Songs of Love and War (23 page)

It was a few days before Kitty was able to see Jack again. They hid in the greenhouse, sheltering from the rain. He took her hands. ‘It’s going to get nasty,
Kitty,’ he warned. ‘They’ve declared war on the British. There’s going to be violence as the British aren’t going to give over so easily. I don’t think
it’s safe for you to remain in Ireland.’

‘I’m Irish,’ Kitty protested defiantly.

‘Saying it doesn’t make it so, Kitty. You’re Anglo-Irish and that’s different. You’re the enemy in their eyes and you’re not safe. I’m not going to let
you stay when you could just as easily sit it out in London until it blows over.’

‘I’m not going anywhere!’ she retorted. ‘I’m not leaving you and I’m not leaving Castle Deverill. It’s my home and I love it. And I love you, Jack
O’Leary, to the marrow of your bones.’ She gave him a winning smile.

Jack took her face in his hands. ‘And I love
you,
Kitty, which is why I want you safe where I don’t have to worry about you.’ He kissed her.

She closed her eyes and savoured it. ‘I want to help.’

‘Kitty . . .’

‘I
can
help,’ she insisted. ‘There must be a way for me to be useful.’

‘I’m not letting you get involved.’

She folded her arms. ‘Well, I’m not going anywhere and that’s the end of it.’

‘You’re as stubborn as a mule.’

‘But a great deal prettier,’ she added with a grin.

‘You worry me, Kitty.’

‘That’s not
my
problem,’ she replied tartly.

‘It will be when you discover it’s not even safe to leave the castle gate.’

His anxious expression unnerved her. ‘But
you
could get into trouble, Jack.’ She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. ‘Please be careful.’

‘We’ll have the British on their knees, see if we don’t,’ he replied, but somehow that didn’t release the grip that had suddenly taken hold of her belly and was
squeezing it hard.

It was dark when Michael and Sean Doyle, Jack O’Leary and six other men from the Third West Cork Brigade of the Irish Republican Army set out towards the Royal Irish
Constabulary barracks in Ballinakelly. Black clouds rolled across the sky and the wind whipped in off the sea, cold and fierce and unforgiving. They hugged the walls as they edged noiselessly down
the back streets of the town like nimble dogs, their faces hidden behind masks, their caps pulled low, their breath shallow and full of tension. They had trained for this sort of attack in one of
Hanratty’s barns hidden in the hills, along with map-reading, ambushes and street-fighting, and were bristling with patriotic zeal and a heightened sense of camaraderie as they came together
for their cause, knowing that most of Co. Cork was on their side. Only Michael had a gun and very little ammunition at that. His plan was not to waste any precious bullets.

They stopped when the austere grey building of the police barracks came into view. It was small and unimpressive, having once been a mediocre hotel. The bigger British garrisons were stationed
in Bandon, Clonakilty, Dunmanway, Skibbereen, Bantry and Castletownbere, but intelligence had been gleaned that here in this insignificant barracks was a disproportionate amount of artillery hidden
in the cellar, if only the rebels could break their way in to steal it.

Michael signalled to the men and two members of the group broke away and scurried down to the square where the fair took place on the first Friday of every month. It was quiet and still now in
the dead of night, the mud frozen on the ground, the only movement the wind blowing swiftly across it. A moment later the sound of an exploding grenade shattered the tranquillity and set the blood
racing at Jack’s temples. He braced himself for what was to follow. If it wasn’t for the adrenalin coursing through his veins he would have surely felt the icy hand of fear squeeze his
heart. There was an ominous pause, as if the town held its breath, before light suddenly glowed in the windows of the barracks and men spilled out into the cold, buttoning up their shirts and
belting their trousers, then pointing their guns at the unseen enemy. Their confusion was palpable.

Michael held up his hand as the police ran down to the square, leaving the barracks sparsely guarded. His men trembled like racehorses in their starting blocks, eager to commence, waiting for
the hand to drop and for the action to begin. At last Michael gave the command and they ran forward, hurrying into the building where startled constables reached for their guns only to be met with
fists and bayonets as the rebels ruthlessly beat them to the ground.

Suddenly the room was ablaze. Jack kept guard at the top of the stairs as the men ran down to steal the guns. A moment later their feet were heard clattering on the steps and they emerged
triumphant with revolvers, rifles and ammunition. With the building now in flames, consuming the files of papers and wooden furniture as if they were kindling, the rebels exited through the back
window and, as planned, dispersed in different directions, confusing the enemy still further.

Jack took a back street, but soon realized he was being pursued. He glanced over his shoulder to see two constables chasing after him. He jumped over a garden gate, across a patch of grass,
which glittered in the moonlight with frost, and over a fence into a neighbouring yard. With his heart beating like a military drum he ran for his life.

At length he came to a large pink house set back from the street with an iron gate and a neatly kept garden. Noticing the ground-floor window was ajar, he leapt over the wall, lifted the window
and threw himself inside. He landed with a thump but managed to reach up and close the window just as the two policemen came running round the corner. ‘Where did he go?’ asked one.

‘I dunno,’ replied the other. Jack cowered on the floorboards.

Upstairs Hazel was awoken by the sound of the thud and subsequently the voices outside. Frightened, she lit her candle and tiptoed into Laurel’s bedroom next door.

‘Laurel, wake up!’ she hissed, shaking her sister by the shoulder.

‘What is it?’ asked Laurel in alarm.

‘Did you hear a noise? A thud. Downstairs.’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘There are voices outside.’ Hazel hastened to the window and pulled back the curtain. The two policemen were still looking up and down the street in bewilderment.

‘What do you see?’ Laurel asked.

‘Policemen.’

‘What are they doing?’

‘Looking for something.’

‘At this time of night?’

‘It appears so. They’re walking away now. I don’t think they’ve found it.’

‘Good.’

‘They don’t look very happy.’

‘We can ask them what it was tomorrow and offer our help. We’re rather good at finding things.’

‘Do you remember Hubert’s reading glasses?’ said Hazel, dropping the curtain.

‘Of course I do. They were down the back of the sofa. And Adeline’s necklace?’

‘We didn’t find Adeline’s necklace,’ Hazel corrected her.

‘No, we didn’t. I quite forgot.’ She sighed. ‘We must have another look.’

‘Goodnight, Laurel,’ said Hazel.

‘Goodnight, Hazel,’ said Laurel.

Jack waited for the policemen to leave then very quietly so as not to disturb the person sleeping upstairs he lifted the window and squeezed out like a burglar. When he was sure it was safe, he
left by the gate and headed for home.

Towards the end of 1919 the anti-British feeling was spreading across the country like a stain, and the Shrubs, busy in Ballinakelly with the soup kitchen they had set up with
Adeline in the school house, were the first to notice the slights. The locals who failed to doff their caps, the schoolboys who sneered, the farmers who refused to give way at the gate, the shop
girl who declined to serve. Every snub was sharply perceived and eagerly reported over tea in the castle.

‘I swore a young lad threw a stone at me this morning as I walked out of the butcher’s,’ said Laurel indignantly, holding her teacup in a trembling hand. ‘I don’t
think I imagined it. When I had words with him he sneered. Yes, that’s the word, sneer. He looked perfectly pleased with himself.’

‘The audacity of the boy!’ Hazel exclaimed. ‘He knows he won’t be beaten for it. You see, it filters down from the parents. They think it’s all right to insult an
old lady . . .’

‘An
English
old lady,’ added Laurel, inhaling through dilated nostrils.

‘A stone today, a rock tomorrow,’ said Hazel darkly.

‘But it was the look in his eye that caught my attention. It was the look of a rebel. Give that child a few years and he’ll be firing a gun, mark my words.’

Adeline, who was quietly painting at the window, looked up. ‘Extraordinary, considering we’re feeding their children.’

‘Feeding their children or not, we’re the enemy, Adeline,’ said Laurel. ‘Eaten bread is soon forgotten.’

‘They’d be pleased to see the back of us,’ Hazel agreed, pursing her lips.

‘Do you know, now I come to think of it, Mr O’Callaghan did not say good morning to me when I walked into his shop,’ Laurel added, dropping her teacup into its saucer.
‘He ignored me until I said good morning to
him.
Then he simply nodded.’

‘Nodded?’ Hazel asked.

‘Nodded.’ Laurel narrowed her eyes and her mouth hardened at the perceived offence. ‘Oh, the insolence, Hazel. I’m afraid the situation is very bad indeed.’

As the months passed the slights became more offensive until a stone was thrown through the Shrubs’ window, causing them great distress. Adeline invited them to move into the castle at
once. ‘We have plenty of rooms here,’ she said happily. ‘And if anyone dares throw a stone at one of
our
windows he shall be met with a bullet in his backside before he can
shout, “Jesus, help us.”’

However, when news reached them of their friends the Goodes’ house being burned down in Bandon, their anxiety turned to real fear. ‘It’ll be us next,’ Laurel warned,
reaching for her glass of sherry and taking a loud slurp. ‘Those Shinners will stop at nothing.’

‘Poor Arthur and Lizzie only escaped with their lives. The whole house was reduced to ash in one night. It went up like straw apparently,’ said Adeline.

‘How can we protect ourselves from men like that?’ Hazel asked in distress. ‘We’re no longer safe in our own homes. Do you not think we should all pack up and leave? So
many have.’

Adeline shot her a fierce look. ‘We’re not leaving!’ she exclaimed. ‘We have nothing to fear from the Shinners. It is well known that we are good to our tenants and
always have been. Hubert is held in great affection by the people of Ballinakelly. No one would dare lay a finger on him or his home.’ This seemed to satisfy the Shrubs.

Laurel wandered over to the card table and ran her fingers over the velvet surface. ‘At least we’re all here together,’ she said. ‘There’s strength in numbers. And
a rubber of bridge will surely take our minds off our woes.’

Since Kitty had turned nineteen in September Maud had begun to focus her attention, so sorely lacking in the past, on her youngest daughter. It was time she got married, but to
whom? There were no suitable young men in Ireland; they were all too poor or too low born. No, there was only one place to go, and that was London. But when she brought up the subject one evening
at supper, Kitty did not respond in the way she had hoped. ‘I’m not going to London,’ Kitty said calmly, looking at her mother with the coolness of someone who knows she will
undoubtedly win the argument.

Maud turned to Bertie for support. ‘We are not going to find her a suitable match here in Cork,’ she said. ‘Cousin Beatrice would be very happy to have us if Victoria is at
Broadmere. Kitty never had a London Season because of the war, but there is still time.’

Bertie’s rheumy eyes swam a moment as he looked from his wife to his daughter then back again. ‘Does Kitty want to find a husband?’

‘It’s not a question of want, but must. If she leaves it too late she will be left on the shelf like Elspeth.’ Elspeth’s lips tightened around her secret. Harry looked
down at his food. He hated confrontation.

‘I don’t want to go to London,’ Kitty said. ‘I’m staying here at Castle Deverill. If you want me to leave, you will have to drag me away by my hair.’

‘Kitty, how dare you speak to me like that!’ Maud exclaimed, flushing pink.

‘How, Mother? Directly?’

‘Don’t be insolent. I thought Miss Grieve taught you manners.’

Kitty held out her palms and glared at her mother with such bitterness Maud froze. ‘Miss Grieve was a tyrant and a bully. She taught me to be strong.’

Maud looked away. It was easier to ignore than to take responsibility for unpleasant things that happened in the past. She appealed to Bertie. ‘Say something, for goodness’ sake. How
can you sit there and listen to her rudeness and do nothing about it?’

Bertie took a swig of wine. ‘If she doesn’t want to go, my dear, I’m not going to force her. That would
not be
very seemly.’

Maud stiffened like a threatened cat. ‘I am always alone. No one ever backs me up. I’m the only one thinking of our daughters’ futures. I could sit pretty and let them all get
on with it, but you won’t thank me when they marry unsuitable men who drag the family name into the mud.’

‘Is Victoria happy?’ Bertie asked.

‘What’s happiness got to do with it?’ said Maud.

‘You see, that’s the flaw in your plan, my dear. If you put their happiness and not your ambition first I doubt they’d be so reluctant to consent to your plans.’

‘Marriage has got nothing to do with happiness. You should know that better than anyone.’ She turned to Kitty. ‘Then you won’t come with me and Elspeth?’

Elspeth slowly put down her knife and fork. ‘I’m not coming either,’ she said, not quite as boldly as her sister. The two girls caught eyes in silent camaraderie. Harry’s
jaw dropped in astonishment; Elspeth had always been a meek girl.

Maud’s ears turned scarlet. ‘Elspeth?’

Elspeth’s eyes flicked to Kitty for encouragement. ‘I’m sorry, Mama. But I don’t want to go to London.’