The fact that the bastard was his would not remain a secret for very long. The shame would be immense. Suddenly he worried what Maud would say. Maud, whom he despised for all her bourgeois pettiness and ambition. If she were an aristocrat like Grace she’d probably accept the child and raise it as her own, but Maud had no breeding and no taste for eccentricity. He had married her for her beauty and her iciness, which had once posed so great a challenge for a man who could have anybody. Who would want him now? Even Grace had turned away from him.
He walked to his desk and sat down. Beads of sweat collected on his skin. He opened the bottom drawer and found his gun hidden beneath a pile of papers. Carefully he lifted it out. The last time he had held it was the day Grace had rejected him. The day he had put it to his temple. The day he had failed to end it all and fallen like a drunken coward, hitting his head on the side of the desk, only to be found later, bleeding and defeated in the corridor, by Bridie. That was where it had all started. Before that moment he hadn’t ever noticed her. But every action has a consequence. That moment had changed his fate. Grace hadn’t wanted him any more but Bridie did.
Again he pressed the barrel to his temple. Again he closed his eyes. Again his finger trembled on the trigger. And again he lacked the courage to take his own life.
Kitty and the baby arrived at Grace’s manor in the Daimler. The stables and garages had not been affected by the fire and the chauffeur was grateful he still had a job. Brennan the butler glanced at the baby curiously before showing her into the hall and telling her firmly to wait while he announced her to his mistress. Kitty did as she was told, shifting her weight from one foot to the other with impatience. He seemed to be gone a long time before Grace appeared at last, her shoes tapping lightly across the marble floor. Her eyes dropped to the basket and a look of concern blackened her face. ‘What is this?’ she asked, and for a moment Kitty wondered whether it was asking too much of her friend to help with her father’s illegitimate child.
‘Oh Grace, it’s a long story . . .’ Kitty began, suddenly feeling weak beneath the burden of responsibility. ‘I’m sorry I brought him here. I had nowhere else to go.’
‘This is Bridie’s child,’ Grace said.
‘You know?’
‘Don’t look so surprised, my dear. Your father had no one to turn to, either. It appears I’m the only available port in a storm.’
‘Do you know who put him on my doorstep?’ Kitty asked.
‘He was left on your doorstep?’
‘With a note.’
‘May I see it?’
Kitty pulled it out of her pocket. Grace read it and her irritation appeared to deepen. ‘I don’t know who wrote this,’ she said quickly, handing it back. ‘But it’s clear to me that either Bridie herself managed to spirit her son out of the convent and send him down here, or someone who very much wants you to raise her child. I can imagine your father was none too pleased to see him.’
‘He wanted me to send him back. He was furious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry.’
‘Give him time. He’ll regret his outburst, I have no doubt. In the meantime, you can stay here as long as you like.’
‘Oh, thank you, Grace.’ Kitty sank onto the sofa and put her head in her hands. Her eyes filled with tears and she began to tremble. Grace’s irritation evaporated and she sat down beside her and drew her against her breast as a mother with her child. ‘It’s going to be all right, Kitty,’ she soothed. ‘This is a tremendous responsibility for a young girl like you, especially after everything you have been through.’ But Kitty was now thinking of Jack. She closed her eyes and let out her anguish into Grace’s arms.
‘Jack wants me to go to America with him,’ she told her. ‘He’s going to be waiting for me at dawn, by the wall in the vegetable garden. But I can’t . . .’ Her voice broke. ‘I can’t—’
‘You can’t go now.’ Grace spoke for her. ‘Of course you can’t go. You have a duty to Bridie’s child and the practicalities of taking a small baby to America are simply too complicated. How would you feed yourself let alone a baby? Jack will understand. If you love each other, you’ll both wait.’
Kitty was reassured. ‘He’ll come back when there’s peace, won’t he?’
Grace swept away a stray tear with her thumb. ‘Of course he will, my dear.’
‘You’re very kind, Grace.’ Kitty looked deeply into her friend’s gentle brown eyes and felt a swell of gratitude. ‘I regret ever having doubted you.’
The following morning Kitty went to the wall to wait for Jack. Dawn was riding the night’s sky, illuminating the darkness with bright stripes of indigo and gold. She had been too nervous to sleep. She knew she was asking a lot of Jack to wait for her, but there was nothing else she could do. She owed it to her friend to take care of her son. She owed it to the Deverills.
At last Jack appeared at the wall in his jacket and cap, a shabby bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled at Kitty but his smile soon faded when he saw her inappropriate attire and the fact that she had not brought a bag. He paled. ‘You’re not coming, are you?’ he said and his obvious disappointment made Kitty’s heart buckle.
‘I can’t.’ Kitty thrust her hands into her coat pockets. She couldn’t tell him about her father and Bridie and the baby; it was too complicated and still too raw. He’d ask her to leave the baby. He’d persuade her to elope with him. She might weaken and then what? ‘I can’t leave Grandma, and Papa needs me,’ she said.
‘Oh Kitty . . .’ he groaned. He put his hand on his hip and turned away. His profile was as hard as if it were carved out of granite. He stared into the distance, lost in thought. His mouth, drawn into a bitter line, reminded her of the boy he had once been when the tinker had hit him on the jaw. For a moment she thought he was going to tell her it was all over. That goodbye was forever. But he took off his cap, settled his intense blue eyes on hers once again and gathered her into his arms where he held her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. ‘Then as God is my witness, I’ll come back for you,’ he said, and the passion in his voice left her in no doubt that he would. ‘When peace returns to Ireland I’ll come back and marry you.’
‘And we’ll remain here in Ballinakelly,’ she replied through her tears. ‘They’ll all just have to get used to it.’ She pulled an envelope out of her pocket and gave it to him. ‘For you to take to America so you don’t forget me.’
‘I’ll never forget you, Kitty. For as long as I live your face will be engraved on my heart.’ He kissed her one last time and Kitty closed her eyes to commit it to memory.
Jack put the envelope in the inside pocket of his jacket and disappeared into the wood, leaving Kitty alone in the garden with only the sound of squabbling crows that picked at the castle ruins like thieves in a graveyard.
She let her gaze wander down the familiar paths of her childhood. The greenhouses with their domed roofs, the rows of growing vegetables, the walls where jasmine and clematis grew in abundance in the summertime, the immaculately manicured lawns where they had played croquet and tennis, which were neglected now and overgrown with weeds. Her heart pined for her lost youth and the girl she once was, rebellious, carefree and wild. She hadn’t realized how happy she had been. In spite of Miss Grieve’s cruelty and her mother’s rejection, her cares had been few. She remembered watching the nature spirits that had danced in little balls of light around the flowerbeds, the ghosts who had been her most regular companions, the secret conversations about fairies she had enjoyed with her grandmother in her little sitting room that smelt of turf fire and lilac. It was all gone; all of it. Who was she now and where did she belong? She was nothing more than a ghost herself, haunting the castle that had gone too.
Suddenly, she was seized by a dreadful sense of regret and the realization that she had just made an awful mistake. She put her hands to her head and let out a loud wail. ‘What have I done!’ she shouted into the empty garden. With her heart thumping and the blood pulsating in her temples she ran towa
rds the wall where she had left Jack. How could she give him up when she knew that living without him would be impossible? How could she sacrifice her love for a child who didn’t even belong to her? What had she been thinking? Why was she so ready to forfeit her own happiness when no one demanded it of her, only her own misplaced sense of duty?
Her throat constricted with panic as she ran through the woods, taking the short cut to Ballinakelly where Jack would be waiting for the train, reflecting perhaps on his loss. She could barely see the way for the tears that blurred her vision. It didn’t matter that she had no belongings save the clothes she was wearing. If she was with Jack she’d have everything she needed. If they were together, they’d require only the air they breathed: love would do the rest. She sprinted on, falling over a tree stump as she hurried down the hill, not caring that her dress tore on the brambles and her skin ripped on the thorns. She was desperate not to miss him. Once gone, she feared, he might be gone forever.
At length she stumbled into town. Her face was smeared with tears and dirt, her hair a tangled mess. She envisaged herself running into his arms and the sense of relief was almost within her grasp. Everything was going be all right. Soon they’d be together and nothing would ever part them again.
She hastened through a small copse, reaching the station from behind. There, in the dull light, she saw the platform and the red-bricked station house with its white awning and the rickety bridge that straddled the tracks. Then she saw Jack. He cut a forlorn figure as he stood there alone, his heavy gaze lost in the no man’s land between reality and the brighter realm of If Only. She was so overcome with relief her legs went weak and nearly gave way altogether. She lifted a hand to wave but, when she cried out, her voice was a breathy squeak, overwhelmed by the sudden eruption of thumping boots that echoed off the station walls as Black and Tans swarmed onto the platform with their guns pointing at Jack. Her heart stalled. She collapsed to her knees. The large number of men seemed excessive for the arrest of one rebel, but they clearly weren’t taking any chances: he had outsmarted them before.
She watched, helpless, as Jack dropped his bag and put his hands in the air, his expression resigned. They handled him roughly, beating him about the head, thumping him in the stomach with the butts of their guns so that he bent double then fell to the ground. Kitty hugged her own stomach and let out a wild and desperate shriek which was lost in the whistle of the train as it steamed into the station like a breathless dragon. She tried to see through the windows to the other side but her eyes were blinded by tears. When the train eventually moved away the platform was empty. Jack had gone. There was no evidence that he had ever been there, except the deep crack in Kitty’s heart that would never mend.
With an ache of longing for all that was lost she ran to the castle and up the charred back staircase to the western tower where her grandmother sat reading and talking to her husband as if the fire had never happened. She burst in, which startled Adeline, for she was unused to living people coming into her room – Bertie insisted on meeting her downstairs in the remains of the boot room where he had set up a table so they could at least eat together, the food being brought up daily from the Hunting Lodge because Adeline refused to leave Hubert. Bertie hoped that the cold would change her mind.
‘Grandma!’ Kitty exclaimed, falling at Adeline’s feet. ‘I’m so unhappy!’ She dropped her head onto her grandmother’s lap and sobbed.
Adeline put down her book and stroked her granddaughter’s hair, giving her grief time to pass. ‘My darling child, you must be strong,’ she said at length. ‘We must all be strong. Life is full of changes but we mustn’t fear them. We must adapt.’
‘But everything has changed. Everything. I don’t know who I am any more.’
‘Come come now, Kitty. Just because things change around you doesn’t mean you are any different.’
‘But you don’t understand. I need to tell you everything. You’re the only person I can truly trust.’ Kitty told her about Jack, her involvement with the rebels, her father’s indiscretion with Bridie and the baby left on their doorstep. When she had finished she sat up and looked at her grandmother with large, glassy eyes. Adeline’s face was serene, as if nothing Kitty told her had been in the least surprising. ‘He’s been arrested now,’ she choked. ‘What if they execute him? What if I never see him again? I don’t think I can go on without him, Grandma. I don’t think I can do it.’
‘You can and you must,’ said Adeline fiercely. ‘Do you think Jack would want you to lie in a heap and give up on life? Of course he wouldn’t.’
‘But he doesn’t know I was there. He thought I wasn’t coming. I shouted but he didn’t hear me.’
Adeline patted her head. ‘Then you must write to him and tell him, Kitty. When they release him you will be reunited.’
‘But will they release him? Do you see that, Grandma? Do you see us together? Tell me what you see because I see nothing but a void.’
Adeline looked at her granddaughter steadily. ‘Didn’t I tell you that you are a brave child of Mars? Life was never going to be an easy path but full of potholes which are of your choosing. It’s in your nature to elect the roughest road.’ She sighed and ran a hand down Kitty’s red hair. ‘You’re my favourite grandchild. You always have been. We’re so alike, you and I, and yet you’re far more reckless than I ever was. I don’t know who you get that from.’ She laughed. ‘Hubert says you get it from him, but I don’t agree.’ Kitty raised her eyes to see her grandfather sitting in the armchair opposite. He looked so real for a moment she believed he hadn’t perished in the flames and her heart gave a little jump. ‘No, my dear, I’m afraid he’s a spirit, just like all the others. Were you to marry this Jack of yours, you could come and live here and set them all free.’
‘That would be a dream,’ said Kitty sadly.
‘The child is your destiny, Kitty. Your father wants nothing to do with him, which is very predictable. He’s a terrible coward, I’m afraid. So, you have to look after him.’
‘How? Papa won’t give me a penny. He’s my half-brother. He’s Bridie’s boy . . .’
‘And he’s a Deverill. He’s one of us.’ Adeline lifted her chin. ‘I will support you. Hubert has provided for me in his will and I have more than enough. This little boy is my grandson. You can count on me to give you everything you need.’ Kitty stood up and wiped her eyes. ‘Brace yourself, little child of Mars, for the road is a long one and it is full of peril. I suggest you leave now. I feel an urgency suddenly. You need to leave Ireland at once. May God go with you.’
Kitty returned to the Hunting Lodge where the chauffeur waited to drive her back to the manor. With a heavy heart she climbed into the car and was driven away.
When she reached the manor, Grace was waiting for her on the doorstep, wringing her hands. From the expression on her face Kitty knew something terrible had happened. ‘Thank God you’re back,’ Grace exclaimed, running down the steps to meet her. ‘You must come inside quickly. Jack has been arrested at the station.’
‘How do you know about that?’ Kitty asked in astonishment.
‘Little goes on around here that I don’t know about,’ she replied cagily, leading Kitty into the hall.
Kitty gripped Grace’s arm. ‘I was there, Grace,’ she hissed. ‘I changed my mind. I was there and I saw it all.’
‘But they didn’t see you?’ Grace asked anxiously.
‘No, they didn’t. What will they do to him?’ Her breaths came out in gasps. ‘They won’t hurt him, will they?’ Kitty panicked suddenly, remembering the envelope she had given him. ‘Dear God,’ she cried, squeezing Grace’s arm harder. ‘I gave him a photograph of me . . . and a letter.’
Grace was quick to act. ‘Then you must leave immediately. There’s no time to waste.’
‘Where to?’
‘London, of course. Where else?’ Grace took her by the hand and led her briskly upstairs. ‘You must take the baby with you. You can stay in my house in Mayfair for as
long as you like. Ireland is no longer a safe place for you, my dear. Now pack your bag and hurry.’
Just before they disappeared onto the landing Grace glanced over her shoulder into the hall below where a man stepped out of the shadows. He ran a rough hand through his thick, curly hair then began to button up his shirt. Their eyes met and a silent understanding passed between them. Grace hurried Kitty on down the corridor. Michael Doyle replaced his cap, slipped into his jacket, then vanished.
Bridie was in her narrow bunk in the steerage cabin she shared with three other Irish girls when she was woken by a loud commotion coming from the deck. She blinked a moment, remembering where she was with a sinking feeling. The emerald hills of home had been no more than a dream. She sat up, stiff from the hard mattress, feeble after nearly two weeks of tiny portions of tasteless food, and listened. The disturbance grew into a roar. Her heart was seized with terror. Was the boat sinking? She called for Eileen, the girl from Co. Wicklow she had befriended on the voyage, but when she got up and looked onto the top bunk, Eileen’s bed was empty. Urgently she dressed and gathering her small case of belongings she hurried out into the corridor and upstairs to the deck as fast as her trembling legs could carry her.
It seemed as if every single passenger was out on deck. Dawn had broken misty and cold but out of the gloom she could see the magnificent figure of a monumental statue rising out of the sea. Suddenly, a reverential silence fell upon the crowd. They stared at this symbol of liberty as if it were some kind of benevolent god, bestowing upon them a new and positive future. Christians fell to their knees and crossed themselves. Jews began to pray in their talliths. Old men and women cried with happiness. Children sobbed because their parents did. Bridie began to cry too, not for the sight of this Promised Land, but for the one she had left behind and the baby she had abandoned there. She stood, engulfed by this crowd of strangers all seeking a new life as she was, and cried for everything she had lost.
PART THREE
Songs of Love and War Page 26