When the car came to a stop, Mrs Donahue tapped me on the arm.
‘Wake up, Nora, love. We’re here.’
I was about to say, ‘No, I’m Delia,’ but I caught myself in time.
When I climbed out, I was facing a tall, narrow house with a black front door set back from the street. The rain had eased by now and in the lamplight I was able to make out three tall windows marching across the front of each storey, and a wrought iron balcony on the second floor. Lamps burned in the ground-floor windows, the way they often did in Donegal to welcome travellers.
Mrs Donahue was all business now. ‘Mr O’Hanlon is away at the minute, but he’s expected back tomorrow.’
She ushered me inside and up a short flight of stairs into a front room. At her bidding I sat down in a big, plush armchair beside a blazing fire, balancing myself gingerly on the edge of the cushion. She rang a bell and a young woman wearing a black dress and white apron appeared. She stared at me with open curiosity.
‘Is this herself?’ she said in an Irish brogue.
Without answering, Mrs Donahue waved impatiently at her and told her to bring two hot whiskeys. When the girl came back with them, Mrs Donahue handed one to me and took the other for herself. She sat down in the opposite chair and sighed.
‘Such a day!’ she said.
She held her glass up to me.
‘Sláinte,’ she said, ‘and welcome ye are, Nora Sweeney.’
I gave her a faint smile and sipped the whiskey, letting her talk away, hardly hearing what she was saying. Despite being soaked from the rain, I was covered in sweat – I didn’t know if it was from the blazing fire, or the whiskey, or fear. I looked around the enormous room. The armchairs and sofa were slightly faded, as was the thick patterned carpet. On the walls, paintings of what looked like Irish landscapes were lit from above by small lamps casting them in a golden glow. The room offered comfort rather than stiff formality. And when my eyes lit on the far wall, where floor-to-ceiling bookcases held volumes and volumes of books, tears pricked my eyes as if I had just met some long-lost friends.
Mrs Donahue saw the tears and stood up. ‘Come on now, child. Let’s see ye up to bed. Ye’ve had a terrible experience.’ She made a sign of the cross. ‘How ye lived through it, I’ll never know. But ye are here now, safe and sound.’
I allowed her to escort me up a curved staircase and into a small room at the front of the landing.
‘I’ll have Kathleen bring up a hot water bottle to warm the bed, and find one of the mistress’s nightgowns, God rest her soul. Tomorrow I’ll have her go out and buy some clothes for ye. I think I can guess your size. You’ll be needing underwear and dresses and boots, and a warm coat. ’Tis been chilly for April.’
Later, after the maid had returned with a nightgown and placed the hot water bottle between the sheets, I crawled gratefully under the covers. The feeling of being in a dream returned. I closed my eyes tight and fell into it. The dream was gentle at first, but then images began to collide with each other: sitting in a boat, freezing waves splashing over me; Nora’s panicked face when she realized the ship was going to sink; and the image of her body falling into the water. I awoke in a sweat. I lay awake until dawn, terrified the dream would return. But as light broke through the bedroom window, I could stay awake no longer and I let sleep wash over me.
I had no idea where I was when I awoke. I lay trying to remember how I had arrived here. Images began to slowly follow one on another, forming pictures in my mind. I remembered getting off the ship, the smells at the docks and the crowds. Then I remembered the hard-faced woman who held up the sign with my name on it. I shivered. Had she brought me here? As if in answer, a shaft of sun pierced the window sending dust mites dancing and lighting up the cosy bedroom. No, I thought, she couldn’t have. This room was far too nice for a servant girl. Surely that housekeeper would never have let me sleep here. Then new images followed quickly on – Mrs Donahue and the car, the tall, stately house, and the hot whiskey by the fire. At last I realized where I was and remembered what I had done.
I began to panic. How could I have done such a thing? How could I have pretended to be my dead sister? I had meant to say I was Nora Sweeney’s sister, but the rest of the words had stuck in my throat. What had come over me? And how could I have just walked on past the first woman, ignoring the sign she carried? My da had arranged for me to go and work there and I had thrown it back in his face. What would he say if he knew? I had hardly ever told a lie in my life. Father McGinty used to bang his fist on the pulpit and say lying was the worst of all the mortal sins. There was no forgiveness for lying, he said, you went straight to hell. I believed him then, and I believed him now.
A knock came on the door, and the maid, Kathleen, came in with a cup of tea and some sort of a bun on a plate. She set the tray down beside the bed.
‘W-What time is it?’ I whispered.
‘Ah, ’tis past twelve,’ she said, ‘but no bother, I’ll be back with some clothes for you and when you’re ready you can come downstairs.’
I finished the tea but couldn’t look at the bun. My stomach was roiling with nerves. Kathleen came back with an armful of clothes, set them on a chair beside the bed and left again. I climbed out of bed, took a quick wash, and prepared to get dressed. I found underwear and stockings but there was no sign of a uniform. Instead there were three cotton dresses, one a plain dark blue with a small white collar, another grey with a delicate floral pattern running through it, and a bright yellow with a matching belt and hat. The last one must be for mass, I thought. I pulled on the blue one assuming it must be my uniform, although I found no apron to go over it.
I dressed quickly and shoved my feet into a pair of black, low-heeled leather shoes, which fitted perfectly. When I was ready, I slipped out of the bedroom and hovered for a minute on the landing. Then, taking a deep breath, I started down the stairs.
The hallway was quiet. I stood looking around me. I realized I knew nothing about the layout of the house, except that the library was just off the hall upstairs from the front door. I knew that in any house I’d ever been in the kitchen was always at the back, so I walked in that direction, hoping Mrs Donahue was there and I could unburden myself of the lie I was after telling. But there was no sign of the kitchen. I looked around in confusion. Then I heard the clattering of dishes and smelled the aroma of vegetable soup drifting up from downstairs. The only downstairs kitchens I’d ever heard about were in Irish manor houses. I swallowed hard and hurried down the stairs. Tentatively I pushed open the door. Kathleen stood at the stove stirring a big pot of soup.
‘Hello, Kathleen. Thank you for the clothes. Is-Is Mrs Donahue about?’ I said.
If Kathleen noticed my stutter, she did not let on. Instead she shook her head. ‘Ah no, miss, she has the day off. She’ll be back tomorrow.’
My heart sank. I had been so anxious to speak to her.
‘Sit down, and I’ll make you a cup of tea,’ she said.
I hesitated, then did as she said. When she put the tea in front of me, I looked up at her. ‘You don’t have to be treating me special,’ I said. ‘I’m a servant like yourself.’
Kathleen gave me a confused look. ‘But you’re not a servant, miss. You’re here as a governess for young Miss Lily, not a maid like myself.’ There was a sharp, almost resentful, edge to her tone.
I ignored it.
‘B-But you left me a uniform,’ I said looking down at the blue dress. And I expect I’m to sleep in the servants’ quarters, aren’t I?’
‘No, Miss Nora, you’re to have your own room. You’re to stay where you slept last night. And that dress is not meant to be your uniform. Mrs Donahue has everything all arranged according to Mr O’Hanlon’s orders.’
Kathleen seemed impatient. I blushed, my discomfort growing. Nora should have been sitting here now, not me. As I sat lost in thought, I had the sudden sensation of being watched. I turned to look, just in time to catch sight of a small girl before she darted a
way. Kathleen must have seen her too. She went out into the hallway.
‘Lily,’ she said, ‘come in now and meet your new governess. Come on now, love, she won’t bite you.’
After some more coaxing, Kathleen returned, holding the little girl by the hand. The girl hid as best she could behind Kathleen’s back, but the maid gently forced her out in front of her.
I leaned over towards her and said as gently as I could, ‘Hello, Lily. It’s grand to meet you. My name is Miss Nora.’
The child stared up at me, her blue eyes wary, but said nothing.
‘Poor wee mite,’ said Kathleen. ‘She hasn’t said a word since her ma died. Her da doesn’t know what to do with her. He’s tried coaxing her and saying how much he misses their conversations. He’s taken her to all sorts of doctors as well.’ Kathleen shrugged. ‘Nothing has worked.’
As I looked at the child, my heart swelled with pity for her. She reminded me of myself when I was young. As a young girl I only spoke when I was forced to; I was ashamed of my stutter. I believed no one would want to hear what I had to say anyway. Any utterance was met with silence from Da and a harsh rebuke from Ma. So, in sadness, I had hidden myself in my books and shut the world out. I sensed this child’s sadness was as acute as mine.
‘That’s all right, Lily,’ I said gently. ‘You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I didn’t talk much either when I was your age.’
Lily’s eyes grew wider, but her solemn expression did not change. I realized, looking at her, that she resembled me. She was of slight build and had the same fair hair. We could have been sisters – we certainly looked more alike than Nora and I ever did.
‘We will have some good times together, Lily. And I’ll do the talking for both of us. Tell me, do you read?’
The child gave an imperceptible nod.
I smiled. ‘Me too,’ I said. ‘I have read lots of books. And I’ve seen your da’s big library. I can read stories to you every night.’
Lily stared at me intently but made no move.
Kathleen took her by the hand. ‘Come on now, it’s time for your lunch. Go and wash your hands.’
The girl disappeared, giving one last glance at me over her shoulder.
‘Poor wee mite,’ said Kathleen again, as she began to ladle soup.
I refused Kathleen’s offer of lunch, saying I wasn’t hungry, although my earlier nausea was gone and I was starved. But I had a greater need at that moment to be alone. I left the kitchen and climbed the stairs up to my room. I could not get Lily’s face out of my head. She had touched me in a way I would never have expected. I understood her as if I had known her all her life. And I hadn’t even stuttered in front of her. In that moment I knew, without a doubt, that God had sent me here to help her. Lily needed me and, deep down, I realized, I needed her.
Later that evening, I went down to the library and over to the bookshelves which had so fascinated me the night before. I began to look for stories that might please Lily – adventure stories or classics – just like those I had enjoyed at her age. As I drew my fingertips across the leather-bound volumes, lost in memories, I heard a noise behind me. I swung around. A man I judged to be in his thirties stood staring at me. I swallowed hard. Surely this could not be Mr O’Hanlon? The Mr O’Hanlon I had pictured in my mind was much older, with a fat belly and a walking stick. This man was too young and far too handsome. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his black hair curled around his collar, giving him a boyish look. I concluded he must be a visitor.
‘E-Excuse me,’ I said, ‘Mr O’Hanlon is not here just now. Please sit down, sir, I’ll fetch the maid.’
I hurried towards the library door. Behind me, the visitor let out a hearty laugh.
‘Well, this is the first time I’ve been greeted as a visitor in my own house! You have it all wrong, miss. I would say it’s you who are the visitor.’
I turned back to look at him. He stood grinning, his dark blue eyes fixed on me, his hand held out expectantly. I was overcome with embarrassment and fought the urge to race from the room. How could I have made such a fool of myself? I stood rooted to the floor, clutching a book, ignoring his outstretched hand. He walked closer, still smiling. I lowered my head so he wouldn’t catch me staring at his even white teeth. I’d never seen the likes of them at home.
‘Too embarrassed to speak, eh? A guilty conscience, perhaps? Maybe you are a book burglar I have caught red-handed. Maybe . . .’
Even though I knew he was teasing me, my heart lurched at the words ‘guilty conscience’. ‘Ah no, sir,’ I interrupted him, the words gushing out of me. ‘I-I’m no burglar. I was just looking for books to read to Lily.’ I gave a small curtsy. ‘I’m the new governess you sent for. My name is Nora Sweeney.’
His smile disappeared, and he let his hand drop to his side. He studied me in silence for what seemed like an eternity.
When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. ‘It is good to meet you, Miss Sweeney. I cannot imagine the horror you have been through. Even though you were listed as missing, I had the strongest feeling that you had somehow survived. You are very welcome to my home.’
His grin returned. ‘Oh, and just so we are straight on matters, I am Aidan O’Hanlon, Lily’s father, and your new employer.’
I muttered a quick thank-you. I couldn’t wait to get out of the room and flee upstairs. As if reading my mind, he took my hand in both of his and smiled. ‘You should rest for a few days, Miss Sweeney. Take some time to recover and get settled before you take up your duties. There is no rush.’
His hand had sent such a shock through mine I pulled it away immediately and moved to return the book to the shelf.
‘Please take the book with you. As many as you like. In fact, I’m pleased to see you have such an interest in reading. It will be good for Lily.’ He paused, and a cloud passed over his face. ‘I try to read to her when I can. But I am not often home before she is asleep.’
I nodded and waited. He straightened up, all business again. ‘You may go now, Miss Sweeney. Goodnight.’
Released, I almost ran from the room, but managed to control myself and walk slowly. Once I reached the stairs though, I raced up two at a time and into the safety of my room. Panting, I sank down on the bed, still clutching the book in my arms. My thoughts collided with each other; I’d lied again about being Nora. The words had rolled so easily off my tongue, I would surely go to hell. This was the first time in my life I’d ever felt a physical attraction to a man – but there again, Aidan O’Hanlon was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Ah, sure what did it matter what he looked like? I would never deserve such a man. It was several minutes before I calmed down.
I stood up and went to the window. Evening shadows had dropped like ghosts onto the wide avenue below, softening the sharp edges of the houses opposite. A sudden bout of homesickness assaulted me. I wished I could run out the door and up the fields to my favourite place among the smooth white stones. But they were far away now, and I might never see them again.
For the next few days, I tried to rest as Mr O’Hanlon had suggested. The truth was that I was exhausted. But every time I tried to sleep a melancholy would creep over me, so heavy it threatened to drown me. Alone in this strange, new place, I longed for the familiarity of home. I realized now how sheltered a life I had led in Donegal, and even though I had yearned for adventure, there was a big difference between dreaming of such things and being dropped abruptly into the middle of them. How was I to cope in a huge noisy city where accents and habits were foreign to me? Things I had taken for granted all my life – the predictable routines of the days on the farm or at school, mass on Sundays and holy days, even Ma’s sharp rebukes whenever I displeased her – had anchored me in a way I had not realized. Now I felt adrift in the world, the ground beneath me as unstable as the deck of the Titanic.
At last I realized there was nothing for it but to grit my teeth and throw myself headlong into this new life. Besides, I already believed God had sen
t me here to help Lily. I began by spending as much time as I could with her. Each day she stood still while I helped her dress and combed her hair. She paid attention to her lessons and in the evenings listened patiently while I read to her, all the time staring at me with her large blue eyes but never saying a word. I talked away to her, ignoring her silence. One day she nodded when I suggested we take a little walk. It would not only be good for her, I thought, but also for me. And somehow venturing outdoors seemed less daunting if I had her with me.
Mrs Donahue had said the street was called an ‘avenue’ which made it sound very grand. Lily and I walked along together. The street was wide and clean and quiet. A row of trees stretched along a grassy strip that ran down the middle of it and houses lined both sides. Most of them were far larger than the O’Hanlon house. Some were so imposing they took my breath away. They looked like the palaces I had seen in picture books. They were built mostly of brick or stone, with turrets and spires rising from the roofs, while ornate carvings, some of them ugly gargoyles, lined the balustrades. Many of the houses were surrounded by wrought iron fences with big gates in front for carriages or cars to enter. I shivered. There was nothing welcoming about them, in fact they reminded me of fortresses. I was glad Mr O’Hanlon’s house was nothing like them.
Now and then a motor car or horse-drawn carriage moved leisurely along the roadway breaking the serenity of the silence. Nannies in black dresses and white frilly aprons passed us pushing huge prams, and young women in modest costumes and hats towed children along by the hand. I guessed these were governesses. Most of them had stern expressions and I noticed Lily staring up at them.
‘Let’s go back,’ I said to her. ‘It’s almost time for lunch.’
Without looking up, she slipped her hand into mine as we walked. My heart skipped with delight. Her small gesture meant more to me than if she’d suddenly uttered a thousand words.
The Titanic Sisters Page 6