Women of Courage by Tim Vicary

Author:Tim Vicary [Vicary, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Historical, Literary, Historical Fiction, British, Irish, Literary Fiction, British & Irish
Amazon: B00TNPE4FU
Publisher: White Owl Publications
Published: 2015-02-14T06:00:00+00:00

Then she said: ‘All right, Father. I’ll arrange the dinner for you.’

Kee said: ‘I don’t believe it!’

‘It’s true, sir. I’m quite sure it was her.’

The young detective flushed. He had only recently been promoted from the uniformed branch, and he was anxious to do well. But he was not immune to the resentment felt by many of his colleagues for the two blunt Ulstermen who had been brought in over the heads of southern Irish officers to run G Division. The detective, Allan Foster, was a tall, well-built young man, and now he had to stand to attention and look down at Kee, who was apparently calling him a liar.

‘Listen, Foster. You know who this young woman is? Her father’s on the General Staff in Dublin Castle. He owns a house in Merrion Square, and half of west Galway as well. The man’s a bosom friend of Lord French himself. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I knew most of it, sir, yes.’

‘And you mean to tell me that his one and only daughter spent part of last night somewhere in a godforsaken rat-infested tenement in one of the worst slums in this city? With someone who might have been a Sinn Feiner?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Foster stood rigidly to attention, staring into the air somewhere over Kee’s head. Kee looked at him, sensing his hostility. Then he sat down behind his desk and waved his arm at a chair. ‘Sit down, for God’s sake, and relax. Let’s go through it again, shall we? You followed her from Merrion Square, you say. And you’re quite sure it was Miss Catherine? Not a maid, for instance, taking money to her relatives?’

Foster looked pained. ‘I’ve been watching her for a week now, sir. I know what she looks like.’

So do I, Kee thought. It’s a memorable face, too. Those clear, innocent-looking eyes; a general air of fragile delicacy as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. ‘Go on.’

‘Well, she’s been out three times alone in the past couple of weeks. I’ve already reported that, sir.’

‘Yes. To the Gaelic League in Parnell Square. To learn bog Irish, as far as we can make out.’

‘Sir. And I’ve seen her with the same young man there. I think he fits the photo you gave me, but it’s hard to be sure.’

Kee nodded. Sean Brennan. It made sense. ‘So. Tell me about last night. She came out of the house on her own, did she?’

‘She did that, sir. At first I thought she was off to Parnell Square again but when she got over the river she turned right, up Amiens Street towards the North Circular.’

‘I know it.’ Kee nodded. It was not so far from North Strand, where the dead boy Savage had had his rooms.

‘Well, I kept her in sight, sir, all the way, and she met the young fellow at the junction with Portland Row. They had a brief discussion, then they went to a pub for a drink. I thought I’d lost them there, because it wasn’t the sort of place I could be in myself alone for long without exciting comment.

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