by Anne Bennett
Nuala shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but in my case I hope it does.’
‘That’s another thing,’ Finn said. ‘How will I ever find a girl and settle down?’
‘Do you want to settle down now?’ Nuala asked.
‘No, not particularly.’
‘Well, then…’
‘I suppose I will one day, though. And how will I ever be able to court a girl without ever having a penny piece on me, regardless of how much work I do on the farm?’
‘Put like that, it doesn’t sound very fair,’ Nuala said. ‘And Mammy and Daddy can’t see your point of view?’
‘No, not at all,’ Finn spat out. ‘And, after all, I am eighteen in June.’
Nuala shivered, for the February day was bleak and cold, and the skies gunmetal grey, dark and forbidding, and June seemed a long way off.
‘And what of you, Nuala?’ Finn asked suddenly.
‘Me? What about me?’
‘Well, what plans have you for your life? You are turned fourteen now and have been left school two years.’
‘I have never even thought about it,’ Nuala said truthfully. ‘I mean, I haven’t actually got plans.’
‘Maybe you should have,’ Finn suggested. ‘The thing is, do you want to stay here on the farm all day and every day until some burly farmer carts you off to his place for more of the same?’
Put like that it didn’t sound a very attractive prospect, yet Nuala replied, ‘Isn’t that what most girls do?’
‘Is it what you want to do?’
‘It’s probably what Mammy and Daddy want me to do.’
‘That isn’t what I asked.’
‘It amounts to the same thing.’
Finn suddenly took Nuala by the shoulders and said firmly, ‘Now you listen to me. We only get one crack at this future business and it belongs to you and only you, and if you want to do something other than what Mammy and Daddy have planned out for you, then you take hold of it with two hands and don’t let go. Remember they cannot live your life for you, and if you let an opportunity go you may resent it all the days of your life.’
‘I couldn’t go against them, Finn,’ Nuala said.
‘You could if it mattered enough to you.’
‘No, no, I couldn’t,’ Nuala insisted. ‘I am not like you.’
‘Then I am sorry for you,’ Finn told his sister. He released her shoulders and said, ‘Go in now, Nuala. It is too cold to be out. I could feel you shivering beneath my hands.’
‘What about you?’
‘Oh, I’ll be all right when I get started on this wood,’ Finn said. ‘And I best do that if I don’t want the head bitten off me. Anyway, it will work my temper off.’ He grinned and added, ‘You’ll see the difference. When I have this pile cleared I will be like an angel of goodness and light, so I will.’
‘Oh, that will be the day,’ Nuala remarked, but she was laughing as she left her brother.
THIRTEEN
Just after Easter, Nuala was in Buncrana with her mother in the post office when she caught the eye of Lady Carrington. The Carringtons were Protestants, the most prestigious family in the area, and lived in a large house set in its own grounds on the edge of the town towards Derry.
Biddy had little to do with them. In fact, they were seldom seen in the town for most things they needed were delivered, and fresh produce collected by their maid. But that day the maid had become ill and the lady of the house had decided that, as the day was dry and warm, she should take the carriage and go into the town herself.
She had popped into the post office to post letters to her family, many of whom lived in the Midlands in England and she came face to face with ‘a vision of loveliness’, which was the way she described Nuala to her husband, Gerald, later.
She barely noticed Biddy, for her attention was taken by Nuala, who looked delightful that day. She had on the clothes her mother had had made up for her to wear for Easter Sunday: a blue and white checked dress that gathered beneath the bust and went to just above her soft leather shoes, she also had a soft blue shawl to put around her shoulders, and a straw hat on her head trimmed with the same blue as the dress.
Nuala, feeling the woman’s eyes on her, turned and smiled. Lady Carrington actually gasped. She lingered in the shop until Nuala and her mother left, then she said to the postmistress, young Nellie McEvoy, ‘Who was that gorgeous child?’
‘That’s Nuala Sullivan,’ the postmistress told her. ‘Pretty as a picture, isn’t she? And a pleasant little thing, despite the mother, who is a right braggart about her. Mind you, there is not so much of the child about her now. She must be fourteen or so.’
‘Really, are you sure? She barely looks it.’
‘I’m pretty certain that she has been left school close on two years now.’
‘Is she looking for a job?’ Lady Carrington asked.
The postmistress laughed. ‘I doubt it. Her mother barely lets the wind blow on her. What sort of job?’
‘I need a nursemaid. My present one is leaving to get married, and I always like to have someone young with plenty of energy to play with the children. Even children like prettiness around them, don’t you feel?’
Nellie muttered something noncommittal. She thought whatever the woman wanted, she hadn’t a hope in Hell of getting Nuala to work for her, or anyone else.
Lady Carrington, though, was used to getting her own way. As she made her way home, she decided she would talk it over with her husband, though in domestic matters she had the final say, for he seldom concerned himself with such issues. It was only as the coachman helped her alight from the cab that she realised she hadn’t bought the purchases that had taken her into Buncrana in the first place.
Biddy was extremely flustered when a carriage rolled down the lane to stop before the cottage a few days later. She hurriedly dried her hands on her apron and went to the door to welcome her visitor, Lady Carrington, though she hadn’t any idea what she was doing there.
‘Come in, my lady,’ she said, opening the door wide. ‘This is an unexpected honour.’
The room Lady Carrington stepped into was quite dark after the sunshine, for the light came through only one small window. But for all that, she saw that the place was clean and tidy, and the child Nuala was there. She smiled when she saw who the visitor was and bobbed a curtsy, which pleased Lady Carrington enormously.
Her husband had been right when he advised her to visit the house and see the type of people the girl came from. ‘I’m sure you will have whoever you choose, Julia, my dear, and I will not go against you, as you well know, but if she is to care for our children then we must know that she is from good and respectable stock.’
‘You are right, Gerald, of course. I wonder I hadn’t thought of it myself.’
And now here she was, and saw that Nuala and her mother were decently clad, the house was a more than adequate one, and the girl had been taught manners and her place in life. She knew she would fit into her household with ease and be such a help to Nanny Pritchard, who was getting on a bit. She had been with the Carrington family years, taken on originally to be nanny to her husband and his brothers and sisters, but she was getting too old now to run after young children.
Lady Carrington accepted the cup of tea and slice of barmbrack from Biddy as she went on to say how impressed she had been by Nuala when she had met her in the post office the other day. Biddy accepted that as due praise, for few met Nuala who were not struck by her charm and beauty.
However, she knew that it wasn’t likely that Lady Carrington had come all the way out to their cottage to say so, and when she told her the real reason for her visit, Biddy was both astounded and annoyed.
‘A job, my lady?’ she repeated a little tight-lipped.
‘Nursemaid to three children?’ She shook her head. ‘We hadn’t thought of Nuala getting any form of employment. There is no need and, anyway, she is such a help to me in the house, d’you see?’
Nuala knew that was a lie, for
she was let do very little and was bored often, as she had told Finn. Besides, she liked babies and children, for all she had had little to do with them, and would love the chance of caring for them. Then too she would see people other than members of her family, day in and day out, for all she loved them dearly.
Nuala wasn’t aware how expressive her face was. Lady Carrington had been watching her and when Biddy had finished speaking she said, ‘I do understand about Nuala being such a help to you, but maybe she should be given this chance. I can see by her face that she wants to.’
Biddy looked at her daughter. Her whole face was lit up, almost glowing. Biddy said, ‘Surely you don’t want to do this?’
Nuala nodded vigorously. ‘I do, Mammy,’ she said, ‘Really I do.’
Biddy looked at the child that she loved more than life itself. She had refused her little all her life so far, but Nuala, like Tom, had been a compliant, eager-to-please child. Biddy was confident that her daughter would see how ridiculous the whole plan was and would bow to Biddy’s will as she had always done before.
This time, however, Nuala remembered what Finn had said to her a couple of months before in the woodshed that the future was hers and hers alone, and she had to grasp opportunities with two hands and not let them go. She had said at the time that she couldn’t stand against her parents and Finn had told her that she could if it mattered enough. Now she understood what he had meant.
So when Biddy said disparagingly to Lady Carrington, ‘You see, Nuala is just a child yet and doesn’t see how unsuitable this is,’ the girl felt her hackles rising.
She faced her mother and in a tone that she had never used before said, ‘I am not a child, Mammy. I am turned fourteen. Many girls in the town have already been working for two years.’
‘You are not some girl from the town,’ Biddy ground out.
‘Yes, but—’
‘Enough, Nuala!’ Biddy snapped. ‘Goodness, where are your manners? My mind is made up. I’m sorry, Lady Carrington, that you have had a wasted journey.’
Biddy was affronted when, even as she was getting to her feet, Lady Carrington glanced at Nuala and said, ‘Is that your answer too?’
Nuala knew that she only had to nod her head and the woman would walk away, and she knew too that if she allowed her to do that she would regret it always. Her mother’s face was like thunder, but Nuala gathered all her reserves of courage, swallowed the lump in her throat and said, ‘No it isn’t. I am sorry, Mammy, but I really want to do this and I would like it if you would allow me to.’
‘I have told you—’
‘Yes, but, Mammy, that is what you want me to do,’ said Nuala. ‘But this is what I want to do. Shouldn’t it at least be considered?’
‘I have never heard such insolence in all my life.’
‘Mammy,’ Nuala said in a conciliatory way, ‘I have no wish to be rude, but shouldn’t we at least ask Daddy before the matter is resolved?’
Biddy had known from the first that Thomas John’s opinion should be sought, and she had hesitated only because she knew that her husband would lift the moon from the sky if Nuala had so desired it. She had never known him refuse her anything. Yet, on the other hand, if he wasn’t at least informed, he could be very vexed indeed, especially if Nuala complained about it, which she was likely to.
‘We’ll ask your father’s advice when he comes in to his dinner,’ she said grudgingly.
‘And I will come to your house this afternoon and give you our decision, my lady,’ Nuala said to Lady Carrington.
The woman shook hands with both Nuala and Biddy, and Nuala followed her into the yard where her carriage and footman waited. Just before Lady
Carrington got in, she turned and put her hand on Nuala’s shoulders.
‘I do hope the news you bring is favourable, my dear,’ she said. ‘I would very much like you in my employ, and, incidentally, I admire your pluck.’
Those words helped Nuala when she entered the cottage and her mother went for her in a way she never had before. Nuala bore it without complaining because, in a way, she had almost expected it.
Thomas John had been in the lower fields with his sons and so was unaware of the visit of Lady Carrington and the purpose of it. At first he too was affronted that the woman should assume that he was unable to afford to keep his daughter at home and that she should have to seek employment elsewhere like many of the poor families around them. That was before he caught the light of excitement dancing in Nuala’s eyes, however.
He said almost incredulously, ‘Do you want to do this?’
‘Yes, Daddy, very much.’
‘Why?’
‘Lots of reasons,’ Nuala said. ‘I am often bored at home – Mammy has her own way of doing things – and I miss the friends I used to have at school. With the best will in the world, Daddy, there is little companionship to be had from you or the boys when you are all out in the fields all day.’
‘She’s right, Daddy,’ Finn said. He had been as amazed at the turn of events as his father when he was first told. Then he caught his sister’s eye and was determined to support her, and so were Tom and Joe, though they knew nothing of the talk in the woodshed.
‘Let her do it if she wants to, Daddy,’ Tom said.
‘Aye,’ said Joe in agreement. ‘Sure, she can come to no harm. She will only be a step up the road, when all is said and done.’
Biddy saw the way the conversation was going and snapped out, ‘Not one of you has given one thought to me and what I am to do without Nuala to give me a hand.’
Finn laughed. ‘Oh, come on, Mammy,’ he said. ‘Nuala doesn’t give you a hand and you know it, because you won’t let her. You will barely let her put her hands in the washing-up bowl.’
‘Aye, because I don’t want her worked to death, and now she is proposing to do that for someone else.’
‘Hardly that, Mammy,’ Nuala said. ‘I will be looking after the children. There are only the three of them and they already have a nanny. I like babies and children, yet I have no experience. I can learn such a lot if I set my mind to it and I will be better fitted to look after my own when the time comes.’
‘I shouldn’t let on to the Carringtons that you are using their children to practise on,’ Joe commented drily.
‘Aye. You would be out on your ear sharpish,’ Finn said with a wide grin.
‘You are talking, all of you, as if it is a foregone conclusion,’ Biddy said, ‘but neither your father nor I have given permission, and I have voiced my objections.’
‘Which were not based on accuracy, Mammy,’ Finn said. ‘You would not miss the help that you allow Nuala to give.’
‘That is not for you to say.’
‘All right, then, but Nuala has a right to say it.’
‘Finn is right, Mammy,’ Nuala said. ‘And you know he is.’
Thomas John knew it too. He had seen Nuala mooning about the farmhouse many a time and had even said to Biddy that the child often looked lonely. He had no real wish to see her anywhere other than within his own four walls, and yet he didn’t want to be the one to dim the light dancing in his daughter’s eyes. Maybe she did want more in her life than they were able to give her.
‘It will do no harm to give it a try-out, at least,’ he said at last. ‘She hasn’t to stay if it doesn’t work out. Let’s say she gives it three months or so.’
‘So my wishes are of no account in this house,’ Biddy said sharply, ‘is that the way of it?’
‘Now now, my dear,’ Thomas John said. ‘Your wishes weren’t the only ones to consider in this case and I had to be fair to Nuala too. I think that a three-month trial is the way forward and at the end of that time the situation can be reviewed.’
‘Oh, thank you, thank you, Daddy,’ Nuala cried. She leaped up and threw her arms around Thomas John’s neck, and planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘You are the best daddy in the world.’
‘Aye, well, this daddy wants to eat his dinner in peace now,’ Thomas J
ohn admonished, but with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘So let us do justice to the meal your mother has prepared and after it you go and tell Lady Carrington and say that you will take the job she offered for an initial period of three months.’
Nuala had never been anywhere near the Carringtons’ house before – there had been no need – and that afternoon she stood inside the wrought-iron gates and stared for a few minutes at the magnificent structure built of honey-coloured bricks, trying to gather the courage to walk up the gravel path towards it.
‘Now, remember,’ her father had said, before she set off, ‘the likes of us don’t go up to the front door of these places. Go around the back and you will likely find the kitchens. They will put you right.’
Nuala found it just as he had said. The cook seemed to be expecting her. She smiled at her as she opened the door and then told the kitchen maid to take the young lady to the morning room and then inform the mistress that she had arrived.
Aggie surveyed the room while she waited for Lady Carrington, awed by the splendour of it. Patterned rugs covered the floor, and two cream brocade sofas were either side of the fireplace. The mantelshelf was full of delicate ornaments and the fireplace itself covered by an embroidered black velvet fire screen, the hearth enclosed by a gleaming brass fender. On the opposite side of the room was a large clock in a glass case, the heavy pendulum swinging relentlessly, and a writing bureau was set against the window.
Lady Carrington came in. ‘I am so pleased to see you again, my dear,’ she said. ‘I do hope the news you bring me is good.’
Nuala had already decided to say nothing of the trial period of three months and just said her father was agreeable to her taking the job, but she wouldn’t be living in. She would be brought in every day by her father or one of her brothers and taken home again each evening. Lady Carrington said that was quite in order and she took Nuala to the nursery to introduce her to Nanny Pritchard, the nursemaid who would be leaving at the end of the week, and the children: four-year-old Billy, two-year-old Isabella and the gorgeous roly-poly baby, Reginald, who was six months. Nuala knew instinctively that she would be happy in that house. She was astounded, though, by the array of toys those three children had and told her family about it as they sat around the table that evening.
