Love Me Tender

‘Till when? Till we’re drawing the old age pension?’

‘Oh, Maggie,’ Kathy cried. ‘Be careful.’

‘I am careful,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m just saying that if Mammy and Daddy keep being awkward, then I might not be so careful, that’s all. We’re not made of stone, we can’t wait forever.’

Lizzie knew that her family were worried about Maggie and Con, who went arm-in-arm down the street together. But she also knew that it wasn’t just these ordinary worries that gave everyone the serious look to their faces; it was something more. They’d gather at Grandma Sullivan’s to hear the news on the wireless broadcasts and talk about someone called Hitler, Chamberlain and Czechoslovakia. It was a while before Lizzie realised Czechoslovakia was a country and not a person’s name, and that Hitler wanted to dominate it.

Her daddy, who seemed to know more about the situation than the others from the reading he’d done during his time of unemployment, feared that war, at least between Czechoslovakia and Germany, was inevitable. ‘Whether we’ll just stand by and watch this time is the question,’ he said.

‘Like we did when he marched into Austria, you mean?’ Pat asked.

‘Right,’ her daddy said. ‘The Anschluss he called it, but whatever name he puts on it, Austria ceased to exist from March this year. It’s become another part of Germany, and Czechoslovakia will be next, and if Britain do what they’ve done so far, it will be bugger all.’

‘He won’t be finished till he has the whole of Europe,’ Eamonn commented.

‘Aye, you’re right,’ Lizzie heard her daddy say. ‘And we’re allowing him to. That’s not all, though. Some desperate tales are coming from those places about the terrible things he’s doing to the Jews. I think the man has a screw loose and is a sadistic sod into the bargain.’

Lizzie felt her eyes widen. Her daddy had said two bad words, and it seemed to be catching, for she heard her Uncle Pat ask angrily, ‘What the hell do you expect us to do, Barry? Go over there and bloody well stop the whole of the German army?’

‘It might come to that, aye, it might.’

Mary said quietly, ‘You mean war?’

‘I mean just that.’

‘Dear God!’

Suddenly the room was very quiet. Everyone was looking at Barry, and even Kathy was viewing her husband with new eyes. He spoke with some authority, as if he knew what he was talking about, though the subject of the talk chilled her to the marrow.

‘Look,’ Barry said, ‘we can either let this bugger Hitler march into country after country, killing Jews and anyone else who disagrees with him on the way, or we’ve got to stop him. I think those are the only two choices.’

No one disagreed, but everyone hoped he might be wrong, that something would happen to avert the war Barry could see them heading straight for.

For a time, it seemed hopeful, for the prime minister, Chamberlain, took a hand in proceedings to promote peace at any price, and everyone was optimistic again. Barry, though, wasn’t convinced. He read the papers avidly, and even suggested to Kathy that they buy a wireless set, but she didn’t give out to him and said they had plenty of other things to buy before that. Instead, she said he should keep his eye out for a second-hand one.

The day Barry brought a wireless home, just a week or so later, was one of great excitement. It was even bigger than their grandad’s, Lizzie noticed, and there was hardly room for it in the fireplace alcove by the door down to the cellar. The accumulator, which Barry would have to have charged up at the garage in Bristol Street, sat beside it, and Lizzie and Danny and all the neighbours who had crowded in to see couldn’t wait to hear something come out of the polished wooden box.

The children soon had their favourites. Both enjoyed Children’s Hour, where Uncle Mac told them the stories of Toytown. They particularly liked Larry the Lamb and Denis the Dachshund and the tricks they got up to together, and they booed enthusiastically when the villain, Mr Crowser, came into the story. Uncle Peter read stories and poems and played the piano, but Lizzie preferred Uncle Mac and was always sorry when she heard him say, ‘Goodnight, children everywhere.’

But then there was always Radio Normandy, which told the tale of Flossie, a naughty girl who went to Dr Whacken’s School, which made everyone laugh. The very best of all, though, was Radio Luxemburg and the Ovaltineys. Lizzie, Danny, Maura Mahon and others would settle down on Sunday evening to listen to it. Many of the children in the street joined the club, and got a badge and a rule book, and on the programme they used to give out a message in code that the children had to break. Maura and Lizzie would puzzle over it and then help Danny, who hadn’t a clue what a code was.

It became one of their favourite games, sending messages in code, and they all knew the Ovaltineys’ song and sang it together every time the programme came on.

Kathy and Barry were pleased the children enjoyed the wireless so much, but its only value to them was to find out what was happening in the world, and they really only listened to the news. Lizzie couldn’t understand it. ‘Why don’t you listen to music like Grandma?’ she said. ‘She likes the BBC Variety Orchestra and Victor Sylvester, but Carmel likes Tune In from Radio Luxemburg with Jack Payne and his band better. They’re good, Mammy.’

‘I haven’t time to listen to music,’ Kathy said dismissively.

Lizzie knew she made time to listen to the news all right and that was deadly boring. It was very puzzling altogether.

What wasn’t puzzling was when her cousin Sheelagh, catty as normal, attacked her one day as the children were playing in the street together.

‘My mammy says your daddy’s a warmonger,’ she said.

‘He is not.’ Lizzie didn’t know what a warmonger was, but it didn’t sound very nice.

‘He is. She says he likes going round scaring people.’

‘He doesn’t, and anyway he doesn’t scare people.’

‘He might, going round saying there’s going to be a war all the time,’ Sheelagh said. ‘My mammy says people like him should be locked up.’

Lizzie bounced on the pavement in temper. ‘Don’t you dare say that about my daddy.’

‘I can say what I like, it’s a free country.’

‘I hate you, Sheelagh Sullivan.’

‘I’ve always hated you, Lizzie up-the-pole O’Malley, and you’re stupid and so’s your precious daddy.’

The slap took Sheelagh by surprise, and she staggered back holding her hand to her face, where the mark of Lizzie’s fingers showed scarlet streaks on her pale cheek. ‘You! You…!’ she screamed, as angry tears spouted out of her eyes. ‘I’m telling me mammy about you.’

Aunt Bridie came round later, shouting about it. Lizzie had slunk home and was buried in a chair with a book, but was yanked out of it by her mother to stand before her furious aunt. ‘Auntie Bridie says you slapped Sheelagh across the face,’ Kathy accused her.

Lizzie was silent, and Bridie said angrily, ‘Insolent little sod. Answer when you’re spoken to.’

‘I’ll deal with this,’ Kathy snapped, tight-lipped, and then she went for Lizzie herself. ‘Well, did you, or didn’t you?’

Lizzie, knowing denial was useless, said, ‘Yes, I did, but she said—’

Her attempt at an explanation was thwarted, for Bridie leapt in. ‘There, what did I tell you? You should see the mark on my Sheelagh’s face. Child should be walloped for that.’

‘How many times have I told you not to fight with Sheelagh?’ Kathy shouted, ignoring Bridie. ‘How many times?’

Lizzie shook her head dumbly, and Kathy grasped her shoulders and shook her soundly. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘maybe this will remind you.’ And she delivered two ringing slaps to the back of Lizzie’s legs. Tears sprang to Lizzie’s eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. She looked defiantly at her Auntie Bridie, but said nothing until Kathy, terrified lest she say anything that would cause her to be punished again, grabbed her and ordered harshly, ‘Go and get into bed. Go on! Before I give you another one, and there’ll be no supper for you tonight.’

Much later, after Lizzie had cried so much her pillow was damp, her father came in with a mug of cocoa and a hunk of bread and jam. ‘I couldn’t have you hungry,’ he said, and though he must have noticed the red-rimmed eyes, he made no comment about them. ‘Want to tell me about it, pet?’

Lizzie nodded and recounted the row to her father, and at the end of it he said, ‘Well, don’t tell your mother, let it be a secret between us two, but I don’t blame you one bit.’

‘You don’t?’

‘No, but next time don’t let her get to you. What is she anyway but a bag of wind?’

‘Oh, Daddy.’ The tears were falling again, and Barry said, ‘No more of that now. Eat up your supper. Danny will be up in a wee while and I’ll tell your mammy you’re sorry, shall I?’

‘You can tell her,’ Lizzie said flatly. ‘But I’m not really.’

Barry winked and said, ‘We’ll keep that a secret too, I think.’