Spies Read online

  She stood there for several minutes as adults and children alike mingled in the church yard, their demeanour lightening in many cases once they had offered their sympathy. Her father was chatting to Dr Foley, and she wondered how long more they would have to stay here when she heard a familiar voice.

  ‘Hello, Stella.’

  She turned around, and to her amazement saw Johnny Dunne. He had written her a lovely letter offering his condolence and apologising for the fact that he wouldn’t be able to make it to Balbriggan for the mass. Yet now he was here.

  ‘Johnny,’ she said. ‘I…I thought you…’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I had to be here.’

  Stella swallowed hard. She knew that Johnny had left Balbriggan in a hurry and that coming back was a risk for him. She knew too that he was more involved than ever with the rebels and was meant to be lying low while carrying out some secret mission. But he had put all of that aside to be with her in her time of need.

  ‘Oh, Johnny,’ she said. ‘I…I can’t believe you came.’

  ‘I couldn’t not come,’ he said simply.

  ‘It’s so good to see you. It…it means so much.’ Stella looked at him, and suddenly, and to her surprise, her eyes welled up with tears.

  * * *

  Alice was shocked to see Johnny. She knew that the authorities weren’t specifically looking for him – there had been too much chaos for the departure of a fourteen-year-old boots to attract much attention – but he was still taking a chance by showing up again. Alice tried to stand in her mother’s line of sight, but Mam was too alert, and she suddenly stiffened.

  She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight. ‘Is that…is that Johnny Dunne?’

  Alice looked over as though she had just noticed her friend. ‘Yes. Yes, he must have travelled all this way to sympathise with Stella.’ She hoped that by casting Johnny’s visit in a positive light Mam might overlook her anger at Johnny for leaving his job at short notice.

  ‘He’s got a cheek showing up like this.’

  ‘Mam…’

  ‘Well, he has. Not a word from him since he left. And now he just turns up. If he expects to be welcomed back with open arms he’s much mistaken.’

  ‘Some hope!’ Alice sounded sharper than she had intended and she raised her hand apologetically. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. But I’m sure coming back had nothing to do with his job. It’s hard for Stella being so far from Canada. I’m sure he just wanted to support her.’

  Her mother shrugged. ‘Maybe…’

  ‘Please, Mam. I know you’re annoyed at him. But don’t say anything. Today isn’t about you, or Johnny – it’s about Stella’s granddad.’

  Her mother paused for a moment, then nodded. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Thanks, Mam. You don’t mind if I go over and have a word with him?’

  ‘I suppose not. I need to get back and check arrangements for the reception. Don’t be too long, Alice, I could do with a hand.’

  ‘All right.’ Alice watched her mother go, then she crossed to where Johnny was chatting with Stella and Commander Radcliffe.

  ‘Johnny,’ she said, offering her hand as if they hadn’t met since his departure. ‘Good to see you again.’

  ‘You too, Alice,’ he said, shaking hands.

  ‘Johnny was telling us about travelling up from Tipperary,’ said Commander Radcliffe.

  ‘Really?’ said Alice. ‘Good journey?’

  ‘Yes, got the early train,’ answered Johnny.

  ‘Whereabouts are you working in Tipperary?’ asked Commander Radcliffe.

  ‘Thurles,’ said Johnny.

  ‘Thurles, eh? Do you like your new job?’

  ‘Eh…yes, sir. Yes, it’s fine.’

  ‘And what exactly is your role?’

  ‘Dad!’ admonished Stella. ‘You sound like you’re cross-examining, Johnny.’

  ‘Sorry, Johnny,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘Occupational hazard for a commanding officer. Always asking questions.’

  ‘It’s grand,’ said Johnny.

  ‘Why don’t I borrow Johnny, and let yourself and Stella mingle?’ suggested Alice, feeling that she needed to get Johnny away from Stella’s father. His enquiries were well-intentioned, but he was still a British officer, and Johnny would need to watch his every word to make sure he didn’t give himself away.

  ‘Thank you, Alice,’ said Commander Radcliffe, ‘a rock of sense, as ever. Nice to see you again, Johnny.’

  ‘You too, Commander.’

  ‘And good luck in the new job.’

  All three friends exchanged a quick look, then Johnny nodded. ‘Thank you. I’ll see you before I leave, Stella,’ he added as Alice led him away.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Thanks for that,’ said Johnny when they found a quiet spot near the far wall of the churchyard.

  ‘I figured it might get tricky,’ said Alice. ‘So, you came in the end.’

  ‘I had to. You and Stella have been brilliant friends. I couldn’t stay away when she’s lost her granddad.’

  ‘It will mean a lot to her, Johnny.’ Alice looked at him quizzically. ‘Will you get in trouble with the people…the people you’re working for?’

  ‘They’d have a fit if they knew I was here. But I’m off on Sundays and they think I’m gone to a football match.’

  ‘Right. And eh…any word from Athlone?’

  Johnny shook his head. ‘No. I’m…I’m not sure what to do next.’

  ‘Well, it’s only…what, about a week since you wrote?’

  ‘It’s a week exactly.’

  ‘I’d wait a while.’

  ‘And if she doesn’t answer me?’

  Alice could see the anxiety in Johnny’s face and she kept her tone upbeat. ‘If you hear nothing it doesn’t mean she’s not answering. She might have moved to another address.’

  ‘I’ve no way of knowing that.’

  ‘Well…you could always go to Athlone. It’s on a train line from Dublin.’

  ‘And do what? Check the house?’

  ‘If it comes to that. But I bet it won’t. I think she’ll answer.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll answer that she doesn’t want to see me. Maybe she’s made a new life and won’t want me showing up.’

  ‘Maybe,’ conceded Alice. ‘But I doubt it. I just…I just feel it in my bones that it’ll work out. And usually when I feel something in my bones, I’m right.’

  ‘I really hope so, Alice.’

  ‘Fingers crossed, then.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Would you like to come back to the Mill?’ said Alice. ‘Maybe we could play some music, and we’re doing food and drink for all the mourners.’ She knew that Mam wouldn’t be happy about this, but she wanted Johnny to feel wanted.

  ‘Thanks, Alice,’ he said, ‘but I’m already breaking all sorts of rules by showing my face here at all. Going to the hotel would be pushing my luck.’

  ‘I miss the three of us making music, Johnny, and chatting and…and everything..’

  ‘I do too. Badly, sometimes…’

  ‘Are you sure you won’t come back? You’d be really welcome.’

  ‘Thanks. Alice, but I’d better just have a few words with Stella, and then get back to Dublin. Safer that way.’

  ‘OK then. And talking of safety – be careful, Johnny. Please.’

  ‘I will. Honestly.’

  He said it reassuringly, but Alice feared that mightn’t be possible, and that what he was doing was always going to be risky. ‘I’ll pray that you hear from Athlone,’ she said. ‘Let me know how you get on.’

  ‘I will.’ Suddenly he reached out and touched her arm. ‘You’re the best, Alice, you really are.’

  Alice felt a lump in her throat. ‘Johnny…’

  ‘I mean it. I’ll see you when I can.’ He nodded in farewell, then crossed the churchyard towards Stella.

  Alice stood unmoving, touched by Johnny’s admission that he badly missed herself and St
ella. It must be really hard for him, she thought, all alone in Dublin. Even though she sometimes argued with Mam, she knew she could always count on her support, just as Stella could count on her father. Johnny, though, had no such support, and Alice hoped that her prayers would come true and that Johnny’s mother would answer his letter. Meanwhile she would continue to pray for his safety. It was all she could do for now and, watching him from across the churchyard, she hoped against hope that it would be enough.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Johnny cycled home excitedly. He had done a full day’s work in the telegraph office, but in his eagerness to report to Mrs Hanlon he barely noticed the incline as he pedalled up Hill Street. The day had got off to a bad start when no letter had come from Athlone in the early morning post. Then he had heard the news that Terence MacSwiney, the jailed republican mayor of Cork, who was on hunger strike in Brixton Prison, was on the brink of death.

  It had been shaping up to be a depressing Monday morning when Mr Williams had taken him aside in a quiet corner of the telegraph office.

  ‘I’ve got an assignment for you, Johnny,’ he had said.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘We’ve a tip-off that two British agents are meeting in Café Cairo.’

  ‘When is the meeting?’ asked Johnny.

  ‘They’re there right now. You need to get over to Grafton Street and watch for when they leave.’

  ‘Which one do I follow if they split up?’

  ‘This one,’ said Williams placing a photograph on the table before Johnny. It showed a heavy-set man in an officer’s uniform. ‘Don’t worry about the first fella,’ said William, ‘we know where he lives. But if you could get this one’s address that would be great. He’s one of the few we haven’t been able to pin down.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Be careful, Johnny. I can’t emphasise enough that these agents are really dangerous.’

  ‘I know. I’ll watch my step.’

  That had been this morning, and Johnny had watched his step, trailing his target very carefully when the two men had separated on leaving Café Cairo. Notwithstanding his caution he had had a bad moment when the man had suddenly done an about-face at the top of Grafton Street and walked back the way he had come. Johnny had been taken by surprise and his stomach had fluttered. He hadn’t broken stride, however, and had walked towards the agent. He had tried to look as if he didn’t have a care in the world, whistling ‘Oh! Oh! Antonio’ as he passed the man.

  Had he been noticed? It was impossible to say, and an experienced agent would surely keep his face impassive if he did spot a tail. On balance though, Johnny felt that he would have just been another face in the crowd, and he had decided to continue following his target, although from further back. To his delight it had paid off when about twenty minutes later the man had turned into Hatch Street and let himself into a tall Georgian house. Johnny had noted the address, then continued with his normal day’s work.

  On returning to the telegraph office at lunchtime Johnny had discovered that Mr Williams had gone home sick with an upset stomach, which meant that he would instead be reporting his progress directly to Mrs Hanlon. Reaching the top of Hill Street now, he turned into Gardiner Place, then locked his bicycle to the railings outside the boarding house. He quickly ascended the steps, crossed to Mrs Hanlon’s private parlour and knocked.

  ‘Johnny,’ she said opening the door and looking at him quizzically.

  ‘I’ve something for you,’ he said, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice. ‘Mr Williams had to go home sick, so I thought you’d want this. He handed her one of his telegram envelopes.

  Mrs Hanlon raised an eyebrow. ‘And this contains?’

  ‘The address of the agent in the Café Cairo. The one you don’t have.’

  ‘Excellent. Where did you follow him to?’

  ‘Hatch Street. He let himself in with a key, so I’d say he’s lodging there.’

  ‘Well done, Johnny, that’s good work.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And you were, of course, discreet?’

  Johnny thought of the moment when he had come face to face with the agent at the top of Grafton Street. But there was no point in worrying Mrs Hanlon with every little drama.

  ‘Yes, I was very careful,’ he said.

  ‘Good lad. I’ve something for you too.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Mrs Hanlon went to the dresser then returned with a white envelope. ‘This came for you.’

  Johnny felt his mouth go dry. It had to be a reply from Athlone, nobody else knew his address here. He reached out, his hand shaky as he took the letter. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I hope it’s good news, Johnny. And I’m sure you want to open it in the privacy of your room.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But before you do, there’s something I need to say.’

  Johnny’s mind was whirling, but he forced himself to concentrate as Mrs Hanlon’s steely blue eyes locked with his own.

  ‘This is an exception, Johnny.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Because of the circumstance – with the orphanage and so on – we’ve let you to use this address to try and contact your mother. But nobody else must know you’re here. Nobody.’

  ‘They don’t.’

  ‘It’s vital you keep it that way.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Have I your word on that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Johnny didn’t like deceiving her, but he knew that she would never understand if he tried to explain about having met Stella and Alice again. And besides, the girls hadn’t got this address. ‘You have my word,’ he said.

  ‘Fine. And one last thing.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘If the news in your letter is good, if perhaps you make contact in time with family members – not a word of what you’re doing here. Until your mission is over you’ve got to keep it absolutely secret.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘You’re a great lad, Johnny. And after you’ve had a chance to read your letter, maybe you’ll let me know how you got on?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Right, well, I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘OK.’ Johnny nodded, then left the room. He climbed the stairs rapidly, let himself into his room and sat down on the bed. His hand trembled as he opened the envelope and he hesitated, putting off the moment of truth. Then he unfurled the paper. The letter was two pages long and written in a good hand, and his mouth felt dry as he began to read.

  Dear Johnny,

  I’m so relieved that you’re well and I’m sorry it’s taken me several days to answer your letter. I’ve tried so many times to find the right words. But what words can explain to a son why his mother left him? All I can say is that leaving you was the saddest thing in my life. My heart was broken when I had to give you up, and when I got your letter I felt heart-broken again that we’ve lost fourteen years.

  There’s so much I want to tell you, but words on a page are not the right way, and I hope instead that we can meet in person. I’m also frightened to meet, because I think that part of you must surely be angry with me for giving you up, and if you are, no one could blame you. But if we’re face-to-face I’ll try to explain everything that happened, and why, and we can take it from there.

  So could we perhaps meet next Sunday? I could get the eight o’clock train and be in Dublin by half nine. If that suits you we could meet in Kingsbridge station and maybe spend time in the Phoenix Park?

  I can’t believe that I’ve been given this second chance, Johnny, and I pray that we can get together. Please excuse me if I’m not saying all the right things. I’m not a great penwoman, but if I get a letter back saying you’ll be in Kingsbridge all my prayers will have been answered.

  I hope to see you then.

  Your loving mother,

  Norah Dunne

  Johnny lowered the letter and sat unmoving on the bed. His emotions were in turmoil, having gone from fear of re
jection to joy at his mother’s desire to see him. He looked again at the phrase your loving mother and tears formed in his eyes. Then he turned back to the first page and, savouring every word, began to read the letter again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘So what’s going on with Johnny Dunne?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ answered Stella, knowing she had to be very cautious in responding. She was standing on the pavement with Alice and some of the other Chess Club members, warmly wrapped against the evening chill, and waiting for the club to open. The questioner was Esther Moore, the girl who had spotted Johnny cycling over O’Connell Bridge.

  ‘I heard he was back in Balbriggan,’ said Esther. ‘That he was at your granddad’s Mass last Sunday.’

  ‘Yes, he travelled up, but couldn’t stay long,’ replied Stella.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He had to get back to Dublin.’

  ‘So was I right about him working as a telegraph boy?’

  ‘Eh…yes, that’s what he’s working at.’

  ‘Even though he was supposed to be moving to Tipperary.’

  ‘That was just temporary, Esther,’ explained Alice, ‘while he was waiting for the telegraph job to come through.’

  ‘Right.’

  Stella was relieved that her friend had come up with an explanation that Esther seemed to believe. Before she could relax, however, she saw Padraig Egan was looking at her appraisingly.

  ‘So, Stella, what do you think of the death sentence on Kevin Barry?’ he asked.

  Although the boy’s tone was conversational, Stella knew that the question was hostile, and she hesitated. Kevin Barry was an eighteen-year-old rebel who had been captured after the killing of three British soldiers in Dublin the previous month. Stella had been upset by their deaths – partly because the death of any young man was sad, but also because it brought home to her that her father, as a British officer, could also be a target.