A Great Beauty

by A. O'Connor

  They climbed the stairs with its ornamental bannisters and reached the first landing where Hazel spotted Charlie and his wife Edith with the Prime Minister Lloyd George and some others.

  “Hazel!” cried Charlie as he broke away from the group and came to embrace her warmly.

  “Dear Charlie,” she said, returning his embrace.

  “And John – must not forget John!” said Charlie as he shook John’s hand.

  He led them to join the others.

  “Edith,” Hazel greeted her as she kissed her cheek.

  “Hazel,” Edith replied, her cool blue eyes surveying Hazel’s outfit.

  “You know the Prime Minister and of course Philip?” checked Charlie as he gestured to Lloyd George and his private secretary who stood beside him

  “Yes, of course, so good to see you again, Prime Minister.” Hazel beamed a smile at Lloyd George.

  “The pleasure is mine, Lady Lavery,” said Lloyd George with a smile before shaking John’s hand.

  Hazel kissed Philip’s cheek. “Philip and I are old friends,” she said.

  “Thank you so much for allowing us to stay at your house in Ireland, Charlie,” said John.

  “We were delighted to lend you the house,” said Edith.

  Edith had tidy, coiffured brown hair and a long serious face. John felt she looked a little washed-out standing beside Hazel.

  “It is an amazing place – we enjoyed our time there immensely,” said Hazel.

  “A wonderful house and estate – a very peaceful setting,” added John

  “Which is about the only place you could call peaceful during our travels throughout Ireland!” stated Hazel.

  Lloyd George looked at Philip and discreetly raised his eyes to heaven, prompting Philip to make an apologetic face.

  “I have never seen anything like it!” said Hazel.

  “Yes, we all read your letter in the Times last week, Hazel,” said Charlie, trying to cut her off.

  “And the week before,” murmured Edith as she took a sip of her champagne.

  “Towns burned, Tans drunk, civilians murdered!” said Hazel.

  “Yes, well, I’m sure the Government of Ireland Act that came into law this week will bring the whole unfortunate situation to an end,” said Lloyd George with a condescending smile.

  “You are deluded, Prime Minister!” Hazel said loudly, causing everyone to drop their mouths open with shock. “The Government of Ireland Act is too little too late – about ten years too late! It might have worked in 1910 but it won’t work in 1920! Things have moved on, events have overtaken the pace of your politics. Giving one parliament with little or no power to Belfast to satisfy the Protestants in the North and one to Dublin, again with little or no power, to the Catholics in the South will not satisfy the Irish now. Those days are gone, Prime Minister! The Irish demand full independence, a republic free of any control from the British and not this puppet parliament you aim to establish.”

  “I hardly think this is the time or the place, Hazel,” cautioned Edith coldly.

  “When is? When is ever the time – or the place? This parliament you have given permission for in Dublin will have such limited powers that in reality it will be nothing more than a glorified County Council! It will simply be ignored by the Irish and members of the Dáil who will fight on with this war until they get full independence. How many more must die until you understand this?”

  “My dear Lady Lavery, as I told you last time I met you, I will never give the go-ahead for an independent Ireland. It just will not happen.”

  “I, as one of the biggest landowners in Ireland, say to that – hear, hear!” said Charlie loudly.

  “But it won’t work!” objected Hazel.

  “I can’t see why we can’t make the Belfast parliament work with some good old-fashioned elbow grease, determination and gung-ho!” said Edith.

  Edith’s organisational skills were legendary as she had been the head of the Women Volunteers throughout Britain during the Great War, literally making sure the home fires kept burning. She was thrilled for once to have all the male company vehemently disagreeing with Hazel Lavery, as opposed to having them as usual fawning over her every word. Always a thorn in her side, particularly as it galled her that Charlie never bothered to disguise the fact he was in love with her, Edith now wondered if Hazel Lavery was on some kind of self-destructive social suicide with this Irish crusade she had embarked on. If she continued on this track Edith was sure even Winston would sever ties with her soon. That would leave her with only the company of that other extremist Shane Leslie.

  “Well, you are all insane if you think the violence will stop or the fight for independence will not continue,” insisted Hazel.

  Charlie was becoming frustrated with her. “Hazel! What has this to do with you? You’re not even Irish!”

  “I am Irish-American!” Hazel retorted.

  “You’re only pretending to be Irish as it’s chic to be Irish in London at the moment,” said Charlie.

  “That is not true!” said Hazel, becoming angry too. “How dare you, Charlie! I can tell you now – ask any Irishman which of us he considers more Irish – me, albeit born in Chicago – or you, born in London, educated at Eton and Sandhurst – and they will say me! Despite your owning thousands of acres of land there which they would say you stole from them in the first place!”

  “Hazel!” hissed John, realising she had gone way too far.

  Charlie was enraged as he lunged in anger towards her.

  “Charles!” shouted Edith, causing people around to turn and stare.

  Charlie pulled back, his face red from anger.

  Hazel, seeing the upset she had caused, realised she had provoked him too much.

  “Well – I –” She turned and smiled at Edith. “The gardens at Mount Steward were simply amazing, Edith. The gardeners tell me you are responsible for the creation of them yourself?”

  “Ah – yes –” Edith looked at Charlie and then smiled at Hazel. “I am rather proud of them.”

  “Every morning after breakfast, we went for a walk through them – didn’t we, John?”

  “Yes, very pleasant,” said John.

  “Anyway, we had better mingle – we do not wish to be accused of being anti-social!” said Hazel.

  “I do not think anyone could ever accuse you of that, Hazel dear!” scoffed Edith.

  Hazel spotted an acquaintance and, waving over at him, moved away from the group, quickly followed by John.

  As Edith too moved to check on her guests, Lloyd George and Philip were left alone. The Prime Minister observed Hazel as she flitted from one guest to another.

  “And there, Philip, lies our biggest problem with Ireland,” said Lloyd George, nodding over at Hazel.

  “Hazel Lavery, Prime Minister?” asked Philip, confused.

  “Not Hazel Lavery per se … but her ilk, who and what she is – Irish America. If we were just dealing with the Irish alone it would be one thing, but they have millions of Irish Americans standing with them – backing them financially, politically, spiritually with their unswerving, never-ending loyalty to the Mother Country.”

  “True, Prime Minister,” conceded Philip. “That is why De Valera has spent the last two years in America courting their support and money, as opposed to being in Ireland leading the war against us.”

  “Yes, he left that in the hands of Collins – the unfortunately very capable hands of Collins,” sighed Lloyd George.

  As Hazel mingled with the other guests, she quickly regained her composure. She worked the crowd like the expert she was. As the night wore on, she looked out for Charlie but he never seemed close by. She knew she needed to make amends. She had gone too far in questioning his Irishness. She spotted him taking a cigar from a passing waiter and sauntering over to an open French window that led out to a balcony. She waited a minute and then excused herself from the people she was talking to and followed him out. She found him looking out at the views across Hyde P
ark while he smoked his cigar.

  “So, this is where you ran to escape me?” she said as she went to stand beside him.

  He looked down at her. “A step too far, Hazel!”

  “I know!” she said, raising her hands in surrender. “I shouldn’t have said it! But you shouldn’t have said what you said either! But – I’ll admit – what I said was worse. Friends?”

  “Of course … I could never stay mad at you too long. But I don’t understand you anymore, Hazel. You were much more fun before you started with all this Irish political stuff.”

  “I can’t ignore what’s going on there, Charlie. And I feel it’s my destiny to be involved in it.”

  “A bloody tedious destiny in that case!”

  “I don’t want to be just – fun. I want more in life. I want to be … I want to make a difference. I want my life to have meaning.”

  “You could have made a huge difference in my life,” he said as he put his hands on her shoulders. “God – how I chased you for years!”

  “Everyone thought we were having an affair,” she laughed.

  “Why didn’t you?” he asked.

  Hazel actually did find Charlie attractive with his aristocratic features and tall frame. She smiled at him as she thought of her answer.

  “I’d never do that to John, Charlie. And, besides, once you had been with me, you’d tire of me quickly enough.”

  “Never!”

  “You would! I often think, if I had been stupid enough to have affairs like the other wives with all those men who have chased me, I would have been a joke by now.”

  “None of those other wives have become jokes.”

  “I’d have lost my integrity. John is my husband and I don’t need or want any other man. But I do want you as my friend,” she said, leaning forward and kissing his cheek before turning and going back inside.

  CHAPTER 15

  It was Christmas week and Kitty and Lionel were in Dublin doing their Christmas shopping. As they walked down a crowded Grafton Street, Lionel was laden down with shopping bags and boxes.

  “Gosh – it looks like we have bought all Dublin!” declared Lionel.

  “We’ve a bit to do yet!” said Kitty as she stopped to look in a shop window.

  Suddenly there was a screech of a bicycle stopping behind them and Kitty turned around to see Michael there.

  “I thought it was you!” said Michael as he dismounted.

  “Mick!” said Kitty as she gave him a warm hug. “Well, it’s that good to see you!”

  “And you, Kitty – you’re a sight for sore eyes! Hello, Lionel, Happy Christmas!”

  “Oh, yes – Happy Christmas,” said Lionel as he struggled with the shopping to reach a hand out to shake with Michael, but he ended up dropping everything on the ground. “Oh shit!”

  Michael tried to stifle a laugh as Kitty raised her eyes to heaven in embarrassment. Michael bent down and started picking up the bags and boxes with Lionel.

  “Maybe if you gave Lionel a hand with all this lot, he wouldn’t be so overloaded!” said Michael, handing Kitty some of the shopping.

  She narrowed her eyes at him in irritation, making him stifle another laugh.

  “We are just up doing a spot of Christmas shopping,” explained Lionel.

  “Eh, yes … so I see! You shouldn’t let her use you like a donkey, Lionel.” Michael clapped him on the back. “So how are ye all keeping?”

  “We’re fine,” said Kitty. “The hotel still isn’t opened, or the store. We are still trying to get everything fixed – it will take another while yet.”

  “Bastards!” muttered Michael under his breath.

  “We kept expecting you to visit with Gearóid,” said Kitty. “Will you get down to us over Christmas?” Michael loved Christmas and she knew it must be very lonely for him not to be able to return to his own family in Cork for the festive period. “There will be singing and dancing and enough turkey to feed an army!”

  “There’s nothing I’d like more than spend Christmas with you all, but it’s too dangerous for me to go there so soon after the riot. There’s still too high a presence of Black and Tans in the area and they’ll watching your place like hawks after the young policeman was killed there.”

  She nodded. She knew this to be true. The Black and Tans were keeping a close eye on the Greville Arms after what had occurred there.

  “Besides, there’s too much going on here, with the passing of the Government of Ireland Act – and then of course De Valera is back from America tonight. I’ll be seeing him first thing in the morning.”

  Kitty noticed that he looked apprehensive.

  “What will you do for Christmas?” she asked, worried about him.

  “Ah, sure, I’ll be with the lads – we’ll have a bit of fun tomorrow night. We’re going to the Gresham for a few drinks.”

  “No word on Harry?” asked Kitty tentatively.

  “Well, he hasn’t come back with De Valera to the best of my knowledge, that’s all I know.” Michael bit his lower lip and then asked the question he had been burning to ask. “How’s Helen?”

  “Great form,” said Kitty. “She won’t be home for Christmas. She’s spending it with Paul’s family.”

  “Oh!” said Michael, disappointed at the news.

  “Sure, it won’t be long now until her wedding in the spring,” said Kitty.

  He nodded, trying not to show the gloom that had overcome him on hearing the wedding was still on schedule.

  “Speaking of weddings,” Kitty said, raising her hand in the air and showing off an engagement ring.

  “You got engaged!” Michael nearly shouted in shock.

  “I did surely!” She smiled happily.

  “And – and who’s the lucky fellow?” Michael asked.

  Kitty blinked a few times and then nodded at Lionel. “Well, Lionel, of course!”

  “Oh!” said Michael, turning and looking at Lionel whose eyes he could just see over the boxes of shopping. “Of course! Indeed – who else!”

  “Well, I’d shake your hand to wish you congratulations, Lionel, but I wouldn’t want to risk another avalanche of bags and boxes!”

  “Yes – yes, indeed!” said Lionel as he precariously balanced the shopping.

  “Well, now, that is a turn-up for the books!” said Michael, his face full of amusement as he looked at Kitty.

  He was beginning to annoy her by his reaction and attitude.

  “We are hoping for June or July,” Kitty said, trying to sound aloof to fend off his mocking attitude.

  “Indeed, best to stay away from May – as they say, ‘Marry in May and rue the day!’” Michael gave a chuckle.

  “We very much hope you can come to the wedding,” said Lionel. “I know what a close friend you are to the whole family.”

  “Well, now, that is one day I would not miss!”

  “Yes, well, we’d better be going,” snapped Kitty. “We still have shopping to do and we don’t want to miss our train back home.”

  “Sure, poor Lionel won’t be able to carry any more shopping, Kitty! You’ll have him killed before you can get him to the altar!”

  “Oh, no, it’s quite alright, Michael, I have very strong arms – it’s from all the tennis and rugby,” said Lionel.

  “Tennis – indeed!” said Michael in bemusement.

  “As I said, we’ll be off!” snapped Kitty.

  “I believe Gearóid is heading down to you for the Christmas?” said Michael.

  “Yes – if you can spare him?” she responded coldly.

  “Ah, sure, I wouldn’t want to keep him away from Maud for the Christmas. I wouldn’t want to hamper true love!” said Michael, smiling mockingly at both of them.

  “Nice to see you again, Michael,” said Kitty.

  “Hopefully we’ll see you soon,” said Lionel.

  “Yes, and maybe we can plan a game of tennis,” Michael suggested with a wink at Kitty.

  “Yes, that would be lovely!” said Lionel.


  “Happy Christmas, Michael – come along, Lionel!” said Kitty as she walked briskly away.

  Michael shook his head as he watched the two of them trot down the street.

  “Yes, run along, Lionel, and be a good little lapdog,” Michael whispered and he chuckled to himself.

  “He seems such a nice fellow,” said Lionel.

  Kitty sighed loudly. “Lionel! Did you not notice he was taking the piss out of us the whole time?”

  “What?” Lionel asked, confused.

  “I don’t know which is worse – the fact that big-headed eejit was taking the piss out of you or the fact that you didn’t notice he was!” she said, trying to contain her temper.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Lionel.

  “Oh Lionel, sometimes – when we are in company – sometimes I just wish you’d say nothing – nothing at all!”

  CHAPTER 16

  Michael had been intrigued, amused and a little worried when he bumped into Kitty and Lionel on Grafton Street. Intrigued, as he would never have put somebody as vivacious and smart as Kitty with a man as dull as Lionel. Amused, because she looked as if she was embarrassed by her own fiancé half the time. Worried that she was making the biggest mistake of her life in the hope of having a secure and stable marriage. Also worried about how Harry in America would react to the news. If Lionel hadn’t been there, he would have queried her about Harry and whether he had been informed. He hoped Kitty knew what she was doing.

  He was also confused and dismayed over Helen. She was spending the Christmas with Paul’s family. He had been hoping to hear that the engagement had been called off. He desperately wanted to speak to her but, as he had said to Kitty, it had just been too dangerous for him to go anywhere near Granard after what had happened there. He didn’t know what to do, but he wished he had told her strongly how he felt about her. He was sure that if Helen knew how he felt she wouldn’t go through with her marriage to Paul.

  In the early hours of the morning of Christmas Eve, Michael’s driver drove him to Greystones to Éamon de Valera’s house.