‘I didn’t know what to do! I couldn’t save her!’
‘No one could have, Maggie. She was too far-gone.’
Maggie stared in disbelief at the sight before them. It was as if they had tumbled into a nightmare. People lay bleeding and groaning in pain. And Maggie hadn’t the first idea how to help them.
‘Are you all right to cycle?’ Daniel asked.
She stared at him. ‘I’m not leaving!’
‘To get help, Maggie. There’s no one faster on a bicycle than you.’
‘There’s you.’
‘And I’ll be right beside you. As always.’
‘Let’s go.’
Standing watching ambulances race from the hospital, Daniel put an arm about Maggie.
‘You’re shaking,’ he said.
It was true. Every part of her was trembling. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop it. She would never forget that woman’s face. She would never forget the blood. Or the screams. Or the eerie silence before the shots. And she would never forget how she had trusted the British Army not to shoot. How could she have been so ignorant? She knew Ireland’s history. She knew what the British Army was like. Hadn’t her own father told her often enough?
‘Let’s go,’ Daniel said.
Maggie didn’t know where she wanted to go but she wanted to be moving. And so she went.
It was her mother who opened the door.
‘Lord God Almighty! What happened?’
Maggie looked down and saw that she was covered in blood. Then, she spied Lily, standing with a hand clamped over her mouth. It hit Maggie with such force then. If they hadn’t taken Lily in, she might have been there. She might have been killed.
‘I’m all right,’ Maggie reassured. ‘I’m not hurt. We came upon…an accident,’ she said to protect Lily.
Her mother ushered them inside and shoved a chair under Maggie so hard that she landed into it.
‘Are you certain you’re not hurt?’ she asked, checking her daughter over from head to toe.
Nodding, Maggie closed her eyes. But behind her lids, she relived it all, every detail. She shivered.
Lily hurried a glass of water into her hand. Maggie had not seen her leave to fetch it.
‘How are you, Lily?’ she heard Daniel ask.
‘I’m very well thank you,’ Lily said.
Maggie had an overwhelming urge to hug her but she would only cover her in blood.
‘How are you, Daniel?’ Maggie’s mother asked. She loved him, loved that her daughter had a friend at last, not that Maggie had ever admitted she had been without one. Most mothers – along with society – would have frowned upon a male companion. Maggie’s mam was simply grateful.
‘If you’re all right, Maggie, I’ll leave you all in peace,’ he said, looking at her little family, not wanting to intrude. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’
‘You will,’ she said firmly. She would not be stopped by the British Army.
Maggie bathed and went to bed early. Later, though, she woke to the sound of raised voices. She lay very still and listened. It was Tom and their mother. Maggie crept from her room and down the stairs.
‘Don’t try to hide it, Tom. I know where you were. News travels fast in this city, especially news of this magnitude. You are to finish with Na Fianna!’
‘I have finished with Na Fianna,’ he said calmly. ‘I’m with the Irish Volunteers now.’
‘Sweet mother of Jesus! People were murdered! You might have been killed!’
‘I was never in danger. Didn’t you know? The British Army only fires upon the unarmed.’
‘The deaths of those people are on your hands.’
‘No, they’re on the hands of The British Army.’
‘You were running guns. Guns, Tom. You antagonized them.’
‘And because they were angry with us, they fired upon civilians. That is the respect for life in this country. And that is why we need them out.’
‘It is education and dialogue that will change this country. We are so close to Home Rule.’
‘Home Rule be damned!’
‘Don’t scoff at a peaceful solution.’
‘It wouldn’t be a solution. We’d never be completely free of England. Politicians are full of hot air.’
‘I forbid you to be in a rebel organisation.’
‘I’m nineteen, a man, now. And I’ve been the man of the house a lot longer.’
‘And as the man of the house you have a responsibility to stay safe for us,’ she said desperately.
‘I have a greater responsibility to my country,’ he said, quieter now.
‘Untrue.’
‘You’ve always said that the problems of others are our problem. Ireland’s upper classes blindly accept British rule because it suits them. No one cares for the poor, only those prepared to fight.’
‘Remember our history, Tom. Every rebellion ended in failure.’
‘Because the rebels had no military training. Now it’s different.’
‘Fighting is not the answer.’
‘Well striking certainly isn’t. Ask Larkin – if you can find him. As for jeering…’
‘Ireland is a piece of land like any other piece of land!’
‘It’s not about land. It’s about people. It’s about a better life for all, especially those like Lily and her poor mother. Who do they have to stand up for them? You can’t adopt everyone.’
Maggie touched her heart. Now she knew why he loved Lily so much; she represented all that he cared for. Now she understood his anger. And she loved him for it. Everything he said made sense. Why had she not seen it?
‘Education-’
‘Is the privilege of the upper classes. It won’t change a thing. You have your ideals, Mam, and I respect them but you must respect mine. That is how you’ve raised us, to respect the ideals of others whether or not we share them. I’m staying with the Volunteers and if I must disobey you to do so, then so be it. I’m sorry. I’ll leave home if you want. I’ll still give you most of my income.’ Tom had left school now and, having failed to secure a university scholarship, worked as a clerk.
‘You’re going nowhere. You’re staying right here with us.’ There was a pause. ‘Your heart is too big, Tom Gilligan.’
‘At least it beats. And it loves you to pieces, Mam.’
Maggie’s eyes welled with emotion. Then she bounded upstairs as the door opened.
nine
Maggie
Maggie paced her bedroom. Nothing she had done had made a difference because none of it had addressed the root of injustice in the country: British rule. It was the British who had, through their Penal Laws, deliberately set out to make the Irish poor, uneducated and powerless so that they would be easier to control. It was the British who were responsible for the tenements, the endless cycle of poverty and the hopelessness of the people. Tom was right, the boy keeping watch outside Madame’s, too. Striking was not the solution. As for Home Rule? Only a fool would trust the British. There was only one way to make a difference.
Maggie would join a rebel organisation. And not one for girls.
She went to her dresser and fumbled in the drawer for a pair of scissors. Then she sat in front of the mirror. She lifted a strand of hair, then cut it off, an inch from her head. She snipped off another strand. And another. The clumps piled high as Maggie began to resemble a boy, a boy with a terrible hair cut. Clumps stuck out in all directions. She tried to achieve balance by cutting further into it. At last, she admitted defeat.
She looked at the stranger in the mirror, horrified that she could be so upset by such a superficial thing as her appearance. She would go to bed. Things were always better in the morning.
She was pulling the covers up when a gentle knock came to door. She blew out the candle, slipped her head under a pillow and closed her eyes. She heard the door creak open.
‘Maggie?’ her mother whispered.
She breathed deeply like Lily. Her mother would be more able for this i
n the morning.
‘Maggie,’ she said, coming closer. ‘We need to talk about what happened today.’
Maggie breathed deeper still.
‘That was no accident you witnessed, was it?’
Maggie groaned in her pretend sleep.
At last, with a sigh, her mother left.
In the morning, her hair seemed worse than ever. It was as if she had been attacked as she slept, for what person would deliberately do that to herself?
‘Oh, Maggie,’ Lily said sadly. ‘Do you have nits?’
Maggie laughed. ‘No, Lily. I have clarity.’
‘Good, because nits are awful.’
The bedroom door opened and her mother peered in as if their laughter was music. On seeing Maggie, she clasped her hands over her mouth. When she recovered her powers of speech it was to exclaim, ‘Your hair! Your beautiful hair! What have you done?’
‘I’m selling it for charity.’ At least there was that.
Her mam tried to be calm. ‘What in God’s name, possessed you?’
There was no easy way to tell her. ‘I’m joining Na Fianna.’
‘Na Fianna is for boys.’
‘Thus the hair.’
Her mother looked like she had been slapped. She turned to Lily. ‘Go downstairs, Lily. I’ll be down in a minute.’ This was not a voice to be argued with.
Head down, Lily left in silence.
‘You were there, on the quays. You witnessed what happened.’ It was more a statement than a question.
Maggie nodded.
‘I’m sorry, pet. That must have been so difficult. But you must understand why it happened. Na Fianna – and others – were running guns. Out in broad daylight. They antagonized the army. They caused the deaths of those people.’
‘I saw them fall, Mam, normal people like you and me. I could do nothing to help. At least with Na Fianna, I’d learn first aid.’
‘You’d also bear arms and that I cannot allow.’
‘You allowed it with Tom.’
‘When I thought he was simply scouting.’
‘You’re allowing it now with the Volunteers.’
Her mother stared at her. ‘What can I do to stop him? He’s nineteen years of age.’
‘I won’t bear arms, Mam.’
‘You won’t because you’re not joining.’
‘You can’t stop me! I have to make a difference in the world! I have to! And everything Tom said is right. Someone must act.’
‘Not you! Not the both of you! From the day your father died, I have dreaded that I’d let him down in the rearing of you.’
‘And I have dreaded that I’d let him down. If I can’t make a difference in the world, I may as well have died in that fire along with him.’ Her eyes filled with tears.
‘Don’t say that, Maggie. Never say that.’ She turned away. With jerky, distressed movements, she began to gather up the severed hair on the dresser.
Maggie went to her, took the hair from her hands. ‘Mam, you reared us to care. How can that be letting him down? I would rather be who I am and dead…’ Her mother flinched. ‘…than the girls at school who have never lived – and never will.’
Her mother pulled away. ‘If you join, I’ll go to them! I’ll tell them you’re a girl!’
‘No you won’t,’ Maggie said calmly because she knew her mother; and she’d never do that.
‘Why are you so willful?’
‘Do you think Father would want me any other way? Honestly, Mam. Do you?’
Her mother closed her eyes and sighed deeply. ‘I’m too soft. Too soft by far.’
Maggie threw her arms around her. ‘I’ll be all right, Mam. I’ll stay out of trouble. I’ll only help the wounded. I’ll be grand. You’ll see.’
Maggie examined her reflection. Her thin frame coupled with her cropped hair and David’s hand-me-down cap, trousers, shirt and jacket rendered her a convincing boy. She looked at him in the mirror and tried out different names. Ruairí, she decided at last and pulled the peaked cap down over her face.
She sought out the opinion of the family rebel.
Tom looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. ‘I’m proud of you, Maggie.’
‘I’ve done nothing yet.’
‘You’ve stepped up.’
‘Not to fight, though. Only to help.’ She had to be straight about that.
‘I know. We’ll need all the help we can get when the time comes.’ He ripped her cap from her head and held it out of reach as if she had, in fact, become a brother.
She jumped for it. Never had she felt closer to him. They would make a difference – together.
And yet Maggie hated going against her mother’s wishes. She put the clothes away and tried to be the daughter her mam wanted her to be. She sat with Lily, struggling to draw a boy with a swan’s wing. Every so often, she glanced over at her mother who was at her bureau, working as always, though the schools were closed for the summer.
‘How about a story while we draw?’ Lily asked.
Maggie looked at her. A story of Irish heroics was out of the question. So Maggie fell back on Joan of Arc.
‘Sorry about the ending,’ she said, grimacing.
‘I like that she wore her hair short and dressed as a man,’ Lily said cheerfully.
Maggie’s mother threw her pen down. ‘It got her killed! Did you tell her that, Maggie?’
The girls went quiet as she hurried from the room, muttering, ‘I’m sorry,’ as she disappeared.
Lily stared after her. ‘What’s the matter with Mammy?’
Maggie hesitated. ‘I’ve upset her, Lily.’
‘You should say sorry, Maggie.’
Maggie rubbed the top of Lily’s head. Strands of hair remained standing. Maggie eased them down again. Lily was not a rebel; her hair ought to know that.
‘Should we see if she’s all right?’ Lily asked.
‘She is. She’s only getting used to an idea of mine.’
‘What idea?’
Maggie sighed. ‘The idea of me growing up.’
‘We all have to grow up, Maggie,’ she said wisely.
Maggie smiled then. ‘How about another story?’
‘Have you got one about Na Fianna?’
‘Well there’s the one about Oisín and....’
‘The other Fianna. Your Fianna.’ She nibbled the end of her pencil.
‘It’s not my Fianna yet. They might not let me in. Anyway, it’s not half as interesting as the ancient warrior troop.’
‘Tell me anyway.’
‘Another day. Now let’s see who can draw the best Joan of Arc.’
Lily, the superior artist, brightened. ‘Is there a prize?’
‘Of course there’s a prize.’
The following day, Daniel was waiting for her at the end of her road as arranged. Head high, she cycled past him. When he failed to recognise her, she laughed, stopped and cycled back removing the cap as she did so and waving it over her head.
He stared at her. ‘Is it you?’
‘Who else?’ If she could fool Daniel, she could fool anyone!
But as he stared at her hair, she realised that he hated it. And she hated that she cared.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
She raised her chin. ‘Na Fianna happened. I’m joining.’
‘What?’ he whispered.
‘Nothing’s going to change in this country until we get Britain out.’
‘Maggie, this is a reaction-’
‘Perhaps, but it’s the right one.’
‘How do you know? You must allow yourself time to recover before you commit to anything.’
‘I’ve committed my hair.’
‘Hair will grow.’
‘Things must change, Danny,’ she said quietly. Her mind was made up.
‘How can a bunch of boy scouts change anything?’
‘A bunch of boy scouts is a start. There are other rebel organisations-’
‘You want to fight the Britis
h Army?’
‘No but I’ll do First Aid, run errands, act as a lookout.’
‘You’ll still be in danger!’
‘Opening your mouth in this country is a danger!’
He looked at her for the longest time, then sighed deeply. ‘Maggie.’ It was just one word but it seemed to contain so much emotion.
She felt the same emotion welling up inside her. ‘I don’t expect you to join,’ she said hoarsely.
Time seemed to slow. And yet life carried on around them. In the park beside them, a nanny pushed a perambulator, cooing at the baby inside. A little girl chased a hoop. A boy struggled with a kite. She looked at Daniel and her heart ached. How had he come to mean so much to her?
‘I’ll join,’ he said.
Relief flooded her but then she imagined him facing fire as those people had on the quay.
‘No. It wouldn’t be right. You’re a pacifist. This is my battle.’ Then she had to ask. ‘We can stay friends outside of Na Fianna. Can’t we?’ Suddenly, she feared the answer.
‘If you join, I join and that’s that. We belong together, Maggie. You and I.’
She bowed her head. She felt it too. ‘We do.’ She looked up again. ‘But promise you’ll stay out of trouble. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you because of me.’
‘I’ll promise if you do.’
She smiled. ‘He cares,’ she joked.
He looked into her eyes. ‘He does.’
Had she known that friendship would be like this, she might have tried harder with the girls at school. But then trying with people who don’t want you only makes them not want you more.
Arriving home, Maggie entered the drawing room. David, Lily and her mother were playing a backgammon tournament. She brightened at the sight.
Everyone looked up and smiled – apart from her mother, who kept her eyes on the board. It felt like a stab to the heart.
‘We’re playing backgammon!’ Lily said. ‘It’s great fun. I’m winning. See?’
Maggie came around and rested her hands on Lily’s shoulders. She looked at the board.
Through The Barricades: Winner of the SCBWI SPARK Award 2017 Page 7