slow that sometimes she had an urge to get out and push. One half of her was in a fever of excitement to get to Birmingham, to find Kevin and bring him some measure of comfort, and yet the other half of her recoiled from the idea of what she might find.

By the time the train had chugged its way into Derry, she felt as cold as ice and burdened down with sadness. The night was still dark as pitch on the train to the docks at Belfast, and though the sky had lightened a little by the time she was aboard the boat, it hardly affected Molly’s mood.

The pearly dawn had just begun to steal across the sky when she stood on deck and watched the boat pull away from the shores of Ireland. She remembered doing the same thing in Liverpool when she vowed to return, and she also remembered the promise she had made to her little brother, which she was now going to keep.

This time, although her stomach did churn a little, she was able to eat and keep down some of the food that Tom had packed for her, and she bought a cup of nice hot tea to wash it down, but it didn’t chase away the cold, dead feeling inside her, nor stop her imagining the tragic and devastating scenario waiting for her at the end of the journey. Many spoke to the young and very pretty girl travelling alone and looking so sorrowful, and although she was pleasant enough, she wasn’t up to a long, in-depth conversation with anyone. She wanted to keep herself focused on what she had to do once she reached Birmingham, because that helped keep the tears at bay and she had shed quite enough of those.

Although the day was grey, overcast and bitterly cold, Molly was glad it was daylight when they reached Liverpool and she followed the other passengers as they made their way to the station. The train south had passed three stations
with the names blacked out before she mentioned it to a fellow passenger.

‘It’s to confuse the enemy,’ the woman said. ‘You know, in case there are spies travelling about the country.’

‘But how do people manage if they didn’t know the area?’

‘Have to manage, and that’s that,’ the woman said. ‘I mean, my dear, don’t you know there is a war on? God, if I had had a pound every time someone said that to me since this whole shebang started, I would be a rich woman by now.’

‘Yeah,’ said another. ‘As if you couldn’t know. Even if a Martian landed I would say he would be aware of it, and in short order too. And the government treat us like imbeciles. I mean, look at that poster.’

The train had drawn to a halt at another nameless station and Molly saw that on the wall was a poster showing a man and woman standing beside a train ticket office that looked closed and the poster asked, ‘Is Your Journey Really Necessary?’

‘It’s because they want trains left to move the troops, my old man said,’ the first woman told Molly. ‘But I ask you, with this stop-start nature they have at the moment and the way trains never run on time, because “there is a war on”, you understand, if your journey wasn’t necessary, then I’m sure you would stop at home.’

‘This is all new to me,’ Molly said. ‘I was born in Birmingham but was taken to my grandmother’s in Ireland when my parents died five years ago.’

‘Ah,’ the first woman said, ‘how lucky to have one of your own willing to take you in, in such awful circumstances.’

If only you knew, Molly thought, but didn’t give voice to it.

‘Why come back now?’ asked the second woman.

Molly told them about her young brother staying with his grandfather and the absence of letters that prompted her to come and see for herself what had happened to them.

‘Well, I hope you find them both safe and sound,’ the first woman said. ‘But you will see Birmingham is very changed from the place you remember, and the two women regaled Molly with tales about the raids on Birmingham and the great swathes of the city laid waste, until the train drew up at a station they said was Crewe, where they had to change trains. Molly remembered it well, but for all that, was worried about missing Birmingham when she eventually got there. She was glad the two women were travelling on with her as they said they would make sure she got off at the right place.

They were true to their word, and when Molly alighted from the train, despite herself, she scanned the platform. She would have given anything to see her grandfather waiting for her, to see his eyes light up when he saw her, feel his arms go around her tight. She would smell the smoke from the pipe he always left in his jacket pocket, and she would kiss his dear, weathered cheek and tell him how glad she was to be back.

Tears stood out in her eyes at the realisation that she might never see him again, and she suddenly felt very lost and more than a little scared. She had no plan of action. She had money and knew she had to find lodgings, but she had no idea where to start. The almost sleepless night and the long and wearing day had begun to take their toll.

Two men had been watching Molly. They saw she was young and noted that there was no one to greet her. She was just the sort of girl they were interested in. Their eyes met, but they didn’t speak; there was no need. They waited until the platform virtually cleared of passengers and the girl still stood there in an agony of indecision, trying to batten down her rising panic and decide what to do first.

‘Can we be of any assistance to you, miss?’

Molly had no sense of alarm or unease, rather relief that someone had actually spoken to her, especially when the two men looked so respectable, dressed in suits and shirts
and ties. The man who had spoken had actually doffed his hat, which had been a novel experience. Who better to ask advice of than these two men?

She had actually opened her mouth to say this, but she was prevented by the wails of the air-raid sirens and she looked at them, her eyes standing out in her head and intense fear displayed in every line of her body. Ray Morris, the man who had spoken to her, knew that he was on to a winner, for the girl was stunning, absolutely stunning, and he knew Vera would pay a good price for one who looked like this – when he had broken her in a bit, that was. She liked them broken in, did Vera.

But that was for later. Now there was the air raid to deal with, a raid that the girl was obviously scared rigid of. He took her arm, saying firmly, ‘Come, we must seek shelter. My name is Ray Morris and my friend here Charlie Johnson. Don’t worry, we will look after you.’

Molly was only too glad to let the two men take charge, and they led her from the station. Outside was a hive of ordered activity, for everyone seemed to know where they were going. Molly and her escorts followed the stream of people. The strains of the siren died away and the dull thumping sounds of the first explosions, as yet some way away, could be heard.

Powerful searchlights lit up the sky and men with tin hats on their heads and armbands circling their upper arms urged people to hurry. Molly was never so pleased with anything as she was at the feel of Ray’s arm through hers, while his friend Charlie came behind carrying the case. They went into a brick building, which seemed surrounded by sandbags. It was cold and dank, and very dim as the only light came from a couple of swinging paraffin lamps. The place looked very uncomfortable, the only seats bare wooden benches fastened to the walls. Yet Molly was glad that Ray sat her down on one of those, with him and Charlie beside her, because there wasn’t enough seating for
all the people crowding into the place and some had to make themselves as comfortable as possible on the floor.