“The shop closes at five every day.” One of the women offered.
Maeve nodded. “I wasn’t actually looking for the shop itself.”
The two looked at each other, and then the other woman spoke. “Why are you here, so?”
“I was given the address by someone who thought I might be interested in a discussion group.”
“Come with us, then.”
She followed the two around the side of the building where there were doors leading up to the flats above the shops. The flat was a small bed-sit with half a dozen chairs in a circle grouped around a round low table. A single bed in the corner looked rumpled and a young man with tight red curls and the shadow of a red beard lay stretched on it, balancing an ashtray on his stomach. On the floor beside him was a glass of red wine. Aside from him, Eamon and another young man sat at the low table, also drinking wine and smoking. The boy on the bed waved the girls and Maeve in.
“I see we have a new recruit this evening. Welcome. I’m Des.”
“Maeve.”
Eamon nodded to her. “This is Mickey.”
“Hi Mickey.”
The girls hung their hats and coats on the hooks on the back of the door and then introduced themselves.
The taller of the two, wore her fair hair in an elaborate set of waves high on her head. She looked like a professional working woman who had come directly from an office somewhere. “I’m Aislin, and this is Irene.”
Irene wore her chestnut hair in waves on her shoulders, similar to the way Maeve wore hers, which made Maeve instinctively turn towards her for conversation. “I’m Maeve. I’m at UCD.”
“Ah, with Eamon?”
“Eamon’s ahead of me, but yes. That’s how I came to be here.”
Irene took Maeve’s hand. “You’re very welcome.”
Des got up from the bed and came over to the circle. “Let’s get started. I don’t think anyone else is coming tonight. We’ve got a lot to cover, including the details for the Belfast trip.”
Maeve’s heart quickened as she listened. As the evening wore on, she knew she had come to the right place. And when she was asked if she was interested, she was quick with the answer. “Yes. Count me in.”
• • •
Maeve recalled all of this as she sat on the train heading north. They were each travelling separately and would meet at a house close to the Broadway Cinema in Belfast. The window was streaked with spring rain. The sound of the wheels clicking was hypnotic, but she wasn’t sleepy. She stared out the window to avoid talking to the woman across from her. Maeve didn’t want to talk. She wanted to think. Unlike her last trip to the north where she had Uncle Liam, now she was alone.
Should I have talked to Daddy? She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cold glass. Her parents knew she was on a train going north. It was Easter weekend and she was supposedly going along with a school friend to spend the holiday with relatives of her friend.
Her mother’s words still sounded in her head. “But we’ll miss you for Easter dinner. And what about mass? Where will you go for Easter mass?”
Her father had put his arm around her mother. “Let her go, Bridie. She’s not a child anymore. It’s natural that she spends time away from her family once in a while.”
He’s so understanding. So why did I not tell him the truth?
Maeve couldn’t answer the question, other than to admit that she wanted to avoid arguments.
Mammy was so reluctant. “Will you look up the Carsons? They’re back at their own home in Belfast again.”
Her Da spoke on her behalf. “Ah, Bridie. She’ll be with friends. She can’t go off and visit with the old school friend of your mother. Surely you see that?”
Maeve had gotten up to give her mother a hug. “Write out their address Mammy, and if the chance comes up, I’ll go by, but I’m making no promises, right?”
She had given them each a tight hug before leaving.
Her brother Robert had laughed. “Sure, you’re not going to Alaska. We’ll see you on Monday.”
Malachy had flinched away from her hug with a grimace. He was at that age.
Maeve opened her book and attempted to read, staring at the same page for minutes on end, time and time again.
• • •
The Great Victoria Street Station in Belfast was chaotic. People dashed past, dragging children and suitcases in the hustle to get home for Easter. Maeve pressed against a wall and pulled out the hand-drawn map that Eamon had given her, directing her to the house where they were all meeting. She fell into the stream of people moving towards an exit, and once outside, looked around. She stood under the grand portico and tried to get her bearings.
This is hopeless. I’ll be lost in no time. I’ll take a taxi.
She waited her turn in a taxi queue and then gave an address a few houses down from her actual destination. Again, she kept her face turned towards the window, to keep from talking to the driver.
The taxi pulled over. “Are you sure this is where you want to go?”
The number she had arbitrarily given belonged to a rather rundown looking red brick terrace house, like all of them along the street, except this one had a broken pram, discarded tools and other debris in the front garden.
She handed the money for the fare to him. “Yes, this is fine, thank you.”
The taxi driver shrugged and took her money. “Right, then. Happy Easter, Miss.”
Her stomach fluttered, and her words came out more like a cough than the ‘thank you’ she attempted.
Maeve waited until the taxi was gone and then walked up to the address she had been given. The curtain twitched. There was a watcher tracking her progress.
Before she could knock, the door was opened, and Eamon greeted her. “You made it then.”
She straightened her shoulders. Clearly, he had expected her to back out. “Yes, as you see.”
“No problems?”
“None at all.”
He nodded and turned into the front room, dismissing her. Eamon was not here to look after her. She was on her own. Maeve looked in and then turned her attention down the hall to where the sound of women chattering made a welcome noise.
The front room was already crowded so she chose to go down the hall. There were two women she didn’t know, and her friend Irene from Dublin, in the kitchen making sandwiches. Maeve shrugged off her coat and laid it over the back of a chair. “Can I help?”
“Aye. Another pair of hands to help feed the masses would be great.” The oldest woman handed her a butter knife and pushed over a stack of sliced bread. “I’m Kitty, and this” she gestured to the younger woman “is my sister Maureen.”
“I’m Maeve.”
“You’re welcome.”
Irene smiled at her. “I’m glad you came.”
Maeve nodded. “Me too.”
Maeve and Kitty continued to butter, Irene slapped on ham or cheese, and cut the bread and Maureen took the platters around.
Someone opened a back door and a black Labrador retriever galloped into the kitchen, nose twitching at the table with sandwich ingredients.
Kitty yelled, “Who let that dog in?”
Maeve knew Irene was mad about dogs and smiled when she saw her friend slip a piece of ham to it.
Irene smiled down at the dog. “Don’t kick her out. She just wants to be a part of things. What’s her name?”
Kitty frowned and turned away to get another pack of butter. “Blackie.”
Maeve and Irene looked at each other, stifling giggles at the no-nonsense name of the dog. Maeve bit her bottom lip as she felt laughter bubbling inside. She knew it was nerves.
Maeve raised her eyebrows as Maureen brought back the empty platter in minutes. “I couldn’t eat a thing.”
Kitty raised her head from the fresh loaf she was slicing. “Nervous stomach?”
Maeve nodded.
“Don’t worry, lass. This is just a commemoration. Nothing will happen. You’ll be fine.�
��
Maeve gave a small smile and focused on the sandwiches. So if it’s a peaceful demonstration, why do we need so many armed men?
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Dublin, April 1943
Bridie pulled the ham out of the oven to baste it. The fat was browning nicely. Róisín was off to celebrate Easter with her own family, but Bridie didn’t mind. She enjoyed cooking and baking and was glad to have the kitchen to herself. She looked up at the knock on the front door. She waited to see if Emmet would go and then called out to him where he sat in the parlour: “Emmet. Someone’s at the door. Can you get it, please?”
She continued, brushing the pan drippings across the top of the already crackling skin. She breathed in the aroma of the onions, pork and seasoning. There’s nothing like the smell of a roasting ham to give a place a homey feel. Thank God Emmet’s parents have a farm so we haven’t suffered from shortages like so many have.
She put the ham back in, took her apron off, hanging it on the hook near the cooker, and went to the parlour to see who was there. She heard his voice and smiled. Liam. How nice. It’s been ages since we saw him. He’s come for Easter dinner.
She walked in with her arms raised to give him a hug but dropped them at the look on Emmet’s face.
Her heart beat faster. “What’s wrong?”
Neither man answered. Liam was flushed in contrast to Emmet, whose very life-blood seemed to have drained from his face, except for the redness of his ears. For a moment Bridie paused, puzzled. It looked as though Emmet was furious with Liam. He had such a scowl on his face and then it changed, and he looked frightened, eyes wide open, nostrils quivering as he sucked in his breath.
Bridie quickened her step to cross the room. She perched on the arm of Emmet’s chair. “Emmet. What is it? Your brother? Your parents? Tell me what’s happened.”
Emmet took her hand. He licked his lips. “Bridie.” He gulped and looked at Liam.
Bridie patted her husband’s hand, trying to give him comfort from whatever shock he’d received. “Tell me, love.”
Emmet’s voice was choked. “Liam’s come to tell us something.”
Bridie frowned at the way he’d said, ‘us’ instead of ‘me.’ “Go on.”
Liam suddenly spoke up. “Bridie. I should have said something sooner. Told you. She asked me not to though, and I had to respect that. Didn’t I, Emmet?”
Emmet scowled again, his jaw clenched.
Bridie shook her head. “I haven’t a clue what you’re on about.”
Liam looked at Emmet who gave a small nod. “It’s about Maeve.”
Bridie blinked quickly. “Maeve? What about Maeve?” She stood and faced her husband. “Emmet Ryan. You speak to me. Has something happened to Maeve?”
He rose. “No, no love. Nothing’s happened.”
Bridie took a deep breath. Thank you, dear God. “What is it then? Is it a scandal? I won’t believe it, whatever it is.” A fleeting memory crossed her mind of a story she had recently heard about a girl who had gotten into trouble. Not our Maeve. She’s a good girl.
Emmet led her to the couch, so they could sit side by side. “Sit down now and I’ll tell you.”
Bridie bit her lip and let herself be pulled down beside Emmet.
“Right, so. Here it is. It seems our Maeve has joined the IRA.”
Now that the worst was out, Liam seemed anxious to talk. “Not the really rough stuff. No shooting or bombs. Nothing like that.”
Bridie put her hand to her throat. “What, then? What else is there?”
Liam shifted on his chair. “Just a support role, if you like.”
Bridie felt the blood pounding in her head. “If I like? Is that what you’re saying to me?”
Liam flushed. “I didn’t mean that. I meant, she goes along just to make up the numbers, or act as a lookout. That sort of thing.” He hesitated and then blurted: “I thought if I left town she would lose interest without me around. I didn’t want to influence her. But it didn’t stop her.”
Bridie took several deep breaths through her nose to steady herself. “Liam Kelly. You did this. You led her into this. You recruited her.”
Now that Bridie was angry, Emmet seemed to want to defend his friend. He patted her knee. “Ah, now Bridie. That’s not a fair thing to say to Liam. She’s a grown girl and has a mind of her own.”
She flinched, twisting her knee away from under his hand. “You’re right. It’s not his fault. It’s yours. Completely and utterly, yours. All those stories you fed her with her childhood porridge.”
Bridie stood and felt her heart pounding. She glared down at Emmet and wanted to slap him. “When that girl gets home from her holiday, you are going to talk to her. Explain to her, it’s all done and over. Tell her she can’t be a part of such a thing. You’ll tell her…I don’t care what you tell her, but it’s over. That’s the result of it.”
The two men glanced at each other and Bridie knew there was more. Something they hadn’t yet told her. “Liam, why have you come today to tell us this? Why now? You said she made you promise not to tell, so why now?”
Liam took a deep breath. “She hasn’t gone on a holiday.”
Bridie widened her eyes, staring at Liam. She smelled the ham and felt her gorge rise. “Where is she?”
“She’s gone to Belfast all right, but she’s gone to join some others. There’s a quiet commemoration of 1916 planned.”
Bridie frowned. “A demonstration? A meeting? What? What sort of a commemoration?”
“They’re going to take over a cinema.”
“Dear God.”
Emmet stood in front of Bridie and put his two hands on her shoulders. “It’s nothing to get too anxious about now, love. It’s all going to be very peaceful. From what Liam’s said, there’ll be some speeches. Nothing more.”
She pulled away from him. “It’s Belfast. We don’t know what might be peaceful or what might erupt.” She turned to Liam and pointed her finger at him. “You don’t know, and you’re worried. That’s why you came here. You think there will be trouble.”
Liam held up his hands as if to shield himself from her anger. “I don’t expect any trouble. Honestly, I don’t. I just thought it was about time I told you. I owe you both that.”
Liar. Bridie couldn’t look at Liam. She clenched her fists and glared at Emmet. “What do we do now? Should we go after her?”
Emmet turned to Liam. “What do you think? Should we?”
Liam shrugged. “I would just leave it and then have a chat with her when she gets home. Let her know I’ve betrayed her. I can live with it. There are better options for her these days. I tried to tell her that myself, but coming from you, it will have more weight. If anyone can convince her that there are other choices for her, it’s you, Emmet.”
Bridie felt the lump in her throat. “So, just do nothing.”
Emmet nodded. “I think Liam’s right. If we go bolting off up north, what could we do? Drag her back forcefully? She’d never forgive us. Besides, what about the boys? They’ll be looking for their Easter dinner in a couple of hours.”
Liam ran his hand through his hair. “I probably should have waited until she was safe and sound back at home and then had this talk. I didn’t know what to do when I heard she’d gone along.”
Emmet shook his head. “You did the right thing coming to us, although I wish you had done that before she went off. Better late than never.” He took a deep breath. “Damn you, Liam. Why, of all people, did you have to recruit my daughter?” He turned to his wife. “It’s better we know though, isn’t it Bridie?”
She gave a small nod. “It’s better to know, even if it means I’ll be in knots until she’s home.”
Bridie had an idea and felt a surge of hope. “I’ll ring the Carsons.”
Emmet frowned. “And say what exactly?”
“Just that Maeve is up there, and, well maybe they can go past this cinema and they’ll see her and take her in hand.” Even as Bridie said it, she
knew it was a mad idea.
Emmet tilted his head, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Bridie sighed. “All right. I won’t.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away. “I feel that I should do something.”
Emmet walked back to her and put his arm around her waist. “The best thing you can do is to carry on making the Easter dinner. Maybe put the kettle on to start with.” He turned back to Liam. “You’ll stay for supper?”
Liam looked at Bridie.
Bridie nodded. “You’re welcome to stay and share our dinner. I wouldn’t turn you away, but…” she left it at that.
Liam nodded, understanding her anger. “I will, so. Thank you.”
Bridie’s shoulders slumped. She rubbed her hand across her head to relieve the pounding as she made her way back to the kitchen to carry on as if her mind wasn’t 87 miles north, in the city of Belfast. She had to carry on as if everything was normal, but she knew that life had suddenly changed forever.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Belfast, April 1943
The sandwiches had all been eaten. The Irish whiskey had made the rounds. Maeve felt warmed inside after Kitty convinced her to take a small one to “settle the nerves”. She did feel steadier. Not relaxed, but not so shaky. The clock ticked on.
Maeve followed Kitty and Irene when shouts called everyone to gather in the front room. Maeve looked at the man who stood in front of the gathered fifteen men and women. He looks a bit like Daddy. The same ears and kinky hair.
She leaned in to Kitty. “That’s Harry White, isn’t it?”
“Aye. He’s the O.C. of Northern Command.”
Maeve nodded. The Officer Commanding the group. This could be Daddy if Mammy hadn’t made him give up the fight. I’m here now, Daddy, to carry on. She straightened her shoulders and felt his blood pumping in her heart.
She focused on what the leader was saying.
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