THE SUN WAS shining in her window, dappling the bedclothes, as Grace stretched out. All her fears and worries about Easter Sunday had been for nothing. There had been no rebellion, no demonstrations and no arrests. Joe must be safe, for the day had passed quietly. The Volunteers, it seemed, and their grand plans were in disarray after Eoin MacNeill had somehow got wind of everything and cancelled all Volunteer drilling and meetings, putting notices in all the newspapers and sending messengers around the country to all the organization’s branches.
She had met MacDonagh briefly yesterday night at Muriel’s and it was the first time she had ever seen her usually calm brother-in-law so upset and angry. Padraig and Willie Pearse had also called, grim-faced. The three of them were in heated discussion in the living room when she said her discreet goodbyes and came home.
All day yesterday she’d felt a sense of despondency and gloom, as it should have been their wedding day. Geraldine, Tommy Dillon and the Plunkett family had celebrated at a wedding breakfast in Geraldine’s home in Belgrave Square and the newly wed couple had stayed in the Imperial Hotel, the place where she and Joe had also booked to stay for a night or two. It made her sad and lonesome to think about it.
But no more dawdling and lazing in bed, she chided herself, and she washed and dressed quickly and went downstairs to breakfast.
Mother had decided to breakfast in Father’s room. He still had such difficulty eating and swallowing that even a simple bowl of porridge could near choke him. Mother felt it was her duty to keep him company, talking to him about the day and trying to keep his spirits up. The nurse would arrive a little later to wash, change and shave him and give him his medicines.
Liebert planned to go to the Easter Monday races in Fairyhouse with a few old friends and Grace could hear him singing in the bathroom as he got ready.
A letter had just been delivered for her and she eagerly read it. Joe had written it yesterday, telling her he intended returning to the nursing home last night to rest. He said everything was bully, and despite his own illness he was worrying about her. Relief washed over her that he was safe. She would go into town to see him. Perhaps he might even have news of the plans for their wedding. She sat at the table; she would have a little scrambled egg and perhaps one slice of bacon and some of Julia’s brown soda bread, which was good for the digestion.
Nellie came in to join her, immediately taking a large plate and heaping it with eggs, several slices of bacon and two sausages. Adding a few slices of bread, she came and sat beside her.
‘You must be hungry,’ Grace teased, passing her more bread.
‘How’s Joe?’ Nellie asked.
‘He looks awful,’ she blurted out. ‘We met at the Metropole on Saturday because he went and checked himself out of Mrs Quinn’s even though it’s clear that he’s still very unwell. But, thank heaven, I just got a letter from him to say he decided to go back there again last night to rest.’
‘Did you visit Muriel?’
‘Yes, I stayed with her on Saturday night. You know how nervous she gets being on her own, but thank heaven MacDonagh came home yesterday, which was a great relief. Little Don was delighted to see him. Apparently all the big plans for the Volunteers for Easter Sunday were cancelled. He’s upset and angry with Eoin MacNeill, but Muriel is very relieved.’
Nellie buttered her slice of bread thoughtfully.
‘All I will say, Grace, is don’t believe all you hear.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Grace, perplexed.
‘Just what I said.’ Nellie smiled cryptically, getting up and taking another helping of egg.
‘Have you got drilling and manoeuvres today, is that it?’
Nellie kept eating, refusing to answer.
‘Muriel said that all Volunteer movements were cancelled.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Nellie as Julia came into the room with some fresh tea and proceeded to take their plates away.
Sometimes Nellie drove her mad with her stupid loyalty to Countess Markievicz and James Connolly and the Liberty Hall crew. She spent more time with them than she did with the family.
‘I plan to visit Joe today, cheer him up,’ Grace remarked.
‘I have to go,’ said Nellie with a smile, getting up from the table. ‘I’ll run upstairs to say good morning to Father before I leave.’
Something made Grace sit there waiting until twenty minutes later she saw the small figure of her older sister, dressed in her green jacket, a pretty white linen shirt, her tweed skirt, heavy walking boots and green hat, putting a flask of water into the leather kitbag hanging across her body. Nellie checked herself in the mirror as she began to go towards the front door.
‘Idiot!’ Grace told herself. It was today. Nothing had been cancelled. Could she not see by her sister’s attire and attitude that, whatever everyone said or thought, the orders for the Volunteers and the Citizen Army had simply been changed, events postponed from yesterday until today.
‘Wait, Nellie, please!’ she begged, racing past her and up to the bedroom. She grabbed her bag and almost ran back down to where her sister stood, puzzled, at the open front door.
Grace reached inside her bag, took out the small revolver and pushed it into her sister’s hands.
‘Grace – where did you get this?’ Nellie asked, shocked, as she cradled the gun in her hands.
‘Joe gave it to me, but Nellie I want you to have it.’
‘I can’t take it,’ protested her sister, trying to hand it back to her. ‘Joe wanted you to have it.’
‘Nellie, you are to take it!’ she insisted. ‘You may have far more need for it than I ever will.’
Wordlessly, Nellie nodded and slipped the revolver carefully into her own leather bag.
‘Take care of yourself!’ Grace said, impulsively hugging her tight.
Nellie refused to admit or say anything and Grace watched as she turned right, walking briskly towards the tram stop for the city.
Grace dressed quickly. The Volunteers were bound to be involved in whatever was going on. She had a terrible feeling of dread that, despite still getting over his operation, Joe would want to play his part. He was that kind of man. Would he leave Mrs Quinn’s to join them? She had to try to waylay him somehow and persuade him to stay out of whatever was being planned.
She was just ready to leave when her brother appeared, dressed jauntily in a smart suit and boater hat.
‘You look very handsome,’ she teased.
‘I’m off to Fairyhouse races with a few of the pals. You are welcome to join us, Grace, if you want,’ he offered politely.
‘No thanks, Liebert, I have no intention of cramping your style. But we can take the tram together into town if you like.’
The tram was already busy, with passengers waiting at every stop – off-duty soldiers enjoying the Bank Holiday Monday, likely going to meet their sweethearts; families with children and picnic baskets headed to the Phoenix Park. A few Volunteers in their uniform sat quietly talking together down the back. Pinpricks of alarm ran through Grace as she saw more groups of Volunteers awaiting the next tram and a group of youths in the uniform of Countess Markievicz’s Fianna gathering near the canal.
‘Busy today,’ murmured Liebert, unconcerned, as she sat there worrying, suspecting why the Volunteers were all converging on the city today.
They both got off at Sackville Street and said goodbye. Grace watched yet another group of Volunteers cross the street and casually stroll in the direction of Liberty Hall.
She went straight to Mrs Quinn’s in Mountjoy Square, hoping that she would find Joe there. To her dismay, she discovered that, despite the protests and pleas of his doctor and nurses, he had discharged himself from the nursing home.
‘He was very weak, but he left with that big Cork fellow and another man,’ one of the nurses told her.
Grace’s heart sank. She had no idea what to do.
She called at the Metropole Hotel, where the lobby was full of British soldiers, many off duty and heading for the races. The desk clerk informed her quietly that Mr Plunkett had already checked out of his room and had taken a cab from the hotel door.
Back outside, Grace crossed over the busy street, unsure of what to do. She saw another group of Volunteers walking towards her.
‘Are you going to Liberty Hall?’ she asked them.
‘Why?’ replied one.
They looked suddenly shifty, wary of answering her. Reaching into her bag, Grace took out her small drawing pad and scribbled a brief note for Joe to tell him that she was nearby. She would go to the Imperial Hotel and wait for him there.
‘Do you know Mr Plunkett, Joseph Plunkett?’ she said, trying to keep the note of hysteria she felt from her voice. ‘I would be very grateful if you could give him this note.’
There was no one offering.
‘I am his fiancée,’ she explained, trying to smile.
One of the men stepped forward.
‘I know him, miss. I’ll try to give it to him if I see him,’ he promised.
‘If you by chance don’t see him, can you give the message to Mr Michael Collins?’ she added. ‘I believe he is with Mr Plunkett.’ She could see the fellow was embarrassed, presuming it was some kind of love note. ‘I am very grateful to you,’ she said, passing him the folded paper.
She watched as they went off down the street, hoping that somehow Joe would get her message.