Suddenly she was exhausted and despondent again. Whenever she tried to make plans, her brain refused to work. She just couldn’t think about the future, because without Rory she wished she had no future. She thought about all the bullets flying about during the week in the GPO, why couldn’t she have got one of those? Then she and Rory would be together, and she wouldn’t have to live each day alone.
Such thoughts haunted her every day, always the same, and she wondered if she’d ever really recover from Rory’s death. People always say that time heals, but she wasn’t convinced. The pain was on so many levels. She felt it as a physical pain in her heart, literally, as if her heart was broken, but it was the mental pain that was the worst. The thoughts of long lonely years stretching ahead without him tormented her. Sometimes she wished she had never left the convent, never known him, because at least then she would never have known what she was missing. Throughout the day she kept busy, helping on the farm and playing with the little ones, but once she went to bed, these thoughts went round and round in her head, refusing to allow sleep to come. Last night she had gone outside in the early hours of the morning, only to see his face every time she closed her eyes, smiling down at her, making her promise to live her life. There wasn’t much room in the farmhouse and she was sharing a room with Eileen and two of Rory’s younger sisters. She needed to be alone with her grief, so she had slipped outside. As she leaned against the wall of the byre on the summer’s night in her nightdress and cardigan, she felt her body rack with sobs. Loneliness and heartache crashed over her like relentless waves and she felt she might drown beneath the horrific weight of it all.
She remembered feeling strong arms envelope her and the sobs continued. Rory’s father held her tight and rubbed her hair.
‘Tis better out than in, Mary girl. You’ll be alright. Leave it go!’
For what seemed like forever he rubbed her back and let her cry for Rory. Eventually as the sobs subsided he gave her his handkerchief. He took a small bottle out of his coat pocket, and taking the cork off, he handed it to her. She sipped it and though the whiskey burned her throat, it warmed her. He drew her down to a low wall and sat down beside her. As the sun rose the dawn chorus was commencing.
‘He wrote to me, you know, all about you and ye’er plans together.’ John O’Dwyer spoke quietly, not wanting to wake the household. She wondered why he was up and about at his time, then remembered Rory saying his father hardly slept at all. There were calves in the field nearest the house and one of them was sickening for something. He was probably checking on her. Mary had liked him the moment she met him. He was quieter than Rory, but he was strong and solid and was like a big warm blanket wrapped around his family. Not for the first time, Mary felt a pang of envy at the happiness and safety of their home. Rory and Eileen adored their parents, and once Mary met Peg and John O’Dwyer she could see why.
‘Did he?’ she asked through her tears.
‘He did. And he also asked me to look after you if anything happened to him. My son died for Ireland, and though our hearts are breaking at the loss of him, we will do what he wanted us to do. Now I know you were talking to Peg the other day about finding a job in one of the big houses around or something like that, but there’s to be no more of that talk, do you hear me? You are my daughter now, the same as the ones inside and no different. You’ll stay here till you want to go. And if that time never comes, then that’s fine with me too. I won’t have any child of mine married off to some man who won’t love her, nor sold into the service of the gentry. So you have a home here for as long as you want it. You’re a great help to Peg around the place and the small ones are mad about you. I know a bit about where you came from, and how hard it was for you growing up with the nuns. All I want you to know is that you are home now.’
Mary thought that might have been the longest speech she ever heard Rory’s father make, but she knew that he meant it. Peg was so kind to her too, and the little ones were like the brothers and sisters she never had. The few times she smiled or laughed, in recent weeks, were when she was playing some game with them or they were making up stories to tell her. The nuns hadn’t liked the children in the home to become friendly with each other, so people just stuck to themselves. Even now that he was gone, she could feel Rory’s protection and love.
The sun shone on her face as she kept walking along, doing its best to lift her spirits. Foxgloves and bluebells bloomed in profusion in the ditches, and it was hard to imagine that it was the same country that had been plunged into bloody revolution just weeks earlier. The attitude in the country was changing rapidly towards the rebels. Once, they were regarded as nothing but troublemakers and glory hunters, but now after the British so callously executed the leaders, the mood in the country had changed. They were heroes and deserving of honour and praise.
Last week she had been in the local draper’s getting cloth for Peg when the girl behind the counter seemed less than friendly. By now it was all over the parish who she was.
‘So you’re the wan from Dublin that was around with Rory O’Dwyer, the Lord have mercy on him?’ the shop assistant asked with a sneer.
Before Mary had time to answer, Mae Sullivan, the owner of the shop called from the back, ‘That’s enough of your attitude now, Vera O’Driscoll. That girl was engaged to be married to Rory, and if the cursed British hadn’t cut his life short he’d be introducing her to you as his bride, God be good to him. So don’t mind your auld jealousy at all. Rory O’Dwyer had no eye for you and that’s all that’s wrong with you.’ Mae moved out from the bales of dark cloth, smiling all the while.
‘Don’t you mind the likes of her at all, Mary, there wasn’t a girl for forty miles who didn’t set her cap at Rory O’Dwyer, and he charmed them too right enough, but he was never serious with them. There’ll be a few ‘round about here who might be a biteen jealous that you were the one to get him, the poor lad. And sure isn’t it obvious why he was taken with you and you so pretty! Peg tells me you were there, above in the GPO and all?’
‘Well yes, just as a nurse. I’m in Cumann na mBan, you see, and that’s how I met Rory really... ‘ Even mentioning his name gave her a sharp pain in her chest.
‘Well, he was a grand lad and he growing up around here, and he did his family and his country proud. That’s eight shillings and fourpence please, for the serge. Tis gone a ferocious price but with the war on ’tis close to impossible to get anything half decent. All the ships that used to bring in anything to Ireland are used for fighting the Kaiser now,’ she added in a stage whisper, ‘and the best of luck to him too!’
Mary felt the chastened Vera throwing daggers with her eyes as she left the shop with her purchase. Eileen had warned her of the reaction she might get from some of the local girls. Apparently everyone had their eye on Rory, and she heard a few whispers as she went up to receive on Sundays at mass. It was one of the rare conversations they’d had since they arrived in Limerick. Mary missed the old Eileen, but she knew her friend was trying to be strong for her family and the only way to do that was to withdraw into herself.
Eileen was spending a bit of time with Teddy Lane, the son of a neighbouring farmer, who clearly loved her, but she wasn’t capable of feeling anything but pain at the moment. He was patient and gentle, taking her for walks and bringing her things that might put the smile back on her face. He was a friend of both Rory and Eileen since childhood, and he seemed to know instinctively what she needed, making no demands on her, just a reassuring presence, walking beside her through her pain. Eileen had mentioned him a few times when they were in Dublin. She used to get occasional letters from him, and Mary thought that maybe, in time, Eileen could smile again and his love might be reciprocated. Mary hoped, for Eileen’s sake, that he would wait till she was able to face living again. Mary knew that for herself, there would be no other. She had promised Rory she would move on, but she knew that in her heart there was only one man for her, and he was gone.
A
s she entered the yard, she was surprised not to see the little ones playing around. On the fine days Peg gave them little jobs to do in the mornings, like feeding hens or picking tomatoes or fruit from the bushes, but the afternoons were their own for roaming around the farm. The twins, Michael and Patrick, who were ten years old and always plotting some devilment, were no doubt off up the fields, and Kate, Eileen’s younger sister, was probably helping a neighbour with her new baby. Kate, with her sweet gentle nature, had a great knack with babies, settling even the most fractious ones, and so she was in high demand around the parish. The smallest ones, Tim, aged five, and little Siobhán, who was only three, usually pottered around the yard with the dog. The border collie had had pups a week before and their arrival was a cause of great excitement. Everyone was waiting each day for the puppies’ eyes to open. The exuberance and giggles of Tim and Siobhán were what kept the family going.
Mary went into the kitchen to find the two smallest sitting up at the table drinking milk. John, Peg, and Eileen were standing by the range, staring at a piece of paper. Mary’s heart thumped in her chest. It must be the official confirmation of Rory’s execution. Peg and Eileen were crying and John just handed the piece of paper to her. She looked down, something was wrong. It wasn’t the terse, typed document she was expecting, but a letter.
With shaking hands she began to read:
Dear Family and Mary,
I realise this letter might come as a bit of a shock to you, and I would have written sooner if I could have, but they only let me have pen and paper today. As you know, I was to be executed for my part in the insurgence against the legitimate crown forces in Dublin two months ago.
Well, the commanding officer in Kilmainham jail, after I pleaded my case, reassessed the evidence against me, and, based on a lack of proof that I was a major participant in the rebellion, had my sentence commuted to ten years in prison.
I am currently serving my sentence in Frongoch prison, Wales, and I am well. My health is good and I am in good spirits. We are being treated well here, with enough food, and we even get to play an odd football match now and then.
I hope you are all well and know that you are all in my prayers.
Love, Rory
Mary sat down heavily on the kitchen chair, suddenly too weak to stand. She tried to gather her thoughts. Rory was alive! She had to keep saying it over and over.
’Rory is alive! Rory is alive!’ Suddenly, she was pulled into a hug as Eileen and her parents cried tears of pure unadulterated joy. The nightmare was over. Rory was alive!
‘Can we write to him, do you think?’ Mary asked a jubilant John.
‘Well, we can try girl, we can surely try! Though from the sounds of that letter, they read everything. There’s no way Rory would have called those murderers the legitimate crown forces. No, I’d say they are worried now, now that everyone is getting behind the rebels, and they want to smooth things over a bit. They’re up to their necks in it over in France and Belgium, and the last thing the need here is more shenanigans out of the Irish.’
‘Ten years he said.’ Peg was fretting. ‘Ten years in an English jail for my boy...’
John held both his wife’s hands in his and said softly to her, ‘Peg, a stór, our boy is alive. He’s alive, and we thought he was dead. Sure who knows what’s going to happen next, maybe he won’t serve the ten years, or maybe he’ll be allowed to serve them here and we can visit him. The thing is, our child is alive.’
‘You’re right, John, I know you’re right. I just want to see him, to hold him in my arms. I thought he was in heaven. I couldn’t bear it. Having him in an English jail is better than that. Do you think he was being truthful, that they’re feeding him and treating him well?’
Eileen couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Ah Mam, don’t be worrying, Rory is tough out. Sure they were living out rough half the time above in the Wicklow Mountains when the crowd in Dublin Castle were rounding them up. He’ll be there with all of our own, and they’ll look out for each other. I’ll tell you what, why don’t we sit down right now, the children and all and write a big long letter to him. They might let it into him if the small ones write it.’
The atmosphere in the house was ecstatic as the farm labourers arrived for their tea and were told the great news. It went around the area that Rory was alive, and neighbours called with cake and whiskey and the music and singing went on late into the night. Eileen even danced with Teddy in the middle of the kitchen, much to his delight. Mary had to keep reminding herself that Rory was alive, in prison, maybe for a long time, but alive.
Chapter 33
Darling Mary,
I got your letter this morning and the package too. I’m wearing the lovely gansaí you knit for me, and all the other lads are eyeing it up, especially now the nights are getting chilly! When I put it on it’s like having your lovely arms around me. I’ll probably get a right doing from the lads if anyone reads this but I don’t care. You’ve no idea what it means to me to hear from you and all the family. I’m so sorry I had to put you through all that, thinking they executed me XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX…
Mary wondered what Rory wrote next, the letters were heavily censored, so the prisoners had to be very careful in what they said and even then large portions were clipped neatly out. It was most frustrating. Peg and John had got a letter last week that was impossible to read, so little was left of it.
Life here isn’t too bad so don’t be worrying. In your last letter you asked me what we did all day so I’ll try to answer you. We are left to ourselves most of the time, and we take turns to cook and keep the place fairly tidy, though it does lack a woman’s touch, I’ll be honest. We play a lot of football and Michael Collins, do you remember him? A big lad from West Cork, well he’s doing great work organising us into leagues. I’m a Limerick man first and foremost, but I tog out for Clare and Galway too whenever I’m needed, though I draw the line at Kerry. We suffered too many championship defeats to those lads over the years! It’s a great way to keep in shape though and to pass the time.
We say the rosary every night and we have mass here once a week and I serve the priest, a local man. It takes me back to my days as an altar boy at home. Apart from that, I read a lot, the other lads get books sent in and we share them around. In fact, if you could send us a few books that would be great, anything you can get, but history books and mythology are very popular. I’m reading all about Fionn McCumhaill at the moment so again I’m reminded of my days as a boy in the National School with Master O’Donnell. If you see him around, tell him I was asking for him. I’m learning a lot in here from the others as well, Irish, History even a bit of French, would you believe? There’s a few lads in here are teachers, so we have classes, just to pass the time.
Keep writing to me, it makes my day when I get something from home and especially one from you, my darling girl. I go to sleep each night praying for you. I can just picture you asleep in the girls’ bedroom upstairs with Eileen and Kate and little Siobhán, and it gives me great comfort to know my family are looking after you for me until we can be together again.
Always yours,
Rory
Mary folded the letter and put it under her pillow. She lay in bed wondering what life was really like for Rory. She knew he would never complain about the conditions even if they were terrible. It was all part of the mindset, just like during Easter Week and the aftermath: never let them know they are getting to you. She knew one thing for sure, if Collins was in charge in there, those lads were not sitting around just trying to pass the time. He would be preparing them for the next time, the next onslaught against the British. The football was a ruse to find a way to keep the men fit and battle ready, she was sure of it! The thoughts of Rory going to war again, risking his life again, filled her with a dark dread, but she knew that this was what would happen, whenever he was released. He won’t rest until Ireland is free, she thought. She also knew for a sure and certain fact that she would support
him and stand beside him, armed if necessary.
The Great War was raging and the losses experienced by both sides were so catastrophic that it was kept secret for fear of damaging national morale. She recalled a Cumann na mBan meeting back in 1915 when the speaker reminded the women of the quotation from Daniel O’Connell, known as the Liberator, the leader of Catholic emancipation, that England’s difficulty was Ireland’s opportunity. Well, she thought, the pressure put on England by the Great War could be no more difficult than at this present time. If there was ever a time to strike, it was now. The general opinion of people across the country was favourable to the rebels since England was now stretched to breaking point, but the men remained locked up. Surely there were others, though, she mused, men who had not been rounded up after Easter week? Perhaps it was time to do more than just write letters. She wondered how Eileen would react if she suggested starting a branch of Cumann na MBan down in Limerick.
‘We’d have to be careful,’ Eileen said when Mary suggested it the following day as they were milking the cows, ‘but I agree with you. We could organise relief for the prisoners, maybe help out the families of those imprisoned or killed. On top of that, we have to keep up the anti-conscription battle. The English are getting desperate at this stage since the war in Europe is disastrous, and they’ll offer anything to get Irish lads to join up. Last weekend Mrs Ryan from up by the church told me her boy Liam was going. I tried to talk her out of it but she said he was determined. He wanted to get out from the farm and see the world, he said. ’Tis precious little of the world he’ll see over there, but she said there’s no talking to him. The recruitment officer was in Croom a few weeks back promising all sorts of rewards for any fellow who’d sign up. It’s high time those lads were reminded what country they’re from.’
Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars Page 63