Page 60 of The Missing Sister

Lying back down, she knew this was the last time she’d ever share a bed with Hannah. Which immediately sent her tummy into another loop of anxiety... She couldn’t even ask her big sister what ‘it’ was like because she was the first to marry, and she could hardly be asking Mammy. She looked over at Hannah – she was so vivacious and quick-witted, though her temper came equally quickly, as Daddy always said. She’d had many fellows after her, but none had ever interested her.

Do you resent me for walking up the aisle before you...?

Well, today, however many times Hannah would snipe at her, she’d ignore it. As Nuala had grown older, she’d also become aware that the eldest daughter had the hardest time on the farm. It was Hannah that Mammy looked to for the extra jobs, and Hannah did most things without complaint.

‘I’ll miss you...’ she whispered to her sleeping sister. Hannah had inherited Mammy’s pale skin, freckles and hair the colour of a shiny copper pan, whereas Nuala had her father’s dark colouring. She’d always considered herself the plainer of the two, with any attention at weddings andceilidhsgoing to Hannah. Fergus seemed disinterested in women in general, saving his affections for the cows in the field. So here she was, on the morning of her wedding, the youngest, but the first of her siblings to be wed...

Jumping out of bed, she decided she’d feed the hens and make breakfast just one last time.

As she crept downstairs so as not to wake anyone, she almost jumped out of her skin to see Mammy in her nightgown, stirring the pot over the fire.

‘Why are you up so early?’

‘’Tis a stupid question to be asking on my daughter’s wedding morn,’ Eileen scolded her.

‘I’m out to feed the hens and—’

‘You’ll be doing no such thing! Today isyourday, daughter, and we’ll be treating you like a princess right from the start of it. Now then, sit down in my chair and I’ll be making you a mug of tea and then a bowl of porridge, so. After that, you’re to be in the tub before everyone starts arriving.’

‘But I—’

‘None of that, miss; ’tis the last day that my word is law. For once, you’ll be doing as you’re told.’ Then Eileen opened her hands and cupped her daughter’s face inside them. ‘I’m proud of you, Nuala. Finn’s such a good fellow. Just remember to make the most of this time with him before the small ones start coming along, won’t you?’

‘I will, Mammy, I promise.’

Fourteen hours later, Nuala lay in her new bed in her new home, alongside her new husband. The sheet tucked firmly over the strange sensation of her own nakedness, she watched as her husband (equally naked) slept peacefully beside her. Even though she was utterly hanging – the most exhausted she’d ever felt in the whole of her exhausting life – she wanted to play the day back to herself so she could store it safely away in her memory without forgetting a moment.

She’d been taken to the church in a garland-streamed pony and cart, and all the way into Timoleague everyone had come out of their houses and shops and clapped her on her way. Then the walk down the aisle on her daddy’s arm and the look in Finn’s eyes as he turned round and saw her and whispered, ‘You’re beautiful,’ in her ear, as Daddy had let go of her hand and had given it over to Finn’s safekeeping. The fine spread laid on by friends and family, which even Finn’s mammy, after a glass of sherry or two, was impressed by. The band that had struck up as theceilidhhad begun, with everyone in high spirits and dancing away as if they’d not a care in the world. She and Finn in the centre as he’d spun her round and round... Then the throwing of her bouquet, made up of wild fuchsia, violets and forget-me-nots. Hannah had been the one to catch it and everyone had cheered, especially as Nuala had seen that a young man had caught her eye.

Then the way Finn had carried her over the threshold of the little cottage that would be her new home. He hadn’t put her down until he’d climbed the stairs and laid her gently on the bed. He’d struggled with all the tiny white buttons that had fastened her into the dress, but all the time he’d kept kissing her until she’d lain beneath him, and their lovemaking had begun.

She’d been amazed to find, after hearing gossip that men liked ‘it’ better than women, thatshe’dliked it too. Yes, it had hurt at first, but then it suddenly hadn’t anymore as she’d been swept along with all the new and wonderful sensations her body and her mind had experienced.

It has been perfect, just perfect, she thought drowsily, before she finally fell asleep.

‘So, how is the new Mrs Casey faring?’

Philip looked up at her as she walked in, clad in her new blouse of white poplin and the long grey skirt of such fine fabric that it didn’t itch her legs. She’d been provided with a pair of new black boots too, and a stack of crisp, starched white aprons.

‘I’m well, thank you,’ Nuala said. ‘And yourself?’

‘Oh, I’m the same as you left me. Whereas you... My goodness, it’s a positive metamorphosis! My dear Nuala, what with the new togs and your hair pinned up like that, it seems that you’ve turned from a girl to a woman overnight. Now, do sit down.’

Nuala did so, feeling horribly embarrassed. Even though the tone of Philip’s voice had been light, she knew what he was insinuating.

‘Mrs Houghton said ’twould be more appropriate for my position if my hair was put up,’ she answered defensively.

‘It suits you, although I must say I rather liked it tumbling over your shoulders. At least Mother didn’t insist on a nurse’s cap, so I’ll be grateful for small mercies. How was the wedding?’

‘It was perfect, thank you, Philip. The whole day went off as well as it could have done.’

‘And your new in-laws? Do they approve of the match?’

‘Finn has no father – he died when he was very young. His mammy – mother,’ she corrected herself, ‘is a fine woman. She remarried a few years ago before Finn left to do his teaching diploma, and lives a good while away, near Howe’s Strand in Kilbrittain.’

‘Goodness, that all sounds very civilised,’ said Philip. ‘At least you don’t have your mother-in-law living with you like so many Irish families do. I’ve often wondered how kindly my own dear mama would take to any woman I chose to marry. Not that it’s a thought worth having any longer. Who would want me?’

‘Many, I should think, when they got to know you.’