The Forgotten Secret

by Kathleen McGurl

  ‘Where’s Mr Gallagher?’

  ‘They took him for questioning. Thank the Lord it was the RIC and not the Black and Tans or I fear they’d’ve … they’d have …’ She dissolved into tears and Ellen pulled her close. She didn’t need to hear the end of the sentence. She remembered all too well the fate of Jimmy’s friend Gerry.

  ‘And Mickey?’

  ‘In the sitting room. Trying to make a start on tidying it. It’ll take days.’

  ‘I’ll stay and help,’ Ellen said. ‘Have you heard anything from Jimmy?’

  ‘Of course not. He’s away with his Volunteers, the eejit, and we’ll not see him till the war’s over. Unless we see him before then in his coffin. Why’d he have to get involved, I just don’t understand. And that one in there’ – Mrs Gallagher pointed towards the sitting room – ‘he only wants to go and do the same thing. Ran off last week, didn’t he, and joined the Fianna. Came home full of tales of how he’d learned to clean a gun.’ She cried again, and Ellen tried to hold her once more, but Mrs Gallagher shrugged her off. ‘Don’t mind me. I’m only the little woman in all this. Our job’s just to support the men and boys, isn’t it? Not to get involved ourselves. Just to suffer the consequences for what the men do.’

  ‘Some women are involved,’ Ellen said, stooping to pick up the larger pieces of broken crockery.

  ‘Your Mrs Carlton and her Cumann na mBan? They’d do better to keep their noses out. War is men’s work. If women ruled the world there’d be no war.’ Mrs Gallagher brushed flour off a chair and sat at the kitchen table, head in hands.

  Ellen was about to say something more, but decided against it. The best thing she could do for the Gallaghers now would be to help clear up this mess. She set to work, replacing anything unbroken in the cupboards, sweeping the floor, wiping the flour off all surfaces. It didn’t take long to have the kitchen looking respectable again. She put a kettle on the range to make tea. Mrs Gallagher was still sitting at the table, sobbing quietly.

  Ellen went in search of Mickey to see if he needed help. The living room was in as much of a mess as the kitchen had been. Books and papers were strewn everywhere. The basket of turf that sat beside the fireplace had been upended and the turf bricks kicked around the room. The chair where Jimmy had his hiding place was tipped on its back but, Ellen was relieved to see, not slashed open, though she doubted he’d have left anything incriminating in it.

  It was clear that this was an attempt to make as much mess as possible. The RIC hadn’t been looking for anything in particular. They just wanted to cause chaos. At least, Ellen thought, they hadn’t hurt anyone. It was bad, but it could have been so much worse.

  Mickey was lying stretched full length on the sofa, his forearm across his forehead, eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling.

  ‘Need some help clearing up?’ Ellen said, as cheerily as she could manage.

  ‘Aye, I do,’ Mickey said. ‘Promised Mammy I’d sort this room, but I don’t know where to start.’ He swung his legs round and sat up. ‘Ellen, this is after making me so cross. I don’t know whether I’m more cross that Jimmy’s actions made them do this to us, or that I can’t be with him, fighting alongside him.’

  She sat next to him and put a sisterly arm around his shoulders. ‘You can support him here, by looking after your mammy. While your daddy’s away being questioned you’re the man of the house. To be sure it is all a big mess but the place to start is in your own head. Get yourself together, then come and help me clear up.’

  Ellen stood and began picking up the debris, restoring order. Mickey roused himself and joined her a few moments later, and she was able to go and finish making the tea for Mrs Gallagher. It seemed to revive the older woman.

  ‘Thanks for all you’ve done, love,’ said Mrs Gallagher, catching her hand and squeezing it.

  ‘You’re welcome. I hope Mr Gallagher will be back soon.’

  ‘Yes, and Jimmy too. If you hear anything, you will let us know?’

  Ellen smiled. ‘I know he’s safe, that’s all.’ It couldn’t hurt to tell her that much.

  ‘Thanks be to God for that, at least.’

  She stayed at Clonamurty Farm until Mr Gallagher returned, tired, stressed but unhurt.

  ‘Just questions,’ he said, in response to his wife’s enquiries. ‘Endless questions. When did I last see Jimmy? What was he planning? Who did he associate with? They knew nothing. They were just fishing.’

  ‘What did you tell them, sir?’ Ellen asked, wondering if he’d been forced into telling them about those guns she’d seen him hide under the floor of the barn. Even Mrs Gallagher didn’t know about those.

  Mr Gallagher shrugged. ‘Told them I hadn’t seen Jimmy for weeks, that he was his own man now, making his own decisions, and seeing his own friends. That I knew nothing of any plans, and had no idea why they were questioning me. Thankfully they let me go. I knew the officer – McMurphy – used to have a pint with him in the pub most weeks, before all this began. What’s it come to, that he and I are on different sides, and all because his job forces him to be against us?’ Mr Gallagher shook his head sadly. ‘Jimmy’s put us in danger. We were lucky this time. Next time it could be the Black and Tans. They wouldn’t stop at just questions.’

  His words played on Ellen’s mind as she walked along the lane towards her father’s cottage. She supported Jimmy, as did his family at heart, but his decisions were affecting them all. It was always this way – the ordinary people suffering due to the actions of a few. But it’d be worth it, in the long term, if Irish freedom was won, wouldn’t it?

  ‘There you are, girl. I’m after waiting hours for you. I’m in need of some dinner.’ Her father was as grumpy as ever, sitting in his chair by the kitchen range, empty bottles of beer at his feet. Digger was nosing despondently at his empty food bowl.

  ‘I’ll get something in the oven, then.’ She hunted for some food, found rashers of bacon and potatoes, and began preparing a meal. She found the remains of last week’s leg of lamb for Digger. As she worked her father kept up a steady stream of grumbles.

  ‘Hear that Jimmy Gallagher’s gone missing. The lad you’re sweet on. Best keep away from him. If he’s got himself caught up with this war, it’ll do no one any good. I blame those eejits from 1916. The ones who tried to take over Dublin. They’re the ones who started it all. Life was peaceful enough before then, and now look at us! Blackstown burned. The barracks blown up. Roadblocks everywhere. Men on the run. That Markievicz woman elected to Parliament, yet she was one of the rebels! Doesn’t make any sense. They should have left her to rot in prison. We don’t want women running the country, so we don’t.’ He grunted, shifting in his chair while Ellen bit her lip. There was no point arguing.

  ‘Who knows where it’ll all end?’ Da went on. ‘With the Volunteers dead or surrendered, and the Union flag flying again over Dublin castle, just as it always has, that’s where. And people like us end up rebuilding the country. They’ve demolished the Boyne bridge – did you hear about that? Just to make it harder for the RIC to get around. Makes it harder for all of us, doesn’t it? Did they think about that, this Irish Republican Army or whatever they’re calling themselves now? How’re the farmers to get to market without that bridge? How’re people to move around? Hmm?’

  ‘I don’t know, Da,’ Ellen said, but he continued grumbling, obviously not caring for any response.

  ‘When it’s all over and the Volunteers are in prison, there’ll only be people like me and you left to rebuild that bridge and put it all right. The RIC won’t help us then, not after they’ve been shot at and blown up. We used to get along all right, people minding their own business, RIC keeping order. And now look. It’s a shame, that’s what it is. A crying shame.’

  Ellen had stopped listening. She knew deep down he was in favour of Irish independence. It was just the inconvenience to himself that he was grumbling about. There were those who went out and fought for what they believed was right, and those who sat at home and grum
bled. Well, she knew which type of people gained her respect.

  With the dinner cooking she quickly mixed a soda-bread dough, formed it into a loaf and slashed the top of it to let the fairies out, as her mother had taught her. She put it onto a tray in the range oven.

  ‘There, Da. Dinner’s almost ready and there’s bread in the oven. All’s well with the world, so.’ She smiled brightly at him. She’d have liked to talk about what had gone on at Clonamurty but it would only set him off grumbling again. Better to talk of inconsequential things when he was in this mood.

  The next day, early in the morning while Ellen was still at her father’s house making breakfast, a message arrived. A boy from Blackstown brought it. He was, he explained to Ellen, out of earshot of her father, a member of the Fianna but had been advised not to wear his uniform.

  ‘I’d be a target for the Black and Tans, if I wore it,’ he said, sounding almost proud. ‘Anyways, I was asked to find you and bring you this. You weren’t up at Madame Carlton’s and they said to look for you here.’

  ‘You’ve done well, thank you,’ said Ellen, taking the grubby note from him with shaking hands. ‘Have a slice of bread and butter before you go?’

  ‘All right.’ The boy took the bread she offered and ate it greedily. ‘I’ll be going now, miss. Got more errands to run, and the Black and Tans are on the Blackstown road, so I’ll have to go through the fields.’

  When he’d gone, she opened the note with shaking hands, and recognised at once Jimmy’s handwriting.

  Dearest Ellen. I hope this reaches you safely. Usual place, after school, if you’re able. J.

  He wanted to meet her! Today, under the old oak, after church! She completed making breakfast with a song in her heart. When her father rose and joined her she decided a small lie was the best way ahead.

  ‘Da? I’m sorry but I will have to go back to Carlton House straight after church. I’ll prepare the dinner this morning before I go and all you’ll have to do is put it in the oven. Wish I could stay longer but Madame Carlton said I’m needed. Siobhan, the other housemaid, is after being sick all week. I was lucky to get any time off at all.’

  ‘Hmph. You could have said yesterday. You were late back to me and now leaving early. What kind of a daughter are you?’

  ‘Da, it was you who wanted me to find a job, so it was.’

  ‘Don’t you be answering me back, girl! Where’s your respect? You just make sure everything’s done for my Sunday roast before you go. Another meal I have to eat alone.’

  Today, his grumbling couldn’t upset Ellen. She was going to meet Jimmy! She worked like a Trojan all morning to get everything done, the cottage cleaned and her father’s dinners and pies for the week made.

  At last it was time for church. At last Father O’Riordan stopped droning on in his sermon. At last it was time to meet Jimmy. Ellen kissed her father goodbye. ‘Put the stew in the oven for an hour like I told you. Enjoy. I’ll see you next weekend.’

  ‘Aye, and don’t be late next week.’ Her father shuffled away, still grumbling to himself. When he was out of sight Ellen skipped happily to the old oak, their childhood meeting place. It was the perfect place. Just out of town and well secluded.

  When she arrived he was not there yet. She had no idea which direction he’d be coming from. And, thinking about it, she realised he’d have to take extreme care. He was on the run, now. He was wanted by the RIC. If he was spotted and recognised he would be arrested, or worse. She hoped he’d keep hidden. There were ways of approaching the oak, across the fields, keeping close to hedgerows, which meant you couldn’t be seen from any road. She stood leaning against the tree, prepared for a long wait if necessary. It was a fine, if breezy, day, and she had plenty of time before she was really due back at Carlton House. She sang quietly to herself as she waited.

  ‘Ah, a pretty colleen! Why would you be standing here? Waiting for someone?’

  She spun around to see who was talking. Two men, in the mismatched uniforms of the Black and Tans. She quickly replaced the look of horror on her face with a smile.

  ‘Hello, sirs. Just my … sister. She’s away delivering a basket of eggs, to, um, to Mrs O’Flanaghan. She said she’d meet me back here.’

  ‘Eggs, hmm? And what’ve you got for the likes of us? Poor hard-working soldiers, we are, trying to keep the peace in this godforsaken country.’ The man leered at her, standing so close she could smell his foul breath.

  Ellen took a step away, praying that Jimmy wouldn’t come now, not with these men here. If they spotted him … well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘What’s the matter, pet? Don’t you like me?’ He turned to his friend, who was leaning against the tree, lighting a cigarette. ‘She don’t like me, Bert. What’s wrong with me?’

  ‘Too pug-ugly, ain’t you?’ the other one replied, and laughed at his own joke.

  ‘Well, my sister doesn’t look like she’s turning up any time soon, so I’ll be going home, now,’ Ellen said, and took a step away. The man caught her arm.

  ‘Not yet, you ain’t. Give us a kiss, first.’

  She pulled away from him and at that moment, across the field on the far side of the tree, she caught a glimpse of Jimmy approaching. He couldn’t see the men from where he was – they were hidden by the enormous girth of the tree trunk. He’d spotted her, though, and lifted a hand to wave. Any moment now and he’d be visible to the Black and Tan men.

  She thought quickly, and just as the man made a grab for her again she lifted a hand and made their old childhood sign for ‘watch out, teacher’s coming’. For anyone else, for these Black and Tan thugs, it would pass as an odd sort of wave, disguised by her pulling away from the man.

  But out of the corner of her eye she saw Jimmy stop, then duck for cover beneath the hedgerow. He’d understood her warning. He was safe.

  ‘Just leave me be,’ she said, mustering as much force to her voice as possible. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve no right to hold me. I’ll be on my way home now.’

  ‘Ah, leave her. There are other girls in town more willing. Prettier, too,’ said the second man. The first one let go, flinging her arm back at her harshly.

  She offered up a quick silent prayer of thanks, held her head high, and marched away as quickly as possible. Part of her wanted to go after Jimmy, but she went in the opposite direction, in case the Black and Tans followed.

  Their plans were ruined. She headed back to Carlton House, tears in her eyes, wondering when on earth she’d get the chance to see Jimmy again. Thank goodness she’d been able to warn him to stay away before the Black and Tans had seen him.

  Chapter 17

  Clare, May 2016

  It was six days since the accident and I had the most beautiful bruise across my right shoulder from the seatbelt. Every day it developed a new colour and I now had the full rainbow. But it didn’t hurt unless I pressed it, and after a couple of days the stiffness in my back had faded and I’d been able to get back to working on the house. Just as well because Matt and Jon were due very soon and I needed to get a couple of bedrooms in a fit state for them to use. Matt was taking a week off work, and Jon’s university term had finished for the summer. I’d hired a car to get me around until the insurance money came through.

  I hadn’t heard back from the insurance company, and had to pluck up the courage and mental strength to turn the Paul-phone back on, to ring him again and try to persuade him to let the insurance claim go ahead. But as soon as I’d turned the phone on, it rang, with a voicemail message from him.

  ‘Clare, look, I over-reacted. Sorry I shouted at you. Awful news about your accident. Matt says you weren’t too badly hurt and … well … I’m glad about that. Um … well. I’ve agreed the insurance claim. Shouldn’t take too long to go through. Um … right. Ring me when you get this message. If you like. Not long till your birthday, is it? The big one. So, right. Yeah. Ring me. Bye.’

  I was gobsmacked, to use one of Jon’s words. Paul, apologising,
agreeing to the insurance claim, being reasonable for once. Unbelievable. The message had been left only an hour before, so I rang him there and then, hoping that he’d still be in the same mood as when he left me the message.

  He answered straight away. ‘Clare! Good to hear your voice. I … miss you, you know?’

  ‘Um, thanks for sorting out the insurance claim.’ Of course he missed me. No one cooking his dinners, was there?

  ‘No problem. It was a bit of a shock, hearing you’d had an accident. I think it was the shock that made me have a go at you. Sorry about that.’

  Another apology. This was a different side of Paul, one I didn’t remember ever seeing before. I just grunted in response.

  ‘Boys are coming to see you for your birthday, aren’t they?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, they are. I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘It’d have been nice for us all to be together for it. But you do what you want. I’ll send you over a card, if that’s all right. We’ve been married twenty-five years, Clare. I can’t just throw it all away, even if you can.’

  I sighed. It was on the tip of my tongue to say I wasn’t throwing our shared past away; I was just moving on, to my own future. But that would lead to a row, and I didn’t want to spoil this conversation. It was the first I’d had with Paul since telling him I was leaving, in which he hadn’t ranted and raved at me. ‘Send me a card. Yes, I’d like that. Sorry Paul, must go now, there’s … so much I need to do today. Bye, then.’

  I hung up before he had chance to say anything more. I sat there, at my kitchen table with a cold cup of tea in front of me, for a good ten minutes pondering that call and Paul’s apparent conciliatory tone. If he could only continue being reasonable, the whole divorce proceedings would be a lot easier. Perhaps we’d even manage to stay in touch and be friends, of a kind, for the boys’ sake.

  Perhaps if he’d been like that throughout our marriage I wouldn’t now be wanting to divorce him.