The weeks flew by, and suddenly it was the week before Easter, and yet there was still so much to do, so much to plan. The Countess had put together a Citizen Army uniform for herself – a dark green woollen blouse with brass buttons, black stockings and boots, and a pair of green knee breeches that could be concealed under a skirt. ‘So I can convert from woman to soldier at a moment’s notice,’ she said to Gráinne. James Connolly had appointed the Countess as his ‘ghost’; she’d been informed of all the plans, so that if anything untoward happened to him she’d be able to step in and take over. ‘And you, Gráinne, are my right-hand woman. I won’t tell you everything, but I will inform you of everything you need to know in order to fully play your part in it all.’
And so Gráinne was informed when a notice was put in the daily papers, advertising that all Volunteers should report for ‘manoeuvres’ on Easter Sunday. The Irish Citizen Army was also alerted, and the Countess confirmed that the IRB had been told too. ‘All working together,’ she said. ‘We’re making a real stand. We’ll fly the flag of free Ireland over Dublin from Sunday. Oh!’ The Countess clapped a hand over her mouth.
‘What is it, Madame?’ Gráinne asked, fearful that there was some terrible flaw in the plan and that it could not go ahead after all.
‘A flag! We must have a flag to fly! I am not sure Connolly, or anyone else for that matter, has thought of it! Come with me, Gráinne. It’s not too late.’ She ran up the stairs, Gráinne following, and into her bedroom. An emerald green bedspread was on the bed, and she tugged it off and ran through to another room that was being decorated. There she grabbed a pot of gold paint and a brush. ‘Downstairs!’
Gráinne clattered down the stairs after her, and watched with astonishment as the Countess spread the bedcover over the grand piano in the front room. She sketched out a design on a piece of paper, then used the gold paint to replicate that on the bedspread – the words ‘Irish Republic’ in large letters. James Connolly came in when it was part done and nodded with approval.
‘We’ll fly that from the headquarters,’ he said. Poppet had come running in with him, and seeing the bedspread hanging over the edge of the piano, he jumped up and down, trying to grab one of the tassels that decorated the ends. He got hold of one and pulled.
‘Oh no, the dog!’ Gráinne leapt forward to stop him while the Countess held on to the bedspread. There was a ripping sound, and Gráinne wondered what they would use for a flag instead, if this was ruined. But, thankfully, Poppet had only managed to tear off a tassel and a small piece.
‘It’s salvageable,’ the Countess said. ‘Gráinne, could you shut Poppet in another room while I finish this? She looked stressed. There was so much to be done, so much at stake, and the last thing they needed was a small dog ruining the first flag of the free Irish Republic.
Gráinne picked up Poppet and carried him out to the kitchen. She gave him a few tidbits to eat and then pushed him out into the garden and closed the door. The little dog looked back at her mournfully, as though he’d expected Gráinne to go out to play with him. But some things were more important than a dog’s playtime. She went back to the front room where the Countess was putting the finishing touches to the flag.
‘There. When the paint’s dry, Gráinne, would you sew some tabs to it, so we can attach ropes to hoist it?’ Gráinne nodded, delighted to be able to play a part in making the flag.
‘Thank you. I should let you know too, that I will be moving out of here tomorrow. I’m going to stay in a flat nearer the centre of town, on Henry Street, so that I am close by and on hand when the Rising starts. So, you’ll be in charge here. Poppet, however, is to be looked after by a neighbour. We’ll have enough to think about without worrying who’s going to feed or walk him.’
‘All right, so,’ Gráinne agreed, feeling a surge of excitement. After so long preparing for this, now it was almost upon them.
That evening, while Connolly was still at Surrey House, there were several other visitors. The Countess had asked key members of the Cumann na mBan to call. Among them were Margaret Skinnider and a nurse named Elizabeth O’Farrell whom Gráinne had met before. The Countess introduced each of them to James Connolly. ‘Remember their faces, James. These women you can trust with anything. And the same goes for Gráinne, but of course, you are already familiar with her.’
Gráinne was proud to be included in the set of women Connolly could trust. The women didn’t stay long but Connolly had noted their names and the roles they’d been assigned for the Rising. One was to be the chief medical officer, another would manage a field kitchen. Gráinne and others were to be couriers, carrying messages, food and ammunition between rebel outposts.
‘And what do we have lined up for you?’ Connolly asked Margaret Skinnider.
‘Well, as she’s a crack shot with a rifle, that’s how we should employ her,’ the Countess cut in. ‘She’ll be with me.’
‘Looking forward to it,’ Margaret said, grimly.
The following day a letter arrived for Gráinne, from her father. In it was some exciting news, to say that he’d had word Sean was coming home on leave. He was due to arrive in Dublin that very day. Gráinne had not had a letter from Sean for some time, but the Surrey House household had long suspected that police might be intercepting and reading their mail.
‘Sean’s coming home!’ she said to herself, repeatedly. But what dreadful timing! Any other week and she’d have been able to take time off to see him. But now – with the Rising only days away and the Countess having left her in charge of Surrey House – how could she get away? Perhaps she could send Emmett to meet him, with a message. She could not bring Sean here to Surrey House. Even though he was her brother, he was a soldier in the British army. He’d be in his uniform. She could not put him in that terrible position of knowing something that he might feel he should report. His loyalties were split already, and it would not be her place to make that worse.
She sat down to write a note to Emmett. Perhaps she could send a Fianna boy to his workplace with the news. She had barely set pen to paper when the doorbell rang, and she hurried to open it. To her surprise Emmett was standing on the doorstep, a letter in his hand.
‘Gráinne, have you heard? Sean’s coming back to Dublin today!’
‘I heard from my father; I was just about to send you a note to see if you could meet him. Come on in.’ She took him through to the kitchen where she’d been peeling potatoes ready for the evening meal, though how many would be there she had no idea.
‘I thought we could go together? His ferry should get into Dublin Port around midday.’
‘I’m not sure … I’ve been left in charge here. The Countess has moved to Henry Street.’
‘Ready for Sunday?’
She nodded. ‘I’m not sure I can leave.’
‘How about I stay here a while, you go and meet Sean. I suppose he’ll go to stay with your father. You need to see him first and it’ll be easier to catch him off the boat than go to St Enda’s, especially this week.’
‘You’re right. But will you manage?’
‘I can answer the door and take messages. I can also peel those spuds.’ He smiled at her, and cupped her face in his hands. ‘I’ll cope.’ He kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around him and wished they could just stay in that moment for ever. There was so much going on, and all she really wanted was to be with Emmett. But that would have to wait.
‘Thank you. I’ll go now. It’ll take me a while to get to the port and I don’t want to miss him.’ She took off her apron and handed it to Emmett who put it on with a laugh. And then she grabbed her coat and left the house, taking trams and buses and reaching the port area just in time to see the ferry from Holyhead docking. She stood with a crowd of others, mostly women, who all appeared to be straining to catch a glimpse of their loved ones. As the passengers disembarked, it seemed that around half were soldiers home on leave. A few limped off the boat, or had bandaged heads. With all the excitement of the upcoming Rising, she’d almost forgotten about the other war, the big one that was engulfing all of Europe. The war Sean had been away fighting in.
And then she spotted him. To her relief he did not appear to be injured, though he was thinner than when she’d last seen him. He shuffled down the gangplank carrying a kit bag, and headed towards the bus stop.
‘Sean! Sean, it’s me!’ She ran over to him and caught his arm.
‘Gráinne! How wonderful!’ He pulled her into a tight hug. ‘I wondered if anyone would be here to meet me. I suppose Dad’s teaching today, and Emmett’s working. And you – I thought you’d be busy working too?’
‘I am, but well … long story. I managed to get away for a couple of hours. It’s so wonderful to see you! Come on, let’s find a café in town and catch up, before you head out to Dad’s place.’
‘I’m not going to Dad’s,’ he said, as he gently extricated himself from her embrace.
‘What? Where are you going to stay?’
He swallowed, and then turned to her. ‘I don’t know. But I can’t go back to the war, Grá. I’ll have a cup of tea with you, and then I’ll be gone. Don’t worry about me.’
‘But … have you left the army?’
He shook his head. ‘We can’t leave, unless we’re injured. Or dead. I’m not going back to risk either.’
They were at the bus stop and boarded a bus to go back into the city centre. They did not speak during the journey, and Sean kept his head turned away from her, gazing out of the window as though drinking in the sights of Dublin that he’d been deprived of for so long. They alighted near Liberty Hall where Sean noticed the banner over the door. He gave a hollow laugh but made no comment. Gráinne led him to a café she knew, where she ordered tea and sandwiches.
‘Eat these. You look like you need to put a bit of flesh on those bones.’ When the waitress had left, she leaned towards him. ‘So tell me, what are your plans?’
‘Just … to not go back. I’m going to disappear, until it’s all over. If I’m caught, I’d be court-martialled. But I can’t go back.’ He shook his head, and there was a note of despair in his voice. ‘I can’t do it anymore, Grá.’
She caught his hand in hers. ‘I understand. I’ve been thinking about you, in those awful trenches …’ She sighed, and considered whether it was safe to tell him anything about the plans for the Rising. If Ireland was free, then Irishmen would no longer be obliged to fight for Britain. Men like Sean could come home without any fear of reprimand. Perhaps there was hope for him, in what they were doing. ‘Listen, I can’t say much, but you should know, that there are plans. Soon, very soon, if things go well, Ireland will be free. And that means you’d be free as well.’
‘I guessed something was being planned. I read between the lines in your letters.’ He gave a small smile.
Gráinne leaned towards him. ‘How long is your leave, officially?’
‘I’m supposed to be on the boat on Monday.’
‘Easter Monday?’
He nodded. ‘But I won’t be on it.’ His jaw was set firm and she could see he’d made up his mind. She wouldn’t try to talk him out of it though. It was his decision, entirely his. But she was worried – if he was court-martialled for desertion, what was the penalty? She dared not ask him. She did not want to hear the answer.
‘I’ll find you somewhere to stay. Maybe if you agree to help … with anything that happens …’
But he shook his head. ‘If you’re asking me to pick up arms against other men, for any cause, I-I don’t think I can. I’m finished with that. I’ve … blown men’s heads off with grenades. Looked them in the eye as I shot them. Run them through with a bayonet. Dodged a thousand bullets myself. I can do no more.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Gráinne. I know you believe in it and all, but … you haven’t seen the horror of war like I have. I can’t do it anymore. It’s not in me. Not even for Ireland.’
‘Will you see Emmett, before you … leave Dublin?’ He didn’t know about her relationship with his old friend. She had not written about it in her letters to him, only that she’d seen Emmett several times.
He shook his head again. ‘No. I know his thoughts on revolution too. And I can’t sit by him and listen to it.’
‘Sean, you should know …’
‘What?’ He stared at her.
She bit her lip. ‘Emmett and I … we’ve been seeing a lot of each other …’
He nodded slowly. ‘He’s a good man. You could do a lot worse.’
‘Do I have your approval then? Of my relationship with Emmett? That matters to me.’
‘You do.’ He squeezed her hand and she smiled at him, her wonderful, big-hearted but broken brother.
‘And of the plans for a Rising?’ she whispered.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t believe it’ll happen in any meaningful way. Not until the war in Europe is over and the politicians in London can go back to discussing a way forward for Ireland. All this talk of revolution and Irish independence that Emmett writes about in his cryptic letters – it’ll all come to nothing. It’s all posturing. You should understand that.’
‘Maybe you’re right. Eat your sandwich, dear brother.’ He wasn’t right, but she couldn’t tell him any more than she already had. He’d see for himself, when the Rising began, if he was still in Dublin then. But from what he’d said, he was likely to be somewhere out in the countryside by then, making sure he was far away from any authorities who might arrest him and send him back to his regiment. A thought occurred to her. He was dressed in his soldier’s uniform. ‘You’ll need some different clothes.’
He looked down at himself, as though he’d forgotten he was in uniform. When he lifted his head again, he looked defeated, as though for all his conviction that he would not go back, this first small hurdle had defeated him.
‘Sean, it’s easily solved. Go and see Emmett. He’ll sort you out with clothes, money, anything you need to get away. You know he will. I can tell him not to talk about the Cause to you.’
‘Yes. I can’t see another solution. Where will he be, now?’
She thought quickly. She could not take Sean to Surrey House, not today. Who knew who might be there! Connolly would not take kindly to her turning up with a British soldier. ‘I’ll send him to you. I know where to find him. You stay here, promise me?’
He nodded, then folded his arms across the table and rested his head on them. ‘God I’m so tired, Grá. So very, very tired of it all.’
She watched him for a moment, then stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. ‘I’ll order you more tea, and Emmett will be here as soon as possible. I-I don’t know when I’ll see you again.’
He pulled a hand out from under his head and squeezed hers. ‘Soon, I hope.’
‘Yes. Until we meet again, my dearest brother.’ She ordered another pot of tea for him, paid the bill, and hurried out of the café. As the door closed behind her, she glanced back to see him still sitting there with his head resting on his arms, his eyes closed. Her poor brother. What he must have seen and done over there in the trenches did not bear thinking about. It shouldn’t be so, but it was. The Rising was the only hope of ending all that for Irishmen at least. It had to work.
Seeing Sean like that, knowing it was fighting for Britain that had broken him, only strengthened her resolve still further to do whatever she could so that men like Sean could come home and fight no more.
Back at Surrey House, Gráinne found Emmett presiding over an impromptu meeting in the dining room of various more junior members of the militant organisations. Connolly was there, doling out jobs and roles to everyone. Gráinne motioned to Emmett from the doorway and he made his excuses and left the meeting.
‘It’s all happening here! I can’t believe what’s going on, and that I’ve been a part of it! How’s Sean?’
‘He’s all right … Come into the kitchen, Emmett. I need to ask you another favour.’
He frowned and followed her. She quickly explained about Sean’s predicament. ‘He needs a set of civilian clothes if he’s to have any chance. And money. I gave him what I had on me, which wasn’t much. I have more upstairs – let me fetch it. Will you go and see him? Lend him clothes and give him my money?’
He pulled her into a hug. ‘Of course I will. I’d do it for him, even if I wasn’t with you. I’ll go now. He’s at the Liffey Café, you say?’
‘Yes. I told him to stay there until you arrive. He looked shattered. Let me get that money.’ She ran upstairs and brought down her little pot of savings to give to Emmett.
‘I’ll add the same myself,’ Emmett said, and she was filled with a rush of love towards him. ‘I’ll be away, so. I’ll see you again tomorrow I expect.’
‘What about your work?’
‘Ah, one of the solicitors where I work is in the Volunteers. The office is closed this week, and for as long as is necessary. We’re putting country first.’
She nodded, and kissed him goodbye. ‘Stay safe, Emmett.’
‘You too.’ What would the next few days bring, she wondered. Easter Sunday was just three days away.