Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars

by Jean Grainger

  Scarlett found herself tearing up for the first time in over a week at this woman’s kindness, especially since she felt that she didn’t deserve it.

  ‘Ok I guess. The press seem to have lost interest, so I can at least get around without being harassed, but its hurts like hell if I’m to be honest about it.’

  ‘I can imagine it does.’ Eileen patted her hand and then busied herself with making tea. ’It’s hard to deal with betrayal.’

  ‘Charlie didn’t betray me though, not really. He had no option. He’d never deliberately lie or hurt me like the press are trying to make out. I know it looks like that but it really isn’t. We love each other, but he is so conscientious that he would be throwing away all the good work he’s done on issues that really matter if we were to be together.’ For some reason she was anxious that Eileen wouldn’t think badly of Charlie.

  ‘Well, Scarlett, if I’ve learned anything from all my years on this earth, it’s that things are rarely straightforward. People see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear. And no more so than in matters of the heart.’ She placed a tray of tea things and little home-made cupcakes on the table. Scarlett wasn’t sure if she was referring to her or not but decided to leave it. Nobody knew what she had with Charlie, so they couldn’t be expected to understand.

  The two women chatted for ages about this and that, and Scarlett was amazed to find how well read and aware of everything Eileen was. She knew about Scarlett’s journalism award and was able to discuss the details of the pieces she wrote around 9/11.

  She seemed to have a great network of neighbours who helped her out, but she in return babysat, watered plants when people were on vacation, and she was even involved with a paired reading programme for children with special educational needs in the local library. For a lady her age, she certainly led a full and rewarding life.

  ‘Did you ever marry?’ Scarlett asked. There were no wedding photos, apart from the one of Eileen’s parents, nor pictures of babies in the collection she had tidied up after the burglary.

  ‘No dear, I didn’t. I do regret that now. It would be lovely to have grandchildren around me.’ She smiled wistfully.

  ‘Why not? If it’s not too personal a question?’ Scarlett was curious about this sprightly little old lady. She seemed much more together and capable today now that the effects of the break-in were wearing off.

  ‘My parents loved each other so deeply, with all of their hearts and minds, and I guess nobody ever made me feel like that. The way my mother felt about my father was so intense, and I was waiting to feel that. I realise now they were young, so very very young and idealistic. I had a few boyfriends over the years, fewer these days of course.’ She grinned mischievously, ‘I had a few opportunities, but I always thought No, it’s not like how my mother described her and my Dad so I let them go. Mothers don’t always know best though.’

  Scarlett glanced at her watch. She would need to get going soon to be at Lorena’s at one. ‘Tell me about it!’ She sighed ruefully. ‘My mother and I don’t exactly get along. I’m an only child and my violent alcoholic Irish father is thankfully no longer here. He died. He didn’t move out of state or anything.’ She smiled. ‘So it’s just me and Lorena. She’s a bit of a religious nut. Well, actually more than a bit, of late, I think. I try to limit our time together to very tiny bursts because we drive each other crazy, but I’ve got to go there for lunch. She’s been calling me every day to tell me she’s praying for me. And this afternoon, apparently I’m to be the subject of an exorcism, to rid me of the demons, so that’s something to look forward to!’ Scarlett rolled her eyes.

  Eileen smiled at Scarlett’s face. ‘Religion sure has a lot to answer for in the world, doesn’t it? But I will tell you this Scarlett, you only get one mother, and no matter what the relationship between you, you’ll miss her when she’s gone. You never really get over it, actually.’ Her blue eyes gleamed with emotion.

  ‘Hmm. I guess so.’ Scarlett was being polite. Though she didn’t like what it said about her, she couldn’t imagine herself being devastated when Lorena went. Life would be a whole lot easier in so many ways.

  ‘I know so.’ Eileen nodded. ‘Cherish this time. You don’t know when it’s going to be gone.’

  ‘So if you didn’t spend your life raising a family, what did you do?’

  One of the things she really liked about Eileen was how direct she was. You could just ask her straight questions and get a straight answer, without any religious mumbo jumbo or political spin. It was refreshing.

  ‘Well, I suppose my family background was one of fighting oppression, if that doesn’t sound too laudatory.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve tried where I can to make life a little more fair, I suppose.’

  She argued vehemently in favour of Obama’s healthcare packages, explaining how all over the world the battles that had been won for equality and freedom were being eroded in front of their eyes, not by Imperial powers this time, but by the faceless financial institutions who put profit before people all over the so-called developed world.

  ‘Hey Eileen, you’re not some sweet little old lady are you?’ Scarlett teased. ‘I’m guessing you were a bit of a firebrand in your day.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ she smiled. ‘But I spent my early life working for the Transport Workers Union of America. There wasn’t much room for sweet ladies, old or young in that kind of organisation. I was brought up to believe in equality, that work should be rewarded and profits shared. That women and men are equal, and that rather than being in competition with each other, the most effective way to make social progress is through co-operation. Not an idea that appeals to the powerful, then or now, as it happens. Nothing changes really. Just the names and the faces. There will always be greed and those willing to exploit others to get what they want. And hopefully, there will always be those willing to stand up and fight. Because, fight you must. The powerful will never volunteer to relinquish power. It must be taken forcibly from them. It's the only way.’

  Scarlett was fascinated by the passion behind her words, which was totally belied by her slight physical presence.

  ‘But surely negotiations, or reaching a compromise is better than all out war?’ she asked.

  Eileen nodded, delicately wiping her mouth with a napkin.

  ‘Ideally yes, but if you are dealing with those who see exploitation and injustice as acceptable, then trying to reason with them is a waste of time. They got what they have through savagery, and it will often take savagery to take back what is rightfully the property, land, or human dignity of someone else. You see, Scarlett, to defeat any enemy one must first understand them, think like them, beat them on their own terms. When you get inside their head, then you find their weak spot, their Achilles heel, then you stand a chance of victory. Even if the enemy is significantly stronger and better resourced than you.’

  ‘Is that what happened in Ireland? With the English?’ Scarlett was probing, thinking of all the photographs and memorabilia in the living room.

  ‘Yes, ultimately, of course that’s exactly what happened. But not before they subjugated the population for nearly eight hundred years. So many revolts over the centuries, so much blood-shed, but all to no avail. After the rising, well, things changed then. New ways of thinking, new ways of fighting back.’

  ‘New in what way?’ Scarlett asked.

  ‘Oh, just a different approach. Too long to go into now, but the thing was that key people realised the same old tactics that had failed so often before must be abandoned.’

  Scarlett looked at the Waterford Crystal clock on Eileen’s wall, and realised she had to go.

  ‘Time to face the music, or worse!’ She was dreading going to her mother’s. ‘I’d love to stay here chatting all day, but there will be hell to pay, literally, if I don’t show.’ She smiled at her own joke.

  Eileen remained serious. ‘Scarlett, you are a good person. Don’t let anyone tell you othe
rwise. You made a decision out of love, and things didn’t go the way you planned, but that doesn’t mean you are bad. Try to go easy on your mother. I’m sure she loves you, but when religion gets a grip on people, well, it’s hard for them to see clearly sometimes.’

  Scarlett wished for the hundredth time that her mother was more like Eileen.

  ‘Thanks, Eileen. I know she does love me, and I guess I love her too, but sometimes I don’t actually like her all that much. She’s got this priest that she hangs out with. I’m meeting him properly today, and now she’s talking about going to Mexico with him, doing some kind of extreme pilgrimage or something. I know I should intervene, but it’s easier just to stay out of it.’

  Eileen nodded knowingly. ‘My mother and I were very close, extremely so, but there were days when we could have happily strangled each other. We had different ideas about things, and it’s really because of her that I never married. She would never have stopped me, nothing like that, but her marriage to my father was held up as the ultimate, and I never thought I’d found that. Maybe she should have advised me otherwise, I don’t know, but all I’m saying is mothers are just human beings as well, fallible human beings who make mistakes. But I know everything my mother did, rightly or wrongly, throughout my life, was because she thought it was the right thing. I’m sure your mother is just the same.’

  ‘Thanks, Eileen, for the tea and everything else. I’ve filed my copy on the burglary already, but I was wondering if you’d tell me the story of your family? I’d love to hear it, if you wanted to …’ Suddenly Scarlett felt stupid and gauche, like a teenager again, desperate for a date. She realised that she just wanted to maintain a friendship with Eileen, but it was weird, how do you say to a ninety something year old lady, let’s be friends? She just knew she didn’t want to leave and not have a reason to call to this warm, welcoming little house again. In the whole sea of crazy that was her life, this was a little island of calm acceptance and she hated to leave.

  Eileen seemed to read her thoughts.

  ‘Well, I’m here most of the time, and I can never thank you enough for all you’ve done for me. I’d be delighted for you to call anytime you have a moment. The story of my family is quite a tale, I can tell you! Now you’d better get going.’ She ushered Scarlett to the front door, handing her jacket to her.

  ‘Don’t you have a scarf? Or a hat?’ she asked, concerned. ‘It’s freezing out there with that wind. Here, let me find you something.’ Before Scarlett could protest, Eileen was opening a little closet under the stairs, and from it she took a beautiful dark green fine knit wool scarf with gold flecks. She wrapped it around Scarlett’s neck and patted her on the back. The gesture was so caring and gentle that Scarlett felt five years old again. Instinctively, she kissed Eileen on the cheek and left with a heavy heart, dreading what faced her.

  Chapter 19

  Holy Thursday, 1916

  ‘Ouch!’ Mary yelped in pain.

  ‘Oh for goodness sake, Mary Doyle, you’re neither use nor ornament today. No wonder you cut yourself. You’re a million miles away! Here, wrap this around it before you drip blood all over the carrots.’

  Mrs Kearns led Mary to the sink and wrapped her finger in gauze and a bandage.

  ‘I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ll concentrate better, I promise.’

  The housekeeper put her heavy calloused hands on Mary’s slight shoulders and spoke directly to her.

  ‘I know you’re worried, and frightened, we all are. None of us knows what’s going to happen, but something will, and sooner rather than later, I think, so we must stay strong. And if your man above,’ her eyes gesturing towards the Grants’ private rooms upstairs,‘ gets a sniff that anything is not as it should be, he’ll be on to his friends in Dublin Castle like a flash. You’re fierce jittery altogether and he’ll spot that if he sees you, so you need to settle down, alright?’

  Mary nodded. Last night she, Eileen, and Mrs Kearns had sat in the kitchen while the Grants attended a dinner party in the neighbouring wealthy suburb of Foxrock. The three spoke about the sense of anticipation. Something was definitely about to happen, they all agreed.

  Eileen was in on the swindle they were running on the jewellery, and recently the mistress had found an artist who could produce credible replicas of the artwork the master had dotted throughout the house. He considered himself a man of high culture and loved to show off his collection, but actually, the mistress assured them, he knew nothing about art. He’d never notice if they were replaced with good copies. So Mrs Grant was systematically, and with great attention to detail, divesting him of that wealth as well. Though the thought that the master was unwittingly helping to arm the very people he despised gave the women a thrill, they remained deeply cognisant of the fact that if they were caught, they would face deadly consequences. This was not a game, but it gave the mistress a reason to stay with him and endure his daily ritual humiliations.

  She rarely attended meetings these days, preferring to send the girls and Mrs Kearns, to avoid further conflict in the house. Mary reported back to her the details of the discussions, but Mrs Grant was also very connected to the upper echelons of the Volunteers, so she was kept abreast of events. She regularly attended the Abbey Theatre where Lady Gregory and William Butler Yeats were firmly establishing a National Theatre, celebrating all aspects of Irish culture. The movement towards independence was being fought on many fronts, she would regularly tell Mary.

  The last Cumann na mBan meeting Mary attended had been different in tone from all previous meetings. Usually the talk was divided between matters of principle such as suffrage or Home Rule and practical issues of first aid training, driving, and in recent weeks, shooting. Recently however, the discussions became less abstract, and more urgent. The sense of impending action was palpable. She and Eileen had been thrilled the month before when they were part of a group taken high up into the Dublin Mountains and shown how to fire a rifle.

  She, Eileen, and ten other women had waited near Wynn’s Hotel early on Sunday morning. Three cars arrived and they were bundled in and driven out of the city, past the small poor houses of the city centre, past the smoke producing factories, and then finally leaving behind the beautiful detached houses of the wealthy in the leafy suburbs. The landscape had reminded Mary of Tipperary, rural and peaceful compared to the urban energy of Dublin.

  As they approached the shooting area through muddy lanes where the cars dropped them at an open field, she and Eileen instantly recognised Rory. He greeted them in a friendly way and introduced himself as their instructor, but treated her and Eileen the same way as the other women, giving clear instruction in marksmanship. Only as Mary held the rifle to her shoulder did he come up behind her and place the butt of the gun under her arm. ‘The recoil of these old things will really hurt if you have it against your shoulder bone,’ he whispered. ‘Move it down slightly, you’ll absorb it better.’ She tingled where he touched her on the upper arm as he adjusted the position of the gun.

  After that first lunch in the Gresham, he wrote regularly to her, but despite the fact that they lived in the same city, it was difficult to make time to see each other. She had every second Sunday off, but Rory was often down the country. He never wrote anything about his Irish Volunteer work in his letters for fear of them being intercepted, and when they did manage to meet, it was often rushed or cancelled at the last minute. She knew from his letters how he felt about her. He was always honest and open about that, but she would have loved some time with him. On Sundays she watched with envy the couples walking arm in arm in the park, chatting away without a care in the world. Mrs Grant and Eileen and even Mrs Kearns were understanding, but they all told her how Rory was doing very important work and ‘we all had to make sacrifices.’ She knew that, and made them happily, but she wished sometimes they were just an ordinary couple with time for courting.

  Mrs Kearns voice broke into her thoughts. ‘Now so, bring up the breakfast there to him.
The mistress is out at early mass so she’ll have hers when she gets back.’

  Mary’s heart sank. She hated serving the master when Mrs Grant was out. He always managed to make her feel uncomfortable. He seemed to think his wife had given up on her political life after the battering he had given her, but he did, from time to time, bring up the subject in Mary’s earshot. She would have preferred anything else than serve him alone. Since the night of the run in with Rory, he had watched her closely. Her flesh crawled beneath his malevolent and sinister gaze. She knew he despised her, but obviously the conversation with Rory had struck a chord with him, so he rarely spoke to her.

  ‘And Mary,’ Mrs Kearns added, ‘in and out nice and quick now, d’you hear? Don’t be dilly dallying with him.’

  Mary looked incredulously at Mrs Kearns. ‘I certainly won’t,’ she blurted indignantly.

  ‘Good girl! If you’re not back in three minutes, I’ll send Jimmy up on an errand.’

  Mary took the tray firmly in both hands and walked upstairs. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves before entering the room. The master was sitting at the dining room table, fully dressed.

  ‘Ah Mary, have you brought my paper?’ His tone was unusually cheery and pleasant. Mary instantly felt fear dance up her spine.

  ‘Yes sir.’ she responded, handing him the freshly ironed Irish Independent.

  TWENTY CRIMINALS QUESTIONED IN DUBLIN CASTLE

  The headline screamed. Mary tried to ignore it as he rattled the paper while she poured the tea and placed his toast and marmalade on the table in front of him.

  ‘So Mary, looks like the chaps in Dublin Castle are doing a good job rounding up these hooligans and corner boys that are threatening to disrupt our lives, what?’

  ‘Yes sir.’ She replied demurely as she placed the last item from the tray onto the table. He knew well her connection to Rory so he was clearly goading her.