Page 49 of The Missing Sister
It was another word Nuala had never heard, but she was thirsty, so she did.
‘Tchin-tchin,’ Philip said, lifting his cup to hers, ‘and well done on a couple of intelligent moves across the board. If your first try is anything to go by, we’ll have you beating me in a few weeks’ time.’
It was just past nine when Nuala finally left the house. Darkness was falling and she switched on her bicycle light to make sure she didn’t ride into a ditch. Stopping at the same oak tree where she and Finn had always met, Nuala sat down and rested her back against the strength and wisdom of the old trunk.
She had entered a different world this afternoon, and her head was swimming with what she’d found there.
The game called chess had gone on for a fair old time after the tea (and the salmon, however pink and expensive, tasted a lot better than she’d imagined). Then Philip had insisted on another game, in which he’d stopped suggesting moves she should make. That had only lasted ten minutes, but then the next game had lasted almost an hour and he’d slapped his good thigh with his hand.
‘Well done indeed,’ he’d said as his milk and biscuits arrived with Maureen. ‘Do you know, Maureen, Nuala might beat me at chess yet.’
Maureen had given a curt nod, then left. Not that Nuala was wanting praise, but there was something about the woman that made her hackles rise.
Wishing she could sit here for longer to take in the past few hours, Nuala saw that darkness had truly fallen and it was time she was home. Gathering her strength, she stood up and climbed back on her bicycle.
That night, Nuala and Hannah lay together in the bed they shared in the tiny attic room above the kitchen. Nuala had just snuffed out the candle and tucked the diary she’d been writing in safely under the mattress, having recorded the events of the day, as her teacher at school had once encouraged her to do. She’d had to leave school at the age of fourteen in order to help on the farm, but she was proud of the fact she was still practising her letters.
‘So now, what was he like?’ asked Hannah in the dark.
‘He was... nice enough,’ she said. ‘He suffered terrible injuries in the Great War, so he sits in a wheelchair.’
‘You’re not feeling sympathy for him, are you? That family stole the land that was rightfully ours four hundred years ago, then they made us pay to get a tiny slice of it back!’
‘He’s only a bit older than you, Hannah, but has a face on him that could earn money in one of them circus fairs. He even cried when he was talking about the Great War—’
‘Jaysus, girl!’ Hannah sat bolt upright, removing the sheet and blanket with her. ‘I’ll not be hearing you feeling sorry for the enemy! I’ll have you thrown out of Cumann na mBan before daylight.’
‘No, no... Stop that now! Even Daddy says that for Britishers, the Fitzgeralds are a decent enough family. Besides, there’s none more wedded to the cause than me – I’ve my fiancé this very moment putting himself in danger to bring the British down. Now, as we’ve no visitors so far tonight, but a meeting of the brigade in our barn tomorrow, can we get some sleep whilst we can?’
‘I can’t help thinking about poor Tom Hales and Pat Harte,’ Hannah sighed, lying down again. ‘We’ve already sent word to our women spies; they’ll find out where they are for sure. Now so, you’re right: tomorrow will be a long day. The volunteers will be fierce hungry and Daddy says we have a lot of them coming.’
‘At least we’ve clean clothes for them,’ Nuala added, not daring to tell her sister that she’d been asked by Mrs Houghton to return to the Big House until a replacement nurse had been found.
I’ll talk to Daddy in the morning, she thought as her eyelids drooped and she fell asleep.
‘What do you think about it, Hannah?’ Daniel asked, as the family sat round the table for breakfast the next morning. Even though it was only seven o’clock, the cows had been milked, and the pony and cart dispatched with Fergus to deliver the churns to the creamery.
‘I’d say she shouldn’t go again, Daddy. There’s plenty to do here for a start, and that’s without our work for Cumann na mBan. Who’ll help Mammy with the extra cooking and washing we’re doing these days? Never mind picking the vegetables and helping you with the harvest coming up. I’ve my job as a seamstress and... it’s just not right to have one of our own working up at the Big House.’
‘I’ll cope, I have Fergus and Christy after all,’ Eileen said, patting Christy’s hand as he ate breakfast beside her. She looked at her husband. ‘’Tis up to you, Daniel.’
Hannah made to open her mouth, but Daniel put up a hand to silence her. ‘We’ve many volunteers who are spies working for us. And you women are some of the most successful, because the British don’t suspect you.’
‘Yet,’ muttered Hannah.
‘If Nuala’s being offered a temporary position at the Big House, she’ll be able to hear kitchen gossip from the other staff about who is visiting. Sir Reginald has plenty of military friends who might be inclined to be talking to him about any planned activities, especially after a few drops of whiskey.’
‘I’m not likely to overhear chatter from the downstairs drawing room, Daddy,’ Nuala interjected. ‘’Tis an enormous house.’
‘No, but sure, your young fellow might be chatting to his daddy from time to time about what’s happening. ’Twould be useful to have an ear to hear it.’
‘Philip’s fond of a drop of whiskey himself,’ Nuala smiled.
‘Then feed him extra and find out what he knows,’ Daniel said with a wink. ‘Besides, how would it look if you turned them down? They’d be thinking ’twas an honour for you to work so closely with the family.’
‘So you want me to carry on?’
‘You have no choice, Nuala,’ said Eileen. ‘When the Big House calls...’
