she wouldn’t step on anyone. Once clear of the bodies, she ran. The sun was starting to lighten the horizon. Soon she spotted a thatched, whitewashed cottage across a field. She made for it, keeping an eye out for soldiers all the while. A figure—a young woman, judging from the shape of her—emerged from the door of the cottage, carrying a basket under one arm. Seeing Nora, she stood stock still. Nora kept running until she reached her.
“Help,” Nora gasped, doubling over in front of the woman, who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. “I need help.”
“Are you hurt?” the girl asked, setting down her basket and taking Nora by the arm.
“No. There was an explosion on the road—”
“We heard it,” the girl said. “What happened?”
“I can explain later,” Nora said. “But a man is badly injured. He needs help. I can’t carry him myself.”
“You’d best come inside,” the girl said, looking down the road. Nora followed her into the cottage. The interior was dark, lit by a couple of oil lamps and a fire burning in the hearth at the end of the main room. The sweet, smoky smell of peat filled the room. “Ma!” the girl yelled. “Da!”
A man and a woman came out of another room behind the fireplace. “Who is this? What are you yellin’ about, Pidge?”
“She just showed up. Said that sound we heard was an explosion, and someone’s been hurt.”
Both of the adults eyed Nora suspiciously. “Who are you, then, and how d’you know about this?”
Nora glanced around the room, hoping something would give her an idea as to what kind of people these were. A tall pine dresser stood against the wall, its shelves filled with plates, bowls, and mugs. A settle bed with a high back stood against another wall. A wooden table with a bench and three chairs was the only other furniture in the room. A brooch lay on the dresser, beside a bowl of flour. It was the same brooch she’d seen in the photos Aunt Margaret had showed her of the Cumann na mBan. She took a chance on the truth.
“I was hiding from the soldiers in the woods. I fell asleep but was woken by the sound of an explosion. Then a man landed at my feet. He’s badly wounded. When I went out onto the road . . .” She shuddered. “It looked as though several men had been killed.”
“God between us and all harm!” the woman of the house exclaimed, crossing herself. Her husband and daughter did the same, and Nora followed suit.
“I came looking for help,” Nora said. “I don’t know how much longer he’ll last.” The husband and wife exchanged glances.
“I’ll collect Stephen from the field and go with the cart,” he said.
“Are you sure, Sean?” the woman said, her eyes pleading. “What if they find you there?”
“The soldiers left,” Nora said hastily. “But they said they’d come back when it was light enough to collect the bodies.” They all glanced at the window. The sun was just peeking above the fields.
“I’m allowed to drive on the roads by my own farm, am I not?” the man said hotly. “They’ve no reason to arrest me!”
“What if it’s a trap?” his wife argued with a sharp glance at Nora.
“I swear I’m telling the truth,” Nora said. “You’ll see for yourself. The mine went off maybe a mile down the road. He’s in the woods, about a hundred yards to the left of the explosion. I covered him with some branches and my coat.” At the mention of her coat, they all gave her a once-over. She was sure she looked a fright—covered in mud, with one knee torn and bleeding and her hair a wild, tangled mess. But she didn’t care. “Please, I told him I’d find help. I’ll go with you.”
“Don’t be absurd,” the woman said. “You look dead on your feet. We’ll let the men go.” She nodded curtly to her husband, who grabbed his cap and jacket from a hook on the wall and left without another word.
“I’ll go too, Ma,” the young girl said, reaching for a
“Help,” Nora gasped, doubling over in front of the woman, who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. “I need help.”
“Are you hurt?” the girl asked, setting down her basket and taking Nora by the arm.
“No. There was an explosion on the road—”
“We heard it,” the girl said. “What happened?”
“I can explain later,” Nora said. “But a man is badly injured. He needs help. I can’t carry him myself.”
“You’d best come inside,” the girl said, looking down the road. Nora followed her into the cottage. The interior was dark, lit by a couple of oil lamps and a fire burning in the hearth at the end of the main room. The sweet, smoky smell of peat filled the room. “Ma!” the girl yelled. “Da!”
A man and a woman came out of another room behind the fireplace. “Who is this? What are you yellin’ about, Pidge?”
“She just showed up. Said that sound we heard was an explosion, and someone’s been hurt.”
Both of the adults eyed Nora suspiciously. “Who are you, then, and how d’you know about this?”
Nora glanced around the room, hoping something would give her an idea as to what kind of people these were. A tall pine dresser stood against the wall, its shelves filled with plates, bowls, and mugs. A settle bed with a high back stood against another wall. A wooden table with a bench and three chairs was the only other furniture in the room. A brooch lay on the dresser, beside a bowl of flour. It was the same brooch she’d seen in the photos Aunt Margaret had showed her of the Cumann na mBan. She took a chance on the truth.
“I was hiding from the soldiers in the woods. I fell asleep but was woken by the sound of an explosion. Then a man landed at my feet. He’s badly wounded. When I went out onto the road . . .” She shuddered. “It looked as though several men had been killed.”
“God between us and all harm!” the woman of the house exclaimed, crossing herself. Her husband and daughter did the same, and Nora followed suit.
“I came looking for help,” Nora said. “I don’t know how much longer he’ll last.” The husband and wife exchanged glances.
“I’ll collect Stephen from the field and go with the cart,” he said.
“Are you sure, Sean?” the woman said, her eyes pleading. “What if they find you there?”
“The soldiers left,” Nora said hastily. “But they said they’d come back when it was light enough to collect the bodies.” They all glanced at the window. The sun was just peeking above the fields.
“I’m allowed to drive on the roads by my own farm, am I not?” the man said hotly. “They’ve no reason to arrest me!”
“What if it’s a trap?” his wife argued with a sharp glance at Nora.
“I swear I’m telling the truth,” Nora said. “You’ll see for yourself. The mine went off maybe a mile down the road. He’s in the woods, about a hundred yards to the left of the explosion. I covered him with some branches and my coat.” At the mention of her coat, they all gave her a once-over. She was sure she looked a fright—covered in mud, with one knee torn and bleeding and her hair a wild, tangled mess. But she didn’t care. “Please, I told him I’d find help. I’ll go with you.”
“Don’t be absurd,” the woman said. “You look dead on your feet. We’ll let the men go.” She nodded curtly to her husband, who grabbed his cap and jacket from a hook on the wall and left without another word.
“I’ll go too, Ma,” the young girl said, reaching for a
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