He helped his mother into the car and then, in a puff of diesel, the auto was gone, and the Ryan family turned to go back into the house.
Maeve felt a lump in her throat. Don’t be silly. He’s just a schoolboy. She knew he wasn’t just a schoolboy though, despite what she tried to tell herself. He was so mature. And he had captured her heart.
She climbed the steps to her room, but not before she heard her mother say to her father, “I think it’s a good thing they’ve gone.”
Da laughed. “Had enough of house guests, have you?”
“It’s good that one of these house guests is out from under our roof, anyway.”
Maeve didn’t hear anything further. She went into her room, picked up the book she was currently reading and sat with it in her lap, unopened until she was called to come down for tea. Instead of words on the pages of her book, she kept seeing hazel eyes with chocolate brown flecks.
They would write to each other, they agreed. It was the best they could do.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dublin, May 1942
Maeve loved attending University College Dublin. She thrived in the atmosphere of learning and discussion. She joined the Folklore Society and the College Debating Union, the same debating society her father had belonged to when he was at school. She came home in the evenings full of chat about the people and ideas she encountered.
Robert, two years behind Maeve, complained of the daily discussions. “Ah, no. Please not more about politics. Can’t we have a conversation about football at the dinner table for a change?”
Malachy waved his fork at his brother. “Robert had a brilliant goal today.”
Mammy smiled. “Did you, love?”
Robert shrugged. “I don’t know if it was brilliant.”
Malachy nodded. “It was. You should have seen it.”
Her father frowned. “And was this before or after you did your homework?”
Robert sighed. “Yeh, I know. I have to get good grades to get into college. Maybe I don’t want to get into college like Maeve. Maybe we’re all sick to death of hearing how great college is.”
Maeve wrinkled her forehead. “Well, I’m sorry if I’ve been monopolizing the conversation. Please go ahead. Tell us something of interest.”
Robert pushed his plate away. “May I be excused?”
Mam picked up the plate. “Don’t you want a bit of tart?”
Robert shook his head. “What’s the point when there’s hardly any sugar in it anyway? With the rationing, we might as well be eating sawdust.”
Her father frowned. “What’s gotten into you today?”
“Nothing at all.”
Her mother nodded. “Go on, then.”
Maeve watched her brother disappear. They finished their meal quickly and after Maeve and Malachy helped their mother with the dishes, Maeve went up to speak to her brother.
She tapped on his bedroom door. “Robert, can I come in?”
He opened the door for her and then flung himself back on his bed.
“What’s wrong? I know I go on a bit about school, but I didn’t know it bothered you so much.”
He pushed himself up to lean against the wall at the head of the bed, with his arms folded. “Sometimes I just feel like Da is living in the past. He’s always going on about the history and now that you’re at his old school and even in the debating society, it’s like you and him are in a club of your own. Malachy and me, we don’t seem to matter.”
She sat on the edge of his bed and rested a hand on his leg. “It’s not like that. I just have similar interests I guess, and although you have different interests, it doesn’t mean you’re any less important to Da, or to me.”
He closed his eyes and tipped his head back for a moment. When he opened them again and rested them on Maeve, his grey eyes were shiny with tears. “I’ll never be as good a student as you and I couldn’t care less about all his old stories. In fact, I hate it when he goes on and on about those things. He’s a big hero. We all know that. I’ll never live up to what he is.” He took a deep breath. “I want to quit school, Maeve.”
Maeve stared. “Oh, Robert.”
He went on. “If I don’t quit, I suspect the Brothers will recommend it anyway.”
“Are you doing so poorly?”
He shrugged again.
“Could I help you to do better?”
He sat up straight. “I’m just not interested. I’d rather be an apprentice somewhere. I’ve seen a card in the window of..”
“Of?”
“The baker down at Doyle’s Corner.”
“The baker? Good Lord.”
He flushed. “You think I’m foolish, don’t you?”
“No, no. I don’t think that. It’s just a surprise. I always assumed you’d go to college as well.”
“Now you know. I want to be a baker. Even with the rationing I bet I could do better than what Mam makes.”
Again Maeve was at a loss for words. “Oh, my.”
Now Robert held his chin up. “What should I do?”
“You’ve got to talk to Mam and Da, obviously. I would say though, just to keep your options open, like, you should try your best to finish your year with a passing grade. Meanwhile, talk to the baker and see if it seems like a possibility for you. Why not? Having a baker in the family would be a grand thing, Robert.”
He smiled shyly. “Do you really think so?”
“I do, of course. Robert, I’m sure Da never meant to make you feel small with all his stories. It’s just who he is. I always loved them, but that’s just me. You need to let him know who you are without being angry or disrespectful. I’ll go with you if you want when you talk to them.”
He bit his lip. “No, I better do it on my own. Thanks, though.”
• • •
Maeve quickened her step, so she wouldn’t be late for the debate. She wasn’t speaking, but Patrick was, and she wanted to be there early enough that she could say hello before he took the podium. To divert herself with the long walk along the length of Earlsfort Terrace through the cold wind, she held her collar tight and thought about when she had first met Patrick Dermody. Her mind went back to the beginning of the school year when she joined the debate team with such enthusiasm. She remembered feeling so alive. She knew so many nuances of the political arguments, having been schooled at the knee of her father.
After the first time she went to the podium to argue a point, a young man from the opposing position, Patrick, approached her as she walked down the steps outside on the way to catch the tram. “You’re quite a speaker. You have great passion.”
Maeve felt the flush rise in her face. This man had made a complete fool of her. “It seemed like you thought I was an idiot.”
He widened his eyes. “Not at all. I thought you held your own.”
Maeve wanted to turn away from him, and yet she was drawn to him. “That’s not how it felt. With every point I made, you destroyed me.”
He laughed. “I have more experience than you. You’ll get there. I liked some of the things you said. Especially when you talked about the unfinished work in our nation.”
She felt herself relaxing. “I believe strongly in a united Ireland.”
He smiled. “Me too.”
Maeve felt a shiver rise the hairs on the back of her neck. His dark curls held streaks of copper in the sunlight. He had the wild, somewhat dangerous looks of the people her mother called tinkers. He had a dark shadowed chin as though he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. There was something magnetic about Patrick’s intensity.
He held out a hand to take her book bag. “Let’s go for a cup of tea.”
Maeve handed over her bag, falling into step with him without thought to her family waiting at home for her to join them for tea. She’d say she’d gone out with her friend Brigid. The two girls were in psychology class together and her family had met her when she came to the house to work on a project. Brigid wasn’t political but she was fun to be with and
Mammy liked her. They’d forgive Maeve.
• • •
After the third debating club meeting and thus the third time they were going out for a drink, they walked along the river to The Dropping Well. They squeezed into a corner and he went to fetch her a shandy.
He set the drink down in front of her. “Are you all right here? You look rather flushed.”
She nodded and then shrugged. “I’m not used to going to a pub.”
He frowned. “You never go out?”
“I’ve been with my parents, but I can’t say even that has been very often. It’s usually tea for me.”
He studied her from across the table. “Would you be more comfortable if we left?”
She took a sip of her drink. “No, no. Not at all.”
Once they began talking, Maeve relaxed. On that occasion, she made sure that her parents knew she was going out. After that first time when there had been holy hell to pay for not coming home when expected, she was more careful.
Mam had almost been in tears when she hadn’t returned until after they had finished tea.
“Do you know how worried we were?”
Daddy had kept everyone calm. He had put his arm around Maeve’s shoulder. “Now Mam, our girl is growing up. We knew she’d meet new friends once she went to school. Maeve won’t scare us like that again though, will you? Just let us know your plans, sweetheart. That’s all we ask.”
Maeve had felt wretched about the worry she’d caused and vowed to avoid it in future.
So that night, her family knew she was out with friends, and they were having their tea without her.
Inevitably the conversation came around to politics.
The beer loosened Maeve’s tongue. “My father was there in the beginning. He and his best pal Liam, both.”
“In ‘16?”
“Yes.” Maeve knew her voice held the pride she felt.
“Mine too. I would have like to be there.” His eyes lit up. “Wouldn’t it be fantastic to be a part of something so important? The forming of a nation?”
She nodded and smiled. “We were born a little too late.”
“Not necessarily.”
She frowned and tilted her head, but he changed the subject. “Where was your father?”
“He was part of the Fingal Volunteers.”
“Really?” Patrick drew the word out: reeely
“You’ve heard of them?”
“This pal of your Da’s. Liam, did you say?”
“What about him?”
“What’s his last name, then?”
Now Maeve was cagey. “Why do you ask?”
Patrick looked quickly over one shoulder and then the other. “I know a fella named Liam who was with the Fingals in ‘16. Liam Kelly’s his name.”
Maeve took another drink from her shandy, stalling for time. “It’s a pretty common name.”
Patrick leaned back. “It is. The man I know wouldn’t appreciate us talking about him.”
Maeve nodded, but the glance between them revealed more than words. He knows Uncle Liam. Patrick must be involved somehow.
• • •
Maeve arrived at the hall and went inside, thankful to be out of the cutting wind. She ran her fingers through her curls in an effort to tame her hair and then went into the auditorium, greeting her friends as she made her way close to the front. She was too late, and Patrick was already on the stage, but he saw her and smiled, sending a wave scalding through her. She slipped off her coat and laid it on the chair next to her. She didn’t want anyone sitting next to her. She liked to sit alone and focus on the debate. On Patrick’s words.
After the debate, she and Patrick, along with a few others, made their way to Hartigan’s Pub for drinks. She and Patrick sat alone at a small booth with their drinks, while the others pushed two round tables together and crowded around there, still discussing the merits of the debate points.
Maeve relaxed in the relative quiet of the booth. “You don’t want to sit with the others?”
“No, I wanted a quiet word with you.”
Maeve felt her heart beat faster. His dark looks, and intensity had drawn Maeve to Patrick, but they had never taken their friendship any further than talking and drinks.
Her breath came faster. “Oh?”
He took her hand and she felt the heat of his skin on hers. “We’ve become good friends these last few months.”
She nodded and swallowed.
“So, I didn’t want you to hear this from someone else.”
He’s engaged. Oh God. “Very mysterious, altogether.”
He smiled, still clasping her hand between his. “Not really. It’s just that I’ll be leaving college when the year is over in a couple of weeks.”
Her mouth fell open. “Oh. But you have another two years to go, don’t you?”
He loosened her hand. “I’ve decided I can better use my time elsewhere.”
She frowned. “Have you got a job somewhere?”
“You could say that.”
“Where? What is it?” Her mind flitted to her brother Robert who was to be an apprentice.
He lowered his voice and she leaned in to hear him above the noise of the pub. “I’m going North.”
She frowned. “North?”
“Yes. North.”
Suddenly she understood. The Cause. He was leaving school to fight. She licked her lips, at a loss for what to say.
He must have seen the change on her face. He nodded. “You understand?”
“Yes, I think so.”
He drained his glass, relaxed now. “Can I get you another?”
She nodded. “Please.”
As he fought his way through the crowded room to the bar, she had time to think. I’ll never see him again. How come the fellows I like go away? She felt queasy and didn’t really want another drink. And then she had an idea.
He came back with their drinks.
“Thank you.” She leaned in, her voice as quiet as his had been earlier. “If I wanted to help out as well, how would I do that? I don’t mean that I’d leave school or do anything big, but surely there must be something I could do as well. You know how I feel about Ireland.”
He looked at her over the rim of his glass. He shook his head. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for you.”
She clenched her jaw and sat back. “Why not? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing. It’s just that you have no experience and it just isn’t for everyone.”
“And how does one get experience if not from participating in some kind of action?”
He set his drink down and lifted his hands in defence. “Fair enough. Who am I to turn anyone away? I’ll tell you what. Once I see what the lay of the land is, I’ll send word to your Uncle Liam if I think there’s any way for you to help. Is that fair?”
She nodded. “All right.”
He clinked his glass against hers. “I’ve enjoyed our friendship, Maeve. If things were different” He shrugged. “But they aren’t different. So there it is. I’ll miss you, though.”
She blinked back tears. “And I, you.”
They went on to talk about the latest war news and Maeve pushed away the thought that soon she’d have to say goodbye to him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dublin, August 1942
Maeve and her youngest brother had spent the day with their Nana and Granpa Mallon, she ostensibly helping in the garden, although half an hour of pruning roses had concluded with hours sitting in the garden chatting and drinking lemonade. Malachy had learned to play chess and was delighted to go home with a set for himself.
When they arrived home, it was obvious that they had company. Maeve paused in the foyer. “Who do you think it is, Malachy?”
They listened and then Malachy grinned. “It’s Uncle Liam.”
“Ah, yes. I believe you’re right.”
Malachy swung open the parlour door. “Hi Uncle Liam. Do you play chess?”
Maeve follo
wed, her heart quickening. Is he here to see me? Did Patrick send word? She stepped to his side and bent down to kiss his cheek. “Hello Uncle Liam.”
Liam stood up balancing his cup and saucer. “I’m afraid I’ve never learned the game Malachy, but I think your father plays.” He turned to Maeve. “You’re lovelier every time I see you, Maeve.”
Maeve felt the heat rise to her face and shook her head but was saved from having to respond by her brother setting the chessboard down on the small round table.
“I can teach you, Uncle Liam.”
Maeve’s mother admonished Malachy. “Let the poor man drink his tea. Take your game away for now, Malachy. After tea perhaps, you can convince your Da into a game.”
Mam turned to Maeve. “Did you have a nice afternoon with Gran?”
“I did, of course. We had a great old chat. Her garden is so pretty. It makes me think that we could do more with ours. In fact, I’m going out to look at the garden while it’s in my mind.”
Liam stood up. “I’ll go out with you and have a wee smoke.”
Mam shook her head. “You’re developing a Belfast accent, Liam.”
He smiled. “I spend a lot of time in the North these days, but my heart belongs to Dublin.”
Mam stood to gather the cups and saucers. “I should hope so.”
Liam followed Maeve outside and, after lighting a home-rolled cigarette, he paced beside her as they walked the length of the garden.
They stopped at the back gate and Maeve looked up at him. “Do you have any news for me?”
He took a deep draw on his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke up into the air above Maeve’s head. “Are you still interested in any news I might have?”
“Very much so.”
He faced her, his back to the house. “This isn’t to be taken lightly.”
“I know that.”
He finished his cigarette, grinding it out under his foot. He sighed. “I’m taking a drive on Sunday night. It will be late, after most law-abiding citizens are in their beds.”
She bit her lip, her heart beating hard. “And you’re inviting me along?”
“It can be useful to have a woman along on trips like this.”
“And will we be back on the same night? I’m not sure how I could stay away overnight.”
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