‘Rory! Rory, is it you? How did you get here? I thought you were…’
Rory threw the bicycle to the ground and put his arms around her and silenced her questions with a kiss. On and on he kissed her, holding her tightly. She kissed him back as the tears poured down her face. After what seemed like forever, he withdrew from her and wiped her tears with his thumbs as he had done the night in the cell in Kilmainham. She looked up into his face, the face she wondered if she would ever see again. He was thinner, and older looking, but he was her own Rory. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
‘Hello, my darling Mary. You’re looking beautiful, just like I pictured a million times in my head. I was released the day before yesterday, no warning or anything. They just let a good share of us out. I was determined to get home for Christmas so I landed in Dublin yesterday and I got a train to Limerick Junction, but I had to cycle the rest of the way as I’d no money and they had someone tailing me to see where I went.’ He stifled a huge yawn.
‘You must be exhausted, and starving too.’ Mary was concerned, putting her hand to the three days of stubble on his face.’
‘I’d eat now right enough. And then I’d love to curl up with you beside me and sleep for a full day but I suppose my mother would have something to say about that!’ He winked at her.
Mary chuckled. Despite the changed appearance, he was her old same Rory, cheeky and incorrigible.
‘I’d love that too, but you’re right, your mother would be horrified.’ She grinned.
Giving into a huge yawn, he sighed deeply. ‘Then the sooner I marry you and we can legitimately sleep in the one bed, the better. I suppose the priest wouldn’t do it tomorrow?’ he laughed. ‘Where is everyone? I thought the fatted calf would be out and all’
Mary explained where the adults were as they entered the kitchen. Rory looked around at the unchanged surroundings of his home and breathed deeply, the smell of baking and clean laundry a delight in his nostrils. He smiled as he took in the row of stockings and especially the two at the end, of his own and Mary’s side by side.
‘Tim wrote your name on yours.’ She spoke quietly. ‘They were so excited going to bed but Santie will fade into insignificance once they realise you’re home. They missed you so much, Rory, we all did.’
‘And I missed ye, honest to God, Mary, ’twas what kept me going in there, knowing that my family was here at home, and you with them, safe. And of course knowing that Grant got what was coming to him.’ Rory’s face darkened.
Mary led him to the range and sat him down, and was telling him all the news from Mrs Grant and all the story of what the master did to her before the Volunteers came to get him.
Munching on brown bread and jam and swallowing from a huge mug of tea, Rory was appalled.
‘What took them so long? Sure they could have lifted him the minute I was arrested. Every second after was an opportunity for him to do something terrible.’ He was visibly upset that Mrs Grant had had to endure such torture.
‘Well, the mistress told me they were watching him as they needed to be sure who exactly his contacts were so that they could remove them too, if necessary. The Volunteers thought that even though the Rising did come as a surprise to Dublin Castle, they still know too much about us so they’re trying to find the leaks and sort them out before the next strike. They were never sure if Grant was an informer or if he was just in with Johnson on a swindle with the uniforms. Either way he was not to be trusted. We need to eliminate as many potential leaks as possible.’
Rory held Mary’s hand as she went to take his plate, and sat her down beside him. He looked deeply into her eyes and weighed up what he was going to say.
‘I’d love you no matter what, you know that, don’t you? But the fact that you understand that there has to be another round, that we must rise again, and sooner rather than later, while they are suffering such heavy losses in Europe, makes me love you even more. I won’t go into it now. We’ll just have a nice Christmas together, especially around Mam and the family, but when we were in prison, we were planning, preparing. Collins is a fox; he’ll play them at their own game and win this time. He says we can’t take them on in open battle like Easter Week. We haven’t the resources, not anything like enough money, but we know our country and we can bring them to their knees if we just go about it the right way. I’m going to be part of it, Mary, hopefully a significant part as well, and as I said before, I hope and pray with all my heart that we live and grow old together, but I need you to be totally sure what you’re getting into. The next time, I’ll be much more of a target and if they catch me, they’ll finish me.’
Mary looked into the face of the man she loved. His once jet-black hair was peppered with grey, despite the fact that he was only twenty five, and his skin was paler than it used to be. He’d lost weight and it aged him too, but he was the only man she could ever imagine loving. He was funny and kind, loving and loyal, and above all, he was passionate about the Republic. She nodded slowly.
‘I know exactly what I’m getting into, Rory. I knew before you ever came home that you’d be only here temporarily if you managed to get out. When you wrote to me all about the football training and reading the books, I knew ye weren’t just passing the time in there, ye were getting ready. I won’t pretend I’m not terrified, I am, absolutely petrified to tell the truth, but it has to be done, for us and for the generations to come. It’s as simple as that. It must be done and we must be the ones to do it, whatever the cost.’
The moment was interrupted by the sound of the latch being lifted as Peg and John crept in not wanting to wake the household. They were shaking the sleet from their overcoats when they turned towards the range, and froze. Peg’s hand flew to her mouth. She was speechless while John recovered first and his face broke into a huge smile.
He crossed the room in two strides as Rory got up to greet his father. They embraced as John’s rumbling chuckle filled the room. Mary’s eyes shone with emotion as she watched Peg and Rory’s reunion. Mary witnessed the bond of love between a mother and her child. It was as if Rory was a baby again as she held him and cradled him in her arms. He comforted her as she wept tears of relief and joy.
‘Rory, my darling boy, oh Rory…when we thought they killed you, I nearly… I …’
Rory, who was easily a foot taller than his mother, simply held her tight and said in soothing tones, ‘I’m home Mammy, It’s alright, I’m home.’
Chapter 36
‘To Eileen,’ Fiachra raised a toast with his glass of wine. ‘If it wasn’t for her and her flag I’d never have met you.’
Scarlett smiled. ‘She’s really amazing. She’s 93, did you know that? The whole thing with the flag is fascinating. She told me a little of the story but she’s saving it up, the full story, till we’re here, she says. I can’t wait to hear it all.’
They chatted over three courses of the most delicious seafood and drank a little too much wine. Fiachra was such easy company; with him what you saw was what you got.
She found herself blurting out the whole sorry tale of Charlie, and if he knew it already, which she suspected he did, he never let on.
He reached over and placed his hand on hers. ‘We all make mistakes. My sister, a font of all wisdom, says they’re all the wrong one till you meet the right one. It’s just unfortunate for you that you were both in the public spotlight. Loads of people make bad choices all the time, but usually they just have to live with the humiliation within their own circle. It must have been horrible for you, though, the press outside all the time, the whole nation watching on T.V.’
He didn’t judge her nor was he overly sympathetic or sycophantic.
‘How about you?’ she asked.
‘Ah sure, Scarlett O’Hara I’ve no time for women…’ he chuckled in a mock stage Irish accent.
‘Oh, that’s how it goes? I tell you my whole sordid sorry mess of a life and you avoid the question?’ she challenged
‘Ok, ok.’ He said, raising his hands in surrender. ‘I was engaged about two years ago to a girl from France, I met her while she worked here at the French Embassy and we went out for about six years. She dumped me, out of the blue, kind of, well out of the blue to me anyway, though I since discovered she had been cheating on me for a lot of the time. Anyway she ended it, left Ireland and is now married to the local count or whatever back in Gascony and they have a baby. I was in bits to be honest, and so I took some time out, did a bit of travelling, had some brief and therapeutic relationships and then I came home. Now I’m over her and I can say that easily, watch, I am over Monique Richard,’ he claimed dramatically with a rueful smile.
‘Did she break your heart?’ Scarlett asked, looking over her wine glass.
‘Yep. Absolutely, but the thing about hearts, I’ve come to discover, is that, just like ankles and noses, they heal, even if you don’t want them to or think they never will, they do. And someday you wake up and the pain is gone. I’m there now, but how about you? Are you, do you think?’
Scarlett tried to visualise Charlie in her mind, tried to summon up his voice. She wondered if he had called or texted the phone sitting in her bedside locker back in New York. She was pleasantly surprised to find she didn’t care. All she could see was the election poster, the one of him on the couch with his perfect family in his perfect house. He didn’t occupy her mind anymore, and without her realising it, just as Fiachra had said, the pain was gone.
‘I’m there too! I didn’t know I was until just this second, but I’m there. Mostly I just feel shame and embarrassment that I threw my career away for him.’
Eventually the staff started making moves like they wanted to go home, and they realised they had chatted non-stop for five hours straight, no awkward silences, or small talk.
They reluctantly left the restaurant and went outside, intending to hail a cab. Scarlett wished the night would never end. The light pollution of the city was far away on the other side of the bay and the inky sky glittered with stars. She shivered, the weak heat of the Irish sun gone. She had left her sweater back at the hotel at the insistence of Lorena who had convinced her to go shopping for a dress for the date. Though Scarlett hated the idea of shopping with her mother, she found they actually had fun. Lorena had a great eye for fashion, and before the craziness of Fr Ennio, she used to buy several celebrity magazines each week. She convinced Scarlett to purchase a red wraparound contour dress from Coast. Red, a colour she always avoided because of her hair, but when she tried it on and walked out into the changing room, the sales lady and two other customers gushed with enthusiasm for how great she looked. All the stress of recent months meant she was lean and toned, and once her feet were in nude LK Bennet high heels she felt attractive for the first time in months.
Lorena gave her a pair of costume jewellery pearl earrings and she and Eileen chatted to her while Scarlett got ready. At the time he was to arrive, she sent them down to the lobby to keep him talking while she put the finishing touches to her makeup. When she stepped out of the elevator, Fiachra turned and smiled at her, and she could see he was impressed.
He was about to signal to a passing taxi when he stopped,
‘I know you’re cold, but if I gave you my jacket would you like to walk along the seafront?’ He looked young and uncertain all of a sudden.
‘I’d love it!’ She smiled as she put on his warm jacket, several times too big for her. She liked the faint smell of aftershave from the collar
As they walked along, close but not touching, he pointed out features of the bay to her. She thought she could listen to his accent forever, which made her smile, in spite of the fact that up to very recently it was an accent she only associated with Dan.
They came to a bench on a bluff overlooking the sea below. The gentle lapping of the waves and the distant rumble of traffic were the only sounds they could hear. The lights of the bay twinkled and bounced off the black sea.
‘It’s beautiful up here, isn’t it?’ Fiachra asked, sighing deeply as he put his arm around her on the bench, drawing her close to him. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling happy.
‘It really is. I knew Ireland was beautiful, everyone knows that, but I never had any interest in coming here, you know? Too many connections with my father, I suppose. He would get drunk, pretty much every night, and would keep the whole neighbourhood awake with his yelling about the Rising and the British and all that, cussing and then breaking into these stupid songs. I used to feel so scared when I was little, and then as I got older I was just embarrassed. I knew everyone on the street talked about us, and looked the other way when they saw Lorena all bruised and battered as she shopped in the grocery store, but they hated more the fact that Dan O’Hara was their neighbour. Our street was full of people on the way up, second or third generation immigrants, a lot of Irish, and they didn’t want to be associated with people like Dan. They were the stereotype and our neighbours wanted nothing to do with us. Who could blame them? He was such a jerk. I was angry for so long, at him, and at Lorena too for staying and putting up with him. She should have got us away from him, somewhere we’d be safe, but she never did. But the thing is, I don’t know… Seeing Lorena so messed up these past few months has meant we’ve had time to talk things through and we’ve put a lot of things to rest. Coming here, seems like... I don’t know, closure somehow. Does that sound crazy? ’
Fiachra thought for a moment. ‘Not at all. Life’s too short to have resentment or regret. It only hurts the person feeling it, not the person it’s directed at. Your father is wherever he is now, and you’ve a life to live. I think it’s great that you can let it go. Though it must have been terrible. I’ve always been proud of my parents. I suppose your mother just couldn’t leave. I might sound like one of those TV psychologists now, but I think after years of living with abuse, it drains your confidence, and maybe she loved him at the start, and by the time she realised what he was really like she had lost the power to do anything to change her situation. Your mother strikes me as a fragile kind of person. She was reared to be a lady, not like you.’
Scarlett laughed. ‘Gee thanks!’
Fiachra rolled his eyes. ‘See? How the hell did I get a job in diplomacy? No, I don’t mean that, God no. I just mean you’re tough, strong, capable, so you can’t understand how your mother isn’t like you. I was involved with a case a few years ago, when I was in the Department of Foreign Affairs, where an Irish woman was in an abusive marriage overseas Her husband had taken her passport and she was trapped. We got her out, but afterwards it turned out that he left to go to work every day, so she could have run, taken her chances that she would get some help, but she couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t, because this ape she married had such a hold over her, she was paralysed with fear.’
Scarlett sat in silence, thinking about what he said, then he went on. ‘I’m not claiming to understand, I’m really not, in case you think I have all the answers, but all that business with religion you were telling me about Lorena, she sounds like someone who needs a bit of help to get through life. She’s lucky to have you .’
Scarlett smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t know about that. A lot of the time she just drives me crazy. I always get the feeling that I’m not what she wanted, that I didn’t turn out like she hoped or something. She wanted someone girly, who got married to someone nice and had two adorable children and a pretty house.’ She shrugged.
‘I don’t know about that. When I was waiting for you to get ready I had a chat with her, and she was telling me all about your career and how she was so proud of you. She was bursting with pride telling me about you, so I think you mean more to her than you think.’
‘Really?’ Scarlett was surprised. Lorena never said anything like that to her face. She was surprised at how touched she was by it.
‘She was probably trying to big me up so that you’d fall for me and she’d finall
y marry me off.’ Scarlett laughed.
‘Well, it’s working,’ he said. ‘I think you’re great. So honest and straightforward. Some women are hard to make out. You feel like you’re in a play and everyone’s got the script except you, y’know? But I think there’s a lot more to you than you allow the world to see, and I’m too old and too battered from this dating thing to play games. Scarlett, I really like you, more than I’ve liked anyone in ages, and I’d like to see you again? I’m sorry if I’m being a bit blunt, but flirting and being all mysterious isn’t my strong suit. I can’t play games, not any more.’
She smiled. She knew exactly what he meant. She absorbed what he said. He liked her. For the first time in her life she felt someone liked her for who she really was. Charlie liked the sassy journalist who was fearless, and if she was honest, he probably liked the conquest. At that, a wave of self-disgust threatened to engulf her. Fiachra was different. She found herself spilling out to him all the insecurities she had bottled up for her entire life. She couldn’t analyse it but it was like she was testing him, telling him the worst so he knew, and then might back off now, rather than later and leave her broken hearted.
‘All those teenage years when girls were practising flirting and going on dates, I just wanted to disappear. I had this stupid name, I wasn’t blonde and tanned, I had this mad red hair and freckles, I was ashamed of my family, and I was only average at school. It was all crap. Then I got into journalism and I was finally good at something. I worked really hard, in a fairly misogynistic world a lot of the time, and I did date a few guys then, but it was never sustainable. I guess I wanted to be taken seriously, not just some piece of skirt playing with the big boys. So I built this shell around myself. I could laugh and joke with the other journalists. I sat all night with them in countless hotel bars all over the city, going from one political crisis to the next, but I wasn’t available, and they knew it. Charlie was the first man I ever really let in, and what a choice he was!’
Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars Page 66
