‘Poor Mrs Grant, how could he…’ Mary wept.
‘They had to amputate her leg and her spine was fractured too. He broke her cheekbone and her nose and a lot of her hair never grew back, but she does have a wig if she needs to go out. She’s in a wheelchair and her face is very disfigured so try not to look too shocked when you see her.’
‘I read in the paper that the police found his body above in the Dublin mountains but that was fairly recently?’ Mary asked.
‘Oh, that was a good few weeks later. They shot him in the end but not before they nursed him back from the clatter on the head I gave him. They got him to tell them everything he knew about anyone of our side. He was up to his neck with that divil Johnson inside in the Castle, and he stood to lose everything because they were doing some very crooked dealings it seems. We’ve made an enemy of Johnson and no mistake. Yourself and Rory better look over yer shoulders because he won’t rest till he gets revenge. I’ve no sympathy for Grant, Mary, and I’ve no regrets about what I did to him. He was a horrible man who would have had Rory killed, and us too if he could. The Volunteers took care of him and that’s all we need to know about it.’
The two women sat in the kitchen, the clock ticking loudly and the embers glowing in the range. The smell of baking and roasting meat was still as she remembered it, and now this house was without the one person who had made her feel uneasy there. It was good news but Mary just felt shock.
‘Now, I’ll go up and tell her you’re here. She’ll want to tidy herself up a bit, so let you hold on here, or go into your room. Everything is just the way you left it and sure you can take your things or leave them. I never asked you, are you just visiting or are you coming back to us?’’
‘Just visiting, but I was hoping I could stay a few days while I’m in Dublin, would that be alright do you think?’ Mary asked.
‘You know better than to ask that now, surely? This was always your home and now that we are shot of that weasel Grant, then we are as safe as houses. The lads call every so often to make sure we’re alright. The mistress got the house and all his money, and he had plenty of it too, the auld miser, so we muddle along just fine the two of us. You are as welcome as the flowers of May and always will be.’
Mary sat on her small bed in her cosy bedroom. She was relieved to see nothing had changed. But the relationship between the Mistress and Mrs Kearns had changed. Mrs Kearns was the one leading the household now it seemed, and Mary was glad that they had each other. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had left, going up to say a final goodbye to Rory. How everything changed. She opened the little locker beside the bed and took out the bundle of letters she had tied up with a gold ribbon he had bought for her one day at a fair. The little room felt familiar and safe. In the wardrobe hung her maid’s uniform, her one good dress, her Cumann na mBan uniform, and the knapsack she used when she was in the GPO. She picked up the khaki bag and looked inside. There was the flag they had made out of Boland’s flour bags, with Tom Clarke’s help, to get them out of the GPO. It was folded neatly and still stained with Mrs Grant’s blood from when they had to use it to carry her.
Mary sat on the bed, holding the flag to her chest. For her it represented all the brave men and women who had sacrificed so much for the country. She carefully placed it back in the bag, along with Rory’s letters and the little silver medal of St Ann that Mrs Kearns had given to her on her birthday. St Ann was the patron saint of mothers, and while Mrs Kearns gave it to her in memory of her mother, wherever she was, Mary knew that Mrs Kearns herself was the only mother Mary had ever known. The kindness she and Mrs Grant had shown to her was unprecedented in her life before she came to Dublin, and she loved them both dearly. Everything they endured together seemed in so many ways a lifetime ago. Rory calling for cocoa in the evenings, going to the park or the sea for a walk, window shopping with Eileen on their half days, it was another life.
A gentle knock on the door brought her back, ‘She’s waiting for you.’
Mary followed Mrs Kearns out into the passageway and up the stairs to the drawing room, so beautifully decorated with the patterned wallpaper and all the furniture and ornaments blending perfectly. The heady perfume of fresh flowers was still there as well. Mary remembered the flower deliveries each day and the mistress matching the blooms to the various rooms in the house. Mary remembered how she had marvelled at such luxury when she first arrived. In the convent, flowers adorned the altar but never anywhere else.
She opened the door and looked in the direction of the fireplace. There was Mrs Grant, sitting in a wheelchair wearing a pink shawl around her shoulders. Her hair was coiffed perfectly and if Mrs Kearns had not told her Mary would never have known it was a wig. Her employer’s face was filled with joy and tears as she stretched out her hands to Mary, who tried not to register shock as she walked towards her. Mrs Grant’s beautiful features were gone, her face a collection of scars, some white where the skin seemed stretched too thinly over bone, others red and angry looking. Her nose was crooked and her bottom lip was misshapen.
‘Mary, my darling girl. What joy to see you again!’ she exclaimed. Her voice was exactly as Mary remembered it.
‘I know I must look a fright, but I’m lucky to be alive, so I have to keep telling myself that, and my guardian angel here, Mrs Kearns, makes sure that there are very few mirrors around so I can cope with it. Anyway that’s enough about me, how are you?’ Her infectious good humour dispelled all horror at her altered appearance and Mary sat down beside her and began to tell her the story of everything that had happened.
‘Oh I’m so happy he didn’t manage to have his way over Rory,’ Mrs Grant exclaimed. ‘What a relief! No one knows for sure how many of our men are in prison in England. They keep moving them around, it seems, though for what reason we can’t fathom. They move them, question them and then put them somewhere else. A sizable number seem to be in Frongoch, though, so that’s good that they are together at least. And Rory is there also! What splendid news. We were sure he had been executed so I never thought to check. Oh Mary, that really is marvellous news. I’m kept abreast of things through the ladies of Cumann na mBan, you see. They have been wonderful, and of course Mrs Kearns told you the fate that befell my husband? Yes, well, we won’t dwell on him any longer than we must. He’s gone and good riddance. Now tell me, what are your plans? Are you coming back to us? There is always a home here for you, you know that, don’t you?’
Mary outlined the discussions she had been having with Eileen and asked Mrs Grant’s opinion on setting up a branch of Cumann na mBan in Limerick.
‘An excellent idea, my dear, absolutely inspired. The problem the last time was we had mixed messages going up and down the country. Next time, and believe me there will be a next time, we need the entire country to rise as one, to battle as a country not just as a city. And while of course it saddens me to think you won’t be here at my side, spreading the good work we are doing around the country is invaluable. Now I’m going to tell you something that is not widely known so please keep it to yourself for now, but I have it on good authority that there is to be a release of Irish prisoners from English gaols in the coming weeks. It seems the British have no more reason to hold them and there is pressure being brought to bear by our MPs that Irish men are being held without trial in England. They are hoping that by releasing the Volunteers, they will reduce the animosity within the population and more men will volunteer for the front. I’m hoping they have that wrong, of course, but whatever the motivation it is good news for us.’
The idea that Rory would be released in the coming weeks filled Mary with excitement. ‘All prisoners or just some of them?’ she asked eagerly.
‘I have no idea, my dear, it’s just rumour at the moment but I shall make special enquiries as soon as possible. And in the meantime you must meet with the top brass of the ladies to see about setting up new branches of the organisation. It’s more important now than ever, we must build on th
e success of Easter Week to finish the job. Oh Mary, I can’t tell you how happy your arrival has made me. I couldn’t be prouder of you, not even if you were my own daughter.’
Mary smiled and squeezed Mrs Grant’s hand. Despite all that had happened to her former employer, Mary marvelled at how the other woman was as determined as ever to free Ireland. She seemed happier, even with the horrific injuries and scars, but then she had lived under the tyranny of the master all those years, taunted for her inability to produce children, forbidden from having an opinion, utterly undermined on every level. The wheelchair, the wig, things that to others might be seen as unbearable impositions in life, were for Mrs Grant, liberating.
Chapter 35
‘And so Santie Claus will only come if you all go upstairs now and go straight to sleep, and no peeking out to see him because he is fierce shy altogether, and if he saw you he might get a fright and maybe he wouldn’t come in at all.’
Four pairs of eyes, wide in awe, gazed at their father.
‘But Daddy, what if he is hungry or thirsty and we didn’t leave him anything?’ Little Siobhan’s voice was worried.
‘Well,’ exclaimed John, slapping his head theatrically, ‘what would we do only for you my little one? We nearly forgot! Run over there to Mammy and see has she anything nice we could leave out for our important visitor.’
Peg gave them a freshly baked mince pie and a drop of poitín, which they carried reverently back to the fireside where their father waited.
‘Will he like the poitín, Daddy?’ asked Tim. ‘I don’t like the smell of it.’
John winked at Mary and Eileen, busy stuffing the turkey.
‘Oh, he’ll only have a small drop to warm him up. ’T wouldn’t do to have too much of it because poor old Santie might get a bit woozy in the head after it and he might crash the sleigh! And he’ll be delighted altogether with the mince pies because your Mammy makes the best mince pies in all of Ireland. Now then, are we ready? The stockings are hung up and he knows who each one is for. So off to bed with ye now.’
Michael and Patrick, the twins, started to shepherd Siobhàn and Tim upstairs.
As they reached the door, Siobhàn piped up again, ‘Daddy, what about Mary and Kate and Eileen? They have no stockings up. How will Santie know to leave them something?’
‘Ah, we’re too big to be getting presents from Santie, pet.’ Mary explained
‘Indeed and ye are not!’ John announced. ‘Peg, have we three more stocking there for Eileen, Mary, and Kate?’
Peg shook her head in mock despair as she rooted in the darning bag.
‘Mammy, we need four more,’ Michael said. The family looked quizzically at him.
‘One for Rory,’ he explained. The twins adored their older brother and the news that he was alive but that they couldn’t see him was a source of great sadness to them.
‘Of course we’ll have one for Rory, and we can send him whatever Santie leaves for him when we write to him after the dinner tomorrow.’ Peg looked gratefully at her husband as he put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. He always knew exactly what to say. She missed her son desperately and Christmas was especially hard.
‘Kate will be home shortly. She’s helping Annie Collins with her new baby, and then we’ll have all the family, except our boy Rory, at home under our roof. A few months ago we thought the worst, so I know ’tis hard on all of us to have Rory so far away, but he is alive and that is what we must give a prayer of thanks to Our Lord and his Blessed mother for, this night.’ The family knelt together and prayed for a few moments and Peg blessed herself and looked up at the picture of the Sacred Heart over the fireplace.
Mary helped get the children to bed. They were not normally so enthusiastic but they couldn’t get up the stairs quick enough, while Peg and Eileen prepared the vegetables for the feast next day. The pudding had been made in September and was wrapped in paper and muslin. After the turkey and roast potatoes and carrots and parsnips, it would be served with the cream from the top of the milk, to much anticipation. Though the O’Dwyers managed well enough, nine mouths were a lot to feed and it was through the hard work and good management of both the house and farm that they were all adequately fed and clothed. Treats like plum pudding and roast turkey were reserved solely for Christmas.
Peg put the cork in the bottle of poitin and replaced it on the top shelf, having ‘fed’ the pudding one last time. Both the Christmas cake and the pudding had received a capful every two weeks since they were baked in the autumn. She disliked having the potent spirit in the house. It was made up the mountain by an old farmer, but it did make the pudding and the small Christmas cake especially tasty. It was illegal to distil it and if the local constable called and suspected anything, it could mean trouble. She only used it for the cake, but still. She thanked the Lord frequently that John was an abstemious man, that he took a drop of whiskey or a glass of stout at a funeral or a wedding but never really outside of that.
Mary reappeared in the kitchen in record time. Usually the children demanded story after story and seemed to be fascinated by life in the convent, so it often took half an hour to get them settled. But tonight they lay in their beds, eyes squeezed tight shut, willing the arrival of Santie Claus. As she kissed each one goodnight, she thought that if only Rory was here tonight, her life would be perfect. She loved this family who had never made her feel anything but one of them. She had bought little presents for each of them when she was in Dublin as she still had most of the wages she earned in the Grants’ employ kept in the post office, and Mrs Grant had insisted on giving her some money when she left. When Mary objected, Mrs Grant explained that she was, as a result of the demise of the master, now quite a wealthy woman and she wanted to take care of those who had taken care of her. She said she remembered clearly the night the master attacked her the first time, how it was Mary who had stopped him from killing her. She reminded her of the night Mary and Eileen carried her out in the flag, and everything they did to save her life. Mrs Grant told Mary that she thought of her as family and wanted very much to help her in any way she could, now or in the future.
Mary tried to give the money to John and Peg for her room and board, but they refused and seemed quite hurt that she felt the need to offer it. She explained that she just wanted to pay her way, but they told her to save her money, that she and Rory would need it to get set up once he came home.
So she had to content herself with showing her gratitude and love for them in the thoughtful little presents she had got for each of them. She had hidden the gifts in the barn, since the twins were driving everyone mad all week looking for presents in every nook and cranny of the house. She finished the dinner preparations with Eileen, and afterwards her friend had gone over to Teddy’s to give him his present. She had bought him a really nice hat in Dublin and was dying to give it to him. Mary was so relieved things had worked out well between her and Teddy. Eileen explained how she had confronted him about her fears that he wasn’t a supporter of the Irish Republic and he said that while he wasn’t active in the cause, those that were had his full support. He added that couldn’t see himself fighting as he was a peace loving man, but that could change. He also told her straight that he loved her and supported her in whatever she wanted to do. Eileen was delighted and admitted that she loved him too. Mary wrote and told Rory about the blossoming romance and he was really pleased since Teddy and he were friends since boyhood. Now that the children were asleep and John and Peg gone to visit an elderly neighbor, she decided to go out and get the presents. Kate, having been up most of the previous night with the crying Collins baby, had gone to bed as well.
Having the big warm kitchen of the house to herself was such a very rare event. She could never remember it happening before, so she was going to use the time to wrap her gifts and place them under the tree. The day she and Eileen went shopping, she bought a beautiful leather bound notebook for Rory and had the shop engrave his name and th
e date on it. She had posted it weeks earlier so she really hoped he got it in time for Christmas. She wondered as she ran across the dark yard in the cold December chill what Christmas would be like in Frongoch, would they have turkey or would it be just like every other day. Emerging from the barn, both arms laden down with her gifts, she started in fright. A light was flickering in the lane. Eileen would be driven home by Teddy so it wasn’t them and Kate was already home. Peg and John would come home across the field.
Rooted to the spot she tried to think what she should do. Mrs Grant had warned her that the master had powerful friends and to be ever vigilant. Before he died, he threatened her constantly that he was going to destroy them all for humiliating him so publicly by their involvement in the Rising, against his expressed orders, and he included Mary in that. Though he was dead, she was wary. There was nobody to call as the twins were too young and Kate was only fifteen and very timid. She decided to run to the farmhouse around the perimeter of the large yard and barricade herself in.
The light was coming from a bicycle. She could hear the heavy breathing of the cyclist in the still night as he laboured up the hilly lane to the yard.
She got to the door and was fumbling with the latch which required a peculiar kind of push and pull at the same time to work properly. Her heart was thumping in her chest and she begged the latch, which was always a bit sticky, just this once to open without endless jiggling. The ticking of the dynamo on the bike was in the yard now and Mary stood frozen to the spot in terror.
‘I can’t believe nobody has fixed that latch. What have ye been at since I left?’
Mary spun around, dropping her bags and boxes on the ground. She must be hearing things.
Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars Page 65
