By eight o’clock the party was over, and most guests including Conor and his parents had left.
‘To think our daughter is 50!’ Nicky’s grandmother exclaimed as she hugged Mum goodbye. ‘Makes me feel so old. And our granddaughter almost 20! All grown up.’
‘Trying to be a grown-up,’ Nicky said, and Mum laughed and nudged her playfully.
At last, there were just Supergran and Jimmy left – they were staying the night. Gráinne would take the spare room, and Jimmy was to use the sofa bed in the sitting room.
Nicky was sitting with Gráinne on that sofa bed, while at the other end of the room, Mum and Jimmy were reminiscing over their childhoods when their families had often met up for holidays. Dad was with them, listening and laughing occasionally.
‘So, are you after finishing your project now?’ Gráinne asked Nicky. ‘Is it all written up?’
‘Yes, all done, though I need to type it up on a computer before I hand it in. When I’ve done that, I’ll send you a copy.’
‘That would be lovely. I’m so glad I was able to help.’
Now was the moment, Nicky thought. She reached out and took her great-grandmother’s hand, pulling it into her lap. ‘I hope I can help you too, a little. In my research, I found out something about your brother.’
‘About Sean? But how?’ Gráinne frowned, but her eyes were bright and she sat up a little straighter, as though eager to hear whatever Nicky had to say.
‘Let me just fetch something …’ Nicky quickly went up to her bedroom and found the photocopied page in her bag. She came back down and resumed her place beside Supergran. ‘Here it is. I photocopied this page from a book that included lists of Volunteer casualties during the Rising.’
Gráinne glanced at it but didn’t take it. ‘But Sean wasn’t a Volunteer. I told you, he was in the British army, before he deserted.’
Nicky took her hand again. ‘It looks like he must have decided to join the Volunteers. He got involved in the fighting at Boland’s Bakery.’
‘He was fighting? During the Rising?’
Nicky nodded. ‘Yes. And I’m so sorry, Supergran. He’s listed here as having been killed that week. Look.’ She pointed at Sean’s name on the photocopy.
‘Sean MacDowd, aged 23, Irish Volunteer,’ Gráinne read out, her voice barely a whisper.
Nicky became aware that across the room, her parents and Jimmy had fallen silent and were listening intently. ‘That’s him, isn’t it? That’s your brother?’
‘Yes, that’s him.’ Supergran ran her gnarled fingers over the name, as though touching it brought him closer to her. ‘So he joined the Cause after all. But he didn’t tell us. We didn’t know. Not I nor Emmett nor my father knew anything about what he was doing.’ She gave a little gasp. ‘Sure and this is why we couldn’t find him, isn’t it? We didn’t for a moment think to check with the Volunteers. We were in prison after the Rising as I told you. By the time we were all out, the dead had been buried and the newspapers weren’t talking about it anymore.’
‘It would have been hard, back then, to get a definitive list of the casualties, even if you had thought of it,’ Nicky said gently.
‘We concentrated on looking outside the city, in all the places where Sean knew someone, where he might have gone to hide out. We looked everywhere, so we did. I wanted to put a notice in the paper, asking him to contact me, but Emmett said no, that Sean was a deserter and that’s just the kind of thing the authorities would be looking for in order to find him again. They’d have court-martialled him if they found him. So I didn’t. Not till after the Great War was over. But then we were into the War of Independence and then the Civil War right after, so it was years until there was true peace in Ireland.’
Tears were running down Supergran’s face as she spoke. Without a word Nicky reached for a tissue from a box on a side table and handed it to her. Gráinne dabbed at her cheeks. ‘But I never gave up, Nicky. Never. I kept looking, hoping, praying that one day he’d turn up, same old Sean with his twinkling eyes and cheery laugh. And all along, he was dead and buried.’ She glanced up at Nicky with a sudden look of hope in her eyes. ‘Do you know, or do you think it’s possible … to find out where he was buried? If I could see his grave … it’d be like I was saying goodbye to him properly now, wouldn’t it?’
Nicky squeezed her hand. ‘In the book, it said that most of the leaders of the Rising, those who were executed, were buried in Arbour Hill Cemetery in Dublin. He might be there, or else in Glasnevin.’
‘He had no mourners at his graveside,’ Supergran said, in a whisper, and it was this that brought Mum and Jimmy rushing across the room to her side.
‘Hush, Grandma,’ Mum said. ‘Don’t upset yourself.’
‘Oh, Karen, love. I’m not upset. I’m sad that my brother had no one there to mourn him. No one who loved him even knew that he was dead. But I’m happy that at last I know what happened to him. And if I can visit a grave, even an unmarked one, and know that it is his last resting place … well then, I shall be able to go to my own grave happy, so.’
‘Don’t talk like that, Gran,’ Jimmy said. ‘You’re not about to go to your grave, sure you’re not.’
Supergran smiled. ‘I’m 100. I have no intention of leaving you all just yet, but I’m after supposing I can’t have too many more years left in me. Nicky, I’ve enjoyed helping you with your project, so very much. Now, if you are planning to do another one, might I suggest something about the War of Independence? Emmett and I were active in that too, you know, and oh, the stories I could tell!’ She sighed. ‘But that’s for another time. I’m tired now. Will someone help me to my bed?’
‘Of course!’ Mum and Jimmy spoke at once but it was Nicky who Supergran looked towards, and Nicky who was first to her feet to help the old lady up.
‘I’ll do it, Mum,’ Nicky said. She registered the hastily disguised look of surprise on Mum’s face, but she found herself looking forward to a few more moments alone with her great-grandmother.
Upstairs, as Nicky helped her get ready for bed, Gráinne turned to her and clutched her hand. ‘I never told you about that handkerchief, did I? The one in my box of mementos.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It was Joseph Plunkett’s, that Grace had given to him, but he gave it back to her to mop her tears at their wedding. She dropped it. I picked it up, and I should have returned it to her when I was released.’ Gráinne shook her head sadly. ‘But somehow I never did.’
‘She’s buried in Glasnevin Cemetery,’ Nicky said. ‘When we go looking for Sean, we could go to see her grave too, and you can apologise for keeping her handkerchief.’
‘We? Does that mean you’re coming back to see me again, even though your project’s over?’
Nicky smiled. ‘Too right I am. It’ll have to wait till the end of the summer term, though. Early July?’
‘Ah yes. I’m planning on being at home then, so I am. I’ll keep the room free for you.’ Gráinne smiled happily as Nicky pulled back the bed covers for her, and then tucked them gently around her.
‘Good night, Supergran. Sleep tight.’
‘I will, now I know Sean sleeps too.’ And with that the old lady closed her eyes and was asleep in seconds. Nicky tiptoed out, turning out the light. She was lucky, she realised, being a part of this family. Supergran, her grandparents, her numerous aunts, uncles and cousins. And most of all, her parents – supportive, kind and loving. It had taken her a long time to understand how good they were to her, but now she knew, she was not going to forget it again.
You could be a rebel, as long as the changes you were fighting for were worthwhile. You could make mistakes, as long as you learned from them. And you could be independent, and yet still remain close to those you loved.
Gripped by The Girl with the Emerald Flag? Don’t miss The Girl from Bletchley Park, another unputdownable novel from Kathleen McGurl. Available now!
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