NELLIE HAD JUST finished interviewing John Hennessy, an insurance agent who had crossed over from Liverpool, and she was walking him out to the door to Dawson Street when Michael Mallin, chief of staff of the Irish Citizen Army, arrived.
‘More recruits?’ he gestured.
‘Yes, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask Mr Connolly again for some help placing the men.’
‘I’ll be heading back down to Liberty Hall later. I’ll bring a message to him,’ he offered.
‘Will you have a cup of tea?’ she invited him. ‘I’m just going to make one.’
‘Yes,’ he smiled, perusing the Volunteer and the Workers’ Republic newspapers, which lay on her desk, as she boiled the water and filled the teapot.
She liked and respected Michael Mallin, for he was the one who trained and drilled Nellie and the other women in the Citizen Army, teaching them how to load and unload a gun and how to use their weapons. He insisted on target practice for everyone, male and female. The first few times Nellie had used a heavy rifle her shoulder had ached and her shots had gone wildly off target. She was hopeless, but Commandant Mallin, with great patience, had insisted she keep on trying until she had a good aim and could hit the target area.
‘Have you read the article about training?’ he asked with a heavy sigh.
‘I did,’ she said, pouring him some tea. ‘It annoyed me, that part all about the Volunteers parading and parading till all their glory faded.’
‘Well, the time for only parading is almost gone,’ he confided. ‘It is all fixed now.’
‘Fixed?’
‘The rebellion is fixed for a few weeks’ time, for Easter Sunday,’ he said slowly as he took a sip of his tea. ‘And it will be far more than a parade when the Volunteers and the Citizen Army all go out together …’
Nellie caught his eyes. She could see he was serious and also that he trusted her with this information, valued her as a member of the Citizen Army. She felt strangely nervous and excited, aware that finally the talk of rebellion was over and in only a month their long hours of marches, training and target practice would be put into action.
She kept silent about the rebellion. When Grace chatted about her plans for an Easter wedding, she held her tongue. When Muriel worried why MacDonagh was so frequently away at so many meetings and rarely at home, she said nothing. Even when Mother asked her about treating herself to a new Easter hat, Nellie encouraged her to arrange an appointment with her favourite milliner.
A few days later she called into Tom Clarke’s tobacconist shop to get a newspaper and met Michael Mallin again. He and Tom, James Connolly, William Partridge of the Citizen Army and Sean Mac Diarmada were deep in conversation at the counter with a pretty young lady.
The group greeted her as Mr Clarke got her paper and enquired pleasantly about the Bureau.
‘Miss Nellie Gifford, let me introduce you to Miss Margaret Skinnider,’ said William, smiling and stepping forward politely. ‘She’s over visiting from Scotland.’
Nellie shook the other woman’s hand.
‘Margaret is an old friend of mine,’ continued James Connolly. ‘She’s been staying at Surrey House with the countess for a few days but returns home tomorrow.’
‘But I’ll be back in Dublin in a few weeks,’ she reminded them. ‘Back for Easter.’
The word hung in the air. Michael caught her gaze, Nellie aware suddenly that this conversation was serious, a meeting between the Citizen Army leaders and Tom Clarke and Sean Mac Diarmada of the Volunteers.
‘Nellie, Miss Skinnider will be back in Dublin before Easter. Would you be able to meet with her and show her around certain parts of the city?’ Michael asked.
‘Of course,’ she agreed.
‘Then I look forward very much to us meeting again,’ smiled the young Scottish woman as Nellie took her leave of them.
Walking back up Sackville Street, Nellie’s heart pounded as she realized that plans and strategy for a rebellion were moving forward and that soon she would be part of it all.