A Great Beauty

by A. O'Connor

  All the family were at the table – Kitty, Helen, Maud, Chrys and their brother Larry. Gearóid and Maud were sitting side by side, stealing looks at each other, their hands occasionally touching, so obviously in love.

  Kitty was dominating the conversation, as could often happen, regaling everybody with a story about a customer in the shop who wanted to buy an umbrella for a pet donkey.

  Michael thought she was very attractive, with a bright smile and mischievous eyes when she was in the right mood – as she was now. Other times her eyes could flash dangerously with temper if somebody upset her or crossed her. She was also very flirtatious.

  There were a couple of others at the table that Michael didn’t know. A young blond man, who had been introduced as Lionel, sat beside Kitty and appeared enraptured with her story. There were always guests at the Kiernans’ – it was a very sociable house As much as Michael tried to concentrate on Kitty’s story about the umbrella and the donkey, his attention was taken by the woman who sat opposite him – Helen. He tried not to be too obvious, but he couldn’t help looking at her whenever he got the opportunity. She seemed to get more beautiful every time he saw her. She had soft blonde hair that was never out of place and her blue eyes were trustworthy and kind. He remembered being bowled over when he met her first by her elegance and the way she gracefully conducted herself. Harry had been smitten with Kitty and indeed Michael had at first been interested in Kitty too. They had even competed for Kitty’s attention at the beginning. But then, as Michael found himself falling hopelessly in love with Helen, he had left the way open for Harry. Helen and Michael had grown close as friends, but it had been hard to form a proper relationship with her because of the war, often hard to even see her. He was very much hoping that he would get the opportunity that week to express his feelings for her and establish something between them. As he looked at Gearóid and Maud, he was filled with the envy of wanting the same in his own life.

  “So, there the customer was, after purchasing the umbrella, walking down the main street in the rain – holding the umbrella over the donkey while it pissed down raining on himself!” said Kitty, causing everyone at the table to erupt in laughter.

  “It must have been a very special donkey!” said Larry.

  “Certainly a special owner!” said Kitty.

  “I didn’t realise you sold umbrellas in the store – do you sell galoshes too?” asked Lionel.

  “Eh – yes, we do,” said Kitty, hoping Lionel would not follow his habit that evening of missing the point and leading the conversation off into dull directions.

  “That would be some sight if he had put galoshes on the donkey!” said Michael, laughing. “If the British saw it they’d be wondering what kind of a mad country they were in at all!”

  “It’s a country they shouldn’t be in – at all!” said Gearóid, causing everyone at the table to loudly voice agreement.

  “We had six British officers booked in at the hotel last week,” said Helen, her soft voice carrying around the table.

  Michael looked across at her, grateful to have the excuse to stare at her beautiful face.

  “What were they doing here?” asked Gearóid.

  “On their way to the North – they were stopping for the night until they continued their journey,” said Helen. “The officer in charge was a charming fellow by the name of Rupert –”

  “Rupert!” guffawed Michael.

  “Yes, Rupert!” confirmed Kitty. “I put him in your usual room, Mick – I thought you’d appreciate the irony of that.” She made a face over at him.

  “As long as he doesn’t get lost on the way back from the North and end up here again tonight!” said Michael.

  “Sure, even if he did, he wouldn’t have a clue what you looked like,” said Gearóid.

  “I could place the two of you at the same table for breakfast,” said Helen, “and Rupert wouldn’t have a clue he was eating his bacon and eggs across from the great Mick Collins!”

  She smiled over at him and Michael found himself blushing at her compliment.

  “All the hotel rooms have been recently painted a lovely ivory colour, I understand, so I’m sure they would have found the accommodation tasteful to stay in,” said Lionel, causing everyone to look at him momentarily, wondering what he was talking about.

  “Speaking of your anonymity, headquarters got an unusual request this week for you, Mick,” said Gearóid. “Did you hear about it?”

  “No. What was that?”

  “It came through Shane Leslie – you know, the Irish lord who has swapped sides to ours.”

  “I don’t care how many sides he’s swapped – I’d never trust a lord!” said Michael.

  “Or a lady, Mick!” said Kitty, winking over at him.

  Michael burst out laughing. “Do you never change, Kitty Kiernan, with the smart remarks?”

  “Rest assured, I will never change, Mick Collins!” Kitty announced proudly.

  “What was the request, Gearóid?” asked Chrys, trying to bring bring the conversation back to the point.

  “He put in a request from a Sir John Lavery who is coming to Ireland and wants to paint your portrait, Mick,” announced Gearóid.

  There was silence for a moment as Michael’s face turned from confusion to amusement and then everyone burst out laughing.

  “My portrait!” Michael laughed. “What the hell does he want a painting of my mug for?”

  “Well, you have a very interesting face, Michael. I could see how you would be any painter’s dream,” said Helen with a warm smile and Michael felt himself going bright red again.

  “Mick Collins – freedom fighter and model!” teased Kitty.

  “A British plot, no doubt!” declared Michael. “Lure me to an artist’s studio where an assassin lies in wait, at worst. Or for them finally to get what I look like captured by an artist, at best!”

  “Imagine, Mick, if you agreed to the portrait and you were captured by the British due to vanity!” said Kitty.

  “No fear of that, Kitty, my dear!” Michael shook his head and flicked his hair back from his forehead.

  “This Sir John Lavery is a famous artist,” said Gearóid. “He was the British government’s official artist during the Great War and got a knighthood for his efforts. He and his Yank wife are big shots in London and are coming to Ireland to paint a bunch of famous religious leaders and whoever else they can get. He’s Irish – a Protestant from the North – and sympathetic to our cause, they say.”

  “Sounds unlikely!” said Michael. “If he did anything official for the British government during the Great War, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, along with his Yank wife!”

  “I thought the request would amuse you all the same,” said Gearóid with a smile.

  “It does surely!” said Michael, grabbing another potato from the bowl in front of him.

  “I am quite jealous,” said Helen. “I would love it if a famous artist wanted to do my portrait.”

  Michael smiled as his eyes met hers across the table. “Now that would be a painting worth hanging in the best art gallery in the world,” he said softly.

  Helen lowered her gaze to the plate in front of her as it was her turn to blush.

  The others at the table fell into an uncomfortable silence. Kitty sat back and observed their guest and her sister. She wondered were the rumours about Michael being smitten with Helen true. For some reason the notion irritated her.

  “My mother had her portrait painted by a French artist once,” said Lionel, causing everyone to momentarily look at him again. “He said she had the most exquisite hands he had ever seen.”

  “More gravy anyone?” asked Kitty quickly, lifting the sauce boat up invitingly.

  After dinner they retreated to the parlour where there were the usual songs and some piano-playing.

  Kitty was walking around the room, filling everyone’s glass from a decanter of sherry.

  Michael was standing beside the fireplace, lis
tening to Maud playing the piano.

  “Another top-up?” Kitty asked him, raising the decanter.

  “Only a tiny drop – I don’t want a sore head in the morning,” he said.

  “I thought you said you were on holiday.”

  “I still need to be alert.”

  Kitty nodded her understanding.

  Although whenever Michael and Gearóid came to visit they kept a low profile, only socialising in the Kiernans’ private home, Kitty was sure some of townspeople must notice their comings and goings. She was sure some might remember Michael from when he was campaigning locally in the 1918 by-election, before he had to go underground. That was before the Anglo-Irish war had erupted and Michael had become a fugitive. Kitty was certain the area was staunchly pro-Independence and that, even if anybody recognised Michael, they would not betray him. And even if somebody had a mind to do it, they would be fully aware that retribution from Michael’s Squad would be fast and merciless. Even so, Molly, their maid, had walked into Michael’s room one morning when he was still asleep, and she told Kitty that Michael slept with his hand on the revolver that was on the side table. Also, he slept with the window open in order to make a quick getaway if the British troops arrived in. Sometimes, Kitty had to pinch herself when she heard such stories. When she was chatting to Michael as an old friend, she never thought about him being the most wanted man in the empire. Or she never thought that he could order the killing of an enemy without a second thought. All that wasn’t Kitty’s world and she had no interest in it. Some women might have found it all exciting and romantic, but she didn’t. She had fallen for Harry, her sister Maud had fallen for Gearóid, and through this they had fallen into this world – Michael Collins’ world.

  “Helen?” asked Kitty, the decanter hovering over her sister’s glass.

  “Not much, Kitty, I have to be up early in the morning.”

  Kitty ignored her sister’s plea and filled the glass to the top, before winking at Michael and going on back to the piano where she stood beside Lionel.

  As Maud played, Kitty and Lionel sang along.

  “Kitty is in good form,” said Michael.

  “Kitty’s always in good form, except when she’s not!” said Helen, causing Michael to laugh.

  “Ah, it’s so good to see you again, Helen. You have no idea how I’ve missed you, with this blasted war going on and not being able to get down here.”

  She smiled at him. “We’ve all missed you, Mick. You know you are welcome here – sure you’re like one of the family.”

  He felt his heart pound more quickly and he put his hand up on the mantelpiece to steady himself as he searched for the right words to respond.

  “Lionel is quite taken by our Kitty,” she said before he could speak.

  “Who is he? Where’s he from and who are his family?”

  “Lionel Lyster, an extremely wealthy young man by all accounts.”

  “Oh, I see!” said Michael, surveying Lionel with interest.

  “They have been spending considerable time together recently. He’s calling on her quite a bit.”

  “Calling on her? As in courting?” Michael was shocked.

  “Nothing official, but it looks like a courtship to me!”

  “But – but what about Harry?” Michael’s face creased in concern.

  “What about him?”

  “Does Harry know about him?”

  Helen shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, Mick … and I would prefer you didn’t say anything about it to him. I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble.”

  “Well, it looks to me that Kitty is the cause of any trouble – courting two men at the same time!”

  “Harry’s in New York, Mick, or Boston or Chicago or wherever the cause sends him. Kitty can’t be expected to wait forever for him. She’s here and Lionel’s here and what is meant to be is meant to be.” Helen was very much regretting saying anything about Lionel. At the end of the day, Michael did not look pleased at this betrayal of his friend – his best friend.

  “Well, it’s a fine way to carry on!” said Mick, knocking back his sherry.

  “I think it’s time I went to bed,” said Helen, placing her glass on the mantelpiece.

  He was alarmed to see her usually pleasant expression dimmed.

  “Don’t go to bed on my account,” said Michael, suddenly aware he might have distressed her.

  “Oh, I’m not, Mick. I do genuinely have to get to bed as I have to be up early in the morning.”

  “For work?”

  “No, I’m going away for a few days.”

  “Going away!” He was horrified. “But – but – but I only came because I wanted to see you!”

  Helen flushed. “But I didn’t realise you were coming, otherwise I might have been able to change my plans. But, as it is, I can’t change them. I’m sorry.”

  “Where are you going?” He looked crestfallen.

  “I-I’m going to Enniskillen … to visit Paul’s family,” she said.

  “Paul?” he said, frowning in confusion.

  “Paul McGovern – you met him a couple of times.”

  “The solicitor?”

  “Yes.” She bit her lower lip and then took a deep breath. “We’re engaged, Mick … we’re going to be married. I’m going to Enniskillen to meet his family.”

  Michael stood there with his mouth open in shock.

  Helen didn’t know what to say further. She knew Michael was in love with her, but nothing had ever happened between them and she had never done anything to encourage him. And she did love him dearly as a friend.

  “I hope you’ll be able to come to the wedding?” she said. “It would mean a lot to me to have you there.”

  He continued to stare at her in shock.

  She reached forward, kissed his cheek and whispered, “Goodnight, Mick.”

  She walked quietly from the room, leaving Michael to stare after her.

  Michael did not stay up much longer after that. He grabbed the decanter the next time it did the rounds and refilled his glass a couple of times, quickly drinking the contents before going to his bedroom. Helen’s news had hit him like a bolt of lightning. He had known that she had been seeing a solicitor but had no idea it had progressed to the state of an engagement. He had felt that as he and Helen had become closer that naturally the courtship with the other man would fizzle out, leaving the road clear for them. He had thought they had plenty of time to plan their lives together and to make it official. But, as he had been busy waging war against the British Empire, life had passed him by. The love of his life had passed him by. But he couldn’t give up on Helen, he just couldn’t let her go. He would have to speak to her that morning, before she left for Enniskillen.

  The next morning at breakfast, Michael was subdued and waited anxiously for Helen as breakfast was served.

  “Where’s Helen?” he asked finally.

  “She left first thing this morning – did she not tell you she would be gone?” said Chrys.

  “Gone? Yes – yes, she did … she said she would be going to Enniskillen.” He was aghast that he had missed her. “She’s gone already?”

  “First thing,” confirmed Kitty.

  “It will be a bit daunting for her, meeting all of Paul’s family for the first time,” said Maud.

  “Nothing daunts Helen, she’ll take it all in her stride,” said Kitty as she poured tea into her cup. She glanced over at Michael’s glum face. There had been those rumours going about that Michael had feelings for Helen and he certainly acted soft around her. She had even witnessed it again at the dinner table the previous night. Helen didn’t wear her heart on her sleeve, so never spoke about her personal relationships even to her sisters, leaving them all to speculate.

  As breakfast ended Michael got up from the table and went and stood at the window. Gearóid and Maud had headed off already for the day, desperate to spend some time alone.

  “Will you tell the new cook we’ll have trout for t
onight’s dinner,” Kitty told Molly the maid.

  “Tell her yourself! She won’t take any instructions from me, that one won’t! If I told her to put on trout, she’d put on salmon out of spite and if I told her to put on salmon she’d put on trout!”

  Kitty raised her eyes to heaven. “Alright, I’ll tell her myself!”

  “She’s nothing but an old trout herself, if you ask me!” said Molly as she stacked plates. “I don’t know where you found her, but it was a sorry day for this house when you hired that one as a cook! And you could have hired my second cousin once removed as I suggested ye did and have enjoyed proper cooking cooked by a proper cook! Trout indeed!”

  She exited in a huff and suddenly there was a loud crashing sound from down the corridor. Obviously, Molly had dropped all the plates onto the floor.

  “Jesus!” shrieked Molly in horror.

  “Lord save us!” gasped Kitty, shaking her head in despair as she went and closed over the door to protect Michael from any more of Molly’s unnecessary drama.

  “You don’t have a place for her in your army, do you, Mick? She’d scare off the British in a moment, that’s for sure!”

  “Can’t help you with that request, I’m afraid,” said Michael with a grin.

  “She’s half demented, I’m convinced, and she has me fully demented listening to her every day!” said Kitty with a despairing laugh.

  Michael laughed and turned to the window again.

  Kitty realised Michael would be left on his own for the day, with Helen gone and Maud and Gearóid out galivanting.

  “What are we doing today, Mick?” she said.

  “We?” he asked, spinning around to her.

  “It’s my day off today from the store,” she lied. “So you’re in luck. A nice walk in the country? Or are you too much of a city boy now to enjoy the fresh air?”

  He smiled at her. “Sounds good.”