‘Why are you being so snobby, Mam?’ Alice Goodman looked at her mother who was sitting at the table in their private quarters. As the owner of the Mill, Mrs Goodman often ate in the hotel dining room. This evening, though, they were having tea in their quarters, and Alice had decided to challenge her mother’s attitude. Three days previously Alice’s friend, Johnny Dunne, had quit his job as the hotel boots, and ever since, Mam had been running him down.
‘I’m not being snobbish,’ said her mother. ‘I’m simply saying that a boy with Johnny’s background doesn’t understand proper behaviour.’
Alice thought that Mam should be thanking her lucky stars that the Mill Hotel was still standing. Lots of buildings in Balbriggan were burnt-out ruins since the Black and Tans had run riot earlier in the week, yet here was her mother complaining about Johnny moving to a better job.
‘There was nothing wrong with his behaviour, Mam. He always worked hard and was nice to customers.’
‘That’s not the issue. The point I’m making, Alice, is that a properly-reared boy, a boy from a good family, wouldn’t just walk out on his employer.’
Alice kept her impatience in check and spoke calmly. ‘It’s not his fault he was raised in an orphanage, Mam. And the job he was offered in Tipperary had to be filled straight away.’
‘So he gives one day’s notice when he gets a better offer? I don’t call that very loyal.’
‘I don’t mean to sound cheeky, Mam. But how loyal were you to him?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Well, he wasn’t exactly overpaid. And when he wanted to join the library, you didn’t want to sign his guarantee. When he asked for one night off to play with the band in the music festival, you wouldn’t let him go.’
‘I needed him that night, Alice.’
‘So, you put your business before him, and I understand that. But when he puts his business before you, you look down on him, and say he wasn’t brought up properly.’
Alice could see that her mother didn’t have a ready answer, and she decided to quit while she was ahead.
‘Anyway, he’s gone, so it’s water under the bridge.’
‘I suppose so,’ conceded her mother.
‘But what’s going to happen to Balbriggan now?’ asked Alice, deliberately changing the subject.
Her mother shook her head. ‘I don’t know. There’s talk of a government enquiry into what the Tans did. And compensation for people who were burnt out. But no one knows how things will work out.’
Including me, thought Alice. Because in spite of defending her friend she too was concerned about how Johnny had left Balbriggan. She knew he had been spying for the rebels, and she feared that his sudden departure might be linked to that, despite the job in Tipperary.
She had never told her mother about Johnny’s secret role. It was information that could spell disaster, as Alice feared her mother might feel obliged to tell the police that Johnny was working for the rebels. Only her best friend, Stella, knew of Johnny’s secret life. But Stella hadn’t been reassuring, and was as worried for Johnny’s safety as Alice was.
‘More tea, love?’ said Mam now, breaking her reverie.
‘Yes, please.’
Alice added some sugar, held out her china cup and smiled at her mother. Inside, though, she was still unsettled. Johnny had promised to write, but so far she had heard nothing. Was he really starting a job in Tipperary? Or was he resuming his role with the rebels? Or both? And if he was involved again, what would happen to him? She realised that there were more questions than answers, and she lifted her cup, sipped the hot, sweet tea, and tried to put Johnny from her mind.