The Girls of Ennismore

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The Girls of Ennismore Page 27

by Patricia Falvey


  Random fears tried to push their way into her mind – was she condemning herself to hell for her mortal sin, what would Ma say if she knew, what if she were to become pregnant – but melted in the fierce heat that blazed between her and Cathal. None of those things mattered. She was powerless against what was happening to her body. Her mind thus emptied, she was free to let all of her physical senses totally engage with this man whom she loved and trusted with her life. They both cried out as he entered her. She moved closer, straining to possess him as he possessed her. They moved together, clutching each other in mutual need for intimacy and release.

  Afterwards, she lay in his arms, her head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. She smiled in contentment. She had given Cathal her most precious gift, and she had given it gladly.

  From then on all pretence that their relationship was merely friendship disappeared and they fell into the easy intimacy of lovers.

  CHAPTER 31

  The Easter race card at Fairyhouse Racecourse featured the Irish Grand National and was the highlight of the racing season. Crowds filled the grounds. Lords and ladies moved easily among farmers and labourers. Women in festive hats and silk dresses, men in tailcoats and in rough, wool jackets, English soldiers in uniform, and jockeys wearing riding silks in a rainbow of colours, all strolled about leisurely, admiring one another. Bookmakers stood on platforms barking out odds, their voices carrying above the music and thudding hooves out on the track. Smells of turf and horse-sweat mixed with intoxicating fragrances of perfumed women amid triumphant roars and raucous laughter. And above all the festivity the sun blazed hot as summer.

  Victoria made her way through the throngs of people towards her family’s box. At any other time she would have been delighted with the spectacle, but a fog of sadness still gripped her. It had been with her ever since Brendan left. She went about her daily work in a daze, her emotions flat like muted notes on a piano. Aunt Marianne tried in vain to coax her out to social events, but eventually gave up in frustration. The only reason Victoria had ventured to the racecourse today was the chance to see her family, particularly her dear papa.

  ‘My dearest Victoria. How good to see you! How well you look.’

  Lord Ennis encased his daughter in a hug more enthusiastic than any she remembered. She smiled up into her father’s face.

  ‘It’s good to see you too, Papa. I have missed you.’

  She held back tears as she looked at her father. His frame was thinner than she remembered, his hair greyer, and lines etched his face. He had aged greatly in a year and she feared he might be ill.

  ‘Come on, your mama is waiting.’

  Victoria let her father lead her to a private box on the highest level of the pavilion. Her mother, Aunt Louisa and Sofia sat in a row like so many plumed birds in their large, feathered hats and silk and brocade dresses. Sofia stood up to embrace her while her mother and aunt remained seated so that Victoria had to stoop to kiss each of them on the cheek. Her mother patted the chair beside her.

  ‘Sit, Victoria. I want to hear about everything you have been doing.’

  Victoria and Sofia exchanged glances and smiled. Lord Ennis excused himself to place a wager on a race.

  ‘The National is coming up later,’ he said. ‘I have a horse running named after Julian. Wish him luck. There will be competition from a horse owned by an American fellow. We can’t let the Americans win, can we? No offence, of course, Sofia.’

  He was ebullient as he went off down the steps. A sense of abandonment filled Victoria as she watched her father leave. She looked around for her brother.

  ‘Is Valentine here?’ she said.

  Sofia’s expression went blank, but Lady Ennis spoke up.

  ‘I expect he is here somewhere with his regiment. Although why he fails to seek out his parents – and of course his wife – is beyond me. But at least he has not been reduced to fighting his way out of a mud-filled ditch in France.’

  Victoria arranged her face into a smile. ‘So, Mama, do tell me all the news from Ennismore. I’m dying to hear everything.’

  For the next hour the conversation flowed easily, from accounts of young Julian’s antics, to gossip about neighbours and acquaintances, to the plummeting standards of the staff and to Mr Burke and Mrs Murphy’s upcoming nuptials. In an effort to postpone her mother’s inevitable inquisition, Victoria kept the conversation going by asking as many questions as she could think of. Eventually she ran out of ideas, and her mother pounced.

  ‘You have been lying to us, Victoria. Your father and I met Dr Cullen at breakfast this morning, and he said you have not been working with his clinic for almost a year. Imagine how embarrassing it was for us to be caught on the back foot. Please explain yourself.’

  Victoria swallowed hard. ‘It’s true, Mama. I left his clinic to work at the South Dublin Union Hospital. I find the work there more challenging. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid it would upset you.’ She took a deep breath and continued. ‘I’m enjoying it very much and I am learning a great deal about nursing.’

  She paused and hoped she had said enough to satisfy her mother. She was certainly not going to tell her that the Union served Dublin’s poor, that the working conditions were deplorable, or that she was exposed daily to any number of infections and diseases.

  Her mother drew her lips into a tight line of disapproval. ‘I still don’t understand why you would leave the safety of Dr Cullen’s clinic where you were surrounded by people of our class just to learn more about nursing. What good will it do you? When the war ends you will give it up and return to Ennismore. It’s not as if you plan to make a lifetime career out of it.’

  Victoria opened her mouth to say she had no intention of returning to Ennismore but her words would have been drowned out by the roar of the crowds around them as the Grand National race was called. Instead, she stood up with Sofia to cheer on the horses. The race covered some three and a half miles and the horses had to jump twenty-five fences along the way. Her father’s horse, Julian, ran well, but he was neck and neck with the American-owned horse, named Fifth Avenue. A horse named All Sorts eventually went on to win. Julian beat Fifth Avenue, but neither horse placed. Victoria was disappointed for her father, but was sure he would at least be pleased that he had vanquished the American horse.

  That afternoon, a group of English soldiers, emboldened with the effects of alcohol, mounted the steps near where the Bell family sat. Victoria watched them, craning her neck to see if Valentine was among them. Her ears pricked up when she caught a snippet of their conversation.

  ‘Eleven o’clock this morning,’ one soldier said, ‘marched into the city bold as brass and took over the General Post Office. That fellow Pearse stood out in front and read a proclamation declaring a free Ireland, and then they took down the British flag and put up an Irish one. It beggars belief.’

  ‘I heard the local people just laughed at them,’ said another. ‘Pack of fools the lot of them. They’ll get no support from Dubliners, mark my words.’

  ‘Bloody nuisance, I’d say,’ put in a third soldier. ‘They’ve occupied the Four Courts, the Union and some other buildings as well. Tried to storm Dublin Castle but they were pushed back.’ He sighed. ‘They’ve caused enough of a problem, though, that we’ve all been ordered back to our garrisons. I, for one, am not happy about it.’

  The soldiers continued grumbling among themselves but Victoria had stopped listening. Sudden anxiety pierced through the fog of her sadness. The uprising had begun. She must get back to Dublin at once, and find Brendan. She didn’t care that they had parted on such bad terms. She loved him and needed to be with him. She prayed he had not been hurt. In a frenzy she looked around her – how was she to get back? Where was Valentine? Lady Ennis, Louisa and Sofia were staring up at her.

  ‘What on earth’s the matter with you, Victoria?’ said her mother. ‘Are you unwell?’

  Victoria turned to her mother. ‘Unwell? Yes, Mama, yes I am. I
feel faint. I have to go home.’

  ‘You will come with us then. I think we are all ready to leave. We will be back at Ennismore in a few hours and you can take a few days of rest.’

  ‘No!’ Victoria realized that she had shouted too loudly. People had turned to stare. ‘No,’ she said again, trying to control her trembling voice, ‘not Ennismore. I must get back to Dublin.’

  ‘But why?’ persisted Lady Ennis. ‘What is so urgent?’

  ‘There’s been an uprising! Didn’t you hear the soldiers?’

  Lady Ennis’s face turned pale. ‘An uprising? She stood up. ‘Where is Edward? We must leave immediately. You too, Victoria.’

  Victoria was about to protest when Valentine appeared beside her. He put his arm around her and turned stiffly to his family. ‘Mother,’ he said, ‘Aunt Louisa, I hope you are both well.’ Before they could answer he took Sofia’s hand and kissed her on the cheek. ‘It is good to see you, Sofia. And Julian is well?’

  Sofia nodded while Lady Ennis and Lady Louisa sat in silent expectation, apparently waiting for Valentine to say more.

  Victoria broke the silence. ‘Valentine. It’s so good to see you. Please. I need your help. I must get to Dublin right away. There’s been an uprising and I have to find . . . there is someone I have to find to make sure he’s all right.’

  Valentine’s face turned pale. He had obviously not yet heard the news. She waited for his confusion to pass and prayed. He looked at his mother and aunt, let his gaze linger for a time on Sofia, and then turned back to her. At last he spoke. ‘Of course. Come with me. I have access to an army motor car. I will drive you into the city if we can get through. Are you ready to leave now?’

  ‘Yes,’ Victoria said. ‘Oh, thank you, Valentine.’

  She turned to her mother, aunt and Sofia. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything later. Please say goodbye to Papa.’

  With that she took Valentine’s arm and together they made their way back through the crowds and to the perimeter of the grounds where his car was parked. He settled her into the passenger seat then took the wheel.

  ‘Dublin it is,’ he said.

  As they drove, Victoria’s earlier anxiety reasserted itself. Where was Brendan? Was he part of the uprising? She knew the answer, of course. He was bound to be in the forefront of all of this mayhem. At first she was angry. Why on earth did Brendan and his comrades have to be so stubborn? Did they not realize the odds against them? But her anger ebbed as she pictured Brendan’s glowing face when he had talked about the purpose of the revolution – ‘A free Ireland, Victoria,’ he had said, ‘can you imagine what that will mean?’ She was being selfish, she realized, worried only what this could mean for her. Brendan might be killed. If the revolution spread, Ennismore might eventually be destroyed and her parents put in grave danger. She shivered with fear and looked over at her brother.

  ‘What are we to do, Valentine?’ she said.

  Valentine shrugged. ‘If it has begun, there is not much we can do.’

  Suddenly he pounded his fist on the steering wheel, startling her. ‘I curse the army for delaying my deployment. By rights I should be fighting in France by now – fighting a real enemy, not my own countrymen.’ He looked at her and she saw tears of frustration in his eyes. ‘Tell me, Victoria, how am I supposed to take up arms against other Irishmen?’

  Victoria looked at him in alarm. ‘Because they’ll kill you if you don’t.’

  The outskirts of the city were eerily quiet. There were no soldiers to be seen on the streets, nor any Metropolitan police. Victoria looked left and right. She flinched when she caught sight of a dead horse lying on the side of the road.

  ‘One of the Lancers,’ said Valentine, referring to the British army mounted division. ‘There must have been some fighting earlier.’

  ‘Can we drive past the Union?’ she said. ‘I want to see what’s going on there. I have to go there to work in the morning.’

  ‘I’d advise you to stay home until this thing is over,’ said Valentine. ‘It won’t be safe on the streets for anybody.’

  ‘Can we just go and see it please?’

  They drove slowly past the Union. The hospital building was quiet, as were the various old workhouse buildings that surrounded it. The light was fading, but Victoria could make out men peering from behind the grimy windows. Was one of them Brendan? The news that there had been little fighting buoyed her hopes but she worried what would happen when the army regrouped and began shelling. She began to tremble.

  As they drove on into the city centre they saw the shattered windows of the shops along Sackville Street. Broken glass, discarded boxes, old clothes and other debris covered the pavement. Victoria uttered a cry.

  ‘Looters,’ said Valentine. ‘It’s no wonder they took advantage of the situation. There’s not a policeman in sight.’

  As he spoke, a few stragglers peered at them. A sour-faced girl, wearing several coats, a huge hat with plumes, and carrying two handbags on each arm, made a rude gesture at them as they passed. ‘One can hardly blame them,’ said Valentine. ‘Many of them have next to nothing.’

  Victoria thought of Bridie and nodded.

  The car crept past the General Post Office where the uprising had begun. Sandbags filled the windows and an Irish flag flew from its roof, but all else was quiet. Copies of the proclamation declaring a free Ireland that the soldier at the race track had mentioned were tacked up on every post and building.

  On St Stephen’s Green, a group of men, some with only a bandolier over their street clothes for a uniform, guarded the perimeter, rifles cocked. Victoria spied a couple of women among them. She recognized one of them as Nora Butler, Geraldine’s sister. She wondered if Rosie was there as well. Suddenly two of the rebels jumped out in front of them, waving rifles and signalling them to pull over. Instead, Valentine revved the engine and pulled around them.

  ‘They want the car for the barricade,’ he said, indicating a makeshift barrier of cars and carts that surrounded the Green.

  As they sped past the men lowered their rifles. Victoria caught a glimpse of their faces. They were boys, not men, she thought, they couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen. Where was Brendan?

  There was no sign of the army. It was obvious from what she had heard out at the races that they had all been caught unawares.

  As if reading her thoughts, Valentine turned to her, his face grave.

  ‘It’s quiet now but mark my words it will be a different story tomorrow or the next day. The army will have called in reinforcements and they’ll be bringing out the heavy artillery. Those poor bastards beyond in the GPO and elsewhere won’t stand a chance.’

  They drove on in silence. When they finally arrived at Fitzwilliam Square he helped her out of the car. She held his arm, not wanting to let go of the comfort of his presence.

  He took her hands in his. ‘Be careful, Victoria. I shall wait here until you are inside. Please stay there and make sure you lock and bar all the doors.’

  Victoria smiled. He was her big brother again, her gallant protector of their youth. ‘Be safe, Valentine,’ she whispered as she stepped out of the car.

  CHAPTER 32

  Victoria slept fitfully that night and rose before dawn. As soon as it was light she would leave for the Union. She had to find Brendan. Lady Marianne and Mr Kearney had left Dublin for the holiday weekend before the uprising had begun and only Celine was in the house. The frightened maid stood in front of her to try to prevent her from leaving. But Victoria pushed past her and opened the front door.

  ‘I will be needed at the Union,’ she said firmly. ‘There are likely to be casualties.’

  The streets around Fitzwilliam Square were quiet. The sun was up and promised another warm day. She walked resolutely towards the hospital, her head up, portraying a confidence she did not feel. When she reached the Union everything looked normal on the outside, just as it had the night before when Valentine had dropped her off. As she entered an older
nurse ran towards her, wringing her hands.

  ‘Victoria, I’m so glad you’ve come. The rebels have taken over all the buildings, and a lot of the girls are afraid to come down here. We have almost no nursing staff. And we have only a few doctors – many of them were out of town for the holiday and can’t get back through Dublin.’ She blessed herself. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to manage when the casualties come in. I can only pray to God this thing is over quick.’

  Victoria wanted to look for Brendan but had no chance. She was thrown into work immediately. Uprising or no uprising, Dublin’s poor still streamed in looking for care. She worked all morning without a break. At noon she managed to slip out into a side yard. She saw a furtive movement near one of the old workhouse buildings. It was a young man lighting up a cigarette. He wore civilian clothes but Victoria guessed he was with the Volunteers. He had laid a rifle at his feet. Slowly she approached him, her hands held out in front of her in reassurance. She hoped her nursing uniform would lessen his alarm.

  ‘I’m just looking for someone,’ she whispered as he bent to retrieve his rifle. ‘Brendan Lynch. D’you know him?’

  ‘What are ye after wanting with him?’ His country accent almost made her smile. He might have been from Mayo.

  ‘I’m his friend. I heard some of the Volunteers were to be garrisoned here. I just want to see him. To be sure he’s all right.’

  He was suspicious, she could see. Maybe it was her upper-class accent. She moved closer. ‘Please, I just want to know.’

  His face softened. ‘He was here yesterday all right, but some of the boys were moved out this morning. Reinforcements were needed down at St Stephen’s Green and other places. I’m sorry I don’t know where they sent him.’

 

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