Love Me Tender. Anne Bennett
up.’
Then Lizzie knew she had to stay with her mother, and she’d explain it to Danny, and if they were blown up at least they’d be blown up together.
The priest thought that was the reason too. Father Cunningham had been a regular visitor after Seamus died and had eventually encouraged Kathy back to mass. Father Flaherty was a different kind of man altogether, and he sat in the easy chair as if he owned the place, while Kathy ran round feeding him tea and biscuits.
‘I’m glad to see you’re over that other business at last,’ he said.
That other business! He was my son, Kathy thought, but the years of having manners drummed into her held firm, so she said nothing.
‘Now,’ Father Flaherty went on, ‘you must protect the children you have.’
‘I intend to, Father.’
‘Oh, then you’ve changed your mind about evacuation? I was talking to Mr Brady, and he…’
‘No, Father, no I haven’t,’ Kathy said. ‘But you see, I don’t understand how sending them off to live with strangers is any way to be looking after them.’
‘And if the bombs come, what then?’
‘At least we’ll be together, Father, and my weans will have their mammy beside them, not some stranger, however safe the place.’
‘They won’t be alone. Many have chosen to send their children away.’
‘That’s their choice, Father. This is mine and Barry’s.’
‘It’s because of the wee one you lost,’ Father Flaherty said with authority. ‘You’re overprotective of the two you have left. It’s understandable, but you must think of the children, not of yourselves.’
Kathy’s eyes flashed. ‘Father, it really is our business, and why I don’t want them to go is just between me and Barry.’
‘That’s your final word?’
‘It is.’
When the priest had gone, Kathy had set down on a chair, her legs trembling, for she’d never stood up to the man before. She knew he was a priest, but God forgive her, she couldn’t like him, there was something about him that made her skin crawl.
Almost a week later, the lovely weather broke in Birmingham. Thick black clouds had rolled in and the air was heavy. ‘Going to be a storm,’ people said. ‘We need one to clear the air.’ Kathy looked at the purple-tinged sky and agreed. Her head felt muzzy and she knew she’d probably end up with a headache.
But when the storm came, the ferocity and intensity of it shocked everyone. For three hours the lightning flashed and the thunder roared and rumbled. Rain hammered and bounced on the dusty pavements till they gleamed and streamed with water. The newscaster said Staffordshire had had the worst of it, and Kathy looked out at the depth of water outside, far too much for the gurgling gutters to cope with, and felt sorry for those worse off.
The news that night, though, wiped out worries about the weather, for there had been heavy troop movement from Austria to Slovakia and fanning out along the Polish border. Seventy Polish Jewish children arrived in Britain, where they would stay with foster parents until they were eighteen.
‘Poor little devils,’ Kathy said. ‘They’re coming to strange people, strange language and strange ways. It must have been a wrench for the parents, for they might never see them again.’
‘At least this way they’ve got a chance,’ Barry said. ‘Hitler’s record with Jewish people is not good. Oh, and thinking about children reminds me, have you picked up the gas masks yet?’
Kathy flushed. The very thought of putting one of those strange contraptions on her children terrified her. But then she remembered what had happened to her father, his lungs permanently damaged with the mustard gas he’d inhaled in the Great War. She knew she’d have to overcome her fear if there was gas about – to protect her children, at least. ‘In this downpour?’ she said indignantly to cover her unease, and added, ‘I’ll go up tomorrow.’
‘See you do,’ Barry said. ‘It’s as well to be prepared.’
It seemed everyone was getting prepared, for on the news the next day they heard that Paris had begun evacuating people, children first, and the Poles had issued a call-up to all men under forty. At home, the government issued guidelines on what to do in an air raid, black-out restrictions were about to come into force and Kathy and her neighbours were kept busy making shutters and curtains for their windows.
By Thursday, the navy had been mobilised, and working on the assumption that fire could cause as much damage as bombs, people were urged to clear their lofts and attics of junk and keep a bucket of sand or dirt on every landing.
On Friday the children who were being evacuated left from the school. Lizzie went with her mother and Danny to watch them marching out of the playground. In the event there were not many of them, twenty or twenty-five or so, Kathy thought, together with two teachers. The children had haversacks on their backs, or suitcases or carriers in their hands, gas masks in cardboard boxes slung around their necks and labels pinned to their coats. They were singing ‘Run, Rabbit, Run’ and waving and shouting like mad as they got into the waiting buses to take them to Moor Street Station. It all looked tremendous fun. Lizzie wished, just for a moment, that she was going too. But she knew her mammy needed her.
On the news that night, they learnt that German tanks had invaded Poland. The towns of Krakow, Teschan and Katowice were bombed before dawn, and Warsaw suffered a heavy bombardment and had many, many casualties. Chamberlain issued an ultimatum to Hitler to pull out of Poland or face the consequences, but Hitler had not replied.
‘This is it,’ Barry said, and indeed it was. The call-up of men under forty-one would begin immediately and the black-out became law.
‘Bloody right,’ Pat said. ‘They can’t back down now.’
‘Well, why don’t they declare war and be done with it?’ Sean said. ‘Rather than all this pussy-footing around, we should have taken Hitler out long ago.’
‘Oh, listen to the big boys,’ Bridie sneered. ‘Jesus, when they have you all in uniform, you can go over there and show the others how it’s done.’
‘Be quiet, Bridie,’ Pat said quietly.
Bridie bristled. ‘Oh well, if I can’t express an opinion, I’ll be away home.’
‘Ah, stay a while,’ Kathy said. Really she wished Bridie far enough away, but fearing Pat would get the rough edge of her tongue later, she said, ‘Have a drop of tea before you go.’
‘No,’ Bridie said. ‘I’ve got Sadie next door giving an ear to the weans and she likes me to pop in with the news, so I’ll be off now.’ She looked across at Pat and said sharply, ‘And you be in at a reasonable hour.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Pat in a fake American accent, and gave her a salute.
Bridie glared at him and slammed the entry door, and Pat remarked to no one in particular, ‘Should have her in the bloody army, if you ask me. She’d make a good general.’
Kathy spluttered over her tea, but she said nothing. She had wondered if Pat ever got fed up of his wife’s constant carping, but he’d never said anything about her before. Pat met his sister’s eyes over the wireless and smiled at her as he reached for his coat.
‘Are you away?’ Barry asked.
‘Aye, but not home,’ Pat said. ‘Bridie can order all she likes, but I’ll go home when I’m ready. I’m away to The Bell.’
‘Wait,’ Barry said. ‘I’ll come along with you.’ He glanced over at Kathy and said, ‘OK?’
‘Fine, but I’ll likely be in bed when you get in,’ Kathy said. ‘I’m beat.’
‘You