‘Penny for your thoughts,’ said Alice playfully.
Stella looked at her friend and smiled ruefully, aware that her mind had been drifting. They were having an early Sunday morning breakfast before setting off for a hockey match. Stella’s mother had stayed in an adjacent room last night – Dad was meeting some old comrades in Dublin – and Mom had opted for a lie-on this morning. The dining room of the Mill was quiet, but Stella pushed aside the remnants of her fry and leaned closer. ‘I was thinking…if only things were clear cut,’ she said. ‘Instead… everything’s confusing.’
‘Are you talking about Johnny?’ asked Alice, lowering her voice
‘Not just Johnny – the whole thing. No matter what side I take it’s like I’m disloyal to somebody.’
‘It’s tricky all right,’ agreed Alice. ‘So right now, where do you stand?’
‘I don’t know. I’m Canadian, Mom is French-Canadian, Dad is English, my friends are Irish. Who am I supposed to support?’
Alice shrugged sympathetically. ‘If it’s any consolation, I’m torn too. When I think about what the Tans and the Auxies did to Balbriggan, I’m for the rebels. But then someone like your dad is dead sound. And lots of the British officers who use the Mill are really nice. It’s hard to see them as the enemy.’
‘It’s even harder for me, Alice. When I listen to Dad, I’m swayed by his arguments. But when I think about what Johnny’s said, I see his point too.’
‘It’s not just who’s right or wrong though, is it?’ said Alice. ‘You also have to weigh up who’s going to win.’
‘And right now, who would you say that is?’ asked Stella, not sure what she wanted to hear as an answer.
Alice thought a moment before answering. ‘Probably the government, if they’re really ruthless. But maybe the rebels, if the government feel they can’t go to war against the whole Irish nation, or a big majority of them.’
‘So where does that leave me?’
‘Maybe the best you can do is go with your instinct, but accept that there are good people on both sides.’
Stella thought that sounded sensible and she nodded in agreement. But where her instincts might take her was anybody’s guess, and she finished her tea absent-mindedly, wondering where it would all end.
* * *
Johnny wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he cycled towards The Eastwood Hotel. He was cycling hard, but he knew the perspiration was more to do with his nerves than with the exertion of riding his delivery bike. He had slept badly, his thoughts consumed with what to do about Commander Radcliffe. Eventually he had come up with a plan, but now, as he went to carry it out, he was aware of how easily it could go wrong.
He had slipped out of Hanlon’s boarding house unseen, shutting from his mind how horrified Mrs Hanlon would be if she knew what he was doing. It was a quarter past eight now and Johnny had calculated carefully the time at which he wanted to arrive at the hotel. If he left it too late the rebels might already be in position, poised to go into action for their nine o’clock deadline. But if he acted too soon, Commander Radcliffe would discover the truth and realise that an operation was afoot. Johnny had calculated that about twenty past eight would be the perfect time to reach The Eastwood Hotel, and he accelerated now as he cycled along St Stephens Green.
Although it was early on a Sunday morning, the streets were surprisingly busy, with Tipperary supporters already on the move ahead of today’s football match against Dublin in Croke Park. Johnny thought it was clever of the IRA to plan their move against the British agents for a day when town would be thronged with football supporters. The rebels could vanish into the crowds if the city was busy, and Johnny recognised good planning even as he tried to concentrate on his own mission.
He turned into Leeson Street, his heart beginning to thump as he approached The Eastwood Hotel. He tried breathing deeply to calm himself, then dismounted and leaned his bicycle against the lamppost as before. He looked around surreptitiously, but there was no sign of anybody staking out the premises. He paused briefly, getting up his nerve, then quickly mounted the steps into the hotel. He approached the desk with an air of urgency, hoping that his telegraph uniform would make his presence seem convincingly official. The friendly receptionist from last night was gone and in her place was a heavy-set man with horn-rimmed glasses.
‘I’ve an urgent message for Wing Commander Radcliffe,’ said Johnny confidently. ‘Is he still in his room?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s the number?’
‘You can’t disturb a guest in his room. I’ll ring him and tell him there’s a telegram.’
‘There isn’t time for that. It’s top priority, I’ve to give it to him in person.’
Johnny saw the man hesitate. ‘I don’t know. We don’t normally––’
‘This is life and death!’ said Johnny cutting him short. ‘His daughter is seriously ill. Just tell me the room number!’
‘All right, all right. Room Seven. First floor.’
‘Thank you,’ said Johnny, already moving for the stairs.
He ascended two steps at a time then turned right into a carpeted corridor. He continued until he came to a door with seven on it. He had planned carefully what to do next, and he knocked on the door briskly, but not so loudly as to alarm other guests.
There was no immediate answer, and Johnny prayed that Radcliffe wasn’t a heavy sleeper. Come on, he thought. He resisted the urge to knock again too soon, knowing that it was crucial to get Stella’s father out without alerting his officer friends. Just when Johnny was tempted to knock again he heard the lock being undone.
The door swung open and Commander Radcliffe stood in the doorway with a towel in his hand and his shirt collar undone.
‘Johnny!’ he said. ‘What on earth are––’
‘It’s Stella!’ cried Johnny. ‘She’s taken ill. You need to get to Balbriggan!’
‘What?’
‘She’s really sick. Dr Foley said it’s urgent, and you need to get to Balbriggan straight away.’
‘Oh my God!’
Johnny felt bad about lying when he saw Radcliff’s distress, but he pressed on. ‘Have you got a car, Commander?’
‘Yes, it’s parked in Fitzwilliam Square.’
‘Better leave everything here and make for the car,’
‘Of course.’
Radcliffe threw down the towel, then grabbed his tie and jacket. He scooped up a wallet and a set of keys, then made for the door.
‘What…what happened her, Johnny?’
‘I don’t know. But I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.’
Radcliffe closed the room door, and they made for the stairs.
‘Why don’t you just get to the car, and I’ll stay back and send word that you’re on your way?’ said Johnny.
‘Fine,’ cried Radcliffe, descending at speed with Johnny at his hells. He paused briefly at the bottom and turned around. ‘Thank you, Johnny. Thank you very much.’ Before Johnny could answer Radcliffe nodded, then quickly made for the front door and exited to the street.
Johnny lowered his head into his hands, relieved that he may have saved the life of his friend’s father. He stood there a moment, allowing his heartbeat to slow down, then he slung his satchel over his shoulder and walked swiftly out of The Eastwood Hotel.
* * *
Alice stopped dead in the lobby of the Mill. She and Stella were carrying their hockey gear, but both girls lowered their sticks as Commander Radcliffe burst in the door.
‘Stella!’ he cried crossing to her. ‘What’s…what’s happened?!
Alice had never seen her friend’s father so wild-eyed, and Stella looked at him with equal bemusement.
‘What’s wrong, Dad?’ she asked.
‘Are you…are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine’
‘Oh my God, Stella, I feared for your life!’ He took her in his arms and hugged her, kissing her forehead.
Alice watched in amazement. Commander Radcliffe was a devoted father, but not normally given to public displays of affection, and Alice was intrigued to know what had brought this on.
‘You feared for my life?’ said Stella when her father released her from his embrace.
‘Yes, I was told you were really ill.’
‘What?’
‘That Doctor Foley was treating you.’
‘I haven’t seen Doctor Foley in over a week. Who…who said this?’
Alice could see that Commander Radcliffe was totally perplexed.
‘I…I thought the message was from Doctor Foley,’ he said.
‘But who delivered it?’ persisted Stella.
‘Johnny. Johnny Dunne.’
‘Johnny? That…that makes no sense,’ said Stella.
Alice was shocked too, and she struggled to make sense of it. To do such an odd thing, Johnny must have had a good reason. Could he possibly have lured Commander Radcliffe here on the orders of the IRA? No sooner had Alice thought it than she felt ashamed. Johnny was honourable, and he would never use his friendship with Stella to set up her father. So what was he up to?
‘Johnny was adamant I get to you as soon as possible.’
‘I’ve no idea why he’d do that,’ said Stella.
‘If it’s some kind of practical joke, it’s extremely ill-judged,’ said Commander Radcliffe angrily. ‘I’ll see to it that he’s dismissed.’
‘He wouldn’t do that as a joke, Dad.’
‘Then what was he at?’
‘We don’t know, Commander,’ said Alice. ‘But please, don’t do anything to have him sacked till we find out what’s going on.’
‘Very well. When did you last speak to him?’
‘The day of Granddad’s mass,’ answered Stella, as the telephone on the reception desk behind them began to ring.
‘Neither of us has seen him since then,’ added Alice. No need to reveal that Johnny had written and told them of the developments with his mother, she thought, that was a separate matter.
‘Telephone call for you, Commander,’ said the receptionist.
‘Really? Who is it?’
‘Army Headquarters. They said it’s urgent.’
Alice listened intrigued as Stella’s father crossed to the desk and took up the telephone.
‘Wing Commander Radcliffe speaking,’ he said.
There was a long pause, but despite straining her ears, Alice couldn’t hear what was being said done the telephone line
‘God Almighty!’ said Radcliffe, his face blanching as he gripped the telephone. He listened for another moment, then spoke again. ‘What locations, sir?’ He listened before raising another question. ‘And at The Eastwood Hotel, was Lt. Colonel Jennings…?’
Alice looked at his face hoping for some clue, but his expression was stony. ‘Yes, of course,’ he said finally, ‘I’ll drove straight back to Headquarters. Thank you, sir.’
He put down the telephone, then turned to face Alice and Stella.
‘What’s going on? Dad?’
‘British officers have been assassinated all over Dublin. At nine this morning IRA gunmen raided hotels and houses and shot unarmed officers.’
Alice was taken aback but she tried to think clearly. ‘How… how many people have been shot?’
‘There could be as many as twenty. There’s a lot of confusion, but at least a dozen are dead for sure.’
‘Oh, God,’ said Stella. ‘And…and The Eastwood Hotel where you stayed, Dad,’ she continued tentatively. ‘Was that attacked?’
He nodded.
‘You could have been killed!’
‘Yes…’
‘Was…was your friend shot?’
‘They haven’t found a body for Lt. Colonel Jennings, so we’re hoping for the best. It’s all pretty chaotic.’
Suddenly it made sense to Alice. Johnny hadn’t been acting for the IRA in going to The Eastwood Hotel. He’d protected Stella’s father from them.
‘So Johnny’s story about me being sick,’ said Stella as the truth appeared to dawn on her too, ‘that was to get you out. He probably saved your life.’
Commander Radcliffe considered for a moment then nodded. ‘So it seems.’ He looked thoughtful, then turned his gaze back to the girls. ‘But how did he know I was there? And more importantly, how did he know the attack was coming?’
‘Maybe…maybe he overheard something?’ said Stella. Even to Alice it sounded unconvincing, and she wasn’t surprised when Commander Radcliffe shook his head.
‘That’s hardly likely,’ he said.
Alice felt that she needed to deflect him from the truth of Johnny’s situation. ‘Maybe…maybe someone else sent him with that message. Johnny could have believed Stella really was sick.’
‘Possibly. But if someone sent him, that person was close enough to the IRA to know their plans. How was Johnny involved with someone like that?’
Neither of the girls had a ready answer and Commander Radcliffe looked around. ‘Where’s Mom, Stella?’
‘In my room. She’s having a lie-on.’
‘I’ll have a quick word before I leave.’
‘What’s going to happen, Dad?’
He turned back to her and paused. ‘There’ll be a price to pay for what the IRA did,’ he answered grimly. ‘And I worry, I seriously worry, for the people who’ll end up paying it.’
Alice watched him walk away. She was pleased that Johnny had saved the life of her friend’s father, and sorry for the officers who had been shot in cold blood. Mostly though she was worried for Johnny, and she hoped fervently that he wouldn’t be one of those who paid for today’s events.