GRACE WAS TORN between nervousness and excitement as she set off for town, for today she would be baptized into the Catholic Church.
Father Sherwin welcomed her to the church on St Stephen’s Green. Joe’s younger sister, Fiona Plunkett, was her sponsor, standing smiling near her side as Father Sherwin took her gently through the ceremony and baptism rite. As the priest anointed her with holy oils and washed her forehead with water, Grace felt a strange sense of elation, as if she had finally come home. She dearly wished that Joe could be there with her, but he was too ill. He had written the most beautiful poem to mark the occasion of her baptism and her eyes had filled with tears as she read and re-read it. Their love was not just a physical one but also one of the spirit.
She wanted to shout about her new faith, her love of Joe and their planned marriage on Easter Sunday, but she knew that she must keep it secret a bit longer. She would tell Father, for he was the only one who could fully understand and approve of her decision.
To Grace’s dismay, Joe’s old health troubles had come back; it was clear that he was very ill with a severe infection. He was admitted to Mrs Quinn’s Nursing Home on Mountjoy Square to have surgery to remove the enlarged gland in his neck. It was a big operation and Grace was beside herself with worry.
When she came to see him after his operation she could not disguise her shock at his appearance, for Joe looked ghastly, lying in the bed battered, bruised and exhausted with a huge dressing on his neck. The nurses came in regularly to check on him.
Dr MacAuley, his surgeon, came into the room and Grace sat listening as he told Joe in no uncertain terms that there was no question of him getting up or discharging himself; he was far too ill for that. Joe looked down at the bedclothes as the doctor tried to lay down the law to him.
‘Miss Gifford, I hope you can use some of your powers of persuasion on your fiancé as he is proving a hopeless patient and refuses to rest.’
‘I’ll try,’ she promised.
But it was useless. Every time she came to see Joe over the next few days there were groups of people around the bed – Mick Collins, MacDonagh and Sean Mac Diarmada – and they seemed to be discussing some big plan for the Volunteers for Easter.
‘But we are to be married at Easter,’ she reminded him gently when the others had left.
One day a document was delivered to the nursing home. Joe became agitated, poring over it and scribbling notes, then, despite his doctor’s orders, he insisted on dressing and returning to Larkfield. Alarmed, Grace rushed to visit him there.
‘I’ll make you a hot drink, some tea or cocoa?’ she offered, wishing that he would sit down quietly and rest like his doctor had ordered.
‘No, thank you,’ he replied. ‘I need help with this document, Grace.’
His bed was covered with sheets of paper with letters crossed out.
‘This all has to be deciphered,’ he said in a sombre voice.
‘Do you want me to go and find someone – Mick or George?’
‘No, Grace, I need you to help me. Get a pen and some paper and write down exactly the letters I tell you in the precise order,’ he explained, getting out his notebook. ‘If I make a mistake, cross it out and then put in the one I say, or if you are unsure, ask me to repeat it.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, worried because he needed to rest. But, grabbing a fountain pen and slipping off her jacket, she sat down at his bedside.
He began to read a few words, a sentence. Grace tried to concentrate and make some sense of it.
‘Replace C with an A,’ he instructed. ‘Replace U with a T. I’m not sure if that is a B or D – try D.’
She jotted the words down as quickly as she could, trying to keep the order and follow what he was saying. It was some kind of shorthand or code, but she could already clearly read that the members of Sinn Fein and the executive and heads of the Volunteers were all to be arrested.
A chill ran over her as she continued to write, for the document detailed plans to arrest the members of the organizations of which so many of their family and friends were part. It also outlined plans to confine members of the DMP and even the RIC to their barracks while British military authorities took over Liberty Hall, Larkfield, Countess Markievicz’s home Surrey House, the Volunteers’ headquarters, St Enda’s school, Eoin MacNeill’s home and the O’Rahillys’ house in Herbert Park.
‘Joe, where did you get this?’ she demanded as she finished and began to read over what she had written down.
‘It’s a document from the Dublin Castle authorities which we received through a friend of a friend,’ he said, pushing his bony fingers through his hair, distracted. ‘They obviously plan to arrest us all, even though we haven’t done a thing yet. What irony!’
Grace swallowed hard. She knew they were planning something, but he had chosen not to confide in her and now it would be to no avail.
‘We will all be arrested and deported, the organization decimated, and all for nothing.’ He was utterly crestfallen.
‘I’m sorry, Joe.’ Grace put down her pen.
‘They can’t get away with this,’ he went on angrily. ‘We need to get copies of this to everyone. Let them know what they are planning.’
Grace was filled with trepidation that Joe would be arrested. Armed DMP men and soldiers had surrounded Larkfield only a few weeks earlier and then mysteriously disappeared.
‘Joe, you are not well. It is too dangerous for you to stay here,’ she pleaded. ‘The military may come and arrest you.’
‘Go and find George,’ he begged. ‘Tell him we need to print this with our own press and send copies of it to warn people of what lies ahead. Call their bluff and print it in the newspapers.’
Later that evening an exhausted Joe finally agreed to return to the nursing home.
The papers refused to print the document Grace had helped decode; Dublin Castle took immediate steps to ensure that its publication was suppressed. But Frank Sheehy-Skeffington had a copy and soon word of the Castle’s plans to move against the Volunteers and Sinn Fein spread.
Even though it was clear that he and his friends were now all in danger of arrest, Joe continued to study his maps, charts and plans despite Grace’s objections.
‘Joe you need to rest, to get well,’ she implored him.
As she kissed him good night she was filled with a sense of foreboding that something terrible was going to happen to the man she loved.