Torn Asunder

by Renny deGroot

  Emmet paced from table to sofa to window and back again. “Bridie, we’re part of history here, don’t you see? How can we put a monetary value on that?”

  Bridie felt weighed down, pressed into the chair. She leaned her elbows on the table, looking again at the few shillings that lay in front of her. She could hear the tiredness in her own voice. “Every day that we live becomes part of history, Emmet.”

  He walked back again to look out the window to the quiet street below. “Not like this, Bridie. I’m writing the words that will be read by generations to come when we are all living in a free and united Ireland.”

  She pushed herself up using the table. He felt her behind him as she wrapped her arms around him, the swell of her growing belly nestled against him. “I know that, and I’m so very proud of you. I just wish they would pay you more. You put your heart and soul into it. It should be worth more. That’s all I’m saying.”

  He turned and held her close. “It’ll all come right. Imagine the day somewhere in the future when we can say to our children that we were there, and we helped to make it happen.”

  She smiled. “Yes, that will be a grand day.”

  • • •

  The months seemed to fly as the baby grew within Bridie. Emmet loved to sit late in the evening with a drink and rest his hand on her to feel the child moving. Most nights he was too tired to talk much, so he listened as she talked of her days.

  “Mama hates that I’m working, of course.”

  He smiled. “I’m not surprised. I’m not happy about it myself.”

  “I don’t mind. It takes my mind off the things.”

  “What things?” He sat up straight. “Are you worried about the baby?”

  She sighed. “Not worried about having a baby, or about the health of him.”

  “Or her.”

  “Or her.” She agreed. “I just wonder about the world we’re bringing a child into. When brother is fighting against brother, it’s just so awful. We got what we wanted for the most part. We have our own government. Isn’t it time to let things settle?”

  Emmet took a deep breath. “No. That’s the problem. That’s what the treaty did. Settled.” He stood to pace the small sitting room.

  “I’m sorry, Emmet. Don’t get angry.”

  He came back to sit down. “I’m not angry with you, but I’m frustrated that I’m not doing enough to make people understand. If my own wife isn’t convinced that we need to carry on with the fight, how in God’s name can I hope to influence anyone?”

  She was pale, and Emmet bit his lip. “Never mind, Bridie. I asked what you were worried about and I’m glad you told me. Let’s put it out of our minds for now. Tell me more about how the visit with your family went.”

  Part II

  Maeve Ryan

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Dublin, February 1923

  On February 14th, 1923, on a blustery night with the sleet smearing the bedroom window, Bridie gave birth to a baby girl. The midwife washed the baby and laid the swaddled tiny bundle in her mother’s arms.

  Her mam finished sponging Bridie’s face and combing out her wavy hair, so it lay like a copper mantle over her shoulders. “Shall I go and fetch Emmet?”

  “Do, Mammy.”

  Bridie watched her mother leave the bedroom. She could picture her husband’s face when her mother said “Emmet, come in and meet your daughter.”

  Emmet came in and closed the door. He perched on the edge of the bed as if afraid of disturbing them.

  Bridie pushed down the soft white flannel wrapping the tiny baby to reveal her face. “Well Dadda, what do you think?”

  Emmet licked his lips and tried to speak. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed two or three times. He blinked very quickly, but it wasn’t enough to hide the tears. Finally, in a whisper, “She’s perfect.”

  Bridie smiled her agreement. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Shall we call her Valentine?”

  Emmet looked dazed. “No, nothing so frivolous. She’s—” He searched for the words. “Important and grand. A symbol of our unity. Can we call her Maeve?”

  Bridie studied him. Important and grand. Like her father and his work for our country. “I think that’s a lovely name for her. And what about Katherine for her middle name, for my sister?”

  “Maeve Katherine Ryan.” He touched the baby’s nose with his finger. “It suits her.”

  Bridie held the bundle towards him. “Will you hold her, Dadda?”

  He took the tiny blanketed child in his arms. He stared down into her face, seeming to be mesmerized. “Maeve Katherine Ryan. My own girl. We’ll be the best of friends, you and I.”

  Bridie leaned in to see the baby resting in Emmet’s arms. “Are you planning already to take her to football matches?”

  “I’m planning to take her everywhere. Football and rowing. Concerts and lectures. Cups of tea at Bewley’s on Westmoreland and lemonade in St. Stephen’s Green.”

  “Sure, you won’t have time to work with all of that.”

  Emmet looked into Bridie’s eyes. “I’ll find time. I’ll make time.”

  There was a tap on the door and Bridie’s mother came back in. “Your father is dying to get a peek at his granddaughter.”

  Emmet handed the baby back to Bridie.

  Bridie settled the baby and then nodded to her mother. “Let him come and then Emmet and Papa will wet the baby’s head. There’s a new bottle of Jameson’s in the sideboard.”

  Bridie’s father must have been hovering right behind the door because as soon as Bridie gave the word, he came in to look.

  Emmet squeezed past his father-in-law. “I’ll be out here getting the drinks when you’re ready.”

  Her father stroked the baby’s cheek. “She a lovely little lass. She’ll have red hair by the look of it. She’ll be a firebrand. You have your work cut out for you there.”

  Bridie smiled. “My goodness, what a dire prediction for such a tiny creature.”

  He smiled. “You’re well able for whatever mischief she brings you. You’re a strong girl and I’ve always been very proud of you.”

  Bridie felt herself grow hot. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  Her mother gave her husband a gentle shove towards the door. “Emmet’s waiting for you. Go on now and celebrate, the two of you. Bridie needs her sleep. I’ll sit here with her while you two relax and right the wrongs of the world.”

  • • •

  Bridie finished feeding the baby and sat in the easy chair pulled up near the window. The wind blew papers and old brown leaves around. The grey skies threatened rain and Bridie rested her head against the back of the chair, enjoying the feeling of her baby sleeping on her lap.

  Emmet’s voice woke her. “A letter for you, Bridie. From your friend in England.”

  Bridie started and saw the baby’s face pucker up for a cry before settling again peacefully. Bridie held out her hand for the proffered envelope. “I haven’t heard from her in a long while. I was so glad she came to our wedding, but that seems like such a long time ago now.”

  Emmet stood, admiring the sight of his sleeping daughter. His voice was quiet. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you two were asleep.”

  Bridie shook her head. “I shouldn’t have been. I should be taking advantage of her sleeping and get the accounting caught up for Mr. Riley.”

  “Shall I put her in bed for you?”

  Bridie knew Emmet longed to pick up his daughter for a cuddle. “Go on, then.”

  He bent over and expertly lifted her into his arms. “Hush, hush now.” Maeve opened her dark blue eyes momentarily and then fell asleep again.

  Bridie watched Emmet walk to the bedroom to put the child in her cradle.

  I’ll enjoy my letter from Elizabeth before starting work. Bridie read the first few sentences and jumped up, all grogginess gone in her excitement.

  “Emmet. You’ll never guess.”

  Emmet trotted into the sitting room, closing the bedroom door softly
behind him. “What is it?”

  “Elizabeth is also expecting a baby. She’s due next month.”

  Emmet gave a small smile, as if to ask, ‘is that all?’

  Bridie waved the letter in the air. “That’s so wonderful for her. She got married so quietly, it seemed like it was hardly even an event. This will be something that can truly be celebrated.”

  Emmet kissed Bridie’s forehead and then turned to go to his desk. Over his shoulder he threw the wry comment. “You just felt left out since we weren’t invited to the wedding.”

  “It’s not that. It was a very small affair because she was still mourning for her mother. I understood that.”

  “Hmm. But to hear of it after the fact, miffed you.”

  Bridie shrugged. “Perhaps. I was glad to hear that her beau waited for her, though. She deserves some happiness.”

  Emmet opened his portfolio and immersed himself in his work.

  Bridie reread the letter before putting it away. She laid out the ledgers on the kitchen table and set to work, humming softly.

  Life was good for them. Emmet worked in a job he loved, baby Maeve was healthy and thriving. And now it looked as though the brutal killings might stop.

  The birth of their baby meant that Emmet didn’t talk as much about his work when he was at home, but Bridie read the stories. The anti-treaty Republicans were losing the fight and when their leader, Liam Deasy was captured, he called for the Republicans to end their campaign. He encouraged his men to work with the Free State to find a solution.

  It was a blow for Emmet, but secretly Bridie thanked God. The end was in sight. The end of her worry about violence touching their family.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dublin, November 1927

  Bridie threw a critical eye over four-year old Maeve. “Pull your socks up, sweetheart.”

  Maeve sighed and as she bent down to pull up her sagging white socks, Emmet winked at Bridie.

  Bridie heard her daughter mutter, “They’ll only fall down again,” and she tried not to laugh.

  As the child straightened, she held out her hand to Emmet. “Can we go now, Daddy?”

  He grasped her hand and held out the other one to his two-year-old son. “Ready, Robert?”

  The small boy toddled over to his father to grasp the outstretched hand.

  Bridie smiled at the trio. “Daddy, are you sure you should be taking them to such a fine place as Bewley’s?”

  “Why not? Ryan children are not hooligans.” He looked sternly from one to the other. “Are you?”

  Bridie doubted that Robert even understood the question, but as his beloved big sister said, “No Daddy,” so did he.

  “Right, so. Let’s go and let your mammy have some peace and quiet. Unless you changed your mind and want to come along?”

  Bridie shook her head. “No, no. This is a special outing just for you three.” She rested her hand on the swell of the new baby beneath her dress. “This little one is very active today. A rest would be lovely.”

  After watching the trio toddle their way to the tram stop, from the front room window of their terrace house on St. Peter’s Court, Bridie put the kettle on for a cup of tea. She was knitting for the new baby. She could reuse most of her old baby things, but the new baby deserved some new things of his or her own as well.

  Bridie let her mind wander as she knitted. The movements came automatically; knit one, purl one. The tiny sleeves of the sweater made her smile. They grew so fast, she knew the sweater would be abandoned in only a couple of months but that was all right. She tried to remember when Maeve had been small enough to fit into a sweater like this. In some ways it was so long ago and, in some ways, just yesterday.

  Her hands fell still as she looked around the sitting room and compared it in her mind’s eye to the sitting room in their old flat. God, it was so tiny. However did we manage?

  Bridie recalled the day that Emmet came home with the news that he’d gotten hired on to the Dublin Opinion. She smiled to remember the celebrations they had enjoyed. A lovely dinner and too many drinks. She was convinced that the result of that night was young Robert. The extra money that came from his increased wages were soon eaten up with this, a larger house and a new baby. Bridie didn’t have any more money at the end of the week than before, but never mind.

  Katie was married now, and Bridie enjoyed the walk to visit her sister. Life was good. She missed the work she used to do for Mr. Riley, but once they moved, it wasn’t feasible. Perhaps she’d find work again in the future, but at the moment her hands were full with family things and that’s how she liked it.

  Rap, rap, rap. A knock on the front door startled her from her reverie.

  Struggling to rise from her relaxed slump in the easy chair, Bridie took a few moments to regain her feet and make it to the door.

  Rap, rap, rap. The knuckles on wood sounded again. Her heart pounded. An accident?

  She was breathless as she opened the door, to be engulfed in a bear hug. It took her a second to adjust to the knowledge that nothing was wrong.

  Bridie pushed back out of the hug and she grinned. “Liam Kelly, what brings you to our door unannounced like this?”

  “Must I have a formal announcement in order to be welcomed?”

  “God, no. Where are my manners? Come in and sit yourself down. I’ll put the kettle on for a fresh pot.”

  Liam followed her to the kitchen. “Where’s himself, then?”

  “Out with the children. Taken them to the new Bewley’s on Grafton, if you can imagine it.”

  Liam raised his eyebrows. “I can’t imagine my father taking me anywhere other than the back shed with the switch in his hand when I was a boy.”

  Bridie smiled. “Emmet has really taken to being Daddy. He’s definitely more involved than my father ever was either.”

  Liam carried the tea things into the sitting room and set the tray down on the small table. “It’s a good thing he likes being a father.” He glanced meaningfully at her belly.

  She rubbed her stomach and nodded. “Indeed. So, what’s going on with you? We haven’t seen you since Robert’s baptism.”

  He shrugged. “You know. I’ve been with de Valera working for the new Fianna Fáil.”

  “Have you? That’s exciting. Now that they are one of the major parties and did so well in the election, you must be quite satisfied.”

  Liam bit his lip. “There’s so much yet to be done. We’re no further ahead with a united Ireland as far as I can see.”

  Bridie tilted her head. “But with Dev and the Fianna Fáil recognizing the legitimacy of the Free State we have peace. It’s all political now, isn’t it?”

  Liam pursed his lips. “There’s no Fianna Fáil in the North.”

  Bridie frowned. “Is it your hope that the party gets established there too?”

  Liam shook his head and then smiled. “I don’t know, Bridie. I’m no politician. All I know is that it seems like the cause that I believed in ten years ago has all but petered out here.” Liam shook his head as if to banish the dark thoughts. “Never mind that now. Show me around this grand house of yours. Our Emmet must be doing well to have set you all up here.”

  Bridie smiled and got to her feet again. “He is, Liam. You know he’s with the Dublin Opinion now. He works with all sorts of people he admires. Even Grace Gifford.”

  He followed her as she led the way out into the back garden. “It’s a lovely spot you have here. Even a garden for the kids to kick around a ball. That’s brilliant.”

  She shivered, and they went back inside. “Emmet shouldn’t be too much longer. Do you want another cup of tea or would you rather go off to the pub and I’ll send him down to see you when he gets here?”

  “I don’t want you thinking I’m not enjoying your company.”

  “Go on. I know you men. You’re parched for a pint. Why don’t you go down to Toner’s on Baggot? It’s one of his favourites.”

  Liam stood, still hesitant. “You don’t m
ind?”

  Bridie shook her head. “Of course not, but you’ll come back with him for your supper.”

  Liam nodded. “That sounds lovely. Then I can see these children as well.”

  Liam left, and Bridie considered what she should make for supper. The simple potato-leek soup and bread that she had planned would wait until tomorrow. There’s nothing for it, but I’ll have to go out after all.

  She put on her coat, squeezed her swollen feet into her shoes, wrapped her head in a warm scarf, picked up her basket and braved the cold wind to do some shopping.

  • • •

  Later that night, Bridie shifted in bed to find a comfortable position. “It was nice seeing Liam again. It’s a shame he wouldn’t stay overnight. You two could have spent your Sunday together and gone to the match.”

  Emmet was quiet for moment. Bridie wondered if he had fallen asleep until she felt him turn towards her.

  “It was nice seeing him again.”

  Bridie prompted him. “But?”

  Emmet sighed. “But it wasn’t purely a social call.”

  Bridie turned her head on the pillow, her eyes searching through the dark gloom of the room to see him. “What was he looking for?”

  “I’m not sure I should even be talking to you about it.”

  “Well, you’ve started now, so you can’t leave it at this.”

  Emmet pushed himself up to lean on one elbow. “He asked if occasionally he could leave some packages with me.”

  Bridie’s heart raced. “Packages?”

  “I didn’t ask for more details. I don’t want to know.”

  Bridie knew that packages was another word for guns or explosives. “The war is over.”

  “Liam’s isn’t.”

  “Oh, Emmet. I hope you said no.”

  Again, the ominous silence.

  “Emmet? Did you tell him no?”

  “I said I have family now and they are my first priority.”

  “That isn’t an answer.”

  “It was the only answer I could give.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He agreed that he would make every effort not to call on me.”