‘I still want to go,’ Sally said. ‘Ooh, I can’t wait.’
Kate laughed. ‘You’ll have to,’ she said. ‘And first thing tomorrow we have to clean the flat and do the washing. It’s the only day I have to do all this.’
‘I’ll help if you tell me what wants doing,’ Sally said. ‘It won’t take so long with two of us at it.’
‘No it won’t,’ Kate said, getting up and pulling her sister to her feet. ‘Come on,’ she said suddenly. ‘You tidy up here and I’ll nip out and post your letter and then we can hit the sack, because what with one thing and another, I’m whacked.’
A little later, as they were getting ready for bed, Kate said, ‘Susie is coming with us tomorrow. We’re meeting her at half past two.’
Sally made a face. She would hate Susie to be annoyed with her, because she had always admired her when she’d come to Ireland on holiday. Sally remembered her as having really dark wavy hair that she had worn down her back, tied away from her face with a ribbon like Kate’s. It had been a shock to see that now Kate braided her hair into a French plait and fastened it just above the nape of her neck; she told her that Susie wore hers the same way.
‘Ah, I liked her hair loose – and yours too,’ Sally said regretfully.
‘We would be too old to wear our hair like that now,’ Kate told her as she loosened the grips and began to unravel the plait. ‘Besides, in the factory, I have to wear an overall and cap that covers my hair, so wearing it down isn’t an option for either of us any more. Anyway, it really suits Susie, because she always has little curls escaping and sort of framing her face. Most of the rest of us look pretty hideous.’
‘She’s pretty though, isn’t she?’ Sally said. ‘I mean, her eyes are so dark and even her eyelashes and eyebrows are as well.’
‘She takes after her mother,’ Kate said. ‘Her brothers look more like their dad. Pity about her snub nose, though.’
‘Ah, Kate.’
‘I’m not speaking behind her back, honestly,’ Kate said as she began to brush her hair. ‘She would be the first one to tell you herself. Anyway, her mouth makes up for it because it turns up by itself, as if she is constantly amused about something, so people smile at her all the time.’
‘I know,’ Sally said, ‘I can remember – and her eyes sparkle as well. I used to love her coming on holiday because she used to liven everyone up. And her clothes always looked terribly smart, too. I really like her. I hope she won’t be cross with me because I spoiled your plans for tonight?’
‘No,’ Kate said assuredly. ‘Susie’s not like that. Come on, let’s get undressed. It will be funny sharing a bed with you again.’
‘It will be nice,’ Sally said as she pulled her dress over her head. ‘Cuddling up in bed with you was one of the many things I missed when you left home.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought you missed anything about me that much.’
‘Oh, I did,’ Sally said sincerely. ‘I was real miserable for ages.’
Kate saw that Sally really did mean that, and she realized she had never given much thought to how lost Sally might have felt when her big sister just wasn’t there any more. But she didn’t want her feeling sad or to start crying again, and so she said with a smile as she climbed into bed, ‘Come on then. Let’s relive out childhood memories – only it might be squashed rather than cosy because you’re bigger now than the strip of wind I left behind three years ago.’
‘I think the bed was a lot bigger too,’ Sally said, easing herself in beside her sister. ‘Still nice though.’
And it was nice, Kate had to agree, to feel a warm body cuddled into hers on that cold and miserable night. She was soon asleep. Sally, though she was tired too, lay awake listening to Kate’s even breathing and the city noises of the night. Slade Road, Kate had told her, was quite busy most of the time because it was the direct route to the city centre. And it was busy, and Sally didn’t think she would sleep with all the unaccustomed noise from the steady drone of the traffic, overridden by the noise from the clanking trams and rumbling lorries. As she lay there listening to it, her eyelids kept fluttering closed all on their own, and eventually she gave a sigh, cuddled against Kate and, despite the noise, fell fast asleep.
TWO
The next morning, Sally woke with a jerk; she lay for a moment and listened to the city beginning the day. Then she climbed out of bed and walked across to the window. Though it was early enough to be still dusky, traffic had begun to fill the streets on both sides of the road, where horse wagons and carts vied for space with motor vehicles, and trams clattered along beside them. The clamorous noise rose in the air and filtered into the flat. The pavements too seemed filled with people and she watched some get off trams and others board them from the tram stop just up the road from Kate’s flat, while others hurried past with their heads bent against the weather.
She sighed as she leant her head against the windowpane. There were so many people and so much noise that she didn’t think she would ever get used to actually living here. She reflected on what it was like to awake in the farmhouse. The only sound after the rooster crowed was the cluck of the hens as she threw corn on to the cobbles in the yard, the occasional bleat of a ewe searching for her lamb, the odd bark of the dogs, or the lowing of the cows as they gathered in the fields for milking.
Birmingham seemed such an alien place, and yet Kate had seemed to settle into it so well. Now Sally was anxious to see the city centre; the previous evening she had been too distracted and it had been too dark to get more than just a vague impression.
In the cold light of day she wondered what on earth had possessed her to take flight. Why hadn’t she at least tried to talk to her parents? Tell them how she felt? Maybe if she had explained it right they would have agreed to let her spend a wee holiday with Kate the following spring when she would be seventeen. Well, she thought ruefully, God alone knew when she would ever get the chance again. She imagined, after this little caper, her mother would fit her with a ball and chain.
In her heart of hearts she had known she had made a terrible mistake as soon as she had seen the grey hulk of the mail boat waiting for her as she alighted from the train in Dún Laoghaire. Ulster Prince, she’d read on the side, and she had almost turned back then, but the press of people behind her had almost propelled her up the gangplank and on to the deck, which seemed to be heaving with people.
She hadn’t been on the deck long when there was a sudden blast from the funnels and black smoke escaped into the air as the engines began to pulsate and the deck rail to vibrate as the boat pulled away from the dock. Sally watched the shores of Ireland disappear into the misty, murky day, and wished she could have turned the clock back. She felt her insides gripped with a terrible apprehension, which wasn’t helped by the seasickness that assailed her as the boat ploughed its way through the tempestuous Irish Sea. Cold, sleety rain had begun to fall too, making it difficult to stay outside. Inside, however, the smell of whisky and Guinness mingled with cigarette smoke, and the smell of damp clothes and the whiff of vomit that pervaded everywhere made her stomach churn alarmingly, while the noise, chatter, laughter, singing and the shrieking of children caused her head to throb with pain. Like many of the other passengers, she’d ended up standing in the rain, being sick over the side of the mail boat. By the time she’d disembarked and thankfully stood on dry land again, she had never felt so damp or so wretched in the whole of her life.
She tried to gather her courage as the train thundered along the tracks towards Birmingham. She told herself that – even if she was cross with her – Kate would look after her and make everything right, because she always had in the past. But she was so unnerved by her own fear and the teeming platform that she was almost too scared to leave the train at New Street Station – she had never seen so many people in one