Page 200 of The Missing Sister

‘Most of us. I’m frightened, Nuala, for the first time; I’m frightened that people will find out that I was part of the ambush that killed Michael Collins, and that they’ll come after me.’

‘But you weren’t part of it, Finn; you told me just now that you’d already left and were coming home to me. There were so many out on the streets last night, who’d travelled back from Clonakilty with a bellyful of porter, so drunk they could hardly stand up. They’ll not be knowing where you were. If anyone asks, you were here with your wife and child last night. I’ll swear to it on the Bible if I have to. Sure, there’ll be Masses said for Mick all over Ireland and we should go.’

‘We should, yes, and I’ll say a prayer for a man that I didn’t kill with my own hands, but will forever feel as if I did.’

‘Well, you didn’t, Finn, and you must try to remember that you were just following orders, like any soldier in battle.’

‘You’re right, of course.’ Finn wiped his hands harshly across his streaming eyes. ‘I’d doubt Tom Hales or a single one of us thought for a moment ’twould be Mick that would get it. We just wanted to have a go at the Dublin lot, remind them that there were many of us still out here, fighting for the republic we’d dreamt of. Jesus, Nuala, Mick was the head of our new government! Why was the man riding around in an open-topped car? And where were the soldiers who were meant to protect him when they were needed?’

‘I’d say that Mick didn’t think anyone down here in West Cork would want him dead. He was amongst his own, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, or so he thought.’

‘And from the state of those back from their drink with him last night, he and the soldiers must have downed a few with them. They weren’t on the lookout, were they?’

‘You’re right, Nuala. Mick was always one for the party and a drink. Whatever their politics, people loved him down here.Weonce loved him; he was one of us...’ Finn began to cry again.

‘Now then, how about I fill the tub with some nice warm water and you go clean yourself up? Then I’ll lay out a shirt and some trousers and you, me and Maggie will take a walk outside, so our neighbours can see that you’re here and mourning for Mick with them. You’re respected, Finn, you teach the children at the village school. Sure, no one’s going to want to see you harmed.’

Nuala spoke with a confidence she didn’t feel, but whatever it took to console her devastated, frightened husband, she’d do and say.

As she made to move, Finn caught her, drew her roughly into his arms and kissed her hard on the lips. When he eventually pulled away, his eyes were wet again. ‘God help me, Nuala Casey, I’m spending the rest of my life being grateful for the woman I have for my wife.’

The mood in the week after the ambush that killed Mick Collins was sombre. Everywhere she went, Nuala saw windows hung with the black of mourning, and grown men weeping in the streets. The newspapers were full of tributes to the man who’d been born on West Cork soil. There was a great deal of local upset when Michael Collins’s body was buried in Dublin, rather than locally where he’d been birthed.

Nuala, Finn and Maggie joined a Mass held in Timoleague church on the day of his burial. She had never seen the church so full, and recognised many of the men who had been fighting against him. Her whole family was present, joined together in grief for a man who’d given them the belief, strength and courage to begin the revolution. And had now made the ultimate sacrifice himself, aged only thirty-two, and already Chairman of the Provisional Government of Ireland.

Outside the church, both Hannah and Ryan were inconsolable. As Nuala passed her sister, Hannah reached out and grabbed her to whisper in her ear.

‘I hope you and that husband of yours are happy. You’ve both got what you wanted, haven’t you? Don’t be telling me Finn wasn’t involved in the ambush – I know very well he was and so do many others around these parts.He’sthe one who deserves to be lying in a grave, not the saviour of Ireland,’ she hissed through her tears.

Nuala didn’t tell Finn what her sister had said, as there was no point worrying him any more than he was already.

Two nights later, he told her he was going out to a brigade meeting.

‘You’re not to be fretting, Nuala, I’m telling them the fight is over for me. I’ll not put you and Maggie at risk any longer for a cause that’s already lost.’

As it was a warm August evening, Nuala sat outside in the garden. Maggie – who was just sitting up – sat on a blanket, playing with the toy dog that Finn had carved from a piece of wood.

‘Perhaps that’ll become Daddy’s new hobby now he’s retiring from war,’ she said to her daughter. Despite the tragic events that had occurred, and the fact they’d lost the dream of their beloved republic, part of Nuala felt relieved. Ireland’s path was still unclear, but she could now imagine a more peaceful future, without the terrible lump of fear that had sat in her stomach for so long. At last, the three of them could concentrate on being a family, and with the prospect of Principal O’Driscoll at Clogagh School soon retiring, Finn would take over and they’d have more money to spare.

‘Maybe your mammy could think about getting a part-time job in the local pharmacy, what with her nursing training,’ she cooed to Maggie, as she picked her up to get her ready for bed.

Finn had not arrived back by eleven, but Nuala did her best not to panic.

He’s probably got caught up chatting, she told herself, as yet again she mounted the stairs alone to bed.

Exhausted from the past few days, Nuala fell asleep easily. It was only when she heard a loud banging on the front door that she woke with a start.

Looking out of the bedroom window, she saw Christy with Sonny, another man from the village, standing below.

Running down the stairs, she opened the door.

With one glance at the expression on their faces, she knew.

‘Finn’s been shot, Nuala, up near the Dineen Farm,’ said Christy.

‘I found him in my field as I was walking home from the meeting. He’d been thrown into a ditch,’ said Sonny.