Page 76 of The Missing Sister
‘Who says you are?’ Hannah teased her then hugged her again. ‘Thank you, Nuala. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
In late November, a day after what was already being called ‘Bloody Sunday’ in the newspapers, Nuala arrived at Argideen House trying to contain a fury she knew she mustn’t show. Philip was now walking without the safety net of the bars, and was using Christy’s stick to wander in circles around the sitting room, with Nuala at his side should he falter. It wasn’t until they sat down to have afternoon tea and scones that he asked her outright if she was upset about the events at Croke Park.
Nuala took a long sip of tea to buy herself time. ‘’Tis tragic what happened,’ she said, trying to keep any emotion out of her voice. ‘Just a crowd sitting watching a game of Gaelic football, and they’re fired upon by the British with no warning. We’ve fourteen Irish dead, including children.’
‘Only the dead have seen the end of war,’ Philip said gravely, which Nuala knew meant he was quoting someone she’d never heard of.
‘That’s no use to their families, is it?’ she said, heat creeping into her voice. ‘Is it a part of war to murder children?’
‘No, of course not, and I’m as sorry as you are, Nuala,’ he sighed. ‘Like you, I simply want the British and Irish to come to a peaceful resolution. Although that might be a long way off, considering how Major Percival sounded when he was here yesterday.’
‘Major Percival was here?’ she said.
‘Yes. Mother tried to convince me to come down and take tea with him, but I’d gladly stay in a wheelchair if it meant not having to set eyes on that man.’
‘Do you know why he came yesterday?’ she asked.
‘From the sound of his self-congratulatory booming voice, I’d say he wanted to boast to Father about something or other. And given yesterday’s horrific events, I think we can both imagine what it was.’
At that moment, Nuala decided this Major Percival deserved the most painful death that God could create for him. And knew she hated him just as much as any other of the brave volunteers who had suffered at his cruel, merciless hands.
Hannah and Ryan’s wedding had been set for mid-December.
‘’Tisn’t a perfect time to be wed, but with things as they are, the sooner the better,’ Hannah had sighed.
No one understood Hannah’s need for urgency better than Nuala. She’d comforted her with suggesting all the things that would make a winter wedding special. Philip had said a decorated fir tree usually stood in the entrance hall of Argideen House, and was a tradition of England’s Queen Victoria, established by her German husband Albert. Nuala loved the idea, but knew it wouldn’t be the right thing to have.
‘We can decorate the church with sprays of holly and light candles and—’
‘Have muddy puddles splashing the bottom of my white dress,’ Hannah had grumbled. But it was happy grumbling, and there was a glow to her sister’s cheeks that Nuala was pleased to see.
She had told Finn that Major Percival had been at the Big House again, but was frustrated with herself for not knowing more.
‘’Tis all right, darlin’, just keep your ears pricked up,’ Finn had said. He had gone out to a brigade council meeting in Kilbrittain that evening, and she knew he wouldn’t be back until late. Even so, when he hadn’t returned by three in the morning, Nuala’s heart began to beat harder. Finally, at four thirty, she heard the back door open.
Flying down the stairs, she found Finn soaked to the skin and panting hard. Another figure stood behind him.
‘Hello there, Nuala, will it be all right if I come in?’ Charlie Hurley wiped his rain-matted hair from his gaunt, pale face.
‘Of course, Charlie, come and sit a while.’
‘I think we both need a drop of the hard stuff, Nuala,’ said Finn, closing the back door as quietly as he could. Both men were still in their volunteer outfits – while the Flying Column had no regular uniform, they all wore peaky caps and long trench coats to stave off the rain and hide any weapons they were carrying beneath.
‘What happened?’ Nuala whispered, so as not to alert Mrs Grady, the old lady in the cottage next door.
‘I’ll get the whiskey first,’ said Finn as he went to the cupboard, where he took out two glasses and poured a good measure into both.
As they took off their sodden clothes, Nuala ran upstairs to find shirts, trousers and socks for them to change into.
‘We all started to leave after the meeting, going in parties of three,’ began Finn. ‘We were after getting to Coppeen and there was a truck of Auxies. They saw us before we saw them and they searched us all. Thanks be to God, none of us were carrying any papers on us.’
‘We acted drunk,’ put in Charlie. ‘Said we’d been to the pub for a glass, but they shouldn’t be telling our wives.’
‘And they let you go?’ asked Nuala.
‘They did, so. Sean Hales and his crowd were following on, along with Con Crowley and John O’Mahoney, who had documents on them outlining what we’d discussed at the meeting. We doubled back to warn them, but we didn’t get there in time,’ Finn sighed. ‘We hid in a ditch as the Auxies searched them. They found the evidence they needed and Con and John were herded onto the back of the truck.’
‘There was nothing we could have done about it, Finn,’ said Charlie, draining his whiskey and pouring himself another. ‘Jaysus, those poor lads.’
