by Anne Doughty
John’s face softened briefly, but the desolateness returned.
‘An’ you think she’ll marry him?’ he asked shortly.
‘Oh yes. She will. It’s just a matter of time,’ she said reassuringly.
‘Would ye think of a move then?’ he asked shyly.
‘I’d miss the mountains,’ she said after a long pause. ‘And the garden. And the Jacksons, especially young Emily, but you’re right. It’s all going to be so different when Sarah goes and I’d be happy to be near Elizabeth and Richard. I promise I’ll think about it, love, I really will.’
‘Aye. You do that. And mind, you don’t have to sell this place. It’s yours. An’ if you weren’t happy in the town, we could come back. Aren’t we lucky we has the choice?’
‘We’re fortunate, John, but we’re not lucky,’ she went on. ‘We made our luck, or you did, mostly, by working so hard and doing so well. That’s why we can think of a move if that’s what we want.’
John nodded and looked pleased, but when he continued, his tone was almost solemn.
‘I’d never have got anywhere without you, Rose. My mother always said that an’ she was right.’
She laughed and suddenly saw herself back at Annacramp, a bride of some two weeks, being welcomed by Granny Sarah. The old woman had embraced her, then turned to her son, an irreverent grin on her face. She’d laughed up at him as he bent to kiss her.
‘Aren’t you the lucky one. Didn’t I always say you were the one that would land on yer feet whether you were rich or poor.’
Sam Hamilton was tired out after his long drive to and from Dublin, but he lay awake that night for a long time. Sarah and the children were due home on Tuesday, but there was no chance of that happening with the city full of barricades and the railway lines dug up. He wished he knew the layout of the city better. He’d like to feel she was somewhere out of the way of the trouble, but from all he’d heard Lily Molyneux’s house was not that far from Sackville Street and Grafton Street and they were central streets where the men in green were sure to be active.
He thought of his mother waiting to welcome her home and found his mind drifting off to times long gone, when he’d come in from work, tired and cold. There was always a welcome and a kind word and maybe a wee joke. He sighed. He’d had to learn to live without warmth and kindness. It was not in Martha to welcome anyone, even the children, though he knew she cared for them in her own way. The only one to welcome him these days was little Rose.
Dark-haired and bright-eyed like his own mother, she would hold up her arms whenever she saw him, expecting him to bend down and gather her up. Such a wee scrap of a child she was, though nearly seven. He’d worried about her until his mother herself told him how small she’d been at the same age, but at least she was safe, not like Sarah and her wee ones somewhere in the heart of Dublin.
Eventually, he fell asleep and woke at his usual time, his mind clear it was up to him to find a way of getting her back. The only person he could think of that could help him was Alex and he was in Banbridge. There was little chance he could get time off today, but he’d ask for a half day on Wednesday and that would give him time enough to go and see his mother as well.
Tuesday passed slowly. Mickey Doyle didn’t appear for work and there were routine problems from the previous day as well as the damaged windscreen to be repaired. The boss had gone up to Belfast on business and wasn’t due back till late afternoon. While he worked and waited, Sam did his best not to worry. Thinking things through was one thing, but worry quite another, for it undermined the strength of spirit you would surely need.
‘And your sister is in the city, Sam?’ old man Piele asked, after he’d given a full account of the previous day’s delivery to Dublin.
‘I’m afraid she is, sir. Our Uncle Sam is with her which is a good thing, but she has the wee girl and boy.’
‘Dear a dear. We live in hard times,’ he exclaimed, shaking his head sadly. ‘Well, the first thing we’ll do is telephone the Friends in Dublin. They’ll tell us all they know. And you can certainly go over to Banbridge tomorrow. There’s a small order for Brookmount. Do that first and we’ll not count it as time off. I’ll go and make some calls and come back and tell you what I’ve found out.’
Sam returned to his work, pleased he’d not lose a half day’s pay but anxious about the news from Dublin. He hadn’t long to wait before his employer came out of the office looking grim.
‘Sorry, Sam, I’ve no news. It looks like they’ve cut the lines. I tried six different people I know. There’s nothing but silence,’ he explained, shaking his head. ‘We’ll have to put them in God’s hands till we see our way, but go to Banbridge tomorrow and tell your mother before she maybe sees something in the papers. There’s nothing about it this morning, but there might be by tomorrow.’
As Sam drove up the main street of Banbridge the next morning, he suddenly realised who else might help him. He parked his lorry and went into the post office.
‘Good mornin’,’ he said pleasantly to the girl behind the counter. ‘I’d like to see William Auld,’ he continued, remembering that his former flagman, ‘Wee Billy’ had made his way up in the world.
‘Mister Auld is very busy,’ she replied sharply. ‘He’s in his office and not to be disturbed.’
‘Then perhaps you could tell him Sam Hamilton would like to see him and will wait here till he’s free.’
She turned her back on him without another word and disappeared through a door marked Postmaster and Telegraph. Moments later, she returned, made a feeble attempt at a smile and directed him round the counter to the door behind her.
‘Ach Sam, how are ye?’ Billy Auld said, meeting him at the door and grasping his old friend by the hand. ‘It’s great t’ see ye. It’s been a while now.’
‘Aye it has. I don’t get over that often. Plenty o’ work to do for the sake o’ the wee ones,’ he explained, returning the handshake warmly.
He came to the point directly. ‘Billy, our Sarah’s in Dublin, an’ I know there’s trouble there, for I was down on Monday an’ was lucky to get back. That’s why I’ve come. Can ye help me at all?’
‘Sam dear, that is bad news. Whereabouts in Dublin is she?’
‘A place called Dawson Street. I’ve niver been there, but its near Grafton Street and St Stephen’s Green and not that far from Sackville Street.’
Billy shook his head and looked anxious.
‘I’ll tell you what I know,’ he began, his voice lowered, ‘for your Sarah’s a real lady an’ has always been kind to me. Aye, an’ your mother too. But what I tell you is highly confidential. If it got out I’d lose m’ job.’
‘I’ll not say a word, Billy. I’m just tryin’ to think of some way of getting’ her and the wee ones home safe.’
‘Has she wee Helen and Hugh with her?’ he asked, his eyes opening wide.
Sam just nodded and waited for him to go on.
‘Well, ye know there’s been a rising. The rebels has taken over a whole lot of places in the centre, the City Hall and the Four Courts and the railway stations and the GPO is their headquarters. They’ve cut the telephone lines, but they didn’t get the exchange, so we can still get messages in and out. The Army’s been sent for from England and there’s a thousand troops gone down from the North, a field gun from Athlone and a gunboat’s sailed up the Liffey. They’re well outnumbered so it can’t last long, but there’s been heavy fighting in some places. There was reports this morning of buildings on fire. There’s twenty girls of our staff still working to keep the military in touch with the castle and with London.’
‘But there’d be no way of contacting Sarah, would there?’
Billy shook his head.
‘Normal telephones, telegrams and post are all out of action. If it weren’t for the exchange and a few lines the engineers managed to lead into private connections we’d be completely in the dark. We’re having to relay messages, which is why I know as much as I do,’ he explained, as
he watched Sam’s face grow very thoughtful.
‘But you’d know if things quieted down, wouldn’t you?’
‘Oh yes, we’d know, right enough.’
‘Billy, if I was to send my cousin Alex in t’ see you every day, cou’d you tell him when we might be able to get through in a motor?’
‘Well, I’ll know when there’s a surrender,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘But that might not be the end of it.’
‘No, it might not, but the roads would likely be open. We’d have to take a chance on that.’
‘How would I know your cousin Alex?’ he asked, abruptly.
Sam laughed, the strong lines of his face softening.
‘He looks a bit like my father an’ he has a Canadian accent, but ask him who gave me my cards when I wouldn’t join the lodge. He’ll tell you all right. I’m hopin’ he’ll come with me. If my Uncle Sam wants to come back as well, that’s four and luggage. Far too much for one motor.’
‘Aye, an’ ye might find a shortage of petrol too,’ Billy warned him. ‘Ye’d be advised to take a few cans with you for the way back.’
Sam nodded and stood up.
‘You’re a busy man Mister Auld, so yer woman out there tells me,’ he said grinning. ‘D’ye mind the day ye went for my Ma to see me drivin’ the new Fowler for the first time.’
‘Ah do indeed, Sam,’ he said, smiling, as he looked around his office and as he got up and walked with him to the door. ‘We’ve both come on a bit since then, haven’t we?’
‘Tell Alex, I’ll be expectin’ him,’ he said, dropping his voice as they came out of the general’s office. ‘An’ good luck, Sam.’
‘Thanks, Billy. You’re a good friend. I’ll let you know how it goes.’
He strode out through the main door, climbed up into the parked vehicle and headed out the road to Ballydown.
Rose finished turning the heel of her sock and took a deep breath. However often she turned a heel, she felt sure it wouldn’t go right if she didn’t give it her full attention. This morning, she’d felt so preoccupied she’d been thoroughly irritated by having to concentrate so hard. Now the critical bit was over she could relax.
She sighed and glanced at the clock. No use whatever thinking Sarah might arrive as early as this. Even if she’d got an early train from Dublin, it was nearly three hours to Portadown and then at least another hour to get the local train and drive out in a cab from the station. Mid-afternoon was a more likely time. But she was sure to be back sometime today and it would be so good to see her.
She knew she was going to miss her so much, but then she’d always had a feeling Sarah would go. Indeed, she felt she’d have gone long ago, if she hadn’t married Hugh. But that was as it should be. A woman must make her way. If she clings to her mother and her life as a girl, she’ll never become the full woman she should be. That was what her own mother had said to her, sitting in their tiny room at Currane Lodge, drinking tea by the fire, when she confessed she’d said ‘yes’ to John.
She got up suddenly and went to the dresser. Among the delph and china they used every day there was one cup and saucer more delicate than the rest that had its place but was never used. Rose picked it up and smiled to herself as she found it was full of dust. By right it should be in the china cabinet in the new parlour, but she’d always kept it on this shelf where she could see it, for it was her only tangible link with her own past.
Her mother had given her the pretty cup and saucer the last time she’d seen her, the night before she was married. She’d told her that her own mother had given it to her night before her wedding. As she turned it in her hand, her mother’s words came back to her.
‘I want you to take it with you. And maybe, sometimes, if things go a bit hard with you, you’ll sit down by yourself and drink from the cup, even if it were only spring water you had.’
Rose took the cup and saucer out into the dairy to rinse them under the tap. She dried the fragile pieces carefully on a clean tea towel and carried them back to their place.
Yes, she’d drunk from the cup herself, more than once, but for the most part life had been good to her. She had her family, her home and a man she loved. Now what she most wanted was Sarah to marry the man she loved and move into a world which would give her scope for all her qualities to blossom.
She had just set the cup and saucer carefully back on the shelf when she heard the scrape of boots on the doorstep.
‘John and Alex. What a surprise. I was just going to make tea in the wee pot,’ she said beaming delightedly as they came and kissed her.
‘Ach, we thought you might feel lonesome,’ said John casually.
‘And we knew we’d get cake if we came,’ added Alex, knowing it would make her laugh.
It was not completely unknown for John and Alex to walk down from Rathdrum for a cup of tea if Sarah were away, but it didn’t happen often, and today Rose was grateful for their company.
‘Did you enjoy the Easter Monday dance, Alex?’ she asked, as they settled by the fire.
‘Well,’ he replied cautiously, ‘I haven’t really got the hang of it yet. Emily says I’ve got two left feet.’
‘Never worry, Alex,’ said John vigorously. ‘Shure isn’t dancing only an excuse to get your arms round a girl.’
‘John!’ Rose expostulated. ‘Do you think Alex would need an excuse if he found the right girl? He’s more up to date than you were, you know.’
Alex blushed slightly but John laughed heartily.
‘Aye, I diden have much idea in those days, but I caught on quick once I got a bit of encouragement.’
‘God bless all here.’
‘Ach, son, we diden hear you coming,’ said John, getting to his feet, a broad smile on his face as Sam walked across the threshold. ‘Are you delivering in the town?’
‘Aye. Brookmount,’ he said, as he bent down to kiss his mother.
‘That’s a fair bit out,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘Aye, it is, but Piele’s given me the half day to come and see you,’ he replied quietly, as Rose fetched another mug from the dresser and cut more cake.
She stopped in the middle of pouring tea and looked at him steadily.
‘Sam, something’s wrong. You’ve bad news to tell us?’
‘No, Ma. Not bad news as far as I know,’ he responded, with an effort at a smile. ‘But I came before you might see somethin’ in the Banbridge Chronicle tonight that’d upset you.
‘I know you were expecting Sarah yesterday,’ he went on, ‘but she’ll not be home today either. There’s trouble in Dublin, bad trouble. In fact, she may not get home till I go for her.’
‘What sort of trouble, son,’ asked John shortly, his face grim and drawn.
‘It seems there’s been a rebellion,’ Sam replied bluntly. ‘There’s Volunteers in green all round the place. They were there at Jacobs on Monday when Mickey and I went to deliver an’ we were lucky to get away before the roads was barricaded. On the way back, I saw a party goin’ to pull up railway lines to keep the troops from comin’ in.’
‘But why is there no news of this in the papers, Sam?’ asked Rose, her face suddenly pale.
‘All the ordinary telephone lines are cut, but I went to our friend of ours and found there’s some still working and he’s heard the army’s been sent for, so there’ll be fighting before it’s over. He told me the rebels have set up their headquarters in the GPO. Where would that be, Ma, from where our Sarah is?’
‘Not far enough, Sam,’ she said calmly. ‘A nice wee walk up past Trinity College and over O’Connell Bridge into Sackville Street if you’ve a letter to post.’
‘There’s no post either,’ Sam added.
‘Oh dear,’ said Rose with a sigh, ‘and I forwarded her a letter from Simon that came the morning they left.’
‘So when are we going down, Sam?’ said Alex, who’d already worked out that Sam would need help.
‘Now ye can’t talk about goin’ yet,’ John broke in. ‘If there�
��s trouble, it’ll get worse before it gets better. Sarah is sensible and they have Uncle Sam with them and he knows the ins and outs of Dublin from when he lived there. If there’s dangerous places, he’ll know. Whose this friend ye mentioned, son?’
He smiled.
‘An important gentleman who sends you his regards, Ma. The postmaster in Banbridge, no less. Wee Billy Auld.’
‘An’ ye mean to say wee Billy knows what’s goin’ on an’ none of the rest of us do?’ John came back at him.
‘Indeed I do. He said it’s highly confidential, so we keep it to ourselves. If it got out he’d lose his job, but if Alex calls in each day he’ll give us the word when things improve enough for us to chance it.’
‘Well that’s good of him, indeed it is. We’ve known wee Billy since he was Sam’s flagman, ach, twenty years ago, an’ he’s always been good-hearted,’ John explained to Alex. ‘But this is very decent of him. Very decent indeed.’
‘And you think you ought to go down and fetch Sarah?’ Rose asked.
‘Aye, I do. It might be a while before the trains is running.’
‘And you’d go with him, Alex?’ Rose continued calmly.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Alex promptly. ‘I’ll be glad to go. She’s told me I can use her motor anytime she doesn’t need it.’
‘Even with the British Army and the rebels sniping at each other?’ Rose went on, a warning tone in her voice.
‘We’ll know from Billy when the worst is over, Ma,’ Sam said reassuringly. ‘It’ll be safe enough by the time we go.’
But Rose knew perfectly well that however careful they might be the situation was bound to be a dangerous one. She felt herself shiver despite the warmth of the stove. In the days ahead, just like all the women around her, she would have to live with the knowledge that her dear ones were at risk.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sarah’s eyes opened with a jerk as her fountain pen fell from her hand and dropped to the floor with a small thud on the very worn carpet. She was amazed she’d fallen asleep despite the firing which had started up again from St Stephen’s Green and from Grafton Street.