A Winter of Spies
‘excellent, a good story related straight as good stories deserve, enjoyable at any age’
BOOKS IRELAND
‘thrilling … adventures set against a completely realised period city, and Sarah is a terrific heroine’
RTE GUIDE
A sequel to The Guns of Easter
In The Guns of Easter (Winner of a Bisto Book of the Year Merit Award and the Eilís Dillon Memorial Award), Jimmy Conway sees first-hand the events of the Easter Rising unfolding on the streets of Dublin. He risks his life to cross the wartime city to try to get food for his starving family.
In this book, his sister Sarah becomes embroiled in an underground war, with spies and counter-spies and a confusing network of lies. Just who is lying to whom? And who, if anyone, is telling the truth?
Special Merit Award to The O’Brien Press from Reading Association of Ireland
‘for exceptional care, skill and professionalism in publishing, resulting in a consistently high standard in all of the children’s books published by The O’Brien Press’
Gerard Whelan
Born in Enniscorthy, County Wexford, Gerard Whelan has lived and worked in several European countries. He now lives in Dublin where he works as a fulltime father.
OTHER BOOKS
THE GUNS OF EASTER
Whelan’s first book has become a classic. It is winner of a Bisto Book of the Year Merit Award and the Eilís Dillon Memorial Award 1997.
DREAM INVADER
His second book was overall winner of the Bisto Book of the Year Award 1998.
A WINTER OF SPIES
Gerard Whelan
DEDICATION
For Caitriona Walshe, Campile, Co. Wexford, whose ancestors always found something to rebel against
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to TC and LM in Dublin, and DC in Laois, who put me right when I thought this story was getting a bit too nasty.
Contents
* * *
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
PART 1 THE IMPOSSIBLE CHILD
1 The Raid
2 At Home
3 Tension
4 Family Matters
5 Guns
PART 2 A SECRET WAR
6 New Neighbours
7 In Trouble
8 Da’s War
9 Watchers
PART 3 COGS AND WHEELS
10 A Dead Detective
11 Impatience
12 The Big Fellow
13 Old Soldiers
14 Cogs and Wheels
PART 4 BIG LIES
15 An Encounter
16 Herbert Park
17 Heavy Weather
18 A New Simon
PART 5 ON THE SPOT
19 A New Plan
20 Auxies
21 Muffled Words
22 A Handshake
23 Visitors
24 A Beaten Man
25 Secret Sins
Afterword
Copyright
PART 1: THE IMPOSSIBLE CHILD
1
THE RAID
ONE OF THE WHEELS ON THE TOY BABY CARRIAGE WAS BENT. It squeaked as Sarah Conway pushed it down the path. Eileen, the doll, lay swaddled in blankets inside. Her painted eyes looked blankly at the morning sky. Sarah hummed a lullaby under her breath. It was almost half-past eight.
When Sarah turned the corner onto the canal she saw a Crossley tender pulled up at the side of the street. Two Tommies and a Black and Tan were standing by Phelans’ gate. She was right beside them. The sounds of a rough search came from the open doorway of the house. Wood broke against a floor or a wall. Glass smashed. Sarah stopped and leaned over the doll.
‘Now, you go to sleep, Eileen,’ she said. ‘You need your rest.’
The men at the gate looked at her. They were bored.
‘The little one not go asleep for you, love?’ one of the Tommies asked. Under his steel helmet his face was young and open. He had big blue eyes.
‘Eileen is a bold girl,’ Sarah told him.
‘Give over, mate,’ the Tan said to the soldier. ‘You’re wasting your time talking to these people.’
‘She’s only a kid, Riggs,’ the other Tommy said to the Tan. ‘What do you think she’s going to do? Pull a gun out of the pram?’
The two soldiers laughed. The sounds of things breaking came from the house. A net curtain twitched in the window next door. A white face peeped out, then the curtain was jerked shut again.
The Tan didn’t like being laughed at. He gave Sarah a nasty look.
‘What’s in that baby carriage, girlie?’ he snarled at her.
‘A baby,’ Sarah said. The two Tommies laughed again.
‘Give it a rest, Riggs,’ the young one said. ‘She’s a kid.’
‘I’m eleven now,’ Sarah corrected him.
The Black and Tan, Riggs, said a dirty word.
‘You’d best get along, miss,’ the other Tommy said kindly. ‘We’re on business here.’
‘So am I,’ Sarah said.
‘You weren’t,’ said the Tan, ‘coming here to this house, were you?’
Sarah looked at Phelans’ house. They had no children, but they owned a big old lazy dog called Ranger who was always begging for food.
‘I don’t even know who lives here,’ Sarah said. There were grenades hanging from the soldiers’ webbing. The Tan had two revolvers in open holsters on his belt, like a cowboy you’d see in the picture house.
‘Shut up, Riggs,’ said the older soldier. ‘No wonder they don’t like us, with pigs like you on the job.’ He smiled at Sarah. ‘There’s bad people living here, missy,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t want to know them. You get off home now. Your Eileen might sleep better there.’
‘All right,’ Sarah said, and went on. Before she reached the crossing two more police tenders went by. They were full of Black and Tans, bristling with rifles. Sarah turned down the back lane, still humming.
She found Simon Hughes round the bend in the lane. He wore a long black overcoat, and had his hand in one of the pockets. His face was pale and worried, his hair was uncombed. He looked shocked when he saw her.
‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘Our gal Sal.’ He had a nice voice, though his accent was English. Sarah suspected that her sister Josie was sweet on him. He’d grown a lovely little moustache lately.
‘Simple Simon!’ she said. ‘In trouble again. But you’re in luck – they’re lazy today. They’re only starting to surround the place. Give me your gun.’
Simon gave her a funny look. ‘You must be joking, doll,’ he said.
‘There’s Tans and Tommies in the street,’ Sarah said calmly. ‘Martin sent me. Give me your gun.’
Simon Hughes thought hard. Then, reluctantly, he pulled his pistol out and handed it to her. It was a long-barrelled automatic, one of the ones they called ‘Peter the Painters’.
Sarah put the pistol in the bottom of the baby carriage and covered it with Eileen’s blanket. Simon handed her two spare magazines for the gun, and she put them in her apron pocket.
‘I’m going back the way I came,’ she said. ‘You go the other way.’
The young man stared at her.
‘Yes, boss,’ he said sarcastically. Then he thought better of it. ‘Thanks, Sal,’ he said. ‘Does your family know where you are?’
Sarah sniffed. ‘What do you think?’ she asked.
Simon looked as though he didn’t know what to think. Then he shrugged, turned and walked down the lane, trying to look casual. Sarah was sure that was easier for him without the gun. With a bit of luck he’d miss the soldiers altogether anyway.
‘Good luck,’ she said. She started back up the lane. Just
as she came to the street again a group of Tans came into the laneway. Behind them walked an Auxiliary officer in his Glengarry cap and a pale man in a long overcoat with a pistol in his hand. They all looked at her suspiciously. Riggs, the Tan who’d been at the gate, was with them. He sneered at Sarah.
‘We talked to her already,’ he said to the others. ‘She’s just another stupid bogtrotter.’
The cheek! Sarah thought. She’d never trotted on a bog in her whole life! She’d never even seen a bog, come to that, unless you counted some of the peat beds in the mountains. But she stayed calm. The Tans went their way and she went hers. She was still humming. When she looked back the men had disappeared around the bend in the lane, all except the man with the overcoat and pistol. He was staring at Sarah. He looked very thoughtful.
Sarah didn’t want any of these men thinking about her at all. She tried not to hurry, though she was half-expecting the man – he had to be some kind of detective – to call her back. Suddenly she didn’t feel so adult any more. They wouldn’t shoot a little girl, she told herself. Still, little girls did get shot. Just before she reached the street she looked back again, but the man was gone. Sarah felt her confidence return as she went on. For a while she listened for the shouts or shots that would say Simon had been stopped. She heard nothing, and was glad. She liked Simon.
It was still early on this Sunday morning. Eight o’clock Mass was on in Haddington Road church, and the streets of Dublin were almost deserted. Sarah got away from the canal, and after a while turned down another lane. Two more young men were waiting for her there, Mick’s friend Martin Ford and the Wexford one, Byrne. Sarah didn’t really like Byrne. He was always polite, but there was something very cold about him.
The two looked tensely at Sarah until she smiled.
‘How’s a girl?’ Martin Ford said then.
‘A girl is grand, thank you,’ Sarah said. ‘And so is a Simon, I think.’
She took the pistol from the pram and handed it to Martin. Byrne’s blank eyes searched the empty lane. He had the eyes of a killer, Ma had said one time in anger, then hushed herself, seeing Sarah there. Sarah, in spite of herself, had felt thrilled by the word. She’d have expected a killer’s eyes to be wilder. Byrne’s eyes were as cold as stones. You could never tell what he was thinking.
‘You’re a life-saver, Sarah,’ Martin Ford said. ‘Simon has a cool head. With no gun and an English accent he’ll just walk out of there, even if he’s stopped.’
Sarah gave a mock-curtsey. ‘Thank you kindly,’ she said.
Byrne looked at her and shook his head. ‘You’re a crazy child,’ he said.
‘And aren’t you glad of it?’ Sarah said tartly.
He gave her a thin smile, the only sort she’d ever seen on his face. ‘Get along home with you now,’ he said. ‘It might get hot around here yet.’
Sarah gave him a big smile, to show him how it was done. He had no right to be so cold and serious. She knew he was only twenty, but he acted like an old man all the time. Then she turned and made towards home. The wheel on the pram squeaked all the way. Sarah felt very pleased with herself. She felt she had just taken her first steps into the adult world. It was true: she had. But it wasn’t the world she expected. New worlds never are.
2
AT HOME
THE YEAR 1920 WAS A BAD TIME FOR IRELAND. The fight for independence had turned violent again the year before, and the violence had worsened and spread. The reborn Volunteer movement ambushed army and police patrols and assassinated government agents. It was a guerrilla war, the Volunteers striking when least expected and then fading back into their everyday lives among the people.
The British government, victorious in the Great War but exhausted by it, didn’t know how to deal with this kind of fighting. They struck back blindly and ever more viciously at the Volunteers, while denying to the world that they were striking back at all. They’d lost control of Ireland, though they wouldn’t admit it; and as the year passed, they seemed at times to be losing control even of their own forces. Reports of raids, murders and reprisals made people both sad and angry. To Sarah Conway, though, the times seemed more exciting than frightening. She was happy, now, to have played a small part in the struggle.
Sarah lived with her family in Northumberland Road. It took her only a few minutes to get there. At home everyone had been up for ages except Sarah’s brother Jimmy. Jimmy stayed up late on Saturday nights, reading. He spent a lot of time reading, not just newspapers or magazines but actual books. Ma always said it was a pity that he hadn’t had more schooling, but Jimmy preferred to work. You learned more out in the world, he said.
Jimmy had been working as a messenger boy for one of the big stores now for over two years. Da was trying to get him a place as a clerical apprentice in Kingsbridge railway station where he and their uncle Mick worked as porters. That was a good steady job, but there was a long waiting list for places. Meanwhile Jimmy was happy enough being a messenger boy. The weather was bad sometimes, and he had to wear a uniform with a peaked cap. But there were, as he said himself, worse uniforms, and he got to ride all over the city on the firm’s bicycle delivering goods. That in itself displeased Ma.
‘The streets are not safe,’ she’d say.
At weekends Jimmy’s reading always kept him up late. Ma and Da worried that he might show a light, inviting a raid. At the same time they liked the fact that he was studious.
‘None of my family were readers,’ Da used to say. ‘They’d no truck with books.’
That wasn’t completely true. Da himself had taken to reading a fair bit after he came out of the army, trying – he always said – to understand what the Great War had been about. For him, as for many Irishmen, it had been about getting some wages and feeding his family; but he’d been curious about why everyone else was fighting.
In the end Da gave up trying to understand the war. So far as he could see, he said, it had all to do with secret treaties and family feuds between the kings and queens of Europe – that and what Da called robbery rights.
‘What are robbery rights?’ Jimmy asked him one time. Jimmy was seventeen, and wanted to understand everything.
‘All the strong countries,’ Da explained, ‘fell out about who had the right to rob all the weak countries. So they fought it out for the robbery rights.’
Jimmy said nothing to that, just nodded and looked thoughtful. Jimmy thought a lot. Their aunt Ella, whom they lived with now, teased him sometimes about thinking too much.
‘It’s not for the likes of us to be thinking,’ she’d say. But she was very fond of Jimmy, and didn’t mean it in a nasty way.
Da wasn’t working today. When Sarah went into the kitchen now he was sitting at the table in his shirtsleeves drinking tea. Ma and Ella were preparing potatoes and vegetables for the dinner. There was a lovely smell of baking.
‘Here she is!’ Da said when he saw her. ‘Where did you get to at this hour, miss?’
‘I took Eileen for a walk up the road,’ Sarah said. And met Martin Ford, though she didn’t say so. ‘There was a raid on the canal,’ she said casually.
The three adults looked at her.
‘Where?’ Ella said.
‘Phelans’.’
‘Oh God,’ Ma said. ‘Was there shooting?’
‘No. Sure you’d have heard shooting.’
‘Did they arrest anyone?’
‘I saw that fella Simon Hughes, but he wasn’t arrested that I know of.’
There was suspicion in the look Da gave her.
‘Where’s Josie?’ Sarah asked innocently.
‘Mass,’ Ma said. ‘Where you should be. And I think I heard Jimmy stirring upstairs.’
Josie didn’t normally stay with them anymore. She was in service with a family out in Bray. But the family was spending a month on the Continent, and Josie had permission to spend the weekends at home while they were away. It was nice to have her around, really, though Sarah had been getting used to being the o
nly girl in the house. Still, Josie could tell her all about life among the rich, and Sarah was always interested to hear about their peculiar lives.
‘And still no sign of Mick?’ Sarah asked.
‘It probably got too late for him to come. He was working till near curfew time last night.’
Sarah heard the worry in Ma’s voice. Mick’s visits during the week were unpredictable, but he always had Sunday dinner with them when he wasn’t working. He usually came on Saturday evening, but last night there’d been no sign of him. It might be that he’d stayed away because of the curfew, though he’d come after curfew before. He had a kind of disrespect for official rules that worried Ma.
‘There’s such a thing as being stupid,’ she’d say, ‘and it’s a thing our Mick was always good at. There’s no point in getting shot just to show off.’
It wasn’t only a case of Ma worrying too much. Anyone these days would be alarmed when somebody didn’t turn up as expected, especially at night. With the Tans on the loose, arrest was the least of anyone’s worries when someone went missing. Innocence was no protection.
The Black and Tans had appeared in spring, and their behaviour soon made them both hated and feared. They were mainly ex-soldiers, jobless in the hard times that followed the war. They were a rough lot, well-paid, well-armed, badly disciplined and often drunk. Officially they were supposed to be part of the police force, but they seemed answerable to nobody but themselves.
In autumn the Auxiliaries had come, ex-British officers mainly, a tough, ruthless body of men who were more dangerous than the Tans because they were better disciplined and more often sober. By and large though, their atrocities were no less.
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