Through The Barricades: Winner of the SCBWI SPARK Award 2017

by Denise Deegan

  ‘No. But I’ve seen hell. And I won’t have you in it. I promised Danny to keep you safe and I will do whatever it takes.’

  She stopped breathing. ‘Did Daniel put you up to this?’ she asked slowly.

  He calmly raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you, honestly, believe that of him?’

  She looked down in shame. Danny would never betray her, just as she would never have betrayed him when he was signing up. ‘I don’t know what to believe,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m unused to being deceived.’ She looked up at Michael. ‘You’ve taken something very precious from me. You must know that.’

  ‘And I would apologise but I’m not sorry and if it means that we can never be friends then so be it. I don’t regret it, nor will I, as long as you’re safe.’

  Her eyes fell on his weary, broken, half-face and she couldn’t hate him. Neither could she forgive him.

  ‘Then good luck.’ She turned and walked away.

  It was midnight when Tom finally crept in the back door. Maggie was sitting in darkness waiting for him. She stood up.

  ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph!’ he said. ‘You frightened the life out of me.’

  She laughed at the sight of the hardened rebel gripping his heart.

  ‘What are you doing up at this hour?’ he asked, lighting a lamp and regaining his dignity.

  ‘I’ve been dismissed from Na Fianna.’ Maggie explained why.

  ‘That little bollocks,’ he said of Michael.

  ‘What will I do, Tom? Would the Volunteers have me?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘You might have fooled Na Fianna, Maggie, but these are men.’

  ‘Where would you go if you were me?’

  He ran a hand over a grizzly chin.

  She drummed her fingers on her trousers.

  Then he looked at her from head to toe.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  He squinted. ‘What age are you, again?’

  ‘Jesus, Tom! Don’t you know the age of your own sister?’

  ‘Less of the language, Maggie.’

  ‘Feck off.’

  He laughed.

  ‘I’m seventeen. A little subtraction would have got you there.’

  ‘God, you’re awful skinny for seventeen.’

  ‘I can eat.’ After all the starvation, she’d be glad to.

  ‘All right, I have an idea.’

  She sat up.

  ‘The Citizen Army takes women. Women, mind, not girls.’

  She could be a woman. She could use balled up stockings in crucial areas. And eat ferociously. Why wait? She reached for a banana.

  ‘What do you know of The Irish Citizen Army, Maggie?’ he asked, folding his arms.

  ‘I know they’re rebels.’ That was it, though.

  ‘The Citizen Army was set up to protect the striking workers during the Lockout.’

  ‘That’s who they are!’ Maggie remembered Madame’s friends at Liberty Hall who had spoken of protecting the workers. A bolt of excitement shot through her. This was where it had all started for her. Suddenly, the Citizen Army felt like her destiny.

  ‘Handy for you is that they’re all for equality – not just between rich and poor but between men and women.’

  She nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘It has grown into perhaps the most radical of the rebel organisations,’ Tom continued.

  ‘Then why are you not in it?’

  ‘Ah, my friends from Na Fianna were joining the Volunteers.’

  ‘Would it be hard for me to get in?’

  He scratched his chin. ‘Well, your friend, the countess, is high up in it.’

  Maggie went pale. ‘Madame! She’s bloody everywhere!’

  He laughed.

  ‘It’s not funny. She’d never let me in! Haven’t I just been kicked out of Na Fianna for deception?’

  ‘And would you let a little thing like that stop you, Maggie Gilligan?’

  She smiled. In some ways, they were so alike.

  The following day, Maggie stood outside the door of Surrey House, wearing a dress, a wig and crucially positioned stockings. She took a deep breath and knocked.

  The countess herself swung the door open. For a moment, she looked at Maggie blankly. Then she squinted. ‘Is that Maggie Gilligan?’

  ‘It is, Madame.’

  ‘My goodness, you have grown. You are a woman, Maggie.’ She shook her head in disbelief. She opened the door wide. ‘Come in.’

  Despite the warm reception, Maggie remained wary as she stepped inside.

  Madame showed her into the drawing room. ‘How long is it since we have seen one another?’

  ‘A week, Madame.’

  The countess squinted at her. ‘Maggie, I would have remembered.’

  ‘So you do not know of Ruairí?’

  ‘Ruairí?’

  ‘From Na Fianna.’

  ‘What of him?’ she asked, concerned.

  ‘I was Ruairí.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I was playing a part, as you do on stage. I wanted to be in Na Fianna. I had to become a boy. There was no other way.’

  Madame stared at her. ‘Are you telling me that you and Ruairí are one and the same?’

  ‘I am.’

  She tipped her head back and laughed. ‘I must be losing my eyesight!’

  ‘No one else guessed,’ Maggie reassured. ‘But someone informed on me and I’ve been dismissed.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘That is why I have not heard. I’ve been busy with the Citizen Army.’

  ‘The Citizen Army is the reason for my visit.’

  The countess frowned. ‘Sit down, Maggie.’

  While Maggie took a seat by the fire, Madame bent over a printing press. ‘This infernal contraption,’ she said, slapping it with a blackened hand.

  ‘I wish to join, Madame.’

  The countess looked up from the printer. ‘Last week, you were a child. A boy-child.’

  ‘I’m almost eighteen.’ It was an exaggeration.

  She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Little Ruairí…’

  ‘Little Ruairí was the best shot in Na Fianna. I’m sure you wouldn’t wish to lose him entirely from the cause.’

  Madame put her grubby hands on her hips and considered Maggie. ‘Why the Citizen Army? There is an organisation called Cumann na mBan for women. They support the Volunteers.’

  How well Tom had known not to suggest it. ‘I don’t want to support men. I wish to fight alongside them for a better Ireland, an equal Ireland. The Citizen Army is all for equality – between rich and poor, men and women. I was there when the very idea of it came about.’ Maggie relayed the conversation she had overheard outside Liberty Hall.

  ‘You, my friend, are full of surprises. All right. Let me have a word with James Connolly, the leader of the Citizen Army.’ She slapped her hand down hard on the printing press as though it was a horse’s hindquarters. It juddered into life. They looked at one another. Madame laughed.

  ‘Maggie Gilligan, you are my lucky charm.’

  Maggie prayed that James Connolly would feel the same.

  thirty-five

  Daniel

  Daniel had hoped that he might get leave for Christmas but here he was. He closed his eyes. He pictured a windowsill with red and yellow candles. He pictured his mother carrying in the cake with snowy icing and Niall fashioning decorations from rings of paper. He brought to his tiny, freezing dugout the smell of roasting turkey, the taste of sugared fruit. He brought bright red berries of holly. He brought the white of mistletoe and a girl standing under it, smiling. He brought Maggie. With Adeste Fidelis, he drowned out the sounds of war.

  He wished to send gifts to everyone. But he had nothing to send. The greatest gift, he knew, would be his survival. It struck him, then, in a sudden moment of clarity, that what he dreaded most about dying was the pain that it would cause those he loved. He was filled with a sudden urgency. He must write to them s
o that, should the worst happen, they would have, at least, a proper goodbye. The difficulty was: how to explain a letter that would arrive after his death. He must try.

  Dear Niall

  I’m writing this letter and putting it in a safe place so that, should my luck run out, someone will send it to you. I’m writing to say goodbye and to tell you that I have always loved you, from the very moment you came into my life, with your little baldy head and big blue eyes. I have always been proud to call you my brother. You are one of the strongest, kindest, smartest people I know. I want you to have my room and all my things. Keep the rugby ball for Michael. Though he’s not playing, he might like it. I have a friend called Maggie who I hope you will meet. She has been a very special person in my life and I would like you to know each other. Mind mother for me. It’s a lot to ask, I know, but you are the one man who can do it.

  Until we meet in heaven, your loving brother, Daniel

  Sealing the envelope, Daniel felt a great relief. He picked up his pen and gathered his thoughts. He would tell Maggie the truth, explain why he had signed up, so that there would remain no secret between them. And yet he could not do it. If he were to admit that he had gone to war to stop her rising for Ireland, guilt would be his legacy to her.

  My dearest Maggie,

  If you receive this, I will have failed to keep my promise. I’m sorry. You have been the very best thing in my life. How I would have enjoyed our future together. The Healys! I know I have no right to ask, but please, Maggie, put down your arms. If it comes to a fight, be somewhere else on that day. You can’t ignore the last wishes of a man. I’m sorry that my final letter is one of requests but please be the friend to Michael that I can no longer be, call to see Niall (I know that you would love one another), be happy, be safe and, when you can, remember me.

  All my love, Danny

  He did not feel relief now, only a great ache at the thought of leaving her. He didn’t want her to ever have to read this letter. He wanted to live. But the choice would not be his. He must face that. And continue his goodbyes.

  Dearest Mother

  Dying men call for their mothers at the time of death. That is how important you are to us. Thank you for all that you have done for me. Forgive me.

  Daniel

  Michael, me old segotia!

  If you read this, I’ve gone and done it. Watch over Maggie for me. Niall will be in need of a brother. He comes highly recommended. Thank you for being the best friend a chap could have had. We’ll meet again, in heaven, I hope.

  Daniel

  Daniel looked at the blank sheet. He felt that no matter what he wrote to his father it would not be enough.

  Dear Father

  We have had our differences. For that I am sorry. I would like to have made you proud. Forgive me.

  Daniel

  Outside, he heard the alarm sound. As always, even still, it put the heart across him. He grabbed his rifle and ran.

  thirty-six

  Maggie

  Facing the mirror, Maggie settled her skirt, jacket and wig. She straightened her Sam Browne belt and nodded. She was ready.

  In the hallway, her mother was arranging flowers. She heard Maggie on the stairs and turned. She stopped humming.

  ‘You said that you’d finished with Na Fianna!’

  ‘I’m joining the Citizen Army, Mam.’

  Her arms fell to her side, an ostrich plume still in one. ‘Without consulting me?’

  ‘It happened so fast…’

  ‘Too fast to notice the word “army” in the title?’

  Maggie pressed her lips together.

  ‘You promised me that you would not use a weapon.’

  ‘And I believed at the time that I wouldn’t. But nothing will change without a fight, Mam!’

  ‘It needn’t be your fight!’

  ‘I can’t sit back and leave it to others! I simply can’t!’

  ‘You must! I cannot lose you, Maggie. I lost your father. That is more than enough for me to bear. Please. I’m begging you.’ She was tearing at Maggie’s heart. ‘Can a woman not be a little selfish? Can I not keep you to myself?’

  ‘There’s too much to put right! I cannot turn the other cheek! It’s not who I am.’

  Her mother took a deep breath. ‘Then the time has come for me to speak out. I wish I didn’t have to. But here it is. You must ignore what Father asked of you. He did not understand the full extent-’

  ‘No! You weren’t there, Mam! You didn’t see his face! You didn’t hear his voice! Those were his last words to me. That was his last wish. He knew what he was asking. And he was right to ask it. What point was there in me surviving if not to make a difference in the world?’

  ‘Your heart is too big. He forgot that.’

  ‘My heart is there to beat, to feel, to guide me to do the right thing. I’m not afraid to do it, Mam. Don’t be afraid for me.’

  ‘I am afraid, Maggie. This country will take my children!’

  ‘This country is already taking children through hunger, poverty, injustice-’

  ‘And should I forbid you?’

  ‘I would join anyway. I would hate to go against your wishes but I would do it. I’m sorry, Mam. But this is bigger than the both of us. It simply is.’

  Her mother covered her mouth, turned and hurried away into the kitchen.

  Sick with guilt, Maggie left for Liberty Hall. She told herself that she was not disobeying her mother for she had never actually forbidden Maggie from joining. The truth remained. Maggie was going against her wishes and causing her upset.

  Arriving outside Liberty Hall, memories flooded her – the sights, sounds and smells of poverty, hunger and desperation. How clueless she had been then, believing herself to be making a difference.

  Now she glanced at a blackboard propped up outside the building. She frowned and reread the words of chalk. Could it be true? Could the Citizen Army be surrounding Dublin Castle that very night? Could they honestly be attacking the seat of British rule in Ireland and, if so, was it wise to announce it for all to see?

  Maggie hurried inside. She was immediately stopped and questioned, then directed to a long, dimly lit hall. Her heart began to race; there was no mistaking the preparation for revolution. Stacked against the walls were rifles, bandoliers and haversacks. Men and women sat in groups cleaning, polishing and repairing guns, sharpening bayonets and fashioning handmade grenades. Maggie was given a Mauser to clean. She dared not ask if she would be using it that very night. Instead, she sat at a table and got to work, deep in thought. If they were to rise tonight would it be with or without the other rebel forces? She tried to remember how Tom had been that day. The last time she saw him was at breakfast and he had seemed fine or at least as fine as Tom ever seemed. The door to the hall banged shut. Madame entered with a small, stocky, moustached man Maggie recognised from the days of the food kitchen. It was the person who had spoken with James Larkin about setting up an army of citizens to protect the strikers. It was James Connolly! A thrill of admiration ran through Maggie.

  Deep in conversation, he and Madame were passing Maggie’s table when the countess spotted her and stopped.

  ‘Maggie! You’re here! How wonderful!’

  Maggie stood to attention.

  ‘James, this is Maggie Gilligan, the girl I was telling you about – who was in Na Fianna.’

  Maggie did not want him to think her underhand. ‘I only ever wished to fight.’

  He smiled and, in a warm Scottish accent said, ‘Then you’ve come to the right place. No movement can be assured of success that has not women in it.’

  Maggie liked him immediately.

  ‘Sit for a moment, Maggie. There’s something I must ask.’

  All three of them sat.

  ‘The question I’m about to put to you should not be considered an oath or in any way binding,’ he said.

  Maggie nodded eagerly.

  He held her eyes. ‘Do you promise on your word of honour that, should t
he Irish Citizen Army be required to fight alone in the coming revolution, you will take your place in the ranks?’

  Her heart pounded with excitement. This was the right organisation for her. She ought to thank Michael for what he had done. ‘I promise.’

  ‘So you’ll join us on our route march tonight?’

  She could not help herself. ‘Will we, truthfully, be surrounding Dublin Castle?’

  James Connolly smiled. ‘Ah, you saw our little blackboard? That’s only to confuse the G-men, the Castle’s secret police. Shout wolf enough times and they’ll stop listening.’

  She nodded at the wisdom of that.

  ‘What’s that you’re cleaning?’ He nodded to the weapon.

  ‘A Mauser.’

  ‘You do not think much of it?’

  Surprised that he’d gathered that when she had been deliberately avoiding even a hint of it, she said, ‘It’s grand.’ Then her curiosity got the better of her. ‘Do we have any Lee Enfields?’

  He laughed. ‘You know your guns.’

  ‘Maggie was one of the finest shots in Na Fianna,’ Madame said.

  ‘Well,’ he smiled. ‘Their loss is surely our gain. Welcome to the Irish Citizen Army, Maggie Gilligan.’ His smile reminded her of her father.

  Marching the lamp-lit, largely deserted streets alongside adults, Maggie felt as if she had, at last, shaken off the child’s world that had been holding her captive. Being amongst men and women from mostly working class backgrounds reminded her of the Ireland they were fighting for – where everyone was equal. It was as though they were marching together towards a better future.

  At Dublin Castle, Maggie held her breath. She felt that she could hear every individual footfall. She expected, at any moment, for a shot to ring out and a rebel to fall. But nothing moved – except the Citizen Army. James Connolly truly had cried wolf.

  They returned to Liberty Hall too soon for Maggie. Her veins pulsed with energy. She wished to march till dawn. And yet it was time to disperse.