MURIEL FELT AS if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She had not realized how much the day-to-day physical demands of nursing had affected her.
‘I think you nurses are treated like slaves,’ remarked John angrily, announcing that she intended to write an article for Bean na hEireann about the terrible situation young trainee hospital nurses in Ireland found themselves in. Muriel tried to persuade her to drop the matter, as people would assume she had inspired the article.
‘We talk about equality for women and women’s rights,’ her sister persisted. ‘Someone has to write about this situation. Nursing is a noble profession, but I say it is drudgery. It is not noble for a girl to work such hours, not be paid and be treated so badly, and I intend writing about it.’
Muriel sighed, realizing that John had dug her heels in and would not change her mind.
She kept up her friendship with Hannah, Lucinda and a few of the other girls, but her young doctor friend Andrew barely noticed her absence as he had already turned his attention to some new probationer.
Her eldest sister, Kate, surprised them by announcing her engagement to a Welsh man she had come to know and of whom she had grown very fond – Mr Walter Harris Wilson.
Mother took the news badly.
‘How could Kate marry such a man?’ she railed angrily, for not only was Mr Wilson a Catholic but, worse still, her daughter had decided to convert to his faith for their marriage in Holyhead in Wales.
‘But, my dear, you too married a Catholic, and ours has been a good marriage,’ Father reminded her. ‘We should be pleased that our Kate has found someone to love and care for her instead of remaining unmarried for the rest of her life.’
Mother reluctantly shook her head.
‘Then we will have no more of it. We will write to congratulate them and invite her to bring Mr Wilson over to Ireland to visit us.’
Muriel joined her parents for two weeks in Greystones, swimming every day, going for jaunts in the pony and trap and taking long walks. The sea air and exercise revived her spirits. When they returned to Dublin, leaving their parents behind, she and her sisters made the most of having 8 Temple Villas to themselves by hosting a constant round of lunches, dinners and parties. The house was filled with friends during those summer weeks.
They wrote to Mr MacDonagh inviting him to join them and a few friends for a long late breakfast. Muriel was delighted when he accepted. He was such good company, easy and quick-witted but with a great kindness. He was studying for a degree in Irish, French and English at University College Dublin and his head seemed always full of ideas. They sat around listening as he regaled them with stories and told them of a new poem he was working on.
At one stage Mother and Father returned from Wicklow for two nights, as they had tickets to go to the Theatre Royal to see the world-renowned Italian tenor Enrico Caruso perform. He took his Dublin audience by storm.
‘His voice is like no other,’ proclaimed Mother afterwards, admitting to being moved to tears by his singing.
Father, who was a keen fan of opera, had also enjoyed the performance. ‘Such a voice feeds the spirit and soothes the soul like nothing else,’ he said, slowly sipping a whiskey before retiring for the night.
Muriel missed the hospital but resolved to keep herself busy. She had enrolled in Gaelic-language classes and agreed to assist Mother and Reverend Harris with their church’s fundraising campaign to provide beds for a hospital in India. She also joined Inghinidhe na hEireann, telling Helena Molony that she was available and would be very honoured to help with anything that they were organizing.