‘I’ve been thinking...’
Philip opened his eyes and glanced at her. ‘Always a bad sign. What do you have in store for me this time? A quick spot of swimming in the Argideen River? Or perhaps taking a hack on one of the stallions in the stables?’
‘Oh no, nothing as advanced as that yet. It’s just, well, I’m looking at your false leg standing idle in the bedroom and wondering why you never wear it. If you did, you’d be up and walking beside me, not sitting in that chair you hate so much.’
‘Nuala, I shall answer this very shortly and simply: when the doctor strapped it on to what is left of my kneecap and insisted I stand and take my not very considerable weight on it, the agony was almost as bad as coming round after the mine had exploded. Actually, it was probably worse, because I was fully conscious. So, the answer is no.’
‘You say you’ve only tried it on once?’
‘Yes. And never again.’
‘But... the wound where they amputated your leg has healed over now. Maybe it was still raw when the doctor asked you to stand on it before. So, yes, ’twould have been holy hell putting weight on it. I’d reckon ’twould be different now. Just imagine if you could walk again! Be independent! Wouldn’t that be a mighty wonderful thing?’
‘It would also be a wonderful thing if man could fly to the moon, but it’s an impossibility. Now, will you please leave me alone, so that I can enjoy my time in the garden?’
Knowing Philip and his stubbornness all too well now, Nuala did not bring up the subject again. She did have something else she needed to talk to him about, and once they were back upstairs, she finally plucked up the courage to ask.
‘Did your daddy enjoy his chat with Major Percival yesterday?’ she said as Maureen brought afternoon tea into the room and began setting it out.
‘I don’t know if anyone can actually enjoy meeting the man. Mother did tell me, however, that my father said Percival was sure his movements were being watched by the IRA. He’s noticed curtain twitching in the houses opposite Bandon Barracks whenever he walks a few doors down to have his evening meal. He believes the IRA are planning to assassinate him, but told my father he was prepared to send his forces to ransack every home in Bandon to find the culprits. Thank you, Maureen, you may leave us now,’ Philip added to the woman. ‘Nuala will pour.’
Nuala did her best not to let her hands shake as she did so.
‘There you go.’ Nuala handed the cup to Philip, then took a deep sip of her own tea. She’d been starving, having had no lunch again, but now she felt she might be sick if she put anything in her mouth.
‘You look a bit queer, Nuala. Are you all right?’
‘I’m grand, Philip, and eager to get on with that game of chess.’
Coming out of Argideen House that night, Nuala cycled to the oak tree and stood by it in a quandary as to who to take the message to, so it would reach those volunteers who were watching Major Percival the fastest. In the end, she plumped for Christy, working in the pub just across from her cottage, and cycled like a mad thing towards Clogagh.
Running into her house, she penned a quick note, then went across to the pub. Saying hello to a few of the locals hunched over their glasses at tables, she sidled up to the bar, where Christy was pouring three drops of whiskey.
‘Hello, Nuala,’ said Christy. ‘What would you be doing in here at this time of night? Not looking for a drop of whiskey for yourself, are you?’ he teased her. He’d brushed back his thick, dark brown hair today, so that Nuala could see his sincere warm brown eyes.
‘There’s a calf stuck in the womb up at the farm, and we’d be needing your help immediately.’ Nuala used the sentence the family had constructed as code for an emergency.
‘Right then, I’ll speak to John; I’m sure he’ll let me off early, as things aren’t too busy.’
He eyed her hand as it slid across the bar to him. He put his over hers and squeezed it, then she pulled her hand away as he slid his back.
‘I hope the calf survives,’ she said, as she moved away back through the tables.
Heart pumping with adrenaline, she took some deep breaths as she walked back to the cottage.
‘What’s going on? Why did you run over to the pub?’ Finn asked her as he stirred the soup in the pot over the fire.
‘Philip told me that Major Percival suspects there are people spying on him. He said he was prepared to destroy every house in Bandon to find the culprits. He knows our lot are after him,’ Nuala panted, partly out of relief that she was home and able to let it out for the first time after three hours of trying to act normally in front of Philip. He said she’d played chess like a four-year-old, and to be fair, he was right.
‘I’d already heard something about the house searches in Bandon, but not that they know there’s any kind of a plot. We must get word to the men,’ said Finn.
‘I already passed Christy a note in the pub. He’ll be off to Charlie Hurley’s on his horse, who’ll send word to Bandon.’
‘Well done, Nuala,’ Finn smiled. ‘’Tis worth all those hours of chess to think it might have saved some souls from a brutal beating and prison.’
‘If we’re in time.’
‘Yes,’ Finn agreed. ‘If we’re in time.’
