“‘A black-haired woman smoking a clay pipe said, “You can have Bridie’s nest. She’ll not be coming back.” She pointed the stem at a tiny opening at the bottom of a hedge. It was crawling we’d be doing, in and out of our new home. Mam eyed the linens drying on the bushes. “My girls can do the washing to earn our keep, and our Lizzie’s a fair hand at making a stew.” She looked around the circle of women sitting around the fire. “But that’s all the work they’ll be doing.” The pipe-smoking woman leaned back on her elbow and puffed. Maeve O’Connor was her name. “’Tis well enough … for now.”
“‘We saw the officer on the third day, Lizzie and me. We were hauling pails of water from the stream to pour into the washing tub. Lizzie put her burdens down as he drew abreast, and she dragged the back of one hand across her brow, the other resting on her hip. The red-coated captain smiled, saluted her with his riding crop, and trotted on. After that, we saw him on most fine days. He’d offer Lizzie a flower; the next time, itwas a bow for her hair. Then he’d be stopping by the stream before we arrived. And he’d take our pails, smiling, climbing down, dipping them in the water, and dumping them into the tub. And they’d walk off a little way, the soldier and Lizzie. Turn a corner and disappear for a while.
“‘After he rode away, Lizzie said, “You’ve clouds in your face, Brigeen. ’Tis nothing more than a kiss, but don’t be telling Mam, now.” I wouldn’t add to my mother’s worries as she coughed and trudged to the encampment’s gates. That last night, she lay by the fire, feverish and shivering. “She’s looking bad,” Maeve said. “Keep her warm.” Then the women plucked their clean clothes from the bushes and disappeared into their nests. They crawled out when the sky purpled and the sun set. The women walked toward the encampment, pairing off with waiting soldiers.
“‘Mam died that night. In the morning, Maeve said, “No priest will be coming to this place to bless her. So, we’ll pray over your mother, and you’ll make your goodbyes. The soldiers will take her away to lie in a pauper’s grave.” One woman wrapped Mam’s blanket around her and closed it with loose stitches, folding one end to expose her face. The other women formed a circle, holding our hands, as Lizzie prayed the Hail Mary. She tucked sprigs of yellow furze and purple heather into her shroud. We kissed Mam’s still, white face for the last time before they stitched the blanket closed. Aggie, who had a kind and gentle way about her, led me away and brewed some tea.
“Maeve went off to report the death, and Lizzie slipped away, too. Then Maeve returned with soldiers and a cart, and they drove Mam across the Curragh. I watched her go until she disappeared over the hill. Maeve puffed on her pipe and looked at me. “From here on, your sister will do more than the washing. If you want to stay, that is. We wrens work to feather our nest, share one, share all. We can’t be caring for those whodon’t bring in a shilling or two each week. You’re a little young now, but you’ll be old enough in a year or two.”
“‘Lizzie appeared, hands on her hips and chin high. “That she will not, Maeve O’Connor. That my Brigid will never do.” We packed one basket and left the rest of our poor things as payment for our stay. I held one handle, Lizzie took the other, and we were off. “Where are we heading, Lizzie?” I asked. “Is it the workhouse at Naas for us, at last?” My sister smiled. “Never.”
“‘When we crested the hill, there he was, sitting on the coachman’s bench, blazing scarlet, his black boots shining like dark mirrors. Lizzie set the basket down and shaded her eyes. The officer gave the horse a touch of the whip and drove the carriage to where we waited.
“‘I looked at my sister. She said, “Peter is taking us to Newbridge and a room of our own. Captain FitzGerald will look after us now.” And so we left with him.’” Tennant looked up from the notebook.
“Mother of God,” O’Malley whispered, stunned. “He knew the girl of old.”
“There are twenty pages more, but we’ve read enough.” He looked at the clock. “FitzGerald should be at the hospital now. Paddy, ask the duty sergeant to have two officers ready and waiting in five minutes. And flag a four-wheeler while I inform Sir Richard.”
The constables and O’Malley had assembled by the time Tennant came down. “The commissioner has ordered Major FitzGerald’s arrest.” He looked at his watch. “He’ll be at the hospital by now. Let’s go.”
“Inspector Tennant,” Sir Lionel called, pushing through the lobby doors. “Inspector, I have a name for you. Simon Flood is your man.”
“And I have a name for you, Sir Lionel.”
O’Malley peered out the cab window as it swung into the curve of the Old Sanctuary road. “Still following in his hansom,” the sergeant said. “Our comedian was right about the major all along. Shocked, he was, despite his jokes.”
“Sir Lionel had better be as good as his word and stay out of our way,” Tennant said as the cab rolled to a stop in front of Westminster Hospital.
The doctor had expected Major FitzGerald at noon, but it was nearly one, and he hadn’t appeared.
Tennant asked Sir Lionel, “Do you know FitzGerald’s address in town?”
“He has a house on Kensington Road, on the corner of Prince’s Gate.”
“Get in the carriage with us and point it out. Constables, follow in Sir Lionel’s cab.
When they arrived, FitzGerald’s butler informed them that the major was not at home.
Tennant showed the man his warrant card. “Where is he?”
“Well …” The butler adjusted his tie nervously.
“Listen carefully and answer my questions truthfully, or you risk a charge as an accessory to capital crimes. Where is Major FitzGerald?”
The butler swallowed hard. “The major packed a carpetbag and left by hansom cab.”
“What happened to make him pack up and leave?”
“Something in his morning post. As I poured a second cup of tea, he uttered an oath, crumpled the letter, and ran out of the house. Through the window, I saw him exit the carriage house minutes later. “Staggered out is a better word.”
“Take a look,” Tennant told one of the constables. “What did the major do then?”
“He asked me to hail a cab. Then he packed a carpetbag andleft. He instructed the cabbie to bring him to Charing Cross Station.”
“Charing Cross,” O’Malley said. “Heading for Dover, like as not.”
Tennant asked, “What time did the major leave?”
