The Girls of Ennismore

by Patricia Falvey

  ‘How is Rosie?’ she said. ‘I have been reading her articles in the Sword.

  Geraldine clapped her hands. ‘Oh, yes. Isn’t she a wonderful writer? She has quite a following now.’

  ‘I imagine her sister, Bridie, is proud of her,’ said Victoria.

  Geraldine frowned. ‘I expect she is. But Rosie is not living with Bridie any more. Haven’t you heard?’

  Victoria, her aunt, and Shane Kearney all pricked up their ears.

  ‘No, she has moved in with Mr Cathal O’Malley.’

  ‘Who?’

  Geraldine shrugged. ‘All I know about him is that he is the Catholic son of a doctor from Westport, and has had some military experience. He is in charge of training new recruits to the Irish Volunteers.’

  An image of Brendan entered Victoria’s mind.

  ‘He’s some years older than Rosie,’ Geraldine said, frowning slightly, ‘some say old enough to be her father.’ She paused, then brightening continued, ‘He’s also very handsome. You’ll see him yourself. He has a walk-on part in the play tonight – I believe he plays a revolutionary who fights an English soldier. They’ve recruited some English soldiers from Dublin garrison to play themselves. Quite apt, wouldn’t you say?’

  With that Geraldine ran off, called away by a group of young women signalling her from the other side of the room. Victoria gaped at her aunt, while Mr Kearney looked amused. He leaned over to whisper in Lady Marianne’s ear.

  ‘Dark horse, our girl, wouldn’t you say, dearest?’

  Lady Marianne’s eyes sparkled. ‘Delicious,’ she declared.

  Victoria was trying to gather her thoughts when a young man appeared out of nowhere.

  ‘Is this seat taken?’ he asked, pointing to the empty seat beside her.

  Victoria felt an unexpected flush of pleasure rise over her throat and cheeks as she recognized Brendan.

  ‘No,’ she said, choking out the word.

  She should have told him the seat was reserved, she thought. That would have been the proper thing to do. But his arrival had been such a shock, and her physical reaction to seeing him even more so, that she had not had time to think.

  He sat down. He wore his Volunteer uniform and his dark hair, brushed back from his forehead, shone in the golden glow of the globes mounted on the theatre walls. He smelled of fresh air and faintly of tobacco. Victoria stole a look at his profile – his straight nose and strong, sharp chin. She looked away quickly as he turned to her.

  ‘I see you’ve taken a liking to everything that’s Irish.’

  ‘And why wouldn’t I – I am Irish.’

  He chuckled. ‘Ah, there’s them in your family would hardly agree with you on that.’

  ‘My family’s been here for hundreds of years. They’re Irish whether they admit it or not. Besides, my aunt is here with me.’

  ‘Well said, Miss Bell – more power to you.’

  ‘My name’s Victoria.’

  ‘Aye, so it is,’ he said, grinning.

  She turned away to look at her aunt. Lady Marianne was in deep conversation with Mr Kearney and had not noticed Brendan’s presence.

  ‘I didn’t know you liked the theatre,’ Victoria said in a low voice.

  ‘Ah, there’s a lot you don’t know about me. A friend of mine has a walk-on part. He’s to play a rebel and fight an English soldier – which wouldn’t be too hard for him, I’d say.’

  ‘I heard,’ she said. ‘A Mr O’Malley’

  Brendan raised an eyebrow. ‘The very same.’

  ‘I hear they’ve arranged for some English soldiers from the garrison to play themselves.’

  ‘Aye. I’d say ’twill be a splendid rehearsal for our own revolution.’

  The lights dimmed and they settled back in the darkness to watch the play. Victoria, distracted by Brendan’s closeness, found it hard to concentrate. Memories of their times together back at Ennismore flooded her mind, especially their last night in the garden when she had held his hands and kissed him. She wondered if he was remembering it, too.

  ‘There he is now,’ he said suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Cathal O’Malley. That’s him, the tall feller in the long military coat.’

  Victoria stared at the man. Something about him was familiar but she could not place him. He was indeed handsome, and his voice was strong and tempered with a County Mayo accent. No wonder Rosie had fallen for him, she thought. He must remind her of home. But living with him? She chased the thought out of her head. Anyway, who was she to judge?

  After the play finished there was a musical finale. Harpists, fiddlers and bagpipers played old Irish airs and the audience sang aloud to the melodies of poet Thomas Moore. Victoria watched Brendan out of the corner of her eye as he clapped and sang along. He became light again, just as when he had played his fiddle in the servants’ hall at Ennismore. He reached over and took her hand. She did not pull it away.

  When the performance ended, Victoria whispered in her aunt’s ear.

  ‘This young man’s a friend of mine from the Union. I’m going to walk with him for a while.’

  Before Lady Marianne could insist on an introduction, Victoria pulled Brendan up from his seat and, grasping his hand, rushed him out of the building.

  ‘Is it ashamed of me ye are?’ he said when they reached the street.

  She dropped his hand and turned to him in alarm. ‘Heavens, no! I just didn’t want to get caught up with my aunt. She would have asked a hundred questions.’

  When she saw he was smiling, she smiled back in relief. She took his hand again and they began to walk. It had rained while they were inside and the street lamps reflected on the dark, wet pavement. Crowds milled around them, streaming out of theatres and pubs, hailing horse drawn cabs or running after trams. Snippets of music and laughter spilled out behind them as the pub doors swung open then closed. But despite the crowds Victoria had the feeling that she and Brendan were the only two people in the world.

  ‘What do you think of Dublin?’ she said, as they made their way through the throngs.

  ‘’Tis a far cry from Ennismore so it is,’ he said. ‘Every class of people mixed up together. I like that none of these people has any notion who I am, nor cares.’

  ‘The poverty is awful though. You got a taste of it at the Union.’

  Brendan squeezed her hand. ‘The Union, aye. ’Twas not the place I ever thought I would find yourself.’

  Victoria smiled. ‘Ah, but you’re thinking of the old Victoria–the one who was spoiled and sheltered. The new Victoria is much different.’

  ‘Aye, the old Victoria was nice enough, but I must say I’ve taken a quare liking to this new one!’

  She swung his hand playfully. ‘I like her better too. I felt as if I were suffocating at Dr Cullen’s clinic. Now at least I am doing something worthwhile for the poor.’

  She felt herself swell with sudden pride at her accomplishment. Surely Brendan must be proud of her too.

  ‘Are you’re sure it’s not guilt that’s behind it?’

  His unexpected words stung. She dropped his hand and moved away from him, looking straight ahead as she walked. He fell into step beside her.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said at last, ‘it was guilt that caused me to leave the clinic and volunteer at the Union. But it’s not guilt that keeps me there. The work is fulfilling, and I try to do my best. Some of the other nurses think I’m just a dilettante – you know, a person who’s not serious—’

  ‘I know what it means,’ Brendan cut in gruffly. ‘I’m not ignorant, for fuck’s sake.’

  They walked on in silence, the space between them widening. A tram rumbled by, splattering rain water from the gutters on to the hem of Victoria’s skirt. She struggled to hold back tears. Brendan reached over for her hand but she snatched it away. ‘I’m sorry for what I said about the guilt just now,’ he said, ‘it wasn’t fair. I can see this work means a lot to you.’ He paused. ‘And, for the first time in my life,’ he went on, ‘I have respect
for what I’m doing now, too. I used to hate myself for working for the very people who killed my granda, waiting on them hand and foot, bowing and scraping. There was no honour in it, I can tell you.’

  ‘That’s not fair, Brendan. It wasn’t my family who killed him.’

  ‘Aye, but in my mind all the gentry were cut from the same cloth.’

  Victoria’s fought to control her temper. Why had their conversation suddenly become so cross? ‘If you felt that way, then why did you not hate me as well? Why did you arrange meetings with me? Why did you kiss me?’

  Brendan halted and reached over, pulling her close to him, ignoring her protests. He stared into her eyes and she could not look away. They stood, unaware of the crowds who parted like a sea around them.

  ‘Because you’re not like the rest of them,’ he said. ‘You never were. There was a compassion and kindness in you that wasn’t in the others. You have a beautiful heart, Victoria.’ Suddenly he grinned at her, and danced away a little, his features bright under the glow of the street lamp. ‘And anyway, much as I wanted to kiss you every time I saw you, it was you, my bold girl, who kissed me that night in the garden!’

  Victoria blushed and gave him a playful punch. He laughed and pulled her close to him again. They strolled on, arms encircled about each other’s waists, smiling at everyone they met. The storm of anger had passed as quickly as it had come. When they reached O’Connell Bridge, the crowds thinned out, replaced by shawlie women clutching skeletal, sad-eyed children, imploring passers-by for money. Brendan reached into the pocket of his uniform and pressed some coins into the children’s hands. City lights glimmered on the dark water as a sudden wind picked up, carrying with it the distant stench of fish decaying on the dock.

  At length they sat down on a bench, laughing as Victoria’s hat threatened to sail off into the water below. She caught it and held it in her lap then laid her head on Brendan’s shoulder. She wanted to cling on to this moment for ever but, in spite of her efforts, a distant fear surfaced that she could not dismiss. She sat up and looked at him.

  ‘I’m frightened that the revolution may come,’ she blurted out, ‘and what changes it will bring. I’m frightened of what might happen to you. To us.’

  He hugged her close. ‘Ah now, love, there’s no need to fret. Won’t we be together through it all? And won’t we still be together when it’s over?’

  He reached for her chin, brought her face towards his and gently kissed her on the lips. She returned his kiss, gently at first, but then fiercely, with a passion she could not hold back.

  He drew away. ‘Jaysus, you’re a bold girl all right,’ he grinned.

  She grinned back. ‘Meet the new Victoria.’

  The night grew cold and reluctantly they rose and strolled on in silence towards Lady Marianne’s house on Fitzwilliam Square. The only sounds now were the echo of their footsteps. As they walked, Victoria gazed up at the lighted windows, catching occasional sight of a family gathered beside a glowing fire. Usually she rushed by them, never stopping to look, but tonight she allowed herself to fantasize, imagining her and Brendan and their children occupying such rooms in a future life. When they reached Lady Marianne’s steps they stood clinging to each other, unwilling to let go.

  ‘I’m so glad I found you again,’ whispered Brendan, his breath ragged. ‘And I’ll not be letting you go.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said as his lips pressed down on hers.

  CHAPTER 26

  In the autumn of 1915, Victoria returned home one evening from the Union to find her brother standing in the drawing room.

  ‘Valentine!’ she exclaimed in surprise, as she rushed towards him. Tears filled her eyes. ‘Valentine, I can’t believe it.’

  She hugged him fiercely and then stood back at arm’s length to examine him.

  ‘You’re not injured, are you?’ she said. ‘Tell me that’s not why you are home.’

  Valentine laughed. ‘No, dear sister, I am not injured. I am embarrassed to say I have not seen any action yet. My regiment has been on training exercises in England. We are scheduled to begin shipping out to France soon.’ He paused and frowned. ‘I hope my turn comes quickly. I joined up to fight the enemy, not to sit around at the barracks here in Dublin.’

  Secretly Victoria hoped the war might be over before he had to leave, but she would not dare tell him so. Instead she said, ‘Have you been home? Do Mama and Papa know you are back in Ireland? And Sofia? And Julian?’

  Valentine shook his head. ‘I stopped to see my favourite sister first. I shall go down to Mayo tomorrow. It is so good to see you. I have missed you.’

  ‘And I you, Valentine.’

  Valentine took her by the hand and led her to the sofa. They were alone in the room – Lady Marianne and Mr Kearney being away on a visit to the coast. Celine came in and served tea, smiled and left.

  ‘You look well, Victoria. Tired, but well. How are they treating you at that clinic?’

  Victoria was momentarily confused. Clinic? Then she realized her brother would have no way of knowing where she worked now. She had not told her parents about the change and had lied to Dr Cullen, telling him she was returning home.

  ‘I no longer work at the clinic,’ she said proudly. ‘I’m a nursing volunteer at the South Dublin Union. It’s a public hospital where they treat the poor and—’

  ‘I know of it, of course,’ said Valentine. ‘How splendid of you! I had no idea you had it in you.’

  Victoria smiled. ‘Me, neither.’

  They sipped their tea in companionable silence. Then Valentine set down his cup and turned to her, his expression serious. ‘There is another reason I have come to Dublin. I must see Rosie. Is she still living with her sister? I plan to visit her this evening.’

  ‘No!’ It was out before Victoria could catch herself. Seeing his startled expression, she hurried on. ‘I mean, no, she is not living with Bridie any more. I went there to see her myself and Bridie’s husband said she had moved. He didn’t say where,’ she lied.

  Valentine studied her face. ‘I see. Did he say where she works?’

  Victoria’s face grew warm. She hated lying to her brother. ‘I did enquire, yes, but he said he had no idea. And Bridie wasn’t there.’

  ‘Did she go back to Mayo?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I should have heard.’

  Valentine stood up and began to pace about the room. ‘But aren’t you worried about her? She was your best friend. Surely you can’t just accept that she’s lost somewhere in Dublin? What if she’s ill, or in trouble? We must find her.’ He hesitated for a moment then swung around to face Victoria. ‘I will go to Bridie’s house tonight. Surely she has some information. She must know where her sister is.’

  Victoria swallowed hard. Thoughts crowded her mind. Should she tell her brother what Geraldine Butler had said about Rosie and Cathal O’Malley? What if he went to search for her and discovered that she was living with a man?

  Valentine moved towards the door. ‘Are you coming with me, or shall I go alone?’

  Victoria stood and braced herself. ‘No, Valentine, I am not going with you. And I don’t think you should go either.’ Her tone was as stern as she could make it. ‘Sit down. I need to talk to you.’

  Valentine was so shocked he sat down immediately on one of Lady Marianne’s delicate chairs. His face turned pale.

  ‘Rosie was in love with you, Valentine,’ Victoria began, not knowing exactly what she was about to say, but praying that God would guide her. ‘She always was, and I think you know that.’

  Valentine bowed his head.

  ‘You hurt her badly when you left for America and even more when you married Sofia. Why do you think she ran away from Ennismore without any warning? She was trying to forget you – to forget all of us. And then you had the cheek to show up at the Metropole Hotel and ask her to dance with you. How could you have been so cruel?’

  Victoria’s voice grew shrill. All the old anger she had felt
about how her family had treated Rosie that night came flooding back. ‘You knew how she felt about you and yet still you trifled with her. You hurt her badly and I will not let you do it again. Stay away from her. She is none of your business any more.’

  Valentine stared up at her. He looked as if he was fighting back tears.

  ‘I tried to explain everything to her last time I saw her, but I’m not sure she really understood,’ he murmured.

  ‘Explain? There’s nothing to explain. You are a married man now, and a father. All the explanations in the world cannot reverse that. Leave her alone, Valentine.’

  ‘But . . .’ Valentine began to speak, but let his words trail off.

  Victoria trembled, her heart thumping against her ribcage. Please God let me have convinced him, she thought. Please don’t let Rosie suffer any more humiliation. She pictured the look on Rosie’s face if Valentine were to go to Moore Street and find her living with Cathal O’Malley. She waited.

  ‘You are right,’ he said, looking at her as if suddenly coming to his senses. ‘I was being selfish.’

  He fiddled with his hat as he spoke, not meeting her eye, like a young boy caught out in some mischief. Victoria felt a rush of pity for him.

  ‘I only wanted her to think well of me,’ he went on. ‘I didn’t stop to think that my presence might open up old wounds best left alone.’ He stood and reached into his pocket, took out an envelope and handed it to her. ‘If . . . if I should not come back from the war, will you please give her this? I want to make sure she fully understands why I had to do what I did.’

  She looked down at the envelope and then up at her brother with a wan smile. ‘But of course you’ll come back, Valentine.’

  ‘Just please make sure she gets it in the event . . .You see, I still want her to think well of me even if I am dead.’

  Victoria pulled him to her in a tight hug. ‘You’re not going to die, Valentine, don’t even be thinking that way.’