by Jana Petken
“Aww, Danny, man. If only you lot had succeeded. What a grand day that would have been for Ireland.”
Sniffing, Danny nodded his agreement and then sat down to wait for his mam to come back in.
Pricking his ears, he caught the tail end of a conversation going on in the hallway: “I have a terrible headache,” his mam was saying, presumably to Father Flynn and Mrs Grant. “I’ll be glad when my Robert is finally at peace – he certainly won’t get any in this house.”
Danny covered his face with his hands and once again felt shame burning his skin. “Mr O’Connor – oh, Mr O’Connor – my poor dad,” he wept.
Chapter Seven
The ladies took off their wet coats and hats and hung them up on wall hooks in the hallway. A ferocious thunderstorm followed by hailstones had battered the Carmodys’ motor car, ripping its thick fabric roof, which caused a steady stream of water to soak Susan, Minnie, and Jenny, huddling together in the back passenger seats.
It had taken almost an hour to travel only a couple of miles from Mount Jerome Cemetery back to the house. The slow progress had been mainly due to bad visibility, but it had also been impacted by traffic diversions put in place by the British Army and police. The army, controlling the routes throughout the city, were still clearing debris and fire-damaged buildings. And as if that vivid reminder of destruction and death was not enough, Union Jacks flew at half mast from every flagpole in Dublin.
After asking Mrs Guthrie to bring tea, Susan followed Minnie and Jenny into the parlour and, before sitting down, took a moment to stare out the front window.
“I had no idea that the city was so badly damaged,” she said. “One would think that we had been bombed from the skies. I don’t know what my Robert would have thought of all this, had he survived.”
Jenny slumped into the soft couch cushions and let out a long, heavy sigh. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. It was a nice funeral. You did him proud, Mam.”
Minnie agreed. “It was, and you did the right thing by not inviting anyone back here, Susan. There have been enough comings and goings in this house, if you ask me. I think you should have a nice cup of tea and then take a long nap. You haven’t slept properly in days.”
“No, I can’t sleep,” Susan replied. “Anyway, the boys will be in as soon as they park the motor car. They must be freezing. They’ll need a hot cup of tea too, and then we have to discuss what’s to be done next.”
“That car will have to be sold,” Minnie said.
“No, Mother, you can’t!” Jenny pleaded. “How on earth will we get about?”
“Jenny, there are worse things in life than not having a motorised carriage. In my day, horse-drawn carriages were just as efficient and less noisy,” Minnie said.
“That might be true, but the streets were stinking with horse dung.”
Susan sighed and turned from the window. “Jenny, promise me that you won’t fight with your brother, not today, please.”
“I promise I won’t even look sideways at him.”
“That would be a help,” Minnie butted in again. “Your mother has enough to deal with. Your father’s mess has to be cleaned up.”
“Do we have to talk about our financial troubles today? We’ve just put my dad in the ground,” Jenny retorted.
“No, we don’t have to, but now is as good a time as any,” Minnie said. “I’ve found that trying to get the members of this family in the same room at the same time is no easy feat.”
Susan said, “Honestly, Mother, I don’t even know where to begin.”
“You will start with the biggest problem and work your way down the list until you have no inconveniences left,” Minnie suggested. “You’ve already spoken to your lawyer—”
“Did Dad leave any money to me?” Jenny interrupted.
“Jenny, do you ever think about anyone but yourself and your needs?” Minnie asked, visibly angry.
“What’s going on?” Patrick asked, having caught the tail end of the conversation. He and Danny had taken a while to secure the motor car’s torn roof. Afterwards, they had changed out of their mourning suits, having been soaked through to their socks and long johns. When they eventually joined their mother in the parlour, they were just in time to take trays of teacups, teapots, sandwiches, and cakes from Mrs Guthrie and the butler, following closely behind them.
“The help will have to go too,” said Minnie when the servants left the room.
Patrick took in the tense scene, sipped his tea, and let out a luxurious sigh as the hot liquid slipped down his throat and into his stomach. Biting into a moist sponge cake coated with honey, he allowed himself a brief moment of peace. Any minute now, his mother would ask him to broker a truce between his granny and sister, who seemed to have developed a knack for fomenting arguments from thin air.
“Well now, Jenny, what have you done this time?” he finally asked.
Jenny pursed her lips together. Patrick shook his head in dismay. For all her prettiness, with her mass of long brown curls and piercing green eyes, she did herself no favours at all when her lips took on that ridiculous pout.
“Your sister wants to know how much money she has been left,” Susan said with a sigh.
Minnie chipped in. “As I said, she’s self-centred, without a thought in her head for others.”
“I’m sitting right here, Minnie.” Jenny’s voice bristled. “It was a reasonable question. After all, my life is in tatters.”
“Susan, you really must teach your daughter that she is not always going to be the recipient of life’s bounties or the centre of attention.”
“Mam, do you want to rest?” Patrick asked in an attempt to defuse the situation.
“No. I want all this bickering to stop.”
Danny spoke for the first time. “I haven’t said a word since I sat down.”
After placing her cup in the centre of her saucer, Susan sat back and stared in turn at each face in the room. Then her eyes bore into Minnie. “These are my children, Mother. Do not interrupt me. This news should come from me, not you.”
“I’m only trying to help …”
“Mother, not another word.” Focusing on Jenny and Danny, she continued. “Children, we will mourn your father’s passing for the rest of our lives, but we must also face up to the problems he has left us with. Pointing her index finger at Jenny, she added, “Whilst you were bickering with Danny and worried about your precious John, who, I might add, is a criminal, Patrick and I had meetings with your father’s banker and lawyer. The house is in foreclosure. The bank will take it back within two weeks, and we will be thrown into the streets like piles of rubbish!”
Knowing his mother’s moods, Patrick went to her side. She would either weep now or begin a verbal tirade, which could last half an hour.
“We’ll fix this. Don’t upset yourself, Mam. We’ll find somewhere else to live. A change is as good as a rest, so they say.”
Jenny started crying. “I don’t want a change, at least not until I get married.”
“It’s time for you to come home,” Minnie said to Susan.
Taken by surprise, Susan asked, “Whatever do you mean? I am home.”
“No, dear, I mean your real home – London.”
Patrick was aghast. “My mam has lived here for over twenty-five years, Minnie,” he said. Danny, Jenny, and I are Dubliners, born and bred. Why would she even consider going back to London?”
“You won’t catch me going there,” Danny stated.
“You’ll go where you’re told, young man,” Minnie said abruptly. “I don’t see you contributing to the family’s finances. Your job at Boland’s Mill is finished. You and your rebels saw to that when you destroyed its buildings. Perhaps you should stop blaming the British for your dissatisfactions and take a good look at your own shortcomings.”
For once, Patrick felt sorry for his younger brother, who lately seemed to be at the losing end of every argument and discussion. Three days previously, he had turned eightee
n, yet his milestone birthday had gone practically unnoticed in a house filled with grief. It was true that Danny had not been a good student at school, nor had he aspired to any illustrious career, but many disenfranchised young men were seeing their youths stolen by war and hardship nowadays. And many had turned to politics.
“With respect, Minnie, you’re not being helpful,” he said.
Spreading her arms in a gesture of helplessness, Minnie answered, “Honestly, I despair with you the most, Patrick. You’ve spent enough time in London these past five years to know exactly what your father was up to, yet you never uttered a word, so I don’t think you should have a say in what’s to happen.”
“Mother, Mother,” Susan groaned.
“Let me finish, will you!” Looking at all three children, Minnie seemed intent on driving her point home. “All of you conveniently ignore the fact that I reside in London. I have witnessed first-hand your dad’s lurid lifestyle and his incessant need to flash his money about to all and sundry. He often lived in the Ritz in Piccadilly, which as you all know is one of the finest establishments in the city. He shopped in Savile Row and dined in restaurants frequented by royalty. And he had no qualms about leaving your mother to take on the responsibility of a large household and three children.”
“Minnie, that’s enough! Please have some respect for the dead!” Patrick said angrily. “We don’t bad-mouth the recently deceased, not in an Irish house.”
Seemingly determined to continue, Minnie said, “I warned him. I pleaded with him to rein in his craving for an ostentatious existence far beyond his means, but your father, God rest his soul, was determined to live like a king on a footman’s earnings.”
Patrick was enraged. “You were quite happy to take his earnings off him. Jesus, Minnie, you’re such a hypocrite. My dad helped you and granddad for years. I never once heard you complain when he was paying for all your luxuries and your holidays in Brighton.”
“Did you know about Dad’s spending, Mam?” Danny asked, also becoming angry.
“I only recently found out that we were in debt,” Susan answered, and then looked away. “It wasn’t something for you or Jenny to concern yourselves with.”
“Where will we live?” Jenny asked, blotting her tears with a handkerchief. What’s going to become of me?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, why must you always be such a harbinger of gloom? This is not the end of the world,” Susan said angrily.
Minnie, who had apparently chosen to ignore Patrick’s earlier telling-off, said, “Patrick must return to King’s College. He has to finish his studies. My house in Greenwich is not as large as this one, of course, but it is mine and all paid for. No bank or anyone else will take it from me. You will all live with me.”
Danny said no, as did Jenny. Patrick thought the idea was ridiculous. His mam had grown up in Minnie’s small terraced house in Greenwich. The street was occupied by hard-working lower-class people. She rarely spoke about her life before marriage because she hated to admit that she had once been poor. He recalled that whenever the family went to London, the children stayed with Minnie, while Mam elected to pass the entire holiday in a posh hotel with their dad. Glancing at her ashen face, he thought, She wouldn’t agree to Minnie’s proposal. Would she?
“You can forget about my going to London. I’m staying right here,” Danny reiterated.
Jenny, staring at Patrick, sobbed, “I can’t go either. I have to wait for my John to come home.”
Danny sniggered. “You’ll probably be an old woman by the time he’s released.”
After glaring at Danny, Patrick echoed his granny’s idea by suggesting that his mother take a nap.
“Mam, you’ll feel better after a wee lie-down, and you’ll be more able of facing a decision. I do agree with Minnie that I need to go back to Kings College, though. When I’m a qualified surgeon, I’ll be in a better position to support you financially.”
Susan looked distracted, as though her mind was dazedly wandering. “Yes, you should go, dear,” she muttered. “Do you think we will be safe from the Germans in London?”
“Our country is at war with them,” was all Patrick could think to say.
“Our army will keep us safe,” Minnie said hurriedly. “The fighting is in Europe, not England. You will be perfectly safe, Susan, a lot safer than in Dublin, with its rebellious fanatics.”
How naive, Patrick thought. How utterly blind his granny was.
Chapter Eight
Danny pulled back the bedroom curtains and opened the window. “I can’t bloody breathe,” he said to Patrick. “I feel trapped.”
“We’re all trying to come to terms with everything that’s happened, Danny,” Patrick said, hovering in the doorway.
“Well, you can go, if that’s what you want to do, but like I said, I’m not leaving Dublin. My future is here. I made a promise to Mr Connolly and Mr Pearse, and the rest of them, and I’m going to keep it.”
“Danny, listen to me. I’m not condemning you for getting involved with the republican army. I can’t say I’m totally against its political aspirations. But the independence movements will not be able to regroup or achieve their goals until after the war ends. And even then, it will have to move forward using political dialogue. Shooting people in the streets of Dublin is not going to sway British policies. Did you kill anyone?”
“I don’t know,” Danny answered truthfully.
Patrick closed the door and went to stand next to his brother at the window. Danny had every right to want to stay in Ireland, he thought. He, Patrick, had to go back to London, but the idea of the family leaving their country for one that could pose all sorts of dangers was absurd. Sighing, he put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“I can’t sway Mam from the idea. She’s made up her mind. The house will be taken by the bank within a fortnight. Granny has offered to give the three of you a roof over your heads …”
“If the Germans don’t blow it off,” Danny said sarcastically.
Sighing with exasperation, Patrick continued. “My point is, Mam won’t be able to afford anything other than a rented two-room accommodation in a decaying tenement somewhere in Dublin, and you know what they’re like, as well as I do: dark, disease-ridden, and completely ignored by the folk living in other parts of the city.Apart from a small pension from Dad’s policy, she’ll have no money coming into the house. And I can’t help all of you. I’m still studying.”
“None of this has anything to do with me. It’s not my fault that all this has happened,” Danny said defensively.
Patrick felt as though he were talking to a brick wall. He wished his brother would take responsibility for his actions for once.
“It has a great deal to do with you. It doesn’t help matters that you’ve lost your job at Boland’s. By the time they rebuild it, after the army’s first-rate job of bombing the hell out of it, you’ll be scraping up crumbs of bread from the street. You know how hard it is to find work.”
“My wages at Boland’s were shite. It was my allowance that kept me going. Dad should have looked after his family better,” Danny said angrily.
“Our dad spoilt us rotten! You had toys coming out your ears, a new bike every couple of years, holidays in London, and you’ve been served like a king at the dinner table your entire life.” Patrick tried desperately to keep his temper in check. “Look, the reality is that if you want to stay, you’ll need to work, and the biggest employer in Dublin is the army. Sure, women are making more money in the munitions factory than unskilled labourers earn!”
“I won’t work for the British!”
“Beggars can’t be choosers – you should have gone to college, like you were supposed to.”
“College and university are for studious men with career ambitions. I don’t have time to stick my nose in a book or wait for years to pass before I can be of any use to anyone. My fight is here and now,” Danny said, undaunted by Patrick’s raised voice.
“No, it’s
not. If that were so, why are tens of thousands of Irishmen fighting in the trenches over in France and defending the empire with their blood? For God’s sake, we lost our dad in that side show in the streets of Dublin,” Patrick said, becoming more agitated. “You’re being bloody pig-headed. You were fortunate not to come home in a box like your dad, yet here you are still wanting to commit treason.”
“There was nothing treasonous about what we did. We’re heroes!” Danny’s voice cracked with emotion. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he shook his head and then sniggered. “And why do you think all those good trusting Irishmen signed up to fight in those trenches? Do you think they marched off to war singing ‘Rule Britannia!’? No, Patrick, they didn’t. They went because they wanted to feed their families. It’s us, the nationalists, who lack choices. We’re the unemployed and probably the only ones still joining the colours. There’s hardly any support for the war. The men of this city have gone to the slaughter fields of Europe in the hope that the British will keep their word to give us our home rule! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they’re away fighting for Ireland’s future, not Westminster’s!
“Did you know that a soldier’s wife is getting twelve shillings and sixpence a week, plus at least two shillings and sixpence for each child? That’s a lot more than any unskilled man in Dublin is earning. So you see, Patrick, the allegiance of these men is to the half-crown they receive, and to their families, not to the British Crown.”
“You’re naive.”
“What?”
“You’re ignorant and don’t know what you’re talking about half the time.” Some of what Danny said was true, Patrick secretly thought. Of course, he couldn’t tell his brother that. According to Kevin, the British government had made loose promises regarding taking a closer look at the independence issue. But after the recent rising, which had killed over 450 people, even that weak assurance might not be enough to spark Irish patriotism for the empire.
“You’ll get a good wage in London,” Patrick said, playing his final card. “Double the amount of anything you can earn here. And when you think about it, there’s nothing to keep you here. Your leadership has been devastated. The men you follow will be executed, every last one of them.” His voice held a measure of sympathy.
