Page 79 of The Missing Sister
‘Goodness no, quite the opposite, Nuala. I simply wished to thank you,’ said Lady Fitzgerald. ‘This wonderful change in Philip is all down to you. Not just physically, but he’s been so... hopeful again. I can hear the two of you laughing together, and the sound makes me so happy. I—’ She broke off and took a deep breath. ‘As a gesture of my thanks, I would like to increase your wages to ten shillings a week. I know how hard you have worked, and I hope you will be—’
A knock on the door interrupted Lady Fitzgerald, and Mrs Houghton entered. ‘Excuse me, Lady Fitzgerald, but Mr Lewis has arrived about the painting in the Lily bedroom that you want reframing.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Houghton, I will come out to see him.’ Lady Fitzgerald turned to Nuala. ‘I should only be a moment, my dear, then we will finish our discussion.’
As the two women left the room and shut the door to keep the heat in, Nuala allowed herself a little laugh of delight.
‘Ten shillings,’ she breathed, thinking what she and Finn could do with the much-needed extra money. She stood up and wandered around the beautiful room, admiring the landscape paintings gracing the wood-panelled walls and the leather-topped desk.
Without stopping to think, Nuala glanced down at the letter Lady Fitzgerald had just been reading.
My dear Laura and Reginald,
Once more I write to offer my grateful thank you for dinner the other evening; a delightful harbour in what is becoming an ever more stormy sea. At least some good news on that front: two of our spies acting as deserters have gained the enemy’s trust and have arranged to meet the ringleader TB on 3rd December, at which point we will arrest him.
Nuala speed-read the rest and saw the signature at the bottom:
Arthur Percival
Nuala heard footsteps approach the door and hurried to sit back down in her chair.
‘My apologies,’ said Lady Fitzgerald as she entered the room, then opened a drawer to her desk and took out an envelope. ‘Your wages for this week with two extra shillings inside.’ She pressed the envelope into Nuala’s hands. ‘Thank you again, my dear. Now then, get home to that husband of yours.’
Nuala cycled to Clogagh as if the devil himself were chasing her. She arrived at the cottage and was relieved to find Finn in his shirtsleeves, marking schoolwork at the kitchen table.
‘Finn,’ she panted. ‘I’ve urgent news for Tom Barry!’
In between sips of water from the glass he had placed in front of her, she explained the missive from Major Percival.
Finn paced in front of the fire as he took in what she was telling him.
‘Nuala, the attack on Timoleague is tomorrow, and the whole Column is in high gear, with people in secret locations... I don’t know how to find Tom in time to tell him...’
‘We’ve got to!’ Nuala cried. ‘Those deserters he’s meeting are spies for the British! The Essex will be lying in wait for Tom and we know what they’ll do to him! They know he’s the brains behind the Flying Column, so ’twill be even worse than what they did to Tom Hales and Pat!’
Finn crouched down by his wife and took her in his arms.
‘I’ll be sortin’ it, darlin’, don’t you be worrying. What you’ve found out is vital, and we’ve a chance of stopping the meeting. Now, please eat something before you faint from exhaustion.’
Finn had gone out soon after, and when he returned, he had assured Nuala he’d left word for Tom Barry with as many volunteers as he could find. The following morning – the day of the planned burnings in Timoleague – he dressed calmly in his schoolmaster’s clothes.
‘Now so, after work tonight, you’re to cycle straight up to Cross Farm and wait there until you hear the all-clear from me or another I’ll send word with.’
‘Are the explosives – I mean, the manure – still in the dump?’ Nuala was so agitated, she was forgetting to talk in code.
‘It’s been moved closer to the place it will be needed in,’ said Finn. ‘I’m off away to help spread it.’ He kissed her hard on the lips, then hugged her tightly to him. ‘Goodbye, Nuala. I love you and I’ll be seeing ye.’
With that, he was gone.
Up at the farmhouse that evening, the family (minus Fergus, who was out helping to ‘spread the manure’, and Christy, who’d helped move the ‘manure’ earlier but was now working as usual at the pub), went through their night-time routine. Though the subject was not discussed when they all sat down for their tea, the air of tension was palpable. Even her father, who was usually able to hold a conversation with a fly, was quiet. Every one of them knew how many local fellows were involved in tonight’s activities. ‘Will we sing some of the old songs, husband?’ asked Eileen as the women finished clearing up. ‘Will you get out your fiddle?’
‘Not tonight; even with scouts up above on the hill, I’d be afraid of a knock on the door.’
‘To be sure, Daddy, once that manure is spread, they’ll all be busy down below,’ said Nuala.
‘I’m sure you’re right, daughter, but ’tis not the night to be taking any chances. Hannah will read to us from the Bible. How about Moses parting the Red Sea, then the passage where the people are led into the Promised Land?’
Daniel offered the family a grim smile, and they nodded at the appropriateness of the suggestions.
