‘Arrested?’ Grace gasped out loud.
‘Ssshhh,’ Collins warned, stepping forward and taking her arm.
‘Mick, do you think they will come here?’
‘Who can say what they will do or what they might be planning, but Joe just wants you safe. He’s checked out of the nursing home.’
‘But he’s far too sick! The doctor told him he had to stay – why would he do such a silly thing?’
‘You know what he’s like when he wants something, Grace, how determined and set about things Joe can be.’
She nodded dumbly.
‘He’s got a room at the Metropole Hotel and he asks you to come in to see him this evening.’
‘Tell him I’ll be there,’ she promised, watching as the tall figure of Michael Collins, message delivered, disappeared back outside.
She felt the heaviness of the gun and touched the trigger. She had never even held a gun in her life and could not imagine herself ever using one. Aiming at another human being and killing or injuring them – it was something she could not personally contemplate, even if Joe did want her to have it for self-defence.
Running upstairs, she hid the revolver and the money in her bag, hoping that she would never have to use either.
‘Who was that man that called to see you?’ asked her brother Liebert curiously.
‘Just a friend giving me a message,’ she said lightly.
Grace took a tram into Sackville Street, arriving at the Metropole Hotel around six to see Joe. She was surprised to see him suddenly appear down the hotel stairs. He looked terrible: his hair was shaved tight to his skull, he had lost weight and now even in his new uniform and hat he looked positively skeletal. She ran to greet him and they embraced. Tomorrow morning they would be wed.
‘I was about to give you up as a bad job,’ he said, touching her face. ‘Why didn’t you come earlier? I waited in all the afternoon for you.’
‘But I was told to come only now,’ she said, trying not to get upset.
‘No matter about the muddle, you are here,’ he said tenderly. ‘But I am afraid I will have to leave in a few minutes.’
They found a quiet spot and sat down beside each other.
‘Joe, why did you leave Mrs Quinn’s? You should be in bed resting.’
‘Grace, I promise this is no time for rest. There is far too much for me to do, but I needed to talk to you about tomorrow,’ he said quietly, holding her hand. ‘I’m so sorry, my love, but there will be no wedding in the morning in Rathmines. We have to postpone it.’
‘Why?’ she demanded loudly.
‘Ah Grace, there was some awful mix-up with the priest about our banns and they haven’t been read, which means that we cannot get married tomorrow with Geraldine and Tommy like we planned.’
Utter disappointment overwhelmed her, but Grace was a lady and would not create a scene or cry in such a public place. With all Joe’s talk of rebellion and the slow recovery from his operation, the possibility of their marriage on Easter Sunday had become more remote over the past few days. She had already quietly steeled herself for such news, but she was still deeply hurt and upset.
‘But I promise you with all my heart, once the banns are read and we have permission from the Church, we will be wed immediately. I want you to be my wife,’ he pledged. ‘Somehow in the next few days in some nearby church we will take our vows, be husband and wife, and all that is mine will be yours. Just be ready, Grace, when I send you word.’
‘I will,’ she promised.
‘Grace, I wish that I could stay here with you, but I have to take a cab to an urgent meeting on important Volunteer matters. Come with me.’
She sat with him in the back of the cab, her hands in his, fearful suddenly that she would never see him again. Joe kissed her gently before getting out at the bridge near Gardiner Street, which was only a few minutes away, and saying goodbye. He seemed relaxed and fearless as he waved to her.
Grace resisted the temptation to run after him …
She could not bear the thought of returning home to Temple Villas and instead ordered the cab driver to take her to Muriel’s house on Oakley Road.
Chapter 69
Muriel
MURIEL FOUND IT hard to disguise her mounting disquiet as all day a stream of visitors called at their home on Oakley Road, seeking directions and orders and information about where to go for tomorrow’s Easter Sunday Volunteer manoeuvres. She was acutely conscious of the DMP men watching the goings-on and taking notes to report to their superiors. Visitors were given the information they needed and sent immediately on their way.
MacDonagh had still said nothing to her and was constantly away at meetings of some sort or another.
Grace arrived at the house, overwrought and upset after meeting Joe in town. ‘The wedding is postponed,’ she said tearfully.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Muriel said, hugging her sister and making her sit down.
‘I should have gone to the Metropole Hotel earlier,’ Grace reproached herself. ‘I barely had time to see Joe or talk to him.’
‘Grace, I’m sure that once the banns are read you and Joe will get married in a few days,’ Muriel consoled her. ‘You just have to be patient and wait.’
‘I don’t want to wait,’ her sister insisted, sounding strangely frantic. ‘We have to get married now, as soon as we can.’
MacDonagh returned home and Grace joined them for tea. Sitting at the table he refused to be drawn on the large-scale event that they were planning in Dublin and around the country for the next day.
‘It’s a bit of a stir to celebrate the anniversary of the Battle of Clontarf,’ was all he would say.
Muriel suspected that it was far more than that.
Later Grace went off in a car with MacDonagh and his brother John to a meeting being held in Seamus O’Kelly’s house in the hope of meeting Joe there, but she returned disappointed.
When MacDonagh came home he was in a state. He had seen Eoin MacNeill and Arthur Griffith at the meeting and it was clear there had been some terrible disagreement or falling-out between them.
‘After all our planning and organizing, Eoin wants to call tomorrow’s events off,’ he said angrily, banging the table. ‘There are admittedly problems – we’ve lost a shipment of arms down in Kerry, but I don’t believe that means that we should cancel the arrangements for tomorrow.’
Muriel tried to look sympathetic but she hoped that his old friend Eoin’s voice would hold sway. They barely got a chance to speak of it, however, as MacDonagh quickly packed a suitcase, took his Volunteer uniform and a few days’ rations then disappeared off into the night once again.
‘Every night it’s the same. The children and I miss him terribly, for he’s hardly ever at home these past weeks,’ she told Grace. ‘And I’m so worried for him.’
‘Joe’s the same. Tomorrow should be our wedding day, but instead of making our vows in the church, he is caught up in these plans with the Volunteers. It’s madness – he’s not fit for manoeuvres and should still be in hospital.’
They stayed up for hours, talking late into the night like they used to when they were younger, sharing their fears and worries. It was so strange, both of them in love with men who were such close friends and who were so deeply dedicated to the cause of Irish nationalism.
‘Perhaps we should have been good daughters and married stalwart, sensible Protestant solicitors and doctors like Mother wanted us to do,’ Grace mused.
‘Too late,’ laughed Muriel wryly. ‘We followed our hearts …’
Chapter 70
Nellie
NELLIE SLEPT BADLY, tossing and turning, anxious about the rebellion. Next morning she attended the Easter Sunday church service with Mother and her brother, praying silently that she and the other members of the Citizen Army were doing the right thing and that they would have the courage and resolve to begin the fight for Ireland’s independence.
She excused herself from Easter lunch, guiltily hu
gging Mother goodbye as she left for town. By the time she arrived at a crowded Liberty Hall she was filled with anticipation and excitement.
Groups of men in full uniform stood outside talking as the place began to fill.
However, as Nellie entered she discovered that an air of utter gloom and despondency hung over the place.
‘What has happened?’ she asked, stunned. ‘Have our plans been discovered?’
‘Everything has been cancelled,’ Rosie said angrily. ‘It’s all been called off because of the Volunteers.’
‘Cancelled? Why would they do such a thing?’
‘Eoin MacNeill, the head of the Volunteers, gave the orders last night to cancel the rebellion. He sent messengers across the country to all the branches, and wrote a notice to be printed in all the newspapers this morning, telling the Volunteers that there would be no manoeuvres for any of their members today. He’s gone and banjaxed the lot of us,’ she hissed.
Nellie could clearly see that large groups of Volunteers had still turned up and that they were equally baffled by their new orders.
‘They must not have seen the notices.’ Rosie shrugged as she handed Nellie the newspaper and pointed out the notice that Eoin MacNeill had placed in it cancelling all Volunteer manoeuvres planned for Easter Sunday.
‘Ina and I came down from Belfast to tell Father that the Volunteers up north had received the order too and were obeying it,’ Nora Connolly added dejectedly.
‘But why would MacNeill do this?’ Nellie asked as she read in the Sunday Independent that all orders given to the Irish Volunteers were rescinded and that no parades, marches or movements of Irish Volunteers would take place, with every Volunteer strictly ordered to obey.
‘A shipment of guns from Germany that the Volunteers were expecting was intercepted by the British down in Kerry,’ explained Helena Molony, who had come over to join them. ‘They’ve arrested Roger Casement on suspicion of organizing it, and to top it all two Volunteers sent to work the radio signals were killed in a motor-vehicle accident somewhere nearby.’
Nellie’s heart sank at hearing how many things had gone wrong. Calamity after calamity. It was a disaster.
‘MacNeill feared that it was far too risky to go ahead, as the British could well be aware of their plans,’ Helena continued under her breath, ‘but the countess and Tom Clarke and most of the others are furious and still want to go ahead with the Rising.’
Everyone stood around upset and confused, not knowing what was happening. The crowd was growing both inside and outside Liberty Hall, all prepared to join in the planned rebellion. What were they meant to do – return home?
Michael Mallin, William Partridge and the countess were in a huddle talking together, the countess loudly threatening to shoot Eoin MacNeill if she got her hands on him. Meanwhile all the members of the Irish Republican Brotherhood’s Military Council were upstairs in Room 7. It was clear from the raised voices that some kind of meeting was going on between the heads of the Citizen Army and the Volunteers in a desperate effort to try to resolve the situation. James Connolly, Padraig Pearse, Tom Clarke, Eamonn Ceannt, MacDonagh, Joe and Sean Mac Diarmada looked deadly serious when they finally emerged and went to talk to their captains and commandants. Everyone was on tenterhooks, anxiously watching and awaiting their decision.
Most could not hide their disappointment when they were told that the rebellion was postponed until tomorrow at midday, when everyone would assemble here again. They all knew in their hearts that now their numbers could be seriously depleted, and that they ran the risk of the Castle arresting them if they delved into why such a notice had appeared in the papers.
Michael Mallin’s wife, Agnes, came with her four children to see her husband briefly before he left. She was a pretty woman and was naturally anxious: she clearly knew what was happening today and wanted to spend a few precious minutes with her husband. Nellie, suspecting that Agnes was in the family way again, made sure to get her a chair and the two of them talked together quietly.
A few hours later James Connolly assembled a large group of them. It was clear that he was absolutely furious about the change of orders.
‘The Citizen Army does not have to obey Mr MacNeill’s order,’ he told them angrily, ‘so get ready to move out on a route march.’
He and Commandant Mallin led them off, marching across Butt Bridge, along College Green, up Grafton Street and around by the park where Nellie had brought Margaret yesterday. Eighteen-year-old bugler William Oman was instructed to sound his bugle in front of certain key places on the route as they headed along York Street and down George’s Street to Dame Street and Sackville Street, the very centre of Dublin city. Nellie found herself taking particular notice of where they went. The crowds around ignored them.
Returning to Liberty Hall, they prepared tea for everyone. Usually on Sundays a very popular concert was held here and it was decided to carry on with it as normal so as not to arouse suspicions. As Nellie listened to the singing and piano playing it seemed so strange that tomorrow they would all go out together. Michael Mallin played his flute, his music touching the audience as he gazed around the crowded hall.
The men of the Citizen Army had been ordered to sleep the night there, but the women had been told they were not to stay, so Nellie, yawning, slipped out of the union building and went home.
Chapter 71
Grace
THE SUN WAS shining in her window, dappling the bedclothes, as Grace stretched out. All her fears and worries about Easter Sunday had been for nothing. There had been no rebellion, no demonstrations and no arrests. Joe must be safe, for the day had passed quietly. The Volunteers, it seemed, and their grand plans were in disarray after Eoin MacNeill had somehow got wind of everything and cancelled all Volunteer drilling and meetings, putting notices in all the newspapers and sending messengers around the country to all the organization’s branches.
She had met MacDonagh briefly yesterday night at Muriel’s and it was the first time she had ever seen her usually calm brother-in-law so upset and angry. Padraig and Willie Pearse had also called, grim-faced. The three of them were in heated discussion in the living room when she said her discreet goodbyes and came home.
All day yesterday she’d felt a sense of despondency and gloom, as it should have been their wedding day. Geraldine, Tommy Dillon and the Plunkett family had celebrated at a wedding breakfast in Geraldine’s home in Belgrave Square and the newly wed couple had stayed in the Imperial Hotel, the place where she and Joe had also booked to stay for a night or two. It made her sad and lonesome to think about it.
But no more dawdling and lazing in bed, she chided herself, and she washed and dressed quickly and went downstairs to breakfast.
Mother had decided to breakfast in Father’s room. He still had such difficulty eating and swallowing that even a simple bowl of porridge could near choke him. Mother felt it was her duty to keep him company, talking to him about the day and trying to keep his spirits up. The nurse would arrive a little later to wash, change and shave him and give him his medicines.
Liebert planned to go to the Easter Monday races in Fairyhouse with a few old friends and Grace could hear him singing in the bathroom as he got ready.
A letter had just been delivered for her and she eagerly read it. Joe had written it yesterday, telling her he intended returning to the nursing home last night to rest. He said everything was bully, and despite his own illness he was worrying about her. Relief washed over her that he was safe. She would go into town to see him. Perhaps he might even have news of the plans for their wedding. She sat at the table; she would have a little scrambled egg and perhaps one slice of bacon and some of Julia’s brown soda bread, which was good for the digestion.
Nellie came in to join her, immediately taking a large plate and heaping it with eggs, several slices of bacon and two sausages. Adding a few slices of bread, she came and sat beside her.
‘You must be hungry,’ Grace teased, passing her more bread.
‘How’s Joe?’ Nellie asked.
‘He looks awful,’ she blurted out. ‘We met at the Metropole on Saturday because he went and checked himself out of Mrs Quinn’s even though it’s clear that he’s still very unwell. But, thank heaven, I just got a letter from him to say he decided to go back there again last night to rest.’
‘Did you visit Muriel?’
‘Yes, I stayed with her on Saturday night. You know how nervous she gets being on her own, but thank heaven MacDonagh came home yesterday, which was a great relief. Little Don was delighted to see him. Apparently all the big plans for the Volunteers for Easter Sunday were cancelled. He’s upset and angry with Eoin MacNeill, but Muriel is very relieved.’
Nellie buttered her slice of bread thoughtfully.
‘All I will say, Grace, is don’t believe all you hear.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Grace, perplexed.
‘Just what I said.’ Nellie smiled cryptically, getting up and taking another helping of egg.
‘Have you got drilling and manoeuvres today, is that it?’
Nellie kept eating, refusing to answer.
‘Muriel said that all Volunteer movements were cancelled.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Nellie as Julia came into the room with some fresh tea and proceeded to take their plates away.
Sometimes Nellie drove her mad with her stupid loyalty to Countess Markievicz and James Connolly and the Liberty Hall crew. She spent more time with them than she did with the family.
‘I plan to visit Joe today, cheer him up,’ Grace remarked.
‘I have to go,’ said Nellie with a smile, getting up from the table. ‘I’ll run upstairs to say good morning to Father before I leave.’
Something made Grace sit there waiting until twenty minutes later she saw the small figure of her older sister, dressed in her green jacket, a pretty white linen shirt, her tweed skirt, heavy walking boots and green hat, putting a flask of water into the leather kitbag hanging across her body. Nellie checked herself in the mirror as she began to go towards the front door.
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