Friend or Foe (14 page)

E
mer’s stomach was tight with tension, and her mouth felt dry. It was Easter Sunday night. Her mouth had felt dry earlier in the day too, when she had gorged on chocolate Easter eggs. Now, though, one part of her was excited and another part frightened as she listened to her father, his voice unusually serious as he gave Mam a series of instructions.

Her parents were talking in the kitchen, but the door was ajar. Emer was eavesdropping unashamedly in the hall, rooted to the spot by her father’s revelations.

It seemed that the Volunteers’ three days of manoeuvres were a ruse to fool the British authorities, and an armed uprising was going to take place tomorrow. Dad had explained that it was originally planned for today but had been postponed until tomorrow morning.

Dad had withdrawn a large sum of money from the bank, on the basis that there might be chaos in the aftermath of an uprising. Now he was giving Mam instructions about closing their two grocery shops for the coming week but paying the staff their wages.

‘How soon will we re-open, Eamon?’ asked Mam, her voice strained.

‘We can review it after a week. If I’m still in action, or taken prisoner, it will be your decision. But if the city is in chaos, stay closed until things calm down.’

‘Right.’

‘And if anything, err on the side of caution.’

‘But you won’t be doing that, will you?’ retorted Mam.

‘Come on, Molly,’ replied Dad gently. ‘Once I joined the Volunteers, we knew this day would come.’

‘I know. But don’t … don’t make a point of being a hero.’

Emer could hear the fear in her mother’s words. She felt frightened herself on Dad’s behalf, but his next words shocked her.

‘These are the tickets,’ he said to Mam. ‘I booked yourself and Emer on tomorrow’s twelve o’clock train to Ennis.’

No!
thought Emer.
There’s going to be a revolution in Dublin. I can’t miss out on it!

‘Dad!’ she said, suddenly opening the door and entering the kitchen. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing.’ That wasn’t strictly true, but it was no time for splitting hairs. ‘Please, don’t send me away. This is history happening. Mam and I will be safe here. Please don’t send us out of Dublin!’

Dad looked at her, his face deeply serious. ‘What I told Mam is top secret, Emer. Absolutely top secret. Lots of Volunteers know nothing about what we’re going to do tomorrow. Do you understand that?’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘Be sure you do. And as for staying here, that’s out of the question.’

‘But, Dad–’

‘No buts! Civilians get killed in wars all the time, Emer.’

‘The war won’t be on our street.’

‘It could spread all over the city. Artillery or machine-gun fire doesn’t distinguish between soldiers and civilians. And even if there’s no fighting round here, maybe they’ll raid the homes of Volunteer officers. Maybe they’ll arrest family members.’

Emer hadn’t thought of that, and she struggled for an answer.

‘It’s for the best, pet,’ said Mam. ‘I don’t want to stay away from Dublin when Dad’s in danger. But it’s better for Dad, and for us, if he knows we’re safe in Ennis with Aunt May.’

‘You want to play your part, Emer, don’t you?’ asked Dad.

‘Yes.’

‘Then free me. Free me to fight for Ireland without having to worry about my family. Will you do that, Emer?’

She looked at her father, and with every fibre of her being she hated what he was asking of her. She imagined herself when she was old and her grandchildren queried what she did in the uprising of 1916.
‘Oh, I missed that. I left Dublin the day it started and stayed down in Ennis!’

‘Emer? Will you do that for me?’ Her father’s eyes bored into her, and she found it impossible to defy him.

‘OK,’ she said.

‘Good girl,’ answered Dad. ‘And like I said – not the faintest hint of this to a living soul. Not to
anyone
. All right?’

‘Right,’ said Emer, and she nodded in agreement. She was
still frustrated at being sidelined but excited at the idea of the coming revolution.

Jack tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep. Even though he loved music, he hated the way a song sometimes went round and round in his head. His sister Mary had earned a lot of overtime at the munitions factory this week, and from her pay she had bought a gramophone record of the song ‘Down at the Old Bull and Bush’. Now its catchy melody played maddeningly in his head and wouldn’t allow Jack to drift off to sleep.

It had been an eventful day. Jack had gone to Mass for Easter Sunday with his family, then played football on the street, before dropping over to Gerry Quinn with a small Easter egg. Jack knew that Gerry’s uncle might not buy him any eggs, and Ma had suggested giving one to Gerry from the collection that Jack and his sisters had accumulated. Gerry had been grateful, and Jack had happily accepted in return a somewhat battered Hotspur annual as an Easter present, knowing that the gesture made Gerry feel more of an equal.

Jack had returned home for a big Easter Sunday dinner – a long-standing family tradition – at which Da made a toast and Ma gave thanks for their good fortune, offering up a prayer for Uncle Bertie’s safe-keeping and cousin Ronnie’s continued recovery from his amputation.

The war was still raging bloodily in Europe, however, and just two days ago the Royal Navy had successfully intercepted a ship off the coast of Kerry that was carrying arms for the Volunteers. The thought of the Volunteers made Jack’s racing mind shift to Emer. Soon they would be swimming again in the Tolka. He was grateful to her for the huge improvements he had made as a swimmer, and for being such a great friend. But while swimming in the river was something to look forward to, Emer’s father was a real source of worry to Jack. Lately Mr Davey had been very active with the Volunteers, and even though the Navy had prevented the recent shipment of arms from reaching them, the Volunteers had other weapons.

What would happen to Da – and other members of the unarmed DMP – if Mr Davey and the Volunteers decided to fight? It was a scary thought, and Jack struggled to dismiss it.

He shut his eyes tight and shifted to his other side, hoping that sleep would come and banish his fears.

E
mer tried not to arouse her mother’s suspicions. What she was about to do would be the most daring act of her life, but she had to control her excitement and make Mam think that she was behaving normally. They were sitting together in the carriage of the twelve o’clock train that would take them from Dublin’s Kingsbridge Station to the safety of Ennis in County Clare.

The train was due to pull out any moment now, but Emer forced herself to sit still and not act too hastily. For her ruse to work she had to time things perfectly, and she hoped that she could pull off the required deceit.

She had decided last night that no matter what her parents said, she
had
to be in Dublin for the uprising. She made her plans accordingly but pretended to go along with the trip to Ennis. This morning Dad had gone to join his fellow rebels, and she and Mam had bade him a tearful goodbye, their fear for his well-being mingled with huge pride in his playing an active role in the rebellion.

Now Emer glanced out the carriage window at the station clock. One minute to go. She breathed out slowly to try to calm herself, and Mam looked enquiringly at her. ‘Are you all right, pet?’

‘Yes, Mam,’ she answered, striving to keep her voice normal. ‘Just … just excited for Dad, but nervous too.’ This was true, so it made sense to let Mam think that any nervousness stemmed from this.

‘I’m sure Dad will be fine,’ said Mam in a low voice that the other passengers couldn’t hear. ‘I’ve trusted him to Our Lady’s care, and we’ll both pray for him.’

Emer wasn’t as religious as her mother, but she nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll pray for him every day.’

Emer glanced out the window again, willing the clock onwards, but the seconds passed with frustrating slowness. A train guard moved along the platform with a green flag in his hand, and Emer realised that the time had come. She rose as casually as she could. ‘I’m going down to the toilet, Mam. Back in a while.’

‘All right, love.’

Emer felt a sudden stab of guilt, and on the spur of the moment she reached out and squeezed her mother’s arm.

Mam looked at her in mild surprise, but Emer forced herself to give a reassuring smile, then turned away and walked briskly along the aisle. She heard the slamming of carriage doors as the station staff began preparing for the train’s departure, and she realised that she needed to move quickly to deal with the conductor, whom she saw at the end of the next carriage. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a shilling coin and an envelope containing the letter she had written this morning. She had thought about what to write for a long time, but in the end she had kept it really simple.

Emer approached the conductor and handed him the letter. He was a gaunt, hungry-looking man, and as she had hoped, he instinctively reached out and took it. ‘Please deliver this for me,’ she said. ‘Two carriages up, the lady in seat twelve. She’s wearing a green dress and a fawn hat.’

The man looked at her in surprise, and Emer spoke quickly, wanting to get off the train before it pulled away. ‘It’s really important that you don’t give it to her for fifteen minutes.’

‘Look, I don’t know–’

‘I’ll give you a shilling,’ said Emer, cutting the man short. It was two weeks’ pocket money for Emer, and even for an adult worker like the conductor, it would be a significant sum. ‘Please. All you have to do is wait fifteen minutes and then hand it to her.’

Emer heard a whistle and she knew the train was about to pull off.

‘What are you up to?’ said the man.

‘I have to leave. Please. Just give her the letter. Have we a deal?’

Emer heard a release of steam, then the train shuddered and she knew it was about to move off. ‘Come on, you’ll never make an easier shilling!’ she urged.

The man hesitated for another second, then suddenly took the money.

‘All right,’ he said.

‘Seat twelve – and wait fifteen minutes!’ said Emer, then she quickly turned to the carriage door and pulled down the handle. The door swung open, and Emer jumped down onto the platform just as the train began to move off.

‘What the hell are you at?’ cried the guard on the platform.

‘Sorry, change of plan!’ answered Emer, then she reached forward and slammed the door shut as the train began to move away.

The guard looked like he was about to protest, but Emer pointed behind him towards the engine. ‘I think he wants you!’ she cried.

The guard turned around, and while he was distracted Emer ran down the platform, then lost herself in the crowds milling about the station. Her heart was thumping, and she knew that eventually she would be in enormous trouble with her parents – but she didn’t care. Revolution was in the air, and she wasn’t going to miss out on it. Moving through the smoke-scented station, she made for the exit, then she stepped out into the bright sunshine and headed for the city centre, eager for her adventure to begin.

‘Have you heard?’ asked Joan, her eyes wide with excitement.

Jack and Ben had been playing with Ben’s cricket bat and a tennis ball at the sunlit corner of Ellesmere Avenue when their friend ran up to them. ‘Heard what?’ Jack said.

‘There’s been a rebellion! The Volunteers have occupied places all over the city!’

‘No!’ exclaimed Ben.

‘Yes,’ answered Joan. ‘They’ve signed a proclamation declaring a republic, and taken the GPO and the Four Courts, and they’re fighting the army!’

Jack was horrified. Even though the Volunteers had been manoeuvring a lot lately, this was a shock.

‘That’s awful!’ said Ben. ‘The army are fighting the Germans, and now they get attacked at home!’

‘I wonder is Mr Davey involved,’ said Joan.

‘He could be,’ answered Ben. ‘Maybe that’s why Emer and Mrs Davey went down the country. What do you think, Jack?’

‘I think this is a disaster,’ said Jack quietly. ‘A total disaster.’ Because he knew it wasn’t the army that kept law and order in the first place – it was the police. And Da had reported for duty to his police station in Kilmainham early this morning.
An unarmed policeman in a city that is suddenly at war
, thought Jack with growing unease.

‘I’d say the army will put manners on them in jig time,’ said Ben.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ said Joan. ‘It sounds like they’ve taken everyone by surprise, including the army.’

‘Did you hear anything about the police?’ asked Jack.

‘No,’ said Joan. ‘Is your dad on duty?’

Jack nodded.

‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. They’re hardly going to shoot other Irishmen.’

Jack hoped she was right. But despite the sunny weather, he felt a chill running up his spine.

‘Don’t you dare laugh at me!’ said Emer. ‘I’m Eamon Davey’s daughter, and he’s out risking his life today!’

She had gone to a barricade at North King Street to offer to be a runner for the rebels. Emer had chosen the location carefully, having spent the last few hours experiencing the exciting chaos that was Dublin city centre. She had discovered that the Volunteers and the Irish Citizen Army had joined forces, with the rebel leaders Padraig Pearse and James Connolly setting up headquarters in the GPO. She had heard that her father was liaising for the Volunteers with the Citizen Army unit sent to occupy either Dublin Castle or City Hall – there was confusion about which. Emer chose the barricade at North King Street because it was far enough from her father not to bump into him, but near enough that she might hear how he was faring.

It was also a good location in that the area between here and the GPO was familiar to her from visits to the fruit and vegetable
markets with Dad. But the men on the barricade had laughingly dismissed her offer of assistance, and so Emer had snapped at them. The women of Cumann na mBan were fighting in the Rising, and the boys of the Fianna movement, so why shouldn’t she play a part also? The men seemed taken aback by her outburst, and she realised that Dad’s name had bought her credibility.

‘Are you really Eamon Davey’s daughter?’ asked an older Volunteer who seemed to have more authority than his comrades.

‘Yes, I am,’ answered Emer.

The man stared at her, then nodded. ‘You’ve obviously inherited your da’s pluck as well as his looks.’

‘Thank you. Have you heard anything about his unit?’

‘They couldn’t take Dublin Castle. But they’ve occupied City Hall.’

Emer was thrilled that her father was involved in such important operations, but she also felt scared for him. ‘Have there … have there been casualties?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ answered the man. ‘And really, you should get home before you become a casualty yourself.’

‘No,’ answered Emer, ‘I should help out. Look, it’s only a matter of time before the British get reinforcements. When that happens you’re going to need every single man you have. Let me run your reports to headquarters; it will free up a fighter to man the barricades here.’

Emer could see that the Volunteer was half persuaded, so she pressed on. ‘I’ve a better chance of not being stopped than an
adult. If you jot down a quick report now, I could get it to the GPO. Please. You know it makes sense.’

The man considered this for a moment, then took a sheet of paper from his pocket, quickly wrote a note and handed it to Emer. ‘OK, get that to Commander Pearse.’

‘I will.’

‘And Emer?’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s only a report. It’s not worth getting killed for. If it’s too dangerous getting to Sackville Street, turn back. All right?’

‘Right,’ said Emer. But this was her first mission, and she had no intention of turning back.

‘Good girl,’ said the Volunteer. ‘Up the Republic!’

‘Up the Republic!’ answered Emer, then she slipped the note into her cardigan pocket, turned around and headed towards the centre of town.

‘Please, Ma, let me go to Kilmainham!’

Jack and his mother were in the sun-warmed kitchen. Ma was organising dinner, in what he sensed was a vain attempt at keeping things normal.

‘No, love,’ she answered, ‘that’s out of the question.’

‘But I could cycle over to the station in half an hour, and then we’d know if Da was OK.’

‘The city’s in chaos, Jack! Bad enough that Da and the girls are out. I’m not having you at risk too!’

Jack’s sisters had gone to the races at Fairyhouse in County Meath, and there was no telling when they might return to the unexpectedly war-torn city.

‘Da will contact us when he can,’ said Ma.

‘Yes, but–’

‘Jack!’ said Ma, cutting him off. ‘Da wouldn’t want you risking yourself out on the streets. And neither do I, so that’s an end to it.’

‘OK,’ answered Jack reluctantly. With the city in uproar – and it seemed now that the rebels had seized buildings all over Dublin – it made sense that Da hadn’t been able to get home or send word to reassure them. But even though Ma refused to say it, there was another possible explanation: Da could be injured. Or even worse.
No!
thought Jack.
I have to stay positive
. But war was unpredictable, and he wished with all his heart that he could be sure his father was all right.