After a short delay, it opened.
The woman standing before them smiled. ‘Mister Healy.’
‘I hope we’re not disturbing you, Missus Murphy.’
‘Not at all. Please, come in.’
They entered.
‘Missus Murphy, this is my son, Daniel, home from war.’
Daniel was moved by the pride in his voice.
‘And this is his future wife, Maggie.’
It was a shock to hear it spoken out like that, so definite. His heart filled with hope. Maybe it was possible for them to survive, to truly become The Healys. In Maggie’s eyes, he saw the same. Their shared smile said it all.
‘Come sit by the fire,’ Missus Murphy said.
In the hearth, a fire blazed. Carpets, drapes and furniture added to the cosiness of the room. Daniel looked at his father. He could have sold the properties, washed his hands of them but he had done better.
‘You’ll join me for a cup of tea,’ Missus Murphy said.
The man who would have once considered it beneath him accepted her offer with gratitude.
‘I’m glad that you are having a break from the war,’ Missus Murphy said to Daniel. ‘Where were you posted?’
‘Gallipoli.’
She nodded. ‘I lost a brother in France, another in Ypres.’ Her voice broke.
Maggie reached forward and squeezed her hand. It seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Missus Murphy smiled. Then she turned to Daniel. ‘Your father was very kind to my mother when she was ill.’
‘Alas, we could not save her,’ he said.
‘No but we did all that we could have for her and there’s great comfort in that.’
His father bowed his head.
They visited two more tenants and had tea there too. In the automobile, on their way home, Mister Healy glanced in the mirror at Maggie. ‘I hope that I have not drowned you in tea.’
She smiled. ‘I love tea.’
Arriving back, Daniel and Maggie followed him into the house.
‘He’s lovely,’ Maggie whispered.
‘Despite the motorcar?’
She returned his smile. ‘Despite the car, despite the servants but most especially despite being a landlord.’
On the Thursday before Easter, at Kingsbridge station, great plumes of steam collected under the glass ceiling and pigeons gathered in the rafters. Daniel, bound for the Curragh Camp, said his goodbyes. He cupped Maggie’s face in his hands and looked deep into her eyes.
‘Be safe,’ he said as though his words could ensure it.
‘You be safe.’
‘I’m only building up my fitness.’
She threw her arms around him. At least he’d be out of Dublin for the rising and not well enough to fight.
A whistle blew and she pulled back. Conscious of his family waiting to say goodbye, she kissed her palm and pressed it to his cheek. ‘Come back to me, Danny Healy.’
‘Be there when I do.’ He kissed her like it was their last.
They clung to each other, eyes closed. Then they forced themselves apart.
Michael was waiting with an embrace of his own.
‘Watch out for her,’ Daniel asked into his ear as he clapped his back.
‘You know that I will,’ Michael promised.
Niall, head down, was crying. His mother placed a hand on his shoulder but he shook it off.
Daniel squatted down to him. ‘I’m only going to build myself up. We’ll see each other again before I set sail.’
Niall shoved a crumpled pack of Humbugs into his hand. He half-smiled. ‘Our tradition.’
‘We could not forget our tradition.’
They held each other’s eyes and, together, as though making a pact, they put a Humbug in their mouths. Daniel wondered how many times a person could safely return from war.
‘I’ll write to you when I arrive,’ he promised.
Another whistle blew. One by one, train doors began to slam.
Daniel faced his father.
‘You’ve turned into a fine man, Daniel. You make me proud every day.’
Daniel, overcome with emotion, thought of his goodbye letter; he’d have to change it now – and happily so. It occurred to him that he, too, was proud of his father. They embraced hurriedly.
‘The train, Danny!’ his mother said.
It had begun to pull away.
As Daniel hurried to it, his mother shoved a parcel into his hands. ‘Cook wanted you to have some of her fruitcake and there are long johns and socks in there too in case you need them.’
Why this, of all things, this broke his heart, he did not understand. He threw his arms around her.
‘Daniel the train!’ Niall called.
He pulled himself away and ran.
In the carriage, he hurried to the window. Everyone he loved was on that platform. As the train began to steal him away from them, his father stood beside Maggie as if sending a message to his son. And though the lawman had changed, Daniel had no doubt that if he discovered her to be a rebel intent on rising he would take a very quick step away again. Daniel lowered the window, leaned out and waved. His heart soared as they all, in unison, waved back, Niall frantically. Slowly, though, their faces began to blur. It was starting all over again, the smudging of the people he loved. He could hardly bear it. He stared at Maggie until his eyes watered. And as she began to disappear from view, he prayed that something would happen to keep her safe – the arrest of the rebel leaders, Home Rule being granted early, something, anything, to keep her from fighting. He had done all he could. And failed.
forty-four
Maggie
Maggie arrived home from the train station to find Patrick waiting on the street outside her home. Her heart stopped, knowing that he would not come here if it were not urgent. Reaching him, she linked his arm and hurried him away.
‘Is it on?’ she whispered as they walked.
‘This very Sunday! I came to tell you in person.’ His face was alight. ‘It’s definite, Maggie.’
She stopped walking. Her hand touched her heart. Emotions swamped her – pride, excitement, fear – and relief that Daniel was out of Dublin.
‘The arms shipment is due in the next twenty-four hours. Then it’s set for Sunday. We’ll all be out. The Volunteers. Na Fianna. The Citizen Army. Cumann na mBan. Thousands of us. Together we’ll form the Irish Republican Army!’
‘I can hardly believe it!’
‘Don’t tell a soul, Maggie, not even Tom. Only very few know the exact day. There’ll be talk of a march of the Volunteers on Sunday. That’ll be the signal.’
The symbolism hit Maggie; they would rise on Easter Sunday, the day that Jesus rose from the dead. ‘What can I do?’
‘Go home and rest for who knows how long we’ll be out. But stand by for mobilisation. I’ll try and bring the notice to you myself.’
‘Do you not want me at Liberty Hall?’
He shook his head. ‘There are too many there, already. Spend these last days with your family.’
They looked at each other, each of them knowing the significance of his words.
Walking through the front door, guilt poured into Maggie’s heart like tar. These were most likely her last days with her family and she could give them no hint of that. She climbed the stairs. In their room, Lily slept. Maggie gazed at her and reminded herself of why she must put the fight before all else. Restless, she went back downstairs. She found her mother in the drawing room, at her desk, scribbling furiously. Maggie sat by the fire, watching her. She was everything to her– her mother, father, teacher and guide. How Maggie admired her, quietly raising them alone, quietly saving an orphan child, quietly accepting Maggie and Tom’s will to fight for their country knowing she might lose them.
Frowning now at some miscalculation, she uttered her worst: ‘Bloody, bloody.’
Maggie’s heart swelled with love and sadness. And it occurred to her with sudden force that she had put her father’s wishes before h
er mother’s because he had died. There was no escaping it: she had let her mother down. For her father.
She went to her and wrapped her arms around her. ‘You’re the best mam in the world.’ She kissed the top of her head and then, before the tears came, she said, ‘I’ll go up now. I’m tired.’
Her mother looked up and smiled. ‘You have the right idea. I don’t know why I insisted on dealing with this tonight. It’s not as if the world is about to end.’
On Good Friday, Maggie went to Mass. She fasted and did penance. She thought of heaven more than she would on a normal Good Friday. She treasured every moment with her family, noticed every little thing that Lily did or said. She laughed too loudly, tried too hard to be jolly and when she found her mother watching her, her stomach turned.
That evening, they had a backgammon tournament, the entire family. Maggie looked at Tom and realised that – somehow – he knew. Their eyes met. And in that gaze, they shared the words: ‘How can we leave them?’
Saturday and Maggie was back at the church, this time to seek forgiveness for her sins and make her peace with God. The church was mobbed with men and boys also queuing for a clear conscience. If the British Army were to walk in now, they would surely suspect something.
Maggie took a seat at the edge of the last pew. One by one, she watched repenters, caps in hand, emerge from the confessional as though a weight had been lifted. They would not die sinners.
At last, her turn came but, as she rose, reality struck. She was about to take lives, break the worst commandment of all, intentionally, the following day. Forgiveness was impossible for sins yet to be committed. There would be no salvation here. She turned and stumbled from the church.
It was the slowest day of her life. With every passing minute, she grew more and more tense. She longed to say goodbye but could not. At last, as she was preparing for bed, she thought of a solution, a solution inspired by Danny. She sat at her desk.
Dearest Mam,
I have loved you with all my heart. I am sorry that I did not survive the insurrection but I have had the very best life. I would not change a day, a minute. Better a short and meaningful life than a long and miserable one. Go easy on yourself, Mam. You couldn’t have stopped me if you’d tried. You did try! Always remember that. Even if you’d locked me up, I’d have got out!
You have been the best mother in the world. You have been more. You have been my father, my teacher and my heroine. And I am sorry that I could not stay alive for you.
Love Lily like two daughters in one. I hate, hate, hate to leave you both. I hate to leave you all.
I am sending you kisses from heaven. And always will.
All my love, Maggie
It was so hard to say goodbye forever. How had Danny done it? She wiped away her tears, placed the letter in an envelope and then took out a fresh sheet of notepaper.
My dear, sweet Lil,
I’m sorry for leaving you but I go knowing that you are a survivor. You are the strongest person I know. You have your whole life ahead of you. You can be whatever you want to be – a politician, an actress, anything. Make sure you study hard, though. I will not ask you to mind Mammy because I know that you have probably already begun! How lucky we were to have you come into our lives. How very lucky. Whenever you think of me, think of me with your mam beside me because that is where I’ll be, looking down on you and blowing you kisses.
Goodbye dearest, dearest sister, all my love, Maggie
Lily sat bolt upright in bed.
‘You’re doing an awful lot of writing, Maggie.’ She scratched her head and collapsed backwards, asleep again.
‘Jesus,’ Maggie whispered.
Dear David
How I have loved you. How you have lifted my soul, time and again. You are the silent, steady one of the family and I go so much easier knowing that you will be there for Mam and Lily – and Tom too, if he makes it. Though my choices were never yours, you have always trusted them and I am so grateful for that. I wish you a long and happy life, dearest brother.
Your loving sister, Maggie
Dear Tom
We put Ireland before our family. We had to. Now that you have survived you can make it up to them – for both of us. This is what I ask of you. I hope that our sacrifice has been worth it and that you are enjoying a new Irish Republic. How I would have loved to see it. Be happy, Tom. You’ve done enough now.
All my love, Maggie
And last, because it was the hardest, Danny.
Dearest Danny
Forgive me. But you of all people understand what it is to fight for what you believe in. I wish we could have been The Healys. I wanted it so badly and if there was any other way to make a difference, I would have taken it, believe me. I have loved you with all my heart. All. My. Heart. The hardest thing I have ever had to do is say goodbye to you. I pray that the war will be over soon and you will come home and find happiness and peace.
All my love always, Maggie
She knocked on David’s door. He answered with his spectacles on and a finger stuck in a book, holding the page.
‘Can I come in?’ she whispered.
‘Of course.’ He glanced curiously at the letters in her hand as she entered.
She tapped at them awkwardly. ‘I don’t know how to say this, David, so I’ll just say it. I have a letter for each of you – to be opened in the event of my death.’
His fist went to his mouth; he looked like he was in pain. ‘It’s happening.’
She nodded.
‘When?’
‘You can’t tell a soul, David.’
‘I know. Just tell me.’
She wrapped her arms around herself. ‘Tomorrow.’
‘Fuck.’ It was the first curse of his life. ‘Sorry,’ he said quickly.
‘Keep them out of the city, David.’
‘I won’t let them out of the house. I don’t want you to spend one second worrying about any of us. Only watch your own back. All right?’ Tears welled. ‘They won’t go anywhere.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
A tear fell and he turned quickly to clear it.
‘I’m sorry, David.’
He shook his head and then turned back. ‘Had I the courage, I’d be fighting alongside you. I want you to know that.’
‘And I want you to know that without you here with Mam and Lily I don’t know how I could go out tomorrow.’ She thrust the letters into his hands as tears of her own threatened. ‘Now, don’t go opening yours unless you have to – we don’t want you getting a swelled head.’
But he did not smile. ‘Promise me something. Promise me you won’t do anything heroic.’
‘If James Connolly has taught us anything, he has taught us that.’
‘You have to come home to us, Maggie. After Father, it would kill Mam to lose you or Tom. I suppose he’s in the same boat?’
She nodded.
He sighed deeply. ‘Can I do anything at all to help?’
‘You’re already doing it.’
‘I’ll be praying like the pope.’
She smiled. ‘Then pray for a miracle.’
Sleep escaped her. She thought of all the people she knew who faced death – Tom, Patrick, all the boys in Na Fianna, Madame, James Connolly, Con Colbert, Michael Collins. How many were saying goodbye to loved ones at that very moment? Maggie thought of men and women leaving children behind. It was they who would be making the greatest sacrifice. She thought of Danny and prayed that he would not be called up. She would never forgive herself.
She gazed across at Lily, who was more than a sister; she was a symbol. A moonbeam fell across her delicate features and she looked to Maggie like an angel that had come to show her the way.
She was doing the right thing. She knew it so strongly in her heart.
On Easter Sunday, she rose early, her stomach tight, her heart already beating too fast. She knelt by the side of the bed.
‘Dear Lord, You know what I am about to do. Forg
ive me. Amen.’
She chose civilian clothes, a dress and coat that were dark and respectable. In the pocket of the coat, she placed the armband of the Red Cross. She checked her reflection. She did not look like a rebel. It was how it should be. She stood tall. The day of her dreams had finally come. She would not fear it.
She turned and went downstairs.
Tom, in full military uniform, was standing by the breakfast table with the newspaper up to his nose, frowning as he read. Behind him, his mother stole a worried glance at him. Then she looked at Maggie as if to say, ‘What’s going on?’
Tom dropped the newspaper onto the table, grabbed a slice of toast and left.
Maggie lunged for the paper. Her eyes scanned the front page. Then there it was, the source of her brother’s rapid departure – an announcement by Eoin MacNeill, the leader of the Volunteers, calling off the march.
‘What is it?’ her mother asked in concern.
‘I don’t know.’ Maggie did not understand. Was it just the Volunteers that would not be rising or was the entire insurrection being called off? If so, why? And would the Citizen Army go out alone anyway, as James Connolly had always insisted they would? Maggie remembered the oath she had taken. If called upon, she would rise – to certain annihilation. She had meant it then. She meant it now. If they did not rise now they never would.
And yet she could do nothing but wait to hear from Patrick.
To put her mother’s mind at ease, she laid aside the newspaper, sat at the table and, as calmly as she could, ate breakfast.
David arrived down, pale and silent. He kept stealing glances at Maggie.
‘What is wrong with everyone today?’ their mother asked.
‘Where’s Tom?’ David asked.
‘Shot off like a hare after reading the newspaper,’ their mother said.
David reached for it.
Through The Barricades: Winner of the SCBWI SPARK Award 2017 Page 25