I'm so glad that the last chapter got more interest and I thank you all for the reviews.

April (Part 1)

The room was barely wide enough to fit a single bed with an iron frame and a tall narrow chest of drawers. An old oval braided rug, faded enough that the colors had blended into muted shades of gray and brown, covered most of the floor space but it fulfilled its purpose of muffling footsteps. Like the rug, the wall paper that covered all four walls and peeling in places here and there had faded to an undiscernible pattern. A large wooden cross nailed on the wall above the bed was the room's only decoration that is if one considered such a thing decoration. Light filtered into the room from a narrow window that ran the length of the wall but was too high up to see out of and, surprisingly, from a square skylight that covered a good third of the room's ceiling.

Placed in front of the chest and beside the bed was a hard straight back wooden chair. From her perch on the chair, Sybil watched the gentle rise and fall of the young lad's bare chest as he slept peacefully. For the first time in two days she had been able to coax the lad into eating and he had slowly devoured the chicken broth with tiny bits of carrots and potato she had made before falling in to this peaceful sleep. His chest and right arm were swathed in bandages covering the damage inflicted by a multitude of shotgun pellets. He'd been lucky that the shooter was a poor shot or too far away and that the two heavy sweaters he was wearing had prevented more serious damage. Then again, as her hand brushed a lock of his light brown hair off his forehead, Sybil supposed if he had been truly lucky he wouldn't have been in such a position to be shot in the first place.

No matter what he was far too young to be lying here in this bed in this dull and uninviting room hidden among a warren of oddly shaped rooms. But that was the foolishness of young lads thought Sybil. Tears welled in her eyes as she was suddenly reminded of other young lads, boys she had grown up with playing hide and seek and sardines, boys who had danced and laughed with her during her season, boys who had blithely rushed off to fight the Germans as if war was just an adventure, something to do before they settled down as country squires. But that war wasn't the lark they thought it would be and far too many of them never come back to those country estates or Eaton Square mansions. She looked at this lad's cheap pants that were a size or two too big for him, hand-me-downs she supposed from an older brother, that had been held up by a strand of rope instead of a proper leather belt. She had been in Ireland long enough to know that this lad didn't have the bright future that those long gone childhood friends of hers had had.

Sybil shook her head and with the back of her hand wiped away her tears. While she may agree with his cause, freedom for Ireland, she did have a slight tinge of guilt for her reason to be doing this work wasn't so much the noble cause of working for Irish independence but rather keeping up the medical skills she had learned treating the wounded warriors of the Great War.

"How is he today?"

The man's gruff voice brought Sybil out of her reverie. She didn't know the man, he hadn't introduced himself during his other two visits, but his height and bulk made him imposing and his steely stare was a bit scary. Unlike so many she had met here his voice lacked the melodic Irish accent she found so pleasant; his was sharper and at times hard to understand but there was no misunderstanding his disdain for her despite the work she was doing.

"Much better" she replied looking at the man before rising from her chair.

She looked him in the eye to try to show she wasn't afraid of him before turning her attention to gathering up the discarded bloody bandages and placing the few medical supplies she had in one of the drawers of a narrow oak chest next to the bed.

"We're here to take him" his voice as flat as if he were talking about one of the chairs or tables Fergus (she no longer called him Mr. O) offered for sale downstairs.

Once again she looked up at the man. Although she thought it too soon she knew the man wouldn't listen to her and besides it was dangerous for her and Fergus and the lads working for him to have this boy here. "His wounds must be kept clean to ward off infection. He'll have to come back here or to Dr. Byrne's office for removal of the stitches in ten or twelve days."

Rather than replying to her, the man nodded to two men standing in the doorway that Sybil hadn't noticed before. One of them was holding upright a homemade stretcher. She was surprised at how gentle the two were in putting the still sleeping lad on the stretcher but noticing the resemblance between the lad and one of them she imagined they might be brothers. The one she thought might be his brother gave her a smile and a nod of his head in gratitude before walking out of the room holding one end of the stretcher.

She followed them down the stairs and into the workshop where furniture was repaired and restored. They didn't elicit a glance from the lad varnishing a beautifully restored sideboard or the lad staining a tall but narrow chest of drawers. Following the large man, the men carried the stretcher to a lorry that had been backed partially into the open garage-like doorway, far enough anyway so that no one in the alley could see what was being loaded into it.

Sybil didn't stop to watch them load the stretcher into the back of the lorry but continued walking through the workshop, part of a large rectangular room that was divided by several curtains into a workshop and a warehouse. The warehouse section, like the workshop, also had a large wooden garage-like door which was currently closed but sunlight filtering in through the large windows highlighted dancing dust motes. Sybil walked across the warehouse and unlocked a wide door that led into the actual furniture shop. The door was often left open so that Fergus could keep watch over both the shop and the workshop. But on those occasions when there was a "patient" or someone using one of the small rooms above the workshop the door was kept closed and locked to prevent a customer from wandering in and seeing something, or rather someone, they shouldn't.

In the shop which was crammed haphazardly with pieces of furniture, Sybil found Fergus placing a sold tag on a small sideboard. Looking up from his work, Fergus raised his brow in a questioning look and Sybil nodded in silent reply.

"The water should be ready for a cup of tea" Fergus said as turned back to his work and placed another sold tag on a wooden lounge chair with a thin cushions for the seat and back.

Sybil fixed two mugs of tea and taking one of them sank into a cushioned wingback chair that Fergus had placed behind the counter just for her. She took a sip of tea, closed her eyes, and gave a sigh of contentment.

"Just what I needed" she murmured as Fergus sat down beside her on the wide square stool that he preferred.

Smiling smugly she glanced at the recently tagged sideboard and chairs and then back at Fergus. "I told you those would quickly sell."

Conceding that he had made those purchases at the behest of Sybil he said "maybe I should take you along on more buying outings."

Looking quite pleased Sybil took another sip of her tea. Although the disappointment at not securing a nursing job was always with her, she was surprised at how much she enjoyed working in the furniture shop. It wasn't as demanding physically or mentally as nursing but she found it interesting. The customers ranged from frugal university students to secretaries and shop clerks who could now afford their own flats, to newlyweds furnishing their first house or flat together to the occasional wealthier bargain hunter. Although most were Irish she was no longer surprised when she heard an English accent.

What was more interesting to her was seeing the transformation of scarred or battered pieces of furniture from chairs to tables to armoires transformed into useable and often elegant pieces. She had even worked on some pieces and took great pride when an item she had refinished or restored sold. But as her pregnancy advanced she found it harder to do such work.

A whole new area of interest arose with Fergus taking her on some of his purchasing forays at auctions and estate sales. And then there were the … she wasn't sure what she'd called it … when they entered abandon buildings looking for salable items that had been left behind or found pieces of furniture thrown curbside.

Fergus looked at Sybil as she contentedly sat in the chair drinking her tea. He would never admit that he had ulterior motives when he rented the upstairs flat to Tom and Sybil and how pleased he was that both had suited his purposes but he was surprised at just how fond he had become of them especially this English Lady. If only all of her kind was like her he thought.

"It's lovely Tom" Sybil cooed in that way she had as she looked around the room with its walls painted an azure blue and trimmed with stark white mouldings. The blue and white striped coverlet on the double bed and three seascape paintings contributed to give the room a nautical feel as was appropriate for a hotel in this seaside village.

Although this wasn't the fanciest or most expensive hotel in town, Tom agreed the room was quite nice. It had helped that when the owner saw Sybil, whose belly now extended enough that clothes no longer hid her "delicate" condition, had said that since the hotel wasn't even half full with it being too early for the summer tourists she'd give them one of the better rooms, one of the few with a toilet and wash sink. I know what it's like to need to use the loo two or three times in the middle of the night ducky she had quietly whispered to Sybil.

Yet as they had taken the staircase up to their room Tom couldn't quite shake that nagging sensation he had. Despite there being a perfectly fine tramway that ran the 10 miles or so from central Dublin to Howth, Fergus had insisted that Tom drive one of the furniture vans and had even given him money for the gasoline. It'll give you an opportunity to see how it runs Fergus at said. Back in 1914 Howth had been a center of gun-running and Tom knew a local branch of Sinn Féin was still active in the area. And it had been Fergus who had recommended this hotel supposedly run by a cousin of his dear late wife. As Tom ascended the broad carpeted staircase to the second floor he couldn't help but wonder if there was a particular reason Fergus wanted the van fitted with its secret compartment here in Howth.

Spotting the French doors on the far wall Sybil rushed over and flung it open. "We have our own balcony" she gushed as she stepped out on the balcony. "Oh Tom come look at this view."

Flinging their small bag onto the bed, Tom joined Sybil on the balcony from which they had a picturesque view of Howth's harbor with its two piers jutting out into the Irish Sea and forming an almost U shaped shelter for an array of mostly brightly painted red or blue fishing boats. A few boats, their white sails in stark contrast to the deep blue of the sea and the lighter blue of an almost cloudless sky bobbled gently past the lighthouse that stood guard at the end of the longer pier. In the distance a small rocky outcropping, a tiny abandoned island called Ireland's Eye, rose up from the sea.

"Aye it is beautiful" Tom remarked. Wrapping his arm around Sybil he continued "I was afraid my childhood remembrances of here might have just been child's fantasy. Of course back then I wasn't into scenery but fantasized about taking a boat ride or watching the fisherman come in with the catch almost tasting that delicious fish we'd have for our lunch.""

Returning his smile with one of her own, Sybil leaned her head on Tom's shoulder. "I think it's just perfect."

"Actually" Tom started before kissing the top of her head and then continuing "I think this is even better than I remember."

They stood there holding on to each other, admiring the view and basking in the welcomed sunshine of the late April day.

"Do you know Tom the only other time I've been in a hotel was the Swann Inn?"

Surprised by this Tom pulled away so he could directly look into Sybil's eyes but before he could say anything she said "and this is so much nicer don't you think?"

He looked once again out at the harbor and the sea beyond and then at Sybil. Giving her that now familiar lop-sided grin he said "and this time I won't be sleeping in a chair."

She laughed. "Don't count your chickens before they hatch Mr. Branson we'll have to see how the rest of the day goes before deciding that!"

"Oh" Tom murmured in her ear as he pulled her close and his hand began wandering down her back. "What might I have to do to earn your good graces?"

"Well for starters I think it's time for luncheon." Rubbing her hand across her belly "this little Branson is demanding some nourishment."

As she pulled away from him and glanced at the small round wrought iron table and two matching chairs she asked "Do you think we could eat our lunch out here?"

With a mischievous gleam in his eyes matching the grin on his face he replied. "If, my lady, you can hold on for a few minutes I know of an even better spot."

Much to Sybil's exasperation the walk to the tramway and then the wait for the next tram and then the short ride up the hill and the longer walk to where Tom declared it a perfect spot took much more than a few minutes. Summit Hill, supposedly the highest point on the small Howth peninsula, was set in a wild heathland dotted with butter yellow blooming gorse and offered a spectacular view out across the Irish Sea. Off to their right the rugged heathland dropped in stages jutting out into the sea with the final cliff capped with another lighthouse. It was Sybil would have to admit a most breathtaking spot.

Before Sybil could spread the blanket on the ground, Tom grabbed her hand and pointed to a barely visible speck of land far off in the distance. "See that over there it's Kingstown where you stepped ashore to Ireland a year ago today."

Sybil's eyes widened in surprise. "A year ago today?" she exclaimed. How could she have forgotten such a momentous event?

"In some ways Sybil I'll always think of this, today, as our anniversary" Tom said as he squeezed her hand "because that day is when our life together really began."

His words and sentimentality brought tears to her eyes but Tom became alarmed at seeing those tears. "Love" he said as his hand caressed her cheek "are you thinking … thinking … do you have any regrets?" Although he was scared to hear her answer he couldn't help himself to ask the question.

Slowly she shook her head no. "I made my decision Tom and I" she took a deep breath, her lovely blue eyes focused on his "I love you Tom." Then standing on her tiptoes she flung her arms around him and kissed him passionately.

Contended after devouring the feast Sybil had so diligently packed that morning in the wicker basket, three small ham and onion tarts, a wedge of cheddar cheese, four hard-boiled eggs, a loaf of bread, and a tiny jar of pickles, Tom laid on his side with his arm bent at the elbow and propping up his head while Sybil sat a foot or so away from him.

"Those summers as a kid when we'd come here I'd always want to get off when the tramcar stopped here and walk out to that lighthouse" Tom said as he gazed out to the faraway tower "but Ma always said we'd be too worn out to then walk to the village and then we wouldn't be able to have an ice cream."

He glanced changed from the lighthouse to Sybil. "And believe me that ice cream was the highlight of our trip here. You can't imagine how much of a treat it was for us. Us kids would spend the time in the tramcar here from Dublin talking about what flavor ice cream we'd get."

"It probably cost my Pop a week's wages to bring us here for the day." Tom's eyes clouded over and his voice grew softer. After a pause he continued "he was a wonderful man and he deserved a better life than he had."

Sybil reached out and placed her hand over Tom's. "I wish I could have met him."

Tom curled his hand over Sybil's. "He'd have said Tommy my boy you've reached the stars with that one."

Not wanting to feel so maudlin, Tom laid his head back down on their blanket and looked up at the sky. "Coming here to Howth was one of the highlights of my summer when I was growing up. We'd only come for the day. Ma would say it was a reward for us doing so well in school but I think she and Pop liked to come here just as much as us kids."

"Ma and Pop would sit on the beach and watch us splash around in the water. Then we'd come back to the harbor and run along the piers watching the boats. We'd all go home quite tired with our skin a bit red from the sun and our bellies full from the fresh fish and chips we'd have for lunch followed by that delightfully rich ice cream."

As he talked Sybil rubbed her hand across her belly and in her mind she saw a little boy of five or six with Tom's fair hair and blue eyes and his face reddened by the sun. "It sounds so wonderful Tom. We'll have to do that with this little one."

Then she looked at him with that impish look she had and Tom thought how wonderful it would be to have a daughter with her mother's dark curly hair and lively blue eyes.

"Maybe we could go now for one of those ice creams" Sybil shyly said.

"Ice cream?" Tom looked in amazement at her. "After eating two of those tarts and most of that cheese and half that loaf of bread how could you possibly have room for ice cream?"

Straightening her back, she tilted her head, giving him that oh so Lady Sybil look. "I am eating for two you know" she declared.

Waiting for the tramway for a ride back into town Sybil talked of the time when she was little and had visited her grandparents in New York and her grandpa took her to Coney Island. "We'd built a sandcastle and then the incoming water washed it away and I cried so my grandpa bought me a hot dog and this fuzzy stuff called cotton candy to make me forget about my ruined sandcastle."

It wasn't until they boarded the tram that they realized the glowing sunny day was slowly disappearing and from the safety of the tramcar they watched as storm clouds far out to sea edged closer and closer to the harbor until the small island of Ireland's Eye was no longer visible through a sheet of rain. By the time the tramway let them off in the center of town it had begun to sputter rain drops and making a lumbering dash for their hotel the sputtering rain drops turning into a gentle rain and then just as they reached the wide covered porch of their little hotel turned into a downpour. Stopping on the porch to catch their breaths they sat down in two of the white wicker chairs sheltered from the rain laughing at their luck in missing the worst of the rain.

And then just as suddenly as it had come the rain stopped and rain puddles glistened in the sunlight. They walked up the staircase and entered their room where Sybil immediately went to the French door and opened it to let in that clean fresh smell the air always has after a quick rain.

"Tom come quick" she called as she stepped out onto the rain soaked balcony.

Like Sybil, his face lit up with a smile as he looked towards the harbor where the most gorgeous rainbow made of the deepest red, yellow, purple, and blue, looked as if it was spewing from the top of the lighthouse and arching across the sea.

Note: I intended this to be just one chapter but as how things often do it was getting quite long and I have a bit more to write about Sybil and Tom's two days in Howth so I'm breaking it into two chapters. Hopefully the second part will be posted within the week.

As always I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story. And just to note for a bit of accuracy in 1921 the town of Kingstown was changed back to its Irish name Dun Laoghaire.