The words on the letter blurred as James tried to focus through weary eyes. It was his third time reading the neat script of Haggardstown’s parish priest. Mary had asked him to write on her behalf, letting the family in England know that her son was born in good health and both of them were thriving.
“Are you crying, Da,” asked Thomas, concerned.
“Not at all, son. I’m just tired from work and from reading in this dim light. Can I stop going over it now, Catherine? That’s the third time you’ve heard it.”
“If you would let me have the letter I could read it for myself, or Thomas could. He’s a better reader than either of us.”
“That’s not fair. Da is good at the reading, aren’t you, Da?” said the boy in his father’s defence.
“Off to bed with ye both, there’s personal things in this letter from your Ma to me,” James herded them out of the parlour. “Give me a bit of peace before I sleep, will ye?”
“What sort of thing would Ma get a priest to write that we couldn’t read?” teased Catherine.
Listening to his eldest children laughing as they ascended the stairs, James said a quick prayer of thanks that all had gone well with the birth and that it had been a boy. It might help to ease the hurt that Mary still felt at the loss of her twin sons.
There was a light rap at the window and James looked up to see his brother’s face smiling in at him.
“I see you’re managing to keep up with your washing,” Owen remarked, pointing to the clothes hanging over the stove. “I heard you got a letter, is it about Mary? Did she have the baby?”
“Rose sent you up, didn’t she?” laughed James. “She must have been itching to know what was in it, ever since she took delivery of it from the postman this morning.”
“She told me she left it on the mantelpiece so you would see it as soon as you came home,” said Owen.
James was very grateful to his sister-in-law, who made a meal for them on the mornings she was off work, leaving it on the back of the warm stove to cook slowly through the day.
“I’m much obliged to Rose for looking after us the way she does. I don’t thank her enough.”
“She knows you appreciate it, James. Now, are you going to tell me your news or will you let me go back to my wife empty-handed, to get beaten over the head?”
James laughed and gave his brother the good news about Mary and the baby. Owen produced a bottle from his pocket and pointed to the cups hanging on hooks nearby.
“I came prepared to wet a baby’s head,” he said. “We’ll tell the rest of the family in the morning but for now let’s just the two of us drink to your new wee son,” the men tapped their cups off each other.
“I have some news for you myself, James, but I warn you it’s not good. Were you aware that Flanagan was collecting money in Liverpool and Manchester for the Fenians?”
“Aye, sure that’s a well-known fact. What has it to do with me?” asked James.
“Wasn’t his body found with the silverware on it that Uncle Pat was supposed to have stolen?”
“It was and isn’t that a good thing? Although Mr. Harrington doesn’t seem to think it will do me any favours. Constable Armstrong is convinced that I was involved with that no good thief,” James’s mood had darkened.
Owen checked behind the curtain, making sure the children were not within earshot. “I was told by a reliable source that Armstrong is trying to link you to the Fenians,” he whispered.
“How can he do that? Sure I’ve never even attended one of their fund raisings, not even when they were held in Paddy Mac’s. Who gave you that information?” asked James.
Owen was very quiet and hesitated, not sure how he should answer his brother’s question.
“Tell me you’re not a Fenian. It’s one thing to be a sympathizer, it’s another to be a member. You haven’t done anything that could bring trouble upon us, have you Owen?”
“Have you had any news from Michael and Brigid Kiernan lately?”
“From America? The last letter we got was a good six months ago,” James stared at his brother.
It suddenly dawned on James what Owen was trying to tell him. Michael was involved with the Fenian movement.
“James, I know there’s not much support at the moment in Ireland, it’s early days yet. But outside of the country, especially in America, it’s growing fast. There’s a lot of young men, and women too by all accounts, who feel that they were forced into exile.”
“I’m not surprised that Michael is involved. Was it him that got word to you about Armstrong? Did he ask you to warn me, Owen?” James knew the answer before his brother had the chance to nod his head.
“You didn’t answer my question. Please tell me neither yourself nor Peter are Fenians. Is there no peace to be had in this life for me?” James was raising his voice.
“Hush, now. You’ll wake the children. None of us, nor our sons, have had anything to do with them. We are all far too busy keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table, to have the time or inclination. But I had to make sure that you haven’t been involved yourself, on account of your friend, Michael. He sent word to me about warning you not to return to Ireland, not even for a funeral, at least not until Armstrong has been moved on.”
“That could be years yet, he’s not been that long in Dundalk,” said James.
“I get the feeling something is afoot to speed up his departure. But you cannot ignore two warnings – one from a solicitor and one from a Fenian, can you James?”
The younger brother shook his head, “You had better be getting back to Rose with the news about the baby. It’s a wonder she hasn’t been knocking on the door already,” a thought struck James, “She knew you would be asking me about other matters, is that not so?”
“She’s the one who got the news from Brigid. Michael Kiernan is a clever man, he knows it’s far less suspicious for women to send and receive such messages. I’ll leave you be, James, you have a lot to think about. I doubt you will get much sleep tonight.”
******
Mary watched her baby’s even breathing and noted how like James he was. It made her heart ache for the other half of her family across the water, the sound of the sea in the still night air reminding her of the distance between them. What Maggie had told her played on Mary’s mind and prevented her from joining her son in slumber. She wished she could have seen her husband’s face when he received the news that he had a son. Thomas would be pleased to at last have a brother, even though he was a long time in coming. Catherine would worry that she would have another sibling to mind, but love him just the same.
Those thoughts ran through Mary’s head alongside one that she feared might never happen, the hope of bringing her family back home. As Catherine and Thomas grew older, the likelier they were to stay put. They had regular work in establishments that treated them well and had formed friendships with their neighbours’ children, but they were still so young. Mary was not ready to part from them and she knew in her heart that James wasn’t either. However, there was one member of the family that caused her the most concern.
Mary-Anne had thrived in the few weeks that she was back in Blackrock, and Mary knew it was due to more than the excitement of the visit home and the arrival of a little brother. The racking cough had all but disappeared and her sleep at night was no longer broken. She even put on weight and a rosy glow had returned to her cheeks, causing everyone to remark on how well she was looking. As Mary drifted off to sleep her mind was already preparing her heart for a decision that had to be made soon.
“He’s a hungry one, you’ll need to eat well to satisfy him, Mary,” Maggie laughed at breakfast next morning.
“A meal like this one will certainly help, you still make the best bread in the parish,” Mary said. “Look at him. Isn’t he the spit of his father? I wish James were here now to see him.”
Maggie leaned in close to examine the baby’s face, “It’s like looking into my brother’s eyes and that’s for sure. Are you going to call him Jamie or James?”
“You’re his godmother, you decide.”
“I suppose you should call him Jamie. At least that way when you let a roar at your husband, your son won’t think it’s him that’s in trouble. Sure they’ll all call him wee Jamie anyway, over yonder, like we did with Owen’s youngest. I take it you’ll be going back, Mary.”
“I had a mind to stay, Maggie. Look how well Mary-Anne is since we got here. How can I watch her sicken again?” Mary could see her two youngest daughters playing just outside the open door. “She loves you as much as she loves me, did you know that?”
“Sure Mary-Anne loves everyone, she’s that sort of child,” remarked Maggie.
“I know what needs to be done, and I hope you’ll agree with me. James cannot come back here, not for now anyway, and I wouldn’t want to put him in any danger from that lunatic, Armstrong. If yourself and the Carrolls would be in agreement, I would like to leave Mary-Anne in your care over the winter months. I’ll make sure you receive payment towards her keep. What do you say?”
“Oh Mary, there’s nothing I would like more and you don’t have to worry about the money. I’m managing fine on the work the hotel gives me in the busy months, I even have enough left over to see me through the winter. If I need it I’ll ask, sure I wouldn’t see the poor wee mite go hungry, would I?”
“I’ll still be sending you something, Maggie, so let’s not argue about it. I must pay Mr. Harrington one last visit before I leave. Do you think I could travel into town with the Clarkes on their next trip?”
“Of course, Mary. You can leave the girls here with me. Why don’t we call on Lizzie now, while it’s still early? I have a feeling tomorrow is one of the days that Matthew works on Mr. Harrington’s garden. You could maybe go in with him and pay a visit to the lady of the house while you’re there,” laughed Maggie. “Although by all accounts, she’s an uppity one, not a bit like her husband. He’s a grand man, for a Protestant, isn’t he?”