Nicky spent the next two days with Supergran in Malahide, taking occasional short outings with Eileen and Jimmy, including an Easter Sunday lunch in a restaurant that overlooked the beach and Irish sea. Around these outings, there was time for Gráinne to complete the story of the Rising, while Nicky once more took copious notes.
This was the sad part of the story. The end of the Rising, the arrests, the imprisonments and executions. While Nicky had read about it in dry textbooks, it was completely different hearing it at first hand from someone who had actually been there, closely involved. Someone who had been arrested and put in jail along with so many others. Nicky listened intently as Gráinne told this part of the story. She hadn’t known her great-grandmother had been imprisoned.
‘Oh, those executions,’ Gráinne said. ‘Even now, all these long years later, I can still hear the shots in my head. As dawn broke, there came the shots and I’d know another brave soul, who wanted only independence for his country, had been killed.’ She shook her head. ‘Tragic, so it was, but it backfired in a way. They executed so many that it turned the tide of opinion against them. The ordinary people of Dublin got sick of hearing the dawn shootings too.’ Supergran gave a little, wry laugh. ‘Funny, they executed the leaders of the Rising in an attempt to deter others from future rebellions. To make an example of them. But it worked the other way – more joined the Cause after the executions than we’d ever had. Many more. It paved the way for the War of Independence.’
Gráinne fell silent for a moment. She was remembering those, Nicky guessed, who’d given their lives for the Cause. And then she looked up at Nicky. ‘I was fearful they’d execute the Countess as well. She was my friend as well as my employer, and I didn’t think I could bear it if they shot her too. She’d been one of the leaders, after all.’
‘They didn’t, though, did they?’
Gráinne shook her head and gave a small smile. ‘No, and I suppose it was because she was a woman. How would it have looked to the rest of the world, if they’d executed women? The Countess said afterwards, that she’d been ready to die, ready to be shot at dawn like the others. Hadn’t she wanted equal rights for women? She was prepared to accept equal responsibility and fate for what she’d done. Thankfully, the British authorities didn’t see it like that.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘She was in jail for some time. When she was released in 1917, there were hordes of people who turned out in Dublin to welcome her home. Sure, wasn’t it an astonishing sight to see how well she was loved? But she was imprisoned again in 1918. And then there was the general election of November 1918, the one where women had the right to vote for the first time, you know?’
Nicky nodded.
‘Well, women could also stand for election then, for the first time. The Countess did so, as the Sinn Féin candidate for a Dublin constituency. And she won by a huge majority. She never took her seat in the House of Commons though, because, as you know, Sinn Féin politicians refuse to swear the oath of allegiance to the queen, or king as it was back then. Besides, she was in Holloway prison at the time so it would have been impossible anyway! She was a member of the Dáil – the Irish Parliament. And she was made Minister for Labour later on. She was the first elected woman politician in Britain and Ireland, the first female minister.’ Supergran chuckled. ‘Oh, there was nothing that woman couldn’t do, if she set her mind to it.’
Nicky was scribbling all this down. With the focus on women in rebellion that she wanted to bring to her essay, this was perfect. It wasn’t strictly about the Rising itself, but was a fabulous footnote to the story. ‘Thanks, Supergran. I didn’t know all that.’
‘You’ll need to look it up to get all the dates and everything right. Can’t be relying on my old memory completely.’ Gráinne patted Nicky’s hand, and then turned serious again. ‘And now I need to tell you the last part of my story. Pass me a tissue, would you? It’s the part I find hardest to talk about – what happened in the jail on the night of the third of May. That’s a date I never forget, even after so long.’
‘If it upsets you, you don’t need to tell me,’ Nicky said. ‘I have enough material already for my project.’
But Supergran was insistent. ‘I need to tell it you. I need to tell it all – I think, in a way, it’ll be good for me.’
And she continued talking about events that happened while she was in Kilmainham jail, events that she witnessed. Nicky made a few notes but mostly sat in silence, listening intently. She knew she’d never forget this part of the story. By the time Gráinne had finished speaking, both she and Nicky had tears streaming down their faces.
Nicky went back to England on Easter Monday. There were still two weeks of the university holiday left but she hadn’t planned to go to her parents, preferring to stay on campus and get her project written up, now that she had completed the research. A few days working in the library would get it done, and then she’d be free for the rest of the Easter break.
Campus was quiet as there were no lectures or seminars on, and many students had gone home for the break. There were just a handful of students arriving each morning to use the library or the banks of computers. Some of the faculty coffee shops were closed outside of term time but the main ones were open and for this Nicky was grateful. It was good to sit and drink a coffee before going into the library. A chance to gather her thoughts for the day’s work ahead. She was pleased with the way the project was turning out, and proud of what she’d accomplished so far. Now it was just a case of pulling the story out of her notes, focusing on the role of women during the Rising and writing about what that meant for future generations, and then if she could, tying it to the newly signed Good Friday Agreement. ‘Just a case of doing all that,’ she said to herself, rolling her eyes. The research – reading books and talking to Supergran and walking around Dublin – had been the easy part, the enjoyable part. Now the hard work began as she had to find the right words to tell the story, and put them in the right order.
But there was nothing to distract her – her coursemates were home with their parents, there were no lectures, no social events on, and only a couple of others in her flat. No Seb disrupting her life, thank goodness. Nothing to stop her getting on with the work.
Nothing, that is, other than the letter that arrived for her the day after she returned from Dublin. She collected it from the bank of pigeonholes in her student flat, and smiled. That familiar handwriting was so good to see. She’d hoped he might write again. She’d thought about him a lot while she was in Dublin, and had found herself wanting to share her news with him. And here was a letter.
She saved opening it until she’d reached the library where, instead of going straight to a study desk, she went downstairs to the café and bought herself a cup of coffee. She settled herself at a corner table and only then opened the letter.
Hey Nicky, hope all is well with you. I got your letter, it was lovely to hear your news. Your project about the Dublin rising sounds fabulous. I can imagine you getting well stuck into that, especially as your great-grandmother played an active part in it all. I hope you’re enjoying the research. Your mum said you’d been over to Dublin to research – that’s amazing. Makes me kind of wish I was studying something that gave me an excuse to travel. You know how much I enjoy going to new places. But a medical degree doesn’t really lend itself to that. At least I have the VSO work in Uganda to look forward to this summer. It’s a huge project – I think they are taking on all sorts of people, not just trainee doctors. There’s a girl from my university who studies English who’s applied to go as well, her role would be to do some of the admin.
Anyway, I saw your mum just before Easter, and she said you were staying in Brighton to get your project written up. I had been hoping to catch up with you, but I guess that’ll need to wait, unless by any chance you are coming home to celebrate your mum’s 50th birthday next weekend? She didn’t say you were and I dared not ask in case there’s any kind of surprise planned.
I’m at my parents until the start of next term so if you wanted to ring me for a chat, you can. I’ll understand if you prefer to keep your distance. Your mum said you were seeing someone new. I guess you didn’t mention him in your letter because perhaps you weren’t sure how I would take it, but I’m fine with it, honestly I am. We were so young when we got together. Maybe if we hadn’t met each other until we were in our mid-twenties it might have lasted. Who knows.
So, I’d better go. Dad wants me to cut the lawn, and Mum wants me to paint the banisters. Got to do something to earn my keep here, haven’t I? They do so much for me. Right, well, let me know when or if you’re at your parents and if you’d like to meet up. No pressure, no worries if you’d rather not, but please do write to me now and again. We shared so much for so long – I do want to stay in touch with you.
Hope you’re happy, enjoying life and having fun,
Conor
As with the previous letter from him, Nicky read it several times. This one seemed more heartfelt, more genuine than the previous one, which wasn’t much more than a newsletter and which had seemed a little stilted, as though Conor wasn’t sure she’d be happy to hear from him. Obviously, the fact she’d replied had given him confidence that she did want to hear from him and stay in touch.
And as she read the letter for the third time, she realised it was more than that. She wanted to see him again, she wanted to sit with him in a pub over a pint of bitter and properly catch up. She’d like to find out who this girl was that might be on the VSO placement with him – was she someone special? Someone he hoped might become someone special?
‘Hang on a minute, Nicola Waters. Are you possibly a smidgen jealous of this unknown person?’ she muttered, earning herself a snigger from some girls at a nearby table. She gave them a hard stare back, drained the last of her coffee, then gathered her things and left the café. She needed to examine her feelings about the possibility of Conor finding someone else. He was free to do so, of course he was, and hadn’t she rather quickly found Seb and immediately jumped into bed with him? But Conor doing the same thing, Conor finding a like-minded person to do a VSO placement with … that was not something she’d considered. Before she wrote back, or phoned him, or saw him again, she needed to get her thoughts in order.
The last thing she wanted was for Conor to feel guilty or somehow constrained, not able to find a new girlfriend. All she wanted was for him to be happy, whatever that took. If this new girl made him happy, then she was fine with that, wasn’t she?