Vi. The message was between me and him. He sent it, I picked it up. It came through very clearly. He was very insistent.’
‘He’s dead,’ Vi repeated dully.
‘Dead or not, he wanted to say happy birthday.’ Lilith spoke gently, her eyes kind. ‘A lot of love came over, but I sensed that he was restless, and anxious too. Why don’t you try to put his mind at rest, Vi?’
‘I – no!’ She wouldn’t touch that glass again, not if Gerry were trapped in Purgatory for the rest of time, she wouldn’t.
‘Leave it.’ Fenny Cole pushed back her chair. ‘You know what happens if we try to force it, Lilith. We’ve done well enough for one night, and it’ll be standeasy soon. Let’s all try again tomorrow.’
‘Shall we?’ Lilith looked directly at Vi. ‘Tomorrow night, after supper?’
‘I don’t know.’ Vi let go a shuddering breath. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’
‘Well, whatever you decide, you mustn’t talk about this. No one else must ever know,’ Lilith warned. ‘Patsy Pill would have a fit if she found out, and we’d all be at defaulters’.’
No one, they all said. Not a single word to anyone. Not even to the padre next time he came to Ardneavie to hear
Confession, Vi thought grimly. What happened in cabin ten must be a matter of conscience.
‘We’d better be goin’,’ she whispered. ‘Ta-ra, well.’
‘Goodnight.’ Smiling, Lilith held open the door. ‘Blessed be.’
‘It’s cocoa tonight.’ Vi set down the standeasy tray. ‘And I’ve brought up some bread and jam, in case anybody’s hungry.’
They said they weren’t, but they jammed the bread and ate it without speaking.
‘I know you’re both a bit sceptical.’ Lucinda broke the silence. ‘But sometimes it’s uncanny the way those things get at the truth. We used to do something quite like it at school. After lights-out we’d all get up and play with this planchette thing. And it got a hold on us, too. We’d be there for hours, then wake up bog-eyed and fit for nothing next morning. It didn’t take Matron long to realize that something was going on and put a stop to it.’
‘If they work,’ Vi frowned. ‘If what happened tonight wasn’t somebody’s finger pushin’ that glass.’
‘I was the only one who knew about seven, and I didn’t push it, I swear I didn’t,’ Jane said quietly. ‘It was as if it knew exactly where to go.’
‘All right. Maybe it works,’ Vi acknowledged. ‘So if you was me, what would you think about that happy-birthday message I got?’
‘If I were you, Vi, I’d believe what I wanted to believe. If the message could have been from someone you care for, then where’s the harm in it? It’s only if you let it take over your life that it’s wrong.’
‘That’s all right, then.’ Vi’s eyes were clouded and sad. ‘Because I wanted Gerry to remember my birthday. I was so lonely for him I could almost have believed that he did, though I know I mustn’t.’
‘Your church? Eternal damnation, and all that?’ Lucinda smiled. ‘Oh, I think love is stronger than such things. You must care for him a lot, Vi. Gerry – is that his name?’
‘Was. He’s dead. Got killed at sea. Torpedoed.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, truly I am.’ Lucinda’s eyes begged forgiveness. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. Too stupid of me. I didn’t know.’
‘Of course you didn’t. How could you know? Don’t worry, queen. I’ve been bottling it up inside me far too long. Best I should talk about it.’
‘Does talking about it help, do you think?’ Jane’s heart still thudded uneasily. ‘Would talking help take away the pain?’
‘Maybe. They say the pain goes in time, and then you can remember things and be glad. I’m a – a widow, you see. It’s the first time I’ve said that word since Gerry died, but I’ve said it now. Widow.’
‘Vi, I’m so very sorry. I’d no idea. No ring, you see.’
‘I took it off.’ Vi pulled out the chain on which her wedding ring hung. ‘Thought it was better that way. Daft of me, wasn’t it?’
‘No, I can understand.’ Jane’s voice was gentle. ‘There are things you can’t talk about; things you keep inside you – memories, mostly.’
‘Rob? You’ve lost someone, too?’
‘On the eighth of May. Missing from a raid over Germany. We weren’t married, but we were – close.’
‘Poor kid.’ Vi smiled softly. ‘This is a bugger of a war, innit? Why the ’ell did they let it happen? Why didn’t us women get together and tell ’em it wasn’t on? Them that caused this war and them that’s getting fat on it should be made to fight it out between them, not our fellers.’
‘But isn’t there any hope at all for Gerry?’
‘Don’t think so. There was this bloke came to see me. Sailed in the same convoy as Gerry. Told me the Emma Bates got a direct hit. Not a lot of hope. They was carryin’ ammunition, see.’
‘Will it hurt too much to tell us about him?’
‘Hurt? No. All the hurt inside me is for Gerry, really. Never had a crack of the whip, he didn’t. The eldest of thirteen kids. Ma McKeown said thirteen must’ve been her lucky number because she never had no more after that one. But Gerry was never a child. Had to grow up fast, him being the eldest. When he was twelve he lied about his age and went to sea as a cabin boy.’ Vi’s eyes were clouded, her gaze distant, seeing the gates of the Albert Dock, and Gerry walking away from her.
‘Then later he remustered as a stoker, and a right swine of a job that was. On the old coal-burning boats he ended up, shovellin’ coal into red-hot boilers. Always got the shitty end of the stick, Gerry did. That’s why I made a fuss of him when we got married. Nobody had ever made a fuss of Gerry before and he was real chuffed. “You’re a lady,” he’d say. “That’s what you are.” And he treated me like a lady, too, not a shop-girl. Didn’t even mind about me great big feet.’ She smiled. ‘“Only the best for you, girl,” Gerry’d say. Girl. That’s what he called me. That’s why I can half believe what Lilith said. Only me and Gerry knew about that.’
‘So you’ve nothing left now, Vi? Your home – you said it was bombed.’
‘That’s right. Nothing left now, but dreams. Ar hey, lovely, it was. Me an’ Gerry’d build up the kitchen fire and we’d sit there and talk about what we’d do if we won the Irish Sweepstake. “First thing we buy is an ’ouse for you, girl, near your Mary’s,” Gerry’d say, “with a garden and a bathroom.” He wanted a bathroom real bad. Well, dreams are cheap, aren’t they? Like promises. Gerry promised he’d take care, promised to come back to me, but …’
‘Rob
