Rebel Sisters by Marita Conlon-Mckenna Page A

their brown and grey tweeds and woollens? She certainly caused a bit of a stir. She offered not only to write or provide some artwork, but also to sell her diamond brooch to raise funds for the journal. Honestly, she is an extraordinary woman, unconventional to say the least. We took the tram home together and I have to say I do like her.’
    John encouraged Grace to send samples of her work to the new journal’s editor, Nora Dryhurst, a well-respected Irish journalist and suffragette who lived in London but had offered at the meeting to help with editing and setting up
Bean na hEireann
while she was in Dublin. John had become friendly with the older journalist, who was very encouraging about her writing career.
    â€˜I met her daughter Sylvia in London,’ said Grace. ‘She is a friend of Ernest’s.’
    â€˜Nora Dryhurst is a fine journalist,’ enthused John. ‘When I told her that Ernest is coming home on holidays she said we must have afternoon tea together. So I have invited her to come here for tea next week.’
    Mother was barely able to disguise her surprise at the petite, intelligent, pretty, middle-aged suffragette sitting in their drawing room and telling tales of political intrigue and scandals in London.
    â€˜Working as a journalist, one has to always be curious,’ Nora Dryhurst declared.
    â€˜And what do you do with such knowledge?’ Mother asked.
    â€˜Why, Isabella, I edit it and then write it in my column. That is what I am paid to do.’
    â€˜I wish that I could find such stories, but Dublin is a bit of a backwater,’ admitted John enviously.
    Grace could not help but smile to see how Mrs Dryhurst was well able to charm and get her way around Mother.
    â€˜I’m afraid I have to leave you, Nora,’ Mother apologized after a while. ‘Sidney should have given me better notice of your visit, but I had already made other arrangements with one of my neighbours and cannot let her down. Perhaps we will meet again.’
    â€˜I’m sure that we will, Isabella dear,’ replied Nora, smiling as she stood up to say goodbye to her.
    â€˜Your mother is nothing like what you told me!’ she teased John and Ernest.
    She enquired about Muriel’s work as a nurse. ‘It is such a wonderful vocation, my dear, but the work is so demanding. I have no doubt that you give great care and comfort to all your patients.’
    â€˜The wards are always so busy,’ Muriel agreed, ‘but it is rewarding.’
    â€˜Now, Grace dear, tell me about your artistic endeavours.’
    â€˜I have had a few caricature sketches published in two newspapers,’ Grace replied ruefully, ‘but little else for the past few weeks.’
    â€˜Talent often takes time to be discovered,’ said Mrs Dryhurst gently. ‘But often giving a push in the right direction can prove very helpful. I’m invited to George Russell’s home on Sunday. I never miss his salons when I am in Dublin, as he is what I would call a renaissance man, blessed with the type of intellect that is open and interested in everything and everyone. Why don’t you all come along with me? It’s a wonderful place to meet people – contacts that might prove useful.’
    â€˜George Russell knows everyone!’ John laughed, delighted at the invitation. ‘His salons are famous.’
    â€˜Then it is agreed that we will all go.’ The older woman clapped her hands in delight. ‘And Ernest, will you escort the ladies on Sunday?’
    Embarrassed, Ernest flushed slightly, but with a little persuasion agreed that he too would attend.
    â€˜But as I said, George’s is always rather different, so we must dress up and find the right costumes for such an evening. What do you say?’
    â€˜Yes,’ agreed Grace excitedly, knowing that an invitation to George Russell’s At Home was considered a great entrée to Dublin’s literary and