The Home Straight

By Frances Gaudiano

Ireland in the early 1900s is a dangerous place to be, The Black and Tans are an unregulated force against the common man and have been let loose, hunting dissenters and torturing anyone who might have a complaint about British rule. Times are hard and people are fearful. Bridie, like her mother before her, has a way with animals, especially hor

• Language: English
• Publisher: Veneficia Publications
• Release date: Feb 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781916756144

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VENEFICIA PUBLICATIONS UK

October 2023

ISBN: 979-8-864347-42-3

Text ©Frances Gaudiano

All images are from the public domain

and modified for cover by Diane Narraway

Edited by Toni Glitz

glitzedit.co.uk

veneficiapublications.com

[e-mail]

Dedicated to my daughter, Zoe.

Sorry I never got you a pony.

GAEILGE TO ENGLISH DICTIONARY

In the text Irish Gaelic words appear in italics

Ban – white

Cailín- girl

Capall – horse

Culchie – a derogatory term for a country person (This is Irish slang, not gaelic).

Cumann na mBan – the league of women volunteers. See more in history notes.

Fiáin - wild

Girseach – girl

Mo cailín beag – my little girl

Mo chara – my friend

Mo ghrá – my love

Mo ghrá amháin – my one love

Mo leanbh – my child

Mo leannan – my sweetheart

Poitín – a strong homemade liquor

Teigh le Dia – go with God

INTRODUCTION

A Few Notes on Irish History and Personages of the Early 20th Century

Black and Tans: This force was recruited primarily from veterans of WWI to assist the constables in Ireland against the republican movement. Their name came from the mish-mash of their uniforms – part black for constables and part khaki for the British army. Unfortunately, these men were not trained to work within communities and became out of control in their reprisals on civilians, furthering Irish animosity towards the British.

Countess Markievicz: The Countess was raised at Lissadell House in Sligo (which is opened to visitors during certain times of the year).  She was taken to London to enter ‘the season’ as was expected of young women of her class. Instead, she studied art and married a Polish Count. The couple settled in Dublin in 1903. Countess Markievicz entered politics in 1908, aligning herself with the Sinn Féin party. Along with politics, she worked for the alleviation of poverty in Dublin and was influenced by the socialist, James Connolly.

As an active participant in the Easter Uprising, the Countess was imprisoned and sentenced to death, an order softened to life imprisonment on consideration of her gender. She was released in 1917 when there was a general amnesty and went on to serve in the Daíl (Irish parliament). She was not in favour of the treaty during the civil war. She died of complications due to appendicitis in 1927.

Cumann na mBan: In English, this is ‘The League of Women’. The organization was formed in 1914 as an auxiliary branch of the Irish Volunteers and later the Irish Republican Army. Cumann na mBan was heavily involved with the Easter Uprising of 1916 and all through the war for Independence as well as the Civil War in Ireland. Members worked as first aiders, spies and active combatants and provided safe houses. Probably the most famous member of Cumann na mBan was the Countess Markievicz.

Cumann na mBan did not support the treaty and aligned themselves with the IRA and the political party Sinn Féin, although some members disagreed with the more violent methods used by the IRA.  In 2014, the organization celebrated its one-hundred-year anniversary.

Easter Uprising: The uprising began on 24 April, 1916. It was led by men and women from various walks of life – academics along with working class people formed the Irish Repbulican Brotherhood. On the Easter Monday, a proclamation was read in front of the General Post Office in Dublin. This document declared Ireland a free and independent state, no longer a colony of Great Britain. Volunteers from all over Ireland had flocked to the city to form an army but they were poorly armed and not well organized. The British army moved in later in the week with heavy artillery and crushed the meagre forces of the volunteers. The leaders of the rising were captured and many executed.

Eithne Coyle: She was born in 1897 in Killult, Donegal. She joined Cumann na mBan in 1917 working on fundraising and anti-conscription campaigns (The British army were actively recruiting Irish men for WWI). Ms. Coyle also worked as Gaelic league organiser in the years of 1918-19.  During the war for Independence, she supported the IRA with information and was herself targeted by the Black and Tans, eventually getting arrested on New Year’s Day, 1921. She was sentence to three years of hard labour. During the trial, she only spoke in Irish and displayed her disregard for the court by reading a newspaper during the proceedings. She escaped from prison in October of the same year.

During the Civil War, Eithne Coyle supported the anti-treaty faction and was involved in several incidents in support of the IRA boycott on Belfast goods. She was arrested again and was the first Cumann na mBan member to go on hunger strike. 

She held the presidency of Cumann na mBan from 1926- 41. In 1935, she married a Donegal IRA man that she had been in a relationship since 1918. They had two children who both entered religious orders.

As president, Ms. Coyle may very well have written letters of commendation to members of Cumann na mBan but the letter mentioned in these pages is a product of fiction.

Irish Civil War: In December, 1921 a treaty was signed in Westminster to lay to rest the violence between Irish Republican and British forces in Ireland. This treaty divided Ireland by separating the mostly Protestant north of the country from the predominantly Catholic south of the country. The treaty was hotly contested within the republican factions and led to a war between brothers (and sisters) that lasted for two years. During this war, many prominent leaders were killed, including the hero-figure Michael Collins. It was believed that pro-treaty Collins was murdered in an ambush ordered by Eamon de Valera, who later became Taoiseach (president) of Ireland.

The pro-treaty party, also known as the ‘Free-Staters’ were assisted by weapons from the British government and were able to gain victory in 1923. This faction became known as the present-day Fianna Fáil political party while the party opposing the Anglo/Irish treaty became the present-day Fine Gael.

Irish War for Independence: Initially, there was little support for the independence movement in Ireland, however, after the Kilmainhain martyrs, the people of Ireland began to rally around the republican volunteers. The actual War for Independence is dated 1919-21 and involved mostly guerrilla tactics on the part of the Irish republicans against the British army and the Ulster volunteers. The war was ended via a treaty established in 1921, ceding the six counties of the north to Britain and establishing the rest of Ireland as a self-governing state.

James Connolly: Connolly was born in the slums of Edinburgh and upon reaching manhood, joined the British army. He was stationed in Ireland, where he met his future wife. He settled in Ireland and began work as a carter. As a working man, he was aware of the difficulties of surviving and raising a family (he had seven children) in the often dire circumstances of the common labourer. A self-educated man, Connolly studied socialism and became involved in the trade union movement. In 1896 he took on the role of organizer for the Dublin Socialist Club and went on from there to establish the Irish Socialist Republican party, amalgamating the goals of the socialist and nationalist movements in Ireland.

For a time, he worked with the socialist and trade union movements in the United States but he returned to Ireland in 1910 and helped form the Irish Labour Party as well as edit a socialist newspaper. He joined the Irish Citizen Army and while always committed to the cause of the working man, felt that independence for Ireland would further that cause. He was a leader in the 1916 uprising, was wounded, arrested and later executed at Kilmainham jail.

James Duffy and James Ward: These two young men fought for the British Empire in WWI but became disillusioned with the British government and chose to desert the army to join the republican forces in Donegal. They were arrested at a New Year’s Eve dance in Kincasslagh in 1917. Four days later they were on route to a trial and almost certain execution when their republican brothers raided the rail station at Meenbanad and freed the two men.  The incident described in this novel did take place but the description of the ambush is entirely fictional.

Joseph Sweeny: Sweeny was born in Burtonport, Donegal. His secondary education took place at St Enda’s in Dublin, where Padraig Pearse was the headmaster. From school, Sweeny joined the volunteers and saw action during the Easter Uprising and was arrested and imprisoned. After his release from prison, he returned to education to finish his studies at the University College of Dublin. He spent his summer holidays in his home county of Donegal organizing volunteer patriots.

In 1918 he was elected as a Sinn Féin representative and would have been the youngest member (aged 21) to sit in the house of commons but the party practiced absenteeism as their policy of not recognizing the British government in Ireland. Sweeny instead sat in the Daíl.

During the Civil War, Sweeny supported the treaty and was forced to turn his back on many of his compatriots in the IRA, even having to order the execution of an old friend. Joseph Sweeny served in the Irish Free State army until 1940 when he retired to his home town of Burtonport in Donegal.

Kilmainham Martyrs: 14 leaders of the Easter Uprising were executed at Kilmainham jail in Dublin between the 2 and 12th of May, 1916. Among the executed was Padriag Pearse who read out the proclamation of independence at the initiation of the uprising. His brother, Willie, was also executed at the jail, along with James Connolly and other central figures of the uprising.

Michael Collins: Born in Cork, Collins worked in London until 1916, when he returned to Ireland to join the uprising. After Easter 1916, Collins moved through the ranks of both the Volunteers and the Irish Republican Army, taking positions of authority in both organizations as well as being appointed the Minister of Finance in the first Dáil. His fame as a leader of guerrilla warfare made him a hero during the war for independence from England. In 1921, he was chosen to help negotiate a truce with Westminster which resulted in the Anglo-Irish Treaty, seceding the six counties of the north to Great Britain. The treaty was rebuffed by many leaders of the independence movement, including Eamon de Valera (later to become Taoiseach of Ireland). Collins met his end in 1922, a victim of an ambush organized by anti-treaty forces.

Padraig Pearse: Headteacher at St Enda’s school in Dublin, Padriag Pearse influenced many young men with his love for Irish culture. Gaelic was taught at the school along with the folklore and traditions of Ireland before it had become a British colony. A poet, Pearse’s skills were well utilized in rousing speeches as well as the proclamation for the independence of Ireland, which he read at the opening of the Easter Uprising. As a member of the Irish Republican Brotherhood and a leader of the rising, Pearse was executed at Kilmainham jail.

Roger Casement: Roger Casement began his career as a diplomat for the British foreign service and earned himself a knighthood for his endeavours. However, he resigned from the service and joined the Irish Volunteers, giving his assistance to the Irish independence movement. Working with Germany (then at war with Britain) Casement organized a shipment of arms to be sent to Ireland for use during the Easter Uprising. The shipment was identified by British forces and prevented from landing. Casement was taken prisoner and later executed. During his trial, his private journals were circulated and he was exposed as a homosexual, which was considered deviant at the time. This swayed public opinion against him and may have encouraged the use of the death sentence in his punishment.

Rory O’Connor: O’Connor was a highly educated man, having trained as an engineer at The University College of Dublin. He went on to work in Canada but returned to Ireland in 1915 and joined the movement for independence. As an outspoken member of the IRA, he was arrested and incarcerated in Strangeways Prison in Manchester. He managed to escape and continue his work for independence, coming out strongly against the Anglo-Irish treaty of 1921. He resisted the treaty openly and was captured and executed in 1922, becoming a symbolic martyr of the republican movement. There is no record of him recruiting in London and the speech in this novel is entirely fictional. 

There are many fascinating figures and events around the rise for Independence in Ireland. I have only touched on a few personalities that are pertinent to this novel. I do recommend further reading, especially about the women who were such an important part of the move towards an independent Ireland.

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CAPALL BAN — THE WHITE HORSE

DONEGAL, IRELAND, 1906

Your mother was a murderer! The plump, blonde girl shouted, the gaggle of girls behind her giggling with the power of group spite.

Bridie rubbed her apron between her fingers and bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling.

No, she wasn’t, she barely whispered.

She was, the girl insisted. Me mam said so. And she said I should stay away from the likes of you. Your mam was a murderer and your uncle was a rebel and was kilt dead for it. Your mam’s probably dead too but nobody knows what happened to her.

Bridie shook her head, Me mam had to go away.

A girl from the group sang out, If she ain’t dead, why hasn’t she come back to get you? Didn’t she want you?

Looking down at the ground, Bridie worked her fingers furiously in the rough fabric of her apron. She didn’t know why her mother had left her, never written or come back for her. Maybe her mam didn’t want her. She could feel the tears begin to spill out of her eyes and watched them hit the ground at her feet. Already she didn’t like going to school.

Suddenly a boy, a few years older than the taunting girls, stepped between Bridie and the little harpies.

Shut your gobs you wee eejits. You don’t know a thing. Why, Bridie’s mam is an Irish patriot and so was her uncle, both of them fighting for our independence. Bridie has every reason to be proud of her people, which is more than I can say for the lot of you! With that, he threw his arm around the weeping girl and marched her off.

And who would listen to you Diarmuid O’Toole? the blonde, Aisling, called after him but he didn’t deign to answer. After all, he was nine years old, and she was only seven.

Bridie had little choice but to trot along with Diarmuid who was towing her along. He took her to the edge of the school yard to was what was left of a crumbling stone wall. He hunkered down on the ground next to it and motioned to the space beside him.

You’re Bridie Gallagher then, he announced. Me dad was mates with your uncle. They did business together against the peelers, back in the 1890s. It was a terrible shame what happened to Donal Hegarty. He never even had a fair trial. Beaten to death on the road he was. Diarmuid shook his head, not noticing the huge round eyes of his companion.

What? Bridie managed to squeak. He turned to her and drew back in surprise.

Did your people not tell you? Donal was to be taken to Donegal Town for a trial but never got there. Me dad tried to break him free, along with your— Diarmuid just managed to stop himself. Maybe the lass didn’t know that her father had been involved and perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn’t the one to tell her.

Well, your mam then. A rich landlord’s son was threatening to kill a farmer for back rent. Rent that had been unfairly raised of course. So, your mam stopped him just in the nick of time she did. She shot that spoiled son of a … Diarmuid managed to censor himself.

She shot the landlord’s son, she did. Of course, she had to go into hiding or the landlord would have had her swing. She’s probably in America now, getting funding for the rising. She can’t write you as she is working in secret, you know.

Hh … how the small girl stuttered, do you know all this?

Diarmuid tapped the side of his nose and narrowed his eyes, glancing back towards their schoolmates, chasing each other around the yard.

I make it my business to know. I’m joining the rising as soon as I’m old enough. You and I, we come from families dedicated to an independent Ireland. We shall join the revolution and see the oppressors leave these shores. But you best keep it quiet for now. No point in getting in arguments with yon ninnies over there. Bridie nodded in agreement, adopting a serious face of respect for the older boy. She was only six, but she knew a soldier when she saw one.

Kathleen had been looking out for Bridie, walking home from her first day of school. She had considered going down the lane and meeting her half way but that would make Bridie look a baby and embarrass her among her new friends. However, she had made some fresh scones and put the kettle on in readiness to sit down and hear all the news of the day. She was disappointed to see her niece stepping along on her own. Surely, the Nolan sisters were at the farm just past them. Wouldn’t they have walked home together? But it was early days. Bridie was a bit shy. It would probably take her a few days to join up with a small crew of girls her age.

Taking the girl in her arms and squeezing her tightly, Kathleen then pushed Bridie away from her and asked how her first day at school had gone. Bridie shrugged, looking away from her but then brightened when she smelled the fresh baked goods.

Are there scones? she asked, hopefully.

There are indeed. Now sit down here at the table and we’ll have a cuppa and a bit of a chat. You’ll tell me all about the other children and what the master is like. Have you learned anything at all today?

Climbing up on the bench next to the table, Bridie said that she had learned some very interesting things. Kathleen wet the tea and poured two cups. She pushed the scones and fresh cream towards Bridie who enthusiastically began spreading the thick cream on her repast. With a cheeky grin she asked, ‘Jam?’ to which Kathleen got up and took a pot from the cupboard, dolloping a great spoonful onto Bridie’s plate. After allowing Bridie to fill herself, Kathleen reached across and wiped the girl’s face with a piece of cloth, removing the jam stuck to the side of Bridie’s mouth. Propping her elbows on the table she leaned forward,

"Now tell me girseach."

Swallowing her last bit of scone and washing it down with a great gulp of tea, Bride sat quiet for a moment, fiddling with a spoon on the table. Then she looked up at her aunt and asked,

Was your Donal a rebel?

Ah, Kathleen said, And who told you this?

A boy. A nice boy. He got the girls to stop teasing me.

What girls? Kathleen was immediately incensed. How dare any other child torture her own Bridie and on her first day of school?

All the girls, especially a fat, light-haired girl. I think her name was Aisling. She said me mam was a murderer.

For the love of God, Kathleen slapped her hand down on the table. That Maureen McMann has her nasty ways, spreading gossip along to her wee daughter. The mouth on that woman! Well, I’ll tell her a thing or two. I’ll be right down there tomorrow and give her a piece of my mind, I will. How dare that naughty girl speak to you that way and on your first day too! Do they not go to church? Jesus weeps he does, he surely weeps when people go along like that flapping their mouths.

Bridie cut in, Is it true?

Of course not. I wasn’t there, but your daddy was and Fiona herself came and told me the whole situation. The man was threatening, he was a terrible man, Fiona was only defending herself. And of course, your daddy took the blame but Fiona wouldn’t have it. Another woman would have let her husband rot in gaol, or be hung even. But not Fiona, she was a brave soul, that lass. She went straight into that gaol and told them it was herself that fired the gun. She was carrying you at the time and she wasn’t about to be having her wee babby in gaol, so she had to go on the run. She brought you to me then and well, I’m not sure what happened after that but I think your daddy knows. He doesn’t like to talk about it love, so don’t be pestering him. It makes him ever so sad, but no, your mam was no murderer. She was a lovely, sweet girl that devoted her life to helping animals. Bless her.

Is she dead then? Diarmuid said she was in America raising funds for the uprising.

Diarmuid? Diarmuid O’Toole? Seamus’s son? Oh, that figures alright. Kathleen let out a disapproving huff. So that’s who you’ve made friends with? A rapscallion like that. God help us all.

Bridie pouted.

He was nice to me. And he said Uncle Donal was a hero and so was me mam. What is a rapscallion and why is Diarmuid one?

Kathleen got up abruptly and began clearing the table.

Come along and help me prepare your daddy’s supper. He’ll come in hungry as one of me goats. And none of these questions for him just yet. I’m sure Diarmuid is a grand lad. Never mind me. Now get along and peel me some tatties.

While peeling the potatoes, Bridie thought about her mother; not an unusual course of thought for her. Like any child who has lost a parent, she was eager to learn anything she could about Fiona and had plied her aunt with questions many times previously.

What did me mam look like?

Small, like yourself, Auntie Kathleen had answered.

What colour was her hair?

Auburn, more or less. What did that mean, Bridie wondered. How could her auntie be unsure about the colour of her mother’s hair?

Another time she asked, Was me mammy a good cook? That was answered with a laugh.

Could she sew? Again, Aunt Kathleen shook her head, though she smiled all the while. "Was me mammy good at anything?

She was a healer, Kathleen replied, turning her full attention to Bridie, a healer of animals mostly. There are still people around these parts that remembered her skill, families that survived because Fiona saved their only cow or pig.

Was she as good with horses as Daddy?

As good as? Why your daddy is a clever man, but he doesn’t have half the knowledge his wife had. Or used to have.

And the hardest question, Is me mother dead?

Kathleen crouched down next to Bridie and took the child’s face in her hands, Of course, she is darling, or she would be here with you.

But where is her grave?

No one ever answered that question.

From her father, Bridie got nothing. He wouldn’t discuss his late wife. Bridie could almost remember a day when two stray dogs had come to the door. One had come tearing toward cottage, jumping up at Bridie. Thinking it was rabid, her father had shot it. The other dog had raced away avoiding the spray of gun shot. Bridie’s father had bent over the body of the dog he had killed and gasped. Sobs had burst from him; he had pounded his chest. Gathering the creature in his arms he had gone off and buried it on a small rise near the top of the field, by a fairy ring. People didn’t like to go up there as they said you could be taken away by the fae and not come back for so long that all your loved ones would be dead and gone. But her daddy was up there all the time, sitting by the dog’s grave. He had even put a marker on it. She had followed him up once and heard him talking, she heard her mother’s name, ‘Fiona’, but couldn’t make out the rest.

When he came back from these visits, her father sat on his cot in the corner, holding a book that he never opened. He just looked at the cover, ran his hands over it and then put it away in a drawer. When Bridie asked what was in the book, she was told she was too young to know. Before the dog had died, her father hadn’t been so sad. Bridie couldn’t understand why the death of a stray dog had nearly destroyed her father. He had said something about ‘shooting her own mother,’ but that made no sense and Auntie Kathleen explained that Fiona had been over fond of dogs and that killing one made Ciarán feel guilty. Bridie shook her head. It was all too complicated. Maybe the answer was in the book her daddy had, but then why didn’t he read it?

It seemed this Diarmuid boy would be a good source of information. He was a lot older than her, being nine and her only six, and he was very friendly compared to the other children. She didn’t care if her auntie thought he was a rapscallion, whatever that was.

*

School was tedious. There was so much sitting and if there wasn’t enough turf, the room grew cold. The students all wore fingerless gloves, those that could afford them, but still they found themselves blowing on their fingertips or rubbing their hands together in their laps before writing on their slates. The school master shouted at them to stop fidgeting but farm children were used to a life of physical work and had little skill for sitting still. Diarmuid seemed to find residing behind a desk more painful than most, often leaping up when he had an answer or disagreed with a lesson. He dropped his slate, broke his chalk, even managed to rip his trousers one day when sliding off the side of the bench to glimpse at another student’s work. He was no stranger to the smack of the teacher’s ruler or even the birch rod, but he never seemed to cry. Pulling up his trousers, he would grin at the class and stroll back to his desk as if he were a grand gentleman taking a walk into a fine restaurant. Once, when Bridie had been holding her fist in her mouth, frightened by the sound of the thwacking ruler, he had turned and winked at