‘Come now, living in a house such as this, you must have gleaned something of the rot that threatens our world, hmmm? Where are you from?’
Mr. Grant knew perfectly well where she was from.
‘I’m an orphan, sir. I came out of a convent in County Tipperary.’
‘Ah yes, you did mention something. So tell me, Mary, are you happy here?’ The question was delivered pleasantly enough but she sensed the menace that lay beneath it. Was she to be next to feel his fists? He was small and thin but obviously strong, judging by the damage he had inflicted on his wife the last time. Mary was terrified of him.
‘Yes sir, I’m very grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me, sir.’ Mary kept her head down, praying the encounter would end.
‘Good, good. My wife, you see, would have us believe that all those in gainful employment are wretched and starving. And that we, the employers, are bleeding our employees white. You don’t look starving to me, I must say.’ He smirked, his eyes roving suggestively over Mary’s body.
‘No sir.’ She murmured, mortified.
‘My wife also thinks that the food that fills her belly, and the money for her fine dresses and shoes and for every single thing that she thinks is hers by right, just appears out of thin air. The beautiful artwork and antiques that decorate our elegant and sumptuous home, just dropped out of the sky. Now what do you think of that, Mary, as someone who at least works for a living and doesn’t leech off others?’
Mary’s pulse was pounding in her temples. She felt sick.
‘I enjoy my work, sir, and I am very grateful.’ Her voice tapered off. She wished she could catch the mistress’ eye but she didn’t dare.
‘Yes, I can see that. Now this other matter. This political claptrap about freeing Ireland from the ‘yoke of British Imperialism,’ I think these upstarts call it. What’s your opinion on that?’
Mary swallowed quickly. ‘As I said, sir, I don’t know much about it.’
‘Really? You surprise me. The thing is they are all constantly under surveillance. They think we don’t know who they are, and what they’re up to, but we do. And we will strike when we see fit. A bunch of Leninist writers for rag newspapers and schoolteachers think they can take on the might of the British Empire? Ha! They ought to be taken out and shot like the rabid dogs that they are, spreading their filthy disease. Mark my words, each and every last one of them will be routed out and dealt with as they should be.’ She could feel his eyes penetrating her head as she kept her eyes downcast. ‘Good. Now hear this, ladies. I do not wish to discuss this matter again. Everyone,’ he paused for emphasis, ‘every single person in this building is here at my pleasure. I will not hesitate to remove anyone who purports to support this scurrilous nonsense. Is that clear?’
‘Yes sir.’ Mary tried to keep the tremor from her voice.
‘I was addressing everyone in the room.’ His voice was icy. ‘Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes,’ Mrs Grant answered.
Mary didn’t risk glancing in her direction. The master was not just making a point. He wanted to humiliate his wife by berating her in front of the staff. Mary hated to see the mistress humbled like this.
She stacked the tray as noiselessly as she could and escaped to the kitchen. Mrs Kearns was chopping vegetables for dinner when she looked up and saw Mary’s stricken face.
‘God Almighty, child, you look like you seen a ghost!’ she exclaimed.
Tears appeared unbidden in Mary’s eyes. The housekeeper wiped her hands on her apron and crossed the room. Gathering Mary to her ample bosom, she led her to the table.
‘What’s happened, child? What has you so upset?’
‘It’s the master,’ Mary managed to say.
‘Mrs. Kearns stiffened. ‘Did he touch you?’ her voice ominous. She obviously noticed the way the master looked at Mary.
‘No. No, Mrs Kearns, he just was asking me questions about the Lockout and about independence. He knows, he does, I swear he does and what’s to become of us?’
Mrs. Kearns relaxed. She had feared the master had made some untoward advance towards the young girl.
‘Now listen here to me.’ The housekeeper held Mary’s face in her two chapped hands as if she was a small child. ‘The Volunteers know what he done to the mistress the last time. I made sure they knew it, and he’s being watched. He might be all high and mighty but his day will come. He has some dealings with that Captain Johnson out of the Castle who calls here late some evenings, and I’ll bet they’re up to something. The master’ll get his comeuppance and, God forgive me, I hope I’m there to see it. In the meantime, you watch yourself with him. I know you’re a bit innocent, but he’s a horny auld goat to add to everything else, so be sure to keep well clear of him.’
Mary giggled at Mrs, Kearns’ description. She was right though, whenever he did look at her, which was very often, she hated how it made her feel kind of dirty. She pulled herself together.
‘I’m fine, Mrs Kearns, sorry for getting so silly about it. You’re right. And anyway, aren’t the men risking everything by standing up to their employers, so shouldn’t we be tough as well? Though now that so many people are arguing over whether to join up and follow Redmond or stay at home and strike for our own independence, it’s hard to see how we’ll get anything moving.’
‘Exactly!’ Both women looked towards the door. Mrs Grant stood there, smiling.
‘You have it exactly right, Mary. We must all make sacrifices, and there will be plenty more of them to come. Sometimes we will be humiliated, abused, perhaps even imprisoned, but that is as it may be. We must, all of us, men and women, stay united and indivisible. This recent split between those who followed Mr Redmond and his instructions to join up with the forces of the Crown must be the last schism among us. It is simply not good enough for petty squabbles to exist between us. We have lost many of our number, gone to the other side and wearing British uniforms. It is a misfortune, but there you have it. They believe that they are furthering the cause of Home Rule, and they must reconcile their actions in their own conscience. Those people are no longer our concern. Now is the time to unite and conquer. We, the women, have an important role to play and must stay strong and stoic, in the face of the enemy. And that enemy does not always wear a uniform, but is just as deadly, perhaps even more so.’
The three of them stood in the kitchen, united in their beliefs, transcending class and station in life. They were not servants and mistress but three women, each determined by their common cause.
‘Now, Mary, word must be delivered to the general council that something may happen. My husband did not mean to pre-warn us. He thinks I am too frightened of him to continue my efforts, but the fact remains that he has done us a great service. The leaders must be warned, particularly Pearse, and Plunkett. He mentioned newspapers and teachers, did he not? Mary, I need you to get a message to someone, but to whom?’ The mistress drummed her fingers on the table, deciding who was best.
‘Well, Ma’am, I am due to meet Rory O’Dwyer today. Do you remember him, from the day at the pier? I could ask him to deliver a note...’ her voice was hesitant. She was wary of admitting that she had arranged an outing with a man.
Mrs. Grant seemed to take no notice of that aspect, instead crying, ‘Perfect. Rory will be able to get word to the highest echelons of the Volunteers. Well, better than a note, just tell him, Mary. You heard what the master said as well as I. He’ll know what to do, I’m sure. Now run along, dear, there’s no time to waste.’
Mary ran to her room and quickly changed out of her uniform. She’d bought a new dress for the picnic and had spent the previous night worrying that it was a bad decision. He had seen her only other good dress, and while the mistress often gave her items she no longer wore, Mary never had the courage to wear them. Anyway, up until now the only places she went were to mass on a Sunday and maybe for a walk with Eileen afterwards every second week when she had the afternoon off
.
The dress was of emerald green, and the lady in the shop said it was perfect with her colouring. She’d enthused about how the colour brought out the colour of her hair and her green eyes. The waist was cinched in and the sleeves stopped at her wrists with lace on the cuff. The skirt was at least three inches above her ankle, and beneath it she wore kid leather button up boots the mistress had given her months earlier.
She looked in the looking glass as she fitted her cloche hat and put on her coat. She felt vaguely ridiculous but there was no time to change it now. Rory had written a lovely note, the first and only letter she’d ever received in her life, telling her he’d meet her at the GPO on Sackville Street at 1 p.m. sharp, and that he was taking care of the picnic, just to bring herself. She smiled at the memory because in brackets he added, ‘I know what you women are like about time keeping!’ She was determined not to be late.
In the kitchen Mrs Kearns sat alone, the mistress having obviously gone back upstairs.
‘Well, you’re like a fashion plate, so you are.’ She remarked. Mary didn’t know if this was a good or a bad thing since up any efforts to improve one’s appearance were discouraged as vanity and sinful when she was in the orphanage. ‘Mind you, don’t let that young man of yours get notions now, do you hear me? Them fellas in the Volunteers think they are cock of the walk, some of them, and a girl would have to make sure she stays respectable and not be seen to be behaving as anything less than a lady from a good God fearing house.’ Though there was warning in Mrs Kearns voice, her face was kind.
‘I’m very fond of you, Mary, so be sure to take care and be a good girl.’
‘I will, Mrs Kearns, of course, I will. I don’t want to go the same way as my mother, and the bad is in my blood, I know, but Rory is a good man, and he’s Eileen’s brother, and aren’t you always saying how well brought up she is? Sure they’re out of the one house so he’s a gentleman too.’
The old housekeeper shook her head. ‘The rubbish you come out with sometimes... I just don’t know, ‘the bad is in your blood’, is that what them nuns told you? You don’t know what went on with your poor mother, the blessings of God on her wherever she is. Don’t ever let me hear you saying that kind of auld codswallop again. ‘Bad in the blood indeed’. You are a fine girl, and please God you’ll be a grand wife for some good man when the time comes. But this world, ’tis a dangerous place, never more so than now. We none of us know what’s ahead but ’tis going to be bloody, I know that. But ’twill be worth it, and ’tis the likes of young Rory will make this a better country for us all. Sure listen to me and all my auld ramblings, go on off up to the zoo with Eileen’s brother and enjoy it, God knows ye’ll all have to grow up sooner than ye should if things go the way they are headed. Go, let you, or you’ll miss the tram and there’s few enough of them on a Sunday.’
Mary felt a rush of affection for the old housekeeper. Nobody in her life had ever said a kind word about her mother. Mrs Kearns had been like a mother to her since she got to this house, and she knew that she meant a great deal to Mrs Kearns too.
‘I will Mrs Kearns, and thank you for saying that, and for looking out for me. I’d never do anything to let you down.’
‘Sure I know it well a chroí, ’twas a good day the day you landed in here. Now get out before I go to meet him meself, and wouldn’t he be thrilled with this auld broiler hen as his company for the day. Be sure to bring your muffler though, ’tis bitter out there.’
Mary stood up to get off the tram on Sackville Street and her stomach was in knots. What if he wasn’t there? Or what if he was and she could think of nothing to say? This was a terrible idea, she thought to herself.
As she alighted, there he was. ‘Well would you look! Aren’t I the luckiest man in Ireland to spend the day with such a girl as yourself on my arm, Mary Doyle? You look beautiful.’
Mary smiled and blushed, unused to such compliments. No one had ever said she was beautiful before! Mrs Grant oohed and aahed over her colouring, and Eileen said she wished she was tiny like Mary, but she had never actually heard the words ‘you are beautiful’.
‘Hello, Rory.’ She managed to reply. ‘You look very beautiful too.’ The words were out and she realised how ridiculous it sounded. She coloured deep crimson. ‘I... I mean you look well, I meant to say you look well. And fine. I hope you are. Fine ,I mean.’ Just stop talking, she berated herself. He must think I'm a little unhinged.
‘Ah Mary, tis only me. A big thick ignorant eejit up from the country, like yourself. Not that you’re thick or ignorant. I just meant you were from the country too... Janey, can we start this again?’ He looked as flustered as she did. They stood in the street with the biting wind whipping up the remaining leaves of autumn, and people walked purposefully all around them, head down to get out of the cold. Rory and Mary laughed.
‘Now, Miss Doyle, I have a plan. Tis different to the first plan because when we arranged to go to the zoo I thought it was going to stay warm enough, but one of my areas of expertise is in fact, zoo animals. And I know for a sure and certain fact that no animal with a hair of sense would dream of coming out to be admired today, even if it was by the lovely Mary Doyle. So here’s my proposal. Why don’t we make our way to a nice warm hotel, where we will hopefully not be arrested today, and...’
‘Rory, before that. I have to give you an important message, from Mrs Grant.’
His demeanour changed from joking fun to instantly serious. ‘What is it?’
‘Well, over breakfast this morning, Mr Grant was saying how the British were going to strike at the movement for independence and be brutal when they did. He specifically mentioned teachers and newspapermen. Mrs Grant thought he might have been referring to Mr Pearse or Mr Plunkett, and she felt they should be warned.’
Rory’s face darkened. ‘Thank God you and Mrs Grant had the sense to get a message to us. We’d be lost only for people like ye and that’s the truth. You see, there’s been rumours alright, but nothing concrete. We’ll have to get word to them, straight away. Come on.’ He tucked her arm in his and headed for Liberty Hall.
As they walked down Sackville Street, a truck full of RIC drove slowly beside them, their weapons cocked and ready. Rory immediately changed the subject and started telling her a long story about a chef who got a job in the Royal Marine who couldn’t boil an egg. But everyone was so fond of him, they all covered up for him and the owners took weeks to discover the truth, by which time the chef had learned the basics from the kitchen staff. Rory squeezed her arm and Mary laughed and chattered back animatedly. They looked like a young couple courting. The truck pulled up directly in front of them as they walked, blocking their path.
A policeman jumped down and took out his notebook as he stood in front of them.
‘Name?’
Mary was terrified but managed to remain calm.
‘Joseph Murphy,’ Rory answered
‘And you?’ the policeman asked, nodding at Mary and writing furiously.
‘Teresa Lane,’ she replied without hesitation and with more confidence than she felt.
‘Address?’ The policeman looked Rory straight in the eye.
‘Well, we’re from Tipperary, but we’re up visiting Teresa’s aunt in Kilmainham. She’s not too well, you see.’
‘Address in Tipperary?’ His eyes never left Rory’s face as if trying to place him.
‘Queen Street, Nenagh, and Teresa’s from Duggan’s Lane, that’s in Nenagh as well.’ There was nothing objectionable in Rory’s tone. He spoke clearly and respectfully, as befitting a country boy up visiting Dublin. Mary marvelled at his performance.
Addressing Mary this time, the RIC man continued his questioning, ‘And this aunt of yours. What’s her name and address?’ Again the same stony stare. This was her turn to act.
‘My aunt is Mrs Kitty Lane and she lives at number 11 Kilmainham Cottages.’ Her voice was steady and clear. She remembered the address Kilmainham Cottages becau
se Mrs Grant’s cobbler lived there.
‘And where are you two off to?’
‘We’ve never been to Dublin, sir, and my aunt wanted us to see a bit of the city before we went home, so she told us to get the tram to Sackville Street and walk around the place a bit, to see it, like.’ Mary remembered her Tipperary accent from her days in the orphanage and broadened her vowels slightly.
The policeman nodded and turned back to his truck without another word. The truck moved off and rounded the corner.
When it was safe to do so, Mary allowed herself to breathe normally.
‘Well, we’ll have to speak to Mr Yeats about putting you on the stage, Miss Doyle,’ Rory grinned. ‘That was some performance! We wanted to see a bit of the city...’ he mimicked her broad Tipperary accent.
‘I don’t know that I’d have been so brave if I’d a note in my boot,’ she breathed in relief.
‘You would, of course. You’re made of tough stuff, Mary Doyle, I’m always telling you. It’s one of the reasons I like you so much.’
They walked along in the direction of Liberty Hall as the wind gusted mercilessly up the River Liffey. Mary felt alive and strangely exhilarated. She’d lied to the police and Rory said he liked her. As he chatted away and they walked along together, she felt a joy in her heart she’d never experienced before.
Chapter 16
The blazing fire in the dining room of the Gresham Hotel on Sackville Street warmed her as Rory spoke to the waiter. By the way they greeted each other, they were clearly friends, perhaps the man was a Volunteer as well. It was possible. The message had been delivered to someone in Liberty Hall and Rory seemed happy that the right people would hear it. She didn’t dare hope that their day would be resumed after that, but she was delightfully wrong. Rory announced that instead of freezing themselves to death in the zoo, they would go to this lovely hotel and have afternoon tea.
The ambiance was further enhanced by the presence of a string quartet in the corner of the room, but when the waiter came forward and asked if he could take madam’s coat, Mary felt quite foolish. Surely he must know she was only a servant girl, not a lady.
Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars Page 49
