‘Nuala, oh Nuala...’
She watched as Finn staggered towards the bed, then almost fell forward onto her and began to sob.
‘What is it? What’s happened?’
‘I... what a mess, Nuala, what a mess.’
Nuala could do no more than wait for her husband to stop crying. Then she handed him some whiskey from the bottle and he drank it straight down.
‘Can you tell me what’s happened?’
‘I... can’t speak the words, and I’ve run many miles through the night to get back to you. Let me sleep in your arms, Nuala, and I’ll tell you in the...’ Finn fell asleep mid-sentence, his head on her chest.
Whatever it was he had to tell her, she didn’t care, for her husband was safe home.
The following morning, Nuala left Finn in bed and went downstairs to feed Maggie. Finn joined her an hour later, looking gaunt and haggard, as if he’d aged ten years since she’d last seen him.
‘Porridge?’ Nuala asked.
Finn could only nod as he slumped at the table.
‘Get that down you,’ she said quietly.
He finished the bowl in a few gulps and Nuala, who’d been too exhausted herself this morning to bake bread, used the rest of yesterday’s loaf and lathered it with jam.
‘Ah Nuala.’ Finn finished the bread and jam, then wiped his hand across his lips. ‘My head is spinning this morning, I...’
‘Tell me, Finn, you know ’twill go with me to the grave if that’s what you ask. I heard chat from Christy that Mick Collins was expected in Clonakilty yesterday. Was an ambush planned on his convoy?’
‘It was. Me, Tom Hales and the boys were up at the Murray farmhouse for a meeting with the Cork brigades. When we heard from Denny Long that Collins was likely to come back along the same route he’d arrived by, Tom directed that we should plan an ambush. We laid in wait for hours around the crossroads at Béal na Bláth, but the convoy didn’t appear. Tom decided we should call it off because of the weather – we were soaked to the skin from the rain. So me and some of the other men left, but there were a few who stayed just in case, including Tom. I was coming home across country when I saw the convoy beneath me. I crouched down in case they saw me, and then, about ten minutes later...’
He stopped and took a shuddering breath before he was able to continue.
‘I heard shots ring out from where I knew some of the men were still waiting. I began to run back to find out what had happened, and met a couple of volunteers sprinting towards me. They told me that the weather was too bad to see who they were firing at when the convoy passed, but that Collins had gone down. The rest of the convoy had fired back, but had soon stopped when they’d seen Mick lying there.’
Finn looked up at her, his blue eyes filled with tears. ‘He was dead, Nuala. The only one in the convoy that was.’
‘Mick Collins?! Dead?! I...’ Nuala stared at her husband in shock and disbelief. ‘Do you know who shot him?’
‘The man I was talking to – and I’m giving no names now was hardly making sense, other than to keep repeating that “Mick’s dead, Mick’s dead!” Jesus, Mary and Joseph, shot by his own down here in West Cork.’
Finn began weeping again, and all Nuala could do was to stand up and put her arms round him.
‘’Tis one thing to fight for a proper republic, but another to be part of an attack that killed the man that originally led us to victory and a truce. God only knows what will become of Ireland now, without the Big Fellow.’
‘Where was de Valera? Did he know about the ambush?’
‘I’d say he did, yes, but he left West Cork early yesterday to get back to Dublin for a meeting.’
‘Did he order the attack on Mick?’
‘Word is ’twas Tom Hales, who cried like a baby when he found out Mick was dead. You know what good friends they once were before the Civil War.’
‘I... just don’t know what to say.’ Nuala shook her head, unable to stop her own tears from falling. ‘Where will we go from here?’
‘I don’t know, but there’s not many around these parts, whatever side they were on, who won’t be shedding a tear today. I tell you something, Nuala, ’tis over for me. I’ve not the stomach for any more now that Mick’s gone.’
‘I understand, Finn,’ she replied eventually. ‘I wonder how many others will feel the same, so.’