Rebel Sisters (13 page)

Hannah had passed with honours and would progress in her training.

Muriel was quaking with nerves by the time she was called into the office.

‘Miss Gifford, I am pleased to say that you have passed your exams,' said Miss Haughton.

‘Oh, that is such a relief!' she gasped, delighted that despite her fears she had managed to pass her exams.

‘You must be pleased, for I know that you were ill, Miss Gifford. You must have worked very hard.'

‘Yes,' she nodded, close to tears.

‘Now you must decide on the next stage: whether to continue getting more experience on the wards here, or to accept nursing assignments?'

Muriel sat there, unsure.

‘You are quite well again?' the woman probed. ‘Are you finding the wards too much for you since you returned on duty?'

‘No, I'm fine …' She trailed off.

‘Physical stamina is very much a requirement of nursing and I worry if you are strong enough. Dr Stevenson said that you looked very drawn the other day and that he was concerned for you.'

Muriel wanted to refute what Miss Haughton was saying, deny it, but she couldn't. She knew in her heart that she wasn't as strong as Lucinda or Hannah, or most of the probationers for that matter.

‘You have passed your exams and are a bright, intelligent young woman, Miss Gifford, but there is a doubt in my mind whether you should continue your training as a nurse by getting experience working here at Sir Patrick Dun's with us.'

Muriel sat silent. She should fight and beg, like Lucinda, for another chance to continue, but she knew somewhere deep inside that she didn't fit in. She cared deeply for her patients and for nursing them, but she suspected that she wasn't strong enough or tough enough for the day-to-day routine of nursing. Some of it she hated, no matter how hard she tried.

‘We obviously hope that you will progress your nursing career', but there is no shame in not continuing,' said the superintendent gently. ‘Once they have passed their exams, many of my nurses or probationers leave to get married or for family reasons, or because they simply just want to do something else. You have passed your exams and I promise that you will have a good reference as far as I am concerned.'

Muriel did not know what to say or do.

‘Perhaps you can give the matter some consideration, Muriel, and we can discuss it again on Thursday. I will see you at two o'clock.'

Her friends congratulated her on passing her exams and she longed to confide in them about her situation, but she was on duty all week and had to work. She was an adult and it was her decision, one that only she could make.

By Thursday her mind was made up. The superintendent was right, and with great reluctance and a heavy heart Muriel agreed to resign officially from her probationary nurse training. Miss Haughton made it clear that, given the circumstances, there could be no refund of the fees paid by her father.

‘I think that you have made a wise decision, Miss Gifford, and though you may feel rather let down about it all at present, I have no doubt that as an intelligent young woman you will continue to make a worthwhile contribution to society and your fellow man. I wish you luck in the future.' Superintendent Haughton smiled kindly as she walked her out to the corridor. ‘We thank you for your service to the hospital and our patients.'

By the time she reached home Muriel was utterly dejected and tearful. She confided in Nellie and Grace about what had happened and how it had been her decision.

‘I am just glad that you are home and safe and well.' Grace hugged her.

‘Muriel, I've been so worried about you. For the past few months you've looked so drained and exhausted. Some days I wondered if you were even happy with what you were doing,' said Nellie, who had an uncanny knack of seeing things more clearly than most other people. ‘I know it is upsetting for you, but there are plenty of other things to do in life, I promise you.'

‘What will Mother and Father say? What will I tell them?'

She worried how her parents would take such news. They had been badly upset when Ada had announced out of the blue in February that she was going to live in America and that she and Ernest would sail together on the
Celtic
to New York. Then Grace's twin brother, Cecil, had decided that he no longer wanted to work for Father and left for America too. Now they faced another disappointment with the news of her decision to leave Sir Patrick Dun's.

Muriel made them both sit down as she explained the situation.

‘Oh, what a relief!' gushed Mother. ‘Thank heaven that you have finally seen good sense and no longer have to work in that awful place. Every time you crossed our door, Muriel, I was waiting for one of us to come down with some terrible contagion or infestation or illness that you had brought from that hospital. My poor father met his death in such a fashion, helping sick parishioners.'

Muriel was surprised by such unexpected support from her mother.

‘I did warn you about the demands of such a career,' Mother added knowingly. ‘Nursing is not meant for a refined young lady like you.'

Muriel could see Father taking in every word of what she had said. And then he spoke.

‘It is good news that you passed your exams, Muriel dear, and have achieved some nursing qualifications and experience, which I'm sure will stand you in good stead for the rest of your life, but I agree with your mother. I too am relieved to have you home here with us where you belong. I was worried that you might be like your sister or brothers and want to work overseas, nursing in some foreign hospital. I couldn't bear it.'

‘I am sad about leaving Sir Patrick Dun's,' she said, suddenly tearful. ‘I thought that you would both be angry and disappointed in me over what has happened. I feel that I have let everyone down.'

‘How can you think such a thing!' exclaimed Father. ‘All we want, Muriel, is for you to be happy and well.'

‘Muriel dear, I sometimes wonder if you know us at all.' Mother sounded puzzled as she returned to her delicate embroidery stitching. ‘Honestly, Frederick, where did we get such daughters?'

MURIEL FELT AS
if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She had not realized how much the day-to-day physical demands of nursing had affected her.

‘I think you nurses are treated like slaves,' remarked John angrily, announcing that she intended to write an article for
Bean na hEireann
about the terrible situation young trainee hospital nurses in Ireland found themselves in. Muriel tried to persuade her to drop the matter, as people would assume she had inspired the article.

‘We talk about equality for women and women's rights,' her sister persisted. ‘Someone has to write about this situation. Nursing is a noble profession, but I say it is drudgery. It is not noble for a girl to work such hours, not be paid and be treated so badly, and I intend writing about it.'

Muriel sighed, realizing that John had dug her heels in and would not change her mind.

She kept up her friendship with Hannah, Lucinda and a few of the other girls, but her young doctor friend Andrew barely noticed her absence as he had already turned his attention to some new probationer.

Her eldest sister, Kate, surprised them by announcing her engagement to a Welsh man she had come to know and of whom she had grown very fond – Mr Walter Harris Wilson.

Mother took the news badly.

‘How could Kate marry such a man?' she railed angrily, for not only was Mr Wilson a Catholic but, worse still, her daughter had decided to convert to his faith for their marriage in Holyhead in Wales.

‘But, my dear, you too married a Catholic, and ours has been a good marriage,' Father reminded her. ‘We should be pleased that our Kate has found someone to love and care for her instead of remaining unmarried for the rest of her life.'

Mother reluctantly shook her head.

‘Then we will have no more of it. We will write to congratulate them and invite her to bring Mr Wilson over to Ireland to visit us.'

Muriel joined her parents for two weeks in Greystones, swimming every day, going for jaunts in the pony and trap and taking long walks. The sea air and exercise revived her spirits. When they returned to Dublin, leaving their parents behind, she and her sisters made the most of having 8 Temple Villas to themselves by hosting a constant round of lunches, dinners and parties. The house was filled with friends during those summer weeks.

They wrote to Mr MacDonagh inviting him to join them and a few friends for a long late breakfast. Muriel was delighted when he accepted. He was such good company, easy and quick-witted but with a great kindness. He was studying for a degree in Irish, French and English at University College Dublin and his head seemed always full of ideas. They sat around listening as he regaled them with stories and told them of a new poem he was working on.

At one stage Mother and Father returned from Wicklow for two nights, as they had tickets to go to the Theatre Royal to see the world-renowned Italian tenor Enrico Caruso perform. He took his Dublin audience by storm.

‘His voice is like no other,' proclaimed Mother afterwards, admitting to being moved to tears by his singing.

Father, who was a keen fan of opera, had also enjoyed the performance. ‘Such a voice feeds the spirit and soothes the soul like nothing else,' he said, slowly sipping a whiskey before retiring for the night.

Muriel missed the hospital but resolved to keep herself busy. She had enrolled in Gaelic-language classes and agreed to assist Mother and Reverend Harris with their church's fundraising campaign to provide beds for a hospital in India. She also joined Inghinidhe na hEireann, telling Helena Molony that she was available and would be very honoured to help with anything that they were organizing.

MURIEL SLIPPED INTO
her seat in the Abbey Theatre, nodding across at Thomas MacDonagh who was sitting only a few seats away from her. Grace had persuaded her to come along to see
Deirdre of the Sorrows
. Sadly, its author, John Millington Synge, had not lived to see its staging. He had died last March and it was left to Willie Yeats and Synge's fiancée, the actress Molly Allgood, to complete the play. As in Synge's previous plays, Muriel was glad to see that Molly was taking the lead role.

This time there were no riots or objections to Synge's play as there had been three years ago when his
Playboy of the Western World
was first staged; the audience were moved instead by the story of Deirdre's loss of her beloved and her tragic end. Muriel tried in vain to hide her emotions as they got up to leave the theatre; concerned, both Grace and MacDonagh offered her a handkerchief.

‘Synge was steadfast and true, a fine writer, and I will always hold him in high regard,' MacDonagh said, glancing at the empty stage.

Muriel knew Synge had directed MacDonagh's first play in the Abbey and that MacDonagh had strongly defended
The Playboy of the Western World
and after Synge's death had written a fulsome tribute praising his life and work.

As they walked towards the foyer he told them he was engaged in writing a new play as well as a book of poetry. He always seemed to have endless energy and enthusiasm and these days their paths regularly crossed. Muriel valued his friendship and looked forward to their meetings, but she suspected as they took their leave of him that MacDonagh already had a romantic involvement.

She herself had begun recently to see a Mr George Murray. He was, she supposed, rather handsome and certainly most attentive. Gabriel had first introduced them, and George had invited her to a concert, then a recital, then to dinner a number of times. She enjoyed his company but found him rather old-fashioned and self-conscious. At thirty-eight years of age, with a successful insurance business, he believed that it was time for him to consider the next stage of his life – marriage, family and the purchase of a large home of his own. Muriel guessed that, even though their relationship was still at an early stage, somehow she was part of this plan.

‘George is far too stuffy for you,' warned John as she and Grace joined the crowds in the Round Room of The Rotunda in March for a talk organized by the Irishwomen's Franchise League. British suffragette leader Christabel Pankhurst got a rousing welcome as she stood up to speak to them.

‘Votes for women!' chanted the audience loudly. ‘We want votes for women!'

Hanna Sheehy-Skeffington, the organization's founder, explained to the packed hall that Irish women must join the fight for women's emancipation alongside their suffragette sisters in Britain as John Redmond, the leader of the Irish Parliamentary Party in Westminster, and Herbert Asquith, the British prime minister, were both equally opposed to supporting the Women's Franchise Bill.

‘A woman having the right to vote is a threat to such men and their parties!'

‘It is appalling that Irish and British MPs have no care for the women they are supposed to represent,' Grace declared angrily. ‘That is why we must have the vote, so we can elect better people to represent us.'

John scribbled furiously in her notepad throughout the meeting. Muriel wished that she possessed such a talent. Her sister, now a well-respected journalist, had become a regular contributor to Arthur Griffith's
Sinn Fein
, the nationalist newspaper, and had introduced Muriel to Griffith, who along with his friends took them all out rowing in a boat in Sandycove. Griffith was full of praise for her sister's work.

Grace, too, was getting more regular commissions for her witty sketches and drawings, and of late had been working with Fred and Jack Morrow on some designs for new Theatre of Ireland productions.

Muriel wished that she could find something to engage and interest her in a similar fashion.