by Charles Todd
We finished the tray, and then Eileen stopped, went out the kitchen door, and when she came back a few minutes later, she had a rose in her hands. “We’ll add this to the tray. She’ll like that. She’s had a lot of sorrow in her life, hasn’t she? I hope Niall and Terrence will remember that.”
I hadn’t seen Niall since the confrontation with Mrs. Flynn.
“I’m sure they will. They seem to care for her.”
Picking up the tray, she carried it to the stairs. “It’s funny about love, isn’t it?” she said, before starting up. “There are those we care about because we’re of the same blood. Whatever they are, they’re our family. And then we meet someone and fall in love, and suddenly we’re ready to leave that family behind and go anywhere with someone who isn’t our blood at all. Why can’t we all be happy together, why do we have to leave?”
And then she disappeared up the stairs.
I was on tenterhooks for the rest of the afternoon. I wasn’t accustomed to being left out of the planning. Terrence hadn’t come back, and neither had Niall. Twice I looked in on the Major, and he appeared to be resting now, not just sleeping in exhaustion. The broth was helping. But I couldn’t be sure. He needed a doctor’s care, and so did Michael, to be sure he was all right as well. And who would dress Terrence’s wound? Impossible to do on his own, with only one hand . . .
Supper came, and it was only the two of us, Eileen and me. There was no sign of Molly. We made a toast, using whatever was in the pantry, and Eileen finished what was left in a wine bottle. I sipped mine, wanting a clear head. Finally, a little tired of each other’s company, Eileen took a plate to Michael, and after she left, I went upstairs with another for Maeve and Simon. There was hardly anything now in the pantry.
But after tomorrow, that wouldn’t be my problem.
Shutting myself in my room, I stood in the dark by the window and wondered if Terrence had told me the truth about Simon’s feelings.
Iris, our housemaid in Somerset, had believed that Simon’s journey to Scotland while I was in Paris had to do with someone he was in love with there. My mother hadn’t believed that. But what if it were true? What if Terrence had been mistaken about what he claimed he’d seen? What he’d wanted to believe was Simon’s feelings about me?
I’d be a fool, wouldn’t I, to take that to heart, however well-meaning Terrence had been? I would only embarrass both of us, Simon and me, by saying something . . .
The thoughts went round and round in my head, as if the darkness in the room let me feel, then doubt, then question, then wonder, in circles. Where no one could see and I could even hide from myself.
At last, knowing I ought to rest, I changed and went to bed, only to stare at the ceiling for hours. It was close on three when I heard a horse trotting across the lawn. I didn’t know whether it was Niall or Terrence. I wanted to stand by the door and see which one came up the stairs. If it was Terrence, I could ask if he’d found a boat.
But that was foolishness. After all, we weren’t leaving tonight. Whether he’d found a boat or not. There wasn’t time now to get everyone out of the house, all the way to the strand, and into a boat under cover of darkness. Not with summer’s early sunrises. We’d be here one more day.
I’d know in the morning. Either way there was nothing more I could do tonight.
Still, dawn was just breaking when I fell into a restless sleep.
There was no opportunity to speak to Terrence—I only saw him at a distance, working in the stables, and I couldn’t very well walk out there for a friendly chat.
Niall was morose, wandering about the house, uncertain what to do with himself. He had words with Michael and then Eileen, went for a long walk, and came back in no better frame of mind.
I was beginning to wonder if we should have called in the Army, and let them sort it all out. But the village would suffer, and there was Molly as well. I couldn’t have her taken up just because she feared for her mother. But when I was back in Somerset, I was going to find a way to see that the Constable paid for all he’d done, and the singer with him. I was certain the Colonel Sahib knew someone who could deal with it quietly.
That was, if there was time, if they hadn’t put off their plans—if it wasn’t too late.
There were eggs and bread and some bacon for breakfast, as well as porridge, and Niall brought a box of food from the pub for our dinner. I could hardly swallow food, wishing I knew what lay ahead. But I told myself sternly that I would have need of it later, and so I ate what was in front of me, not tasting much of it as it went down.
We took plates to Maeve, and I made certain it was a generous amount.
And then I went to my room, sorted my belongings, laid out warm clothes for the boat, and put the things I must carry with me in the inner pocket of my coat.
After that, I could only hold on to my patience and wait. It was hard to leave everything to Terrence. I was used to having a part in things, not sitting quietly until I was told what to do. A nurse has to use her wits, her training, her eyes, and even her nose. Matron expected her to know the file for every patient, what had been done, how much medication he’d been given and when, what doctors had seen him, what their diagnosis was, and what their prognosis might be. How much he’d eaten, what fluids he’d had and when, and whether his body’s functions were working. Dehydration could kill as well as shrapnel and bullets. Missing a piece of the puzzle could mean the difference between survival and losing him.
And here I sat, the afternoon breeze lifting the curtain slightly. And tried not to think about Simon.
The hours passed. The sun seemed to linger in the sky forever, as if we lived at the Pole and it only had to dip below the horizon.
I went down to supper, talking to Eileen as we washed the dishes—Molly hadn’t come back, and I was glad.
It was dark outside at last. Niall came in from tending the horses, and went up to his room without a word to anyone. I wondered if he guessed that we’d be gone soon, now that Michael was slowly improving.
Terrence came into kitchen just as I was going upstairs to change.
“Keep Eileen busy. We’re bringing the Major down, Simon and I.”
The waiting was over . . .
I made a pretense of examining Michael’s leg. There had been deep bruising, down to the bone. But as I moved it in different positions, he winced but stopped himself from swearing or crying out.
Finishing my work I noted that he’d changed into dark trousers and shirt, teasing Eileen about the fact that she hadn’t washed his clothes. I noticed too that a heavy coat lay over the back of a chair, within easy reach.
I counted the minutes as I asked Eileen to tell me about Dublin. But she barely remembered it. “I was taken for walks, and I attended Mass with my parents, but I never really saw the town. Terrence had been there, of course, and he told me about the river and the docks and all the sights.”
And then Terrence came in, knelt on the floor beside Michael, and said, “We must go. I’ve got everything you need. Maeve has Eileen’s things. There’s no time to lose.”
Eileen opened her mouth to argue, and he stopped her with a raised hand.
“No. If we don’t leave now, tonight, and quietly, we may not have another chance.”
“But Granny—”
“You can write to her later. Let’s go.” He took Michael’s arm to help him stand, and Eileen, frowning with worry, fussed over him until he ordered her to stop.
I left them, ran upstairs, changed my clothes, and caught up my coat. Maeve was coming out her door, the medical kit and a small box in her hands. She smiled nervously at me but said nothing.
We were the last to leave the house. And just as we walked out the kitchen door and turned to shut it softly, I heard the thumping of Granny’s cane on the floor.
We made it across the lawns and past the dark stables, and then we were in the orchard. I thought, with all this passing back and forth, flattening the grasses, it won’t be difficult to discov
er how we had left.
That caused me to wonder uneasily where Niall was.
We got through the orchard without any problem, then started toward the high ground from which I’d first seen the sea. Ahead of us, Eileen was leading Michael’s donkey. I couldn’t see Simon and Terrence.
Another fifty yards and we were on the strand where the boat was waiting.
It was another currach, larger than the other one, but we were going to be rather crowded, I thought. Still, I told myself, one can’t go about stealing a large enough boat without announcing the reason for taking it.
A donkey was standing quietly, inspecting the seagrasses, and that meant the Major was already in the currach. Terrence was helping Michael dismount and walk out to the boat. Then he came back for Eileen.
As we came down to the water’s edge, Terrence was standing in the surf, waiting to hand us in. Simon was already manning the oars, holding the boat steady. I took Maeve’s packets while Terrence lifted her, carried her the few feet, and deposited her in the currach.
It was my turn, and I started forward, but Terrence lifted me as well and easily carried me out. I took my place, noticing that Michael was in the bottom of the boat and Eileen was cushioning Ellis’s head.
I asked Terrence, “What about the donkeys?”
“I left the gate open. They’ll find their way back.”
Turning, I caught Simon’s gaze, and he smiled. I smiled too, and then Terrence was leaping in behind me, and I handed him his oars. The surf was taking us now, and I drew a long breath of relief.
We were going to make it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Without any warning, there was shouting as two men came running over the hill, racing down toward the strand.
The surf still had us, Simon and Terrence were pulling at the oars to take us over the incoming waves.
The two men didn’t stop at the waterline. They kept coming, out into the surf. And the larger man of the two lifted his weapon to fire. It was the Constable.
Terrence’s back was to him—a perfect target. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my revolver, and without taking proper aim, fired. A spray of water spurted up close by the Constable’s feet.
That spoiled his shot. But the other man had a shotgun, and he was taking aim now. Behind me, Eileen was crying, and I heard Maeve gasp.
Terrence called, “If they hit the currach, it will sink us.”
He dropped the oars, took my revolver from my hand, firing almost as it came to bear.
I caught up the oars, and then quickly looked back toward the beach. The taller man—the singer—pulled the trigger but the shotgun was pointed to the sky as he went down and didn’t move again.
I could hear the pellets coming down into the water.
Terrence fired again, and the Constable fell backward. The tide pulled out, leaving him half in the water, half on the strand. And then it came rushing back again.
Neither man tried to get up and fire again.
Terrence shouted, “We’ll have to go back. We can’t leave them there. It will fall on Niall and Granny, this close to the house.”
Simon called, “There isn’t time. They may not be alone—someone will have heard those shots.”
“No—I can’t leave until we dispose of them—”
Just then another man came running over the hill, stopping short for an instant as he saw what was in the water. He ran on, coming toward us.
Terrence was bringing the revolver up again, ready to fire, but I said, “No—I think—that looks like Niall.”
He didn’t lower the revolver, watching as his brother came within hailing distance.
“Go on—” he shouted. “I’ll pull them out into the sea—”
“I’m coming in—”
“No, I tell you. I’ll see to it.”
And he began to drag the first body deeper into the water, pulling it until it began to move with the surf, and then he pulled it farther, almost chest deep in the sea, so that the tide wouldn’t bring it in again—where the current could carry it well away.
Then he went back for the other body and was pulling it out as well.
Simon called, “Terrence. We need to go.”
Terrence couldn’t seem to take his eyes off his brother. And then he turned and I handed him the oars as he dropped the revolver into my lap. I was near enough to see his face, and the pain in it.
Beneath his breath, I heard him say, “Mary Mother of God keep him!”
And then he began to pull hard on the oars, sweeping us out into the current as Simon turned the little craft toward the north.
I tried to comfort Maeve and Eileen, both of them distraught, holding each other as they wept, and all the while I too was still seeing those two men drop into the sea.
I had wanted to punish them for what they’d done, I had wanted to see them stand trial and pay for their crimes. I hadn’t expected it to end like this.
But they’d made the choices that had led to their own deaths. They had seen us there in the currach, they had known how easy it would be to sink it, and they had no idea how many of us could swim, could make it back to shore. For all I knew, they’d have shot anyone who tried. I didn’t think they’d have waded out for any of us, unless they’d wanted Terrence alive for reasons of their own.
I took a deep breath. “It had to be done,” I told Terrence. “It was a choice—our lives or theirs.”
“I’m not used to shooting Irishmen,” he said, and then fell silent, intent on the oars.
We had a very long way to go. I had no idea where we were heading, but I didn’t think we could make it around the northern tip of Ireland and as far as the safety of the Welsh coast.
For a time there was only silence, the sound of the oars sweeping rhythmically, and the sea lapping the side of the little boat. I saw Maeve lean forward to be sure Ellis was covered by the blanket wrapped round him. We must have been an hour out at sea, moving steadily, no storm on the horizon to worry us, just the night. I knew Simon could navigate by the stars, but there were fishing boats that traveled these waters. I tried to keep watch for one.
We were well into our second hour when I heard a sound I recognized.
An aircraft. I looked up, searching the night sky for it, but I couldn’t find it, even when it was nearly overhead. Had an alert gone out already? Surely not!
A light flashed as it began to circle. Simon, shipping his oars, pulled out his torch and signaled back. It must be Arthur, I thought, watching the aircraft moving in graceful loops.
There was a series of flashes then—code, I realized—and Simon shouted, “The patrol boat is only a mile away.”
I too could read code, but the message was terse. I called anxiously, “Ours? Or theirs?”
“Ours.”
A final exchange of flashes, and the little aircraft moved off.
Very soon thereafter, we saw the distant running lights of a much larger boat. Faint at first, and then growing brighter.
Simon signaled it, and it was very soon alongside.
It was difficult to get the Major aboard. They had to send down a sling. Simon called it back for Michael, who protested that he could climb the rope ladder. Simon said something to him that I didn’t hear, and Michael subsided, climbing carefully into the sling when it came down again.
We sent our possessions up with him.
Maeve to my astonishment went up the ladder they sent down next with the ease of a girl, but Eileen was uncertain about her legs, and Terrence had to help her climb.
Simon was behind me when I started up, the empty currach, tied as it was, bobbing in the sea, so that I had to step wide to catch the bottom rung. I started to climb. And then I was on board the patrol boat and Simon followed.
Terrence was shaking hands with Michael, then giving his aunt a hug. He turned then to Eileen, and if that embrace lasted a little longer than the others, I wasn’t surprised.
Turning to me, he kissed me on the cheek. “Well
, me darlin’,” he said in a stage Irish accent, “what am I going to do without you?”
I said, “You aren’t going back—Terrence, they’ll find out—they’ll take you and hang you.”
“No, they won’t. And who is there to keep Niall in hand, and Granny from finding herself in more trouble?”
“You don’t think she sent them after us?”
“No. How? And she’s my grandmother. I have to take care of her,” he said in a serious voice now. “Goodbye, Bess Crawford. Come back to Ireland when she’s free.” And he put his arms around me in a friendly embrace before turning to shake Simon’s hand, finally waving to the officer on the bridge.
Then he was over the side, one last long look at his cousin, and down the ladder, picking up the oars before casting off the rope. I was closest to the side. He waved, then took the oars in hand.
“I don’t know where you got that revolver,” he shouted to me. “But bless you for it.”
And he began to row back the way we’d come.
I watched him out of sight as the others were being taken below, where Ellis was waiting.
Simon came to stand behind me.
“It was your father who remembered that there were sea patrols. Ever since the Germans tried to send arms for the Rising. The war is over, but you know how it is. Easier to start a campaign than to end it.”
I was very tired. But we’d got everyone out. The Major would have proper medical care very soon. Under my feet, I could feel the engines come to life as the patrol boat began a wide turn to go back the way it had come.
“Do you think they’ll blame Terrence for the murders?”
“No. The ringleaders will have seemed to disappear. The rest won’t hang about. They’ll scatter and try again another day.”
“Were they going to attack the Army?”
“Terrence believed they were planning to blow up Richmond Barracks in Dublin. It was where some of the leaders were court-martialed, then taken the short distance to Kilmainham Gaol, to be shot. That’s why they needed the Major and Sullivan, to learn how to pose as soldiers long enough to lay charges. The Major murmured something about Richmond there in the ruined cottage, while he was half conscious, and that gave Terrence what he needed to know. Murphy and his lot probably saw the act as avenging those men. Instead it would have brought the wrath of London down on Ireland again. I just don’t see why a Royal Constabulary man would risk his career working with the likes of Padriac Murphy and his friends.”