Joseph sat with his arms crossed, his black hair a frizzy halo around his head. Liam, his red hair combed and brilliantined, leaned forward, pressing his point.
“Collins should be in charge of the delegation, not Griffith.” Liam was adamant.
“Griffith is the politician and the man with the fine words. He’ll keep his cool. Besides, it doesn’t matter a damn what we think. The point is, there’s a delegation going over to meet with the Brits and that’s positive news that we can talk about.”
Liam sat back. “Yeh, all right. You talk about Griffith then since you’re such a fan, and then I’ll close with a final push about what great things the money is doing and how we couldn’t manage without it.”
Emmet sat down with them. “I’m done and am heading back to the house.” They had rooms in a boarding house nearby.
Liam stood up. “I’m going for a pint. Will you come along, Emmet?”
Joseph closed his notebook where they had captured their notes for tomorrow’s talk. “Aye. We’re all going. Come along.”
Emmet shook his head. “Maybe later. I told Mrs. Doherty I’d be there for supper tonight.”
Liam shrugged. “Ah, well. You know where to find us. I know a dark-haired beauty who will be severely disappointed you aren’t there.”
Emmet flushed and glanced through the open lunchroom door towards the office. “I’m sure you clowns are enough entertainment for Maggie without me sticking my oar in.”
Liam and Joseph laughed. They both knew that the girl who worked as a typist for the AARIR was smitten with Emmet.
Liam rested his hand on Emmet’s shoulder. “She only has eyes for you, my son.”
“Go on, the pair of you.”
Still laughing, Liam and Joseph went to their desks to scoop up their jackets. They walked out together, Emmet heading in the opposite direction from his friends.
Emmet liked the house where the boys boarded. They each had their own room in the three-storey red-brick house and in some ways it made him think of a stand-alone version of the houses in Drumcondra with the bow windows and bright red painted front door. The widow landlady prepared hearty meals from home, with plenty of spuds and cabbage.
He climbed the stairs to his second-floor room and took off his jacket and topcoat, hanging them up on the hooks on the back of the door. He sat on the edge of his bed and tapped the envelope on his knee. Maybe I should leave it until later. An image of Maggie with her dark hair sleeked into shiny finger waves crossed his mind. He looked back to the envelope and sighed. He stood and put the envelope on the dresser, unopened.
He put his jacket back on and went down to the dining room. “Am I too early for supper, Mrs. Doherty?”
She wore her apron much like his own mother might and when she looked up from laying the cutlery on the table, she grinned. “You’re in a hurry tonight, Mr. Ryan.”
“The smell of your fine cooking makes me hungry.”
She smiled. “You’re a grand one for telling stories. Go on and sit. I’ll dish you up a plate, but if the spuds are still a bit hard, you’ve only yourself to blame.”
Emmet ate his supper alone, looking out the window, haunted by the letter on his dresser. If she tells me to stop writing, I’ll be friendlier to Maggie. I’ll go out to O’Hanlan’s Pub after all. They’ll all still be there. Maggie will be there. He knew that the quick touches she gave him on his arm, and the smiles she gave him were flirtatious and that he enjoyed it. He remembered just that very morning when he gave her his article to type, he had stood close enough to her to feel the warmth of her arm against his sleeve. If he closed his eyes he could conjure up the scent of her, while he couldn’t do the same with Bridie. When he thought of Bridie’s scent, he had an impression of clean, not perfume. But when he thought of Bridie’s red hair falling in waves to her shoulders and sparkling blue eyes, he felt his heart pound and his breath catch.
I can’t go out without knowing.
The other boarders were just coming in when he finished his supper. “Thank you, Missus. That was lovely.”
Mrs. Doherty set two plates down in front of the young men and wiped her hands on her apron. “Will you not have a sweet?”
“Ah, no. Thank you. I said I’d meet some friends down at O’Hanlan’s.”
“All right, then. Have a good evening.”
Emmet went back up to his room and once more picked up the letter, sliding his paper knife under the flap to slice it open.
• • •
Emmet walked into the bar and saw Maggie sitting facing the door at a corner table. She waved to him, her face lighting up with a smile, teeth shining whitely against the contrast of her red lipstick. Emmet wove between the tables to the corner. Joseph sat across from Maggie and it seemed to Emmet that he scowled slightly when he noticed Emmet standing beside him.
Emmet pointed to the drinks. “Can I get anyone a refill?”
Joseph nodded. “I thought you weren’t coming out?”
Emmet shrugged. “Changed my mind.”
Maggie smiled. “And we’re glad you did. Mine’s a gin and tonic.”
Emmet pushed in next to Liam at the bar. “Can I get you another?”
Liam grinned. “It’s himself arrived in.” He held up his glass to the bartender who nodded.
Emmet stood and waited as the pints of Guinness he ordered settled. “I decided to come out. Did I miss anything?”
Liam shook his head. “I came over here to get away from Joe for a bit. He wears me out.”
“Not the Collins versus Griffith discussion again?”
“More like a discussion about where and how the most good can be done. I thought I’d be able to do great things here, but now I’m here, I think I’m best at home.”
Emmet nodded. “I understand. For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing great things. You bring a passion to the talks that we can’t all do. That’s why it’s always best when you finish the night, and not Joseph or one of the local politicians. And you know that yourself.”
Liam took a swallow of his drink. “I know. I can get the crowd going when someone helps me with the right words. I just think I’d be more useful at home doing work that no one else has heart for.”
Emmet bit his lip. “Liam, that sort of work may just about be over. When the treaty is worked out and signed, we’ll be able to put the guns behind us.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “You really believe that?”
Emmet pulled back and frowned. “Of course. Don’t you?”
Liam shrugged.
The bartender put the drinks in front of Emmet and took the money.
“Help me carry these over and come sit for a while. Let’s put it all aside and talk about what we’ll do on Sunday.”
Liam picked up the gin and tonic along with his own drink. “Joe won’t be best pleased that you’re here.”
“Why not?”
“I think he fancied his chances with Maggie, but now you’re here, that’ll go out the window.”
Emmet crooked a half smile in understanding.
When they were all sitting around the small round table, Emmet pulled his letter from his inside pocket. “I’m in great form this evening which is why I decided to come out to celebrate with a drink.”
Joseph raised his eyebrows. “Why is that, then?”
“My girlfriend has forgiven me for coming all this way.”
Maggie froze with her glass halfway to her mouth. “I didn’t realize you had a girlfriend at home.”
Emmet smiled. “I wasn’t sure that I had one. When I told her I was coming to America, she was raging, but time has done its healing and she’s softened towards me.”
Liam slapped Emmet on the back. “That’s brilliant. You don’t deserve her.”
“Probably not.”
Maggie took a large sip of her drink. “Well, that’s lovely for you.”
“Thank you, Maggie. So, what’s everyone doing on Sunday after we have our big success tomorrow night at the social?”
Dublin, December 1921
The fundraising tour had been a great success, and Emmet and Liam were released to go home. Joseph opted to stay on to continue working for the AARIR and it looked to be a permanent position now that he and Maggie were an item.
The trip home was uneventful; even Liam found his sea legs after the first two days. They sat out on the deck when it wasn’t too cold and windy. Liam especially loved the fresh sea air. “God, it’s great to get the city blown out of my system.”
Emmet laughed. “You love Dublin with all her grubby streets. What’s different about Chicago?”
“Everything. The smell, the sounds, the feel of the cobbles under my feet. Don’t tell me you don’t feel just the same as me.”
Emmet nodded. “I do, of course. I can’t wait to get home. You’re right about the smell. The smell of a turf fire on a damp evening just cries out a welcome like nothing else.”
Liam poked Emmet. “You have the added bonus of coming home to Bridie. Will you make an honest woman of her now?”
“If she’ll have me.”
Liam frowned. “I thought you two were sound now?”
“I hope so. Until we’re together I won’t know for certain. Her Da doesn’t like me.”
“Was there ever a Da who does like the fella that takes his daughter away?”
“If that’s all it was, I’ll be all right.”
“Is he still bothered because of your history?”
“Bridie doesn’t say much, but that was the case before I went away in September. I can’t imagine that being away in America would have endeared me to him much in the meanwhile.”
“Bridie doesn’t strike me as a girl to blindly do as her parents tell her.”
Emmet grinned. “I suspect you’re right there, but it would be easier if they liked me.”
“You’ll be home for Christmas. Did you let her know?”
“I wrote just before leaving, but I’m not sure the letter will get there any sooner than I will myself. If the Captain is right, we’ll be in Dublin for Christmas Eve, and Bridie’s house is my first stop. I’ll drop by before I head home to Ashbourne.”
They watched the heaving sea for a while, each with his own thoughts, and then headed inside, Emmet to their cabin to reread the last letter from Bridie and Liam to find a card game.
• • •
It was close to nine o’clock when Emmet arrived at Bridie’s house on Christmas Eve. The family had moved to Portobello, a lovely area of Dublin, but quieter, where people didn’t just drop in. Bridie had written that they planned to have house guests for the Christmas holiday. An old friend of Bridie’s mother had come with her husband, daughters and an English niece named Elizabeth.
It was late, and Emmet hesitated before knocking, but he just couldn’t go home without at least seeing Bridie for a few moments. He bit his lip, took a deep breath and lifted the knocker.
Emmet tried not to look surprised to see a servant girl open the door to him. They’re moving up in the world. That’s not good for me. “Hello. Emmet Ryan to see Bridie if possible.”
“Step in and wait here a minute while I check.”
From his spot in the foyer, he heard Mr. Mallon’s voice “Who can be calling at this hour?”
He heard his name given by the girl and then Mrs. Mallon “Show him in then, Bella.”
Emmet gave the girl his coat and hat to hang and then followed her into the parlour. His eyes found Bridie first and feasted on her flushed face and wide eyes. He had the sense that she was perched on the edge of the sofa, ready to leap up to meet him.
He stood posed in the doorway. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Mallon. Thank you for allowing me to stop in at this late hour.”
He turned then to Bridie. “Did you get my letter? You knew I was coming?”
Bridie pulled an envelope from her pocket. “It just came today. I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.”
Emmet’s mouth turned down. “Ah.” And then he smiled “Well, here’s a Christmas surprise, then.”
Mrs. Mallon nodded to a chair. “Please sit down.”
Emmet glanced around the room. “I know you have visitors. I won’t stay. I only wanted to stop in to say hello.”
Bridie rose then and walked to his side to steer him around the room, introducing him to the group. She gave a little information about each of their house guests, leaving a tall, slim young woman until the end. “And this is Elizabeth. We’ve become great friends now, haven’t we Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth rose to shake hands with Emmet. “Yes, we have.”
Emmet blinked as he heard the English accent but recovered himself quickly. “Then I’m sure we too will be great friends.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I hope so.”
The introductions complete, Bridie made her way back to her seat on the sofa.
Mrs. Mallon waved her hand in the direction of the kitchen. “Shall we have tea? Emmet, would you like a cup?”
He hesitated and glanced towards Bridie. Bridie widened her eyes and gave a tiny nod which he interpreted as Please stay.
As if he heard her thoughts, Emmet nodded. “I’d like that if you’re sure I’m not intruding.”
Bridie’s youngest sister, Katie grinned. “I, for one, am dying to hear about America. Won’t you tell us all about it?”
Emmet smiled. “That would take more than one cup of tea, I’m afraid.”
Mr. Carson leaned forward. “What took you to America, young man?”
“Unity, Sir.”
Mr. Carson frowned. “Meaning what?”
Bridie burst out before Emmet could continue. “Emmet is a writer, Mr. Carson. He’s been travelling with the group who have been in America raising funds for the cause of bringing Ireland together as thirty-two counties.”
Emmet saw the frown crease Mrs. Carson’s face, but Bridie continued to tell them about some of the articles that had been published in the Dublin papers. Emmet felt his heart swell as he heard the pride in her voice.
Mrs. Carson paled. “Isn’t that rather, well, radical?”
Emmet smiled. “Not so very much. I simply recorded the speeches and wrote short articles explaining our position for various local American newspapers.”
Katie shook her curls. “Never mind all that political stuff. Tell us about what you saw there. Is everything so large, and the people all so rich as we always hear?”
Emmet shook his head. “There are just as many poor in America as there are here. But you’re right about everything being large.”
While they sat and drank tea, Emmet regaled them with stories of the countryside and long train rides between cities.
Before he wanted to, Emmet stood and shook hands with the men. He made a small bow to Bridie’s mother and Mrs. Carson. “Again, forgive the intrusion and thank you for the tea.”
He glanced at Bridie but before she could stand to walk him to the door, Mrs. Mallon called out for Bella.
Emmet took away the smile she gave him before he turned to leave. It was enough to tell him what was in her heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Dublin, January 1922
Emmet’s reputation had grown while he was in America. He was promoted into a
full-time writing position which meant that he was making enough of a wage to think of the future.
With the money he had saved up in America, he bought a ring. He went to West’s on Grafton only to leave again quickly, shocked at the prices. He wanted to buy the best, but in the end, his brother Michael steered him to a local shop in Ashbourne where the rings suited his budget. Before asking Bridie, he knew he had to get her Da’s approval, so in the first week of January, he sent a note to Mr. Mallon and asked to meet at the Bleeding Horse on Camden Street. Emmet made sure he was there early so that he could select a quiet corner.
When Bridie’s father came in, Emmet rose to greet him. He held his hand out to shake the older man’s hand. “Thank you for meeting m
e, sir.”
Mr. Mallon nodded.
“What can I get you?”
“A Jameson’s with water on the side, please.”
Emmet went to fetch the drink and a half pint of Guinness for himself.
“Thank you.” Mr. Mallon raised his eyebrows. “A half?”
Emmet shrugged and smiled. “Best to keep a clear head, I think.”
“That sounds ominous. Are you going back to work later?”
“No, I’m finished for the day.”
“You’re busy chronicling the Provisional Government activities to do with the Treaty, I suppose.”
Emmet tried not to frown. “Yes, there’s a lot going on at the moment.”
“You must be happy now that there’s a treaty in place. I know you’ve got a keen interest in politics.”
Emmet gritted his teeth. “As a journalist I try to maintain a degree of neutrality, but quite honestly it isn’t the outcome that I would wish for.” Before they became embroiled on the merits of the treaty, Emmet hastened ahead. “You may be wondering why I asked to meet with you, Mr. Mallon.”
Bridie’s father sighed. “I have my suspicions.”
“Then perhaps it won’t come as a surprise to you that I’d like your permission to ask Bridie to marry me.”
Emmet’s heart pounded as he waited as the silence stretched.
Mr. Mallon took a large sip of his drink. “Son, you’re a well-educated, sincere man. Of that I have no doubt.”
Emmet eyes widened. He felt it coming.
“But there is no way I can encourage you to continue this pursuit of my daughter’s hand.”
Emmet felt the sweat prickling under his arms and he took a deep breath to calm down. “I see. May I ask why not?”
Mr. Mallon looked him in the eye. “Quite frankly, I believe you to be a troublemaker. You’ve been in prison more than once, you have radical opinions and you have a job that can hardly support yourself, let alone a wife and family.”
Emmet had an urge to punch him in the nose. He gritted his teeth and did his best to modulate his voice, willing it not to quaver. “I believe you have a skewed vision of me, sir. In fact, I have recently been promoted, so that I believe I do have the income to look after my wife. As far as being a troublemaker, many, many people have been interned in these troubled times, men who are now taking a leadership role in our new government. Surely you don’t view them as troublemakers as well?”
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