Page 56 of The Missing Sister

‘Have her take your measurements. You will need a uniform if you’re staying with us permanently.’

‘Mother, please, without risk of interfering in the women’s clothing department, can I ask that Nuala have something simple made for her? Some blouses and plain skirts perhaps? I have had my fill of feeling as though I’m in a hospital, surrounded by nurses.’

‘Very well, darling, but I must provide some aprons for when Nuala washes you. Now then, I should be getting on. We’ve General Strickland and his wife Barbara coming to take tea, which means I’m going to have to entertain her while he and your father talk business. Oh.’ Lady Fitzgerald paused by the door and turned back. ‘You’ll receive eight shillings a week, with Sundays off and two weeks’ annual holiday. Paid, of course,’ she added. ‘And another thing whilst I’m up here: do encourage Philip to get outside whilst the weather is so clement. Some fresh air would do you good, Philip. After all the trouble we went to in order to put the lift in, it seems a terrible shame that you never use it. I’ll be up to kiss you goodnight at bedtime, darling. Goodbye, Nuala, it was a pleasure to meet you.’

When she’d left, Philip looked at her. ‘I do hope you will take the job, Nuala. I’ve fought awfully hard for Mother to offer it to you.’

‘I’d love to, I really would, Philip, but I have to ask if I’m allowed to first.’

‘Of course, of course,’ he nodded and looked up to her. ‘Do you ever get tired of the control men have over your life? You might be surprised to hear that I’ve got a lot of time for the suffragette movement. Father abhors them, of course, and the Cumann na mBan here in Ireland is a little too radical even for me...’

Nuala fought the urge to correct his pronunciation of the Gaelic words, as he had called it ‘bahn’ instead of ‘mahn’, but the last thing she wanted was for him to know she was an active member of the ‘radical’ organisation.

‘Having watched women working on the front line,’ he was saying, ‘it occurs to me that the fairer sex are not only equal to men, but in many ways superior.’

‘I’ll be honest and say that I’ve not thought about it much; my family all work as hard as each other on the farm, doing our different jobs.’

‘But does a man have to ask his father if he’s allowed to take employment before he accepts it?’ Philip pointed out.

‘Well now, Christy, my cousin, who works in the pub in Clogagh, did ask my daddy if it was all right for him to do so.’

‘Daddy’s rule is law, eh?’

‘Isn’t it the same for you?’ she asked him boldly.

‘True. Nothing much happens around here without Father having agreed to it. Anyway, I do so hope your father will say yes to you working here, Nuala.’

‘So do I, Philip,’ she smiled at him. ‘I’d like to more than you could ever know. Now then, what’s this I hear about a lift? And why have you never mentioned it to me before?’

‘Because our days have been given over to turning you into a worthy chess opponent,’ Philip said defensively.

‘We’d have had time for a walk occasionally, Philip. It might put some colour in your cheeks.’

‘The cheek that sits somewhere below my nose, and is so scarred it looks like someone has scribbled all over it with a red ink pen? No, I prefer to stay up here, thank you.’

Nuala saw pain in his gaze, and realised the real reason.

‘You’re embarrassed, aren’t you? You don’t want anyone to see you.’

There was a pause as Philip turned his face away from her, which usually meant that he was about to cry.

‘Of course I am,’ he said quietly. ‘Wouldn’t you be? How would you feel if everyone gave you one glance and you saw the horror in their eyes? It was in yours when you first met me, Nuala.’

‘Sure, I won’t lie, it was. But then I got past that and saw the person you truly are.’

‘That’s because you’reyou. I’d have gardeners and maids screaming at the sight of me, let alone any of Mother and Father’s visitors to the house. I... just... can’t, all right?’

‘I understand, Philip. Now then, will we be playing a game of chess or what?’

As she was cycling home, Nuala came up with what might be a plan. But first, she had to ask her family and fiancé whether they’d even allow her to stay on.

‘Please, Holy Mother, let them.’

As she rode, she allowed herself to dream of a life where she no longer worked at the farm, with chickens, pigs and often cows to look after if Daddy was pushed. Just her own little cottage with Finn waking up beside her, and then spending afternoons with Philip...

‘’Twould be perfect,’ she murmured as she cycled up the track to Cross Farm.

‘Where are Hannah, Christy and Fergus?’ she asked her mother, who was in her favourite chair by the hearth, knitting socks for the volunteers. Daddy sat opposite her, pipe in his mouth, reading a book in Gaelic.