Read Online 1949 by Morgan Llywelyn - Free Book Online Page B

It was hard to know where the money would come from. As a result of its dominion status within the commonwealth, the government looked with increasing desperation to Britain.
    The cab driver called, “Here we are, miss. Sixteen Middle Gardiner Street.”
    As Ursula unsnapped her handbag to pay him, a fading trace of perfume, foreign and exotic, wafted into the air. Two Vincent de Paul nuns in their butterfly headdresses were walking past. They glanced at Ursula, then swiftly dropped their eyes.
    Hector Hamilton, Painless Dentist proclaimed a hand-lettered card in the window facing the street. The redbrick house was not as large as Ursula remembered. The front door with its Georgian fanlight was not as tall, nor the polished brass knocker as high. And had its facade always been so grimy with coal dust?
    But when the door swung open, the cry of welcome was familiar. “Precious!” shouted Louise Hamilton as she gathered the young woman into her arms.
    â€œEveryone calls me Ursula now,” gasped the girl, half-smothered against the older woman’s capacious bosom.
    Laughing, Louise relaxed her embrace. “Except my cousin Henry. When he sent your things over here he labeled them Property of Little Business . I stored them for you in the attic. As soon as you wrote you were coming, I dusted them off and put them in our best room. Here, you,” she called to the waiting taxi driver, “will you ever bring those suitcases inside?”
    â€œYou shouldn’t have gone to any trouble for me, Louise. I don’t want to dispossess one of your regular lodgers.”
    â€œSure and you won’t. Since I married Mr. Hamilton I don’t do much in the way of lodgings anymore, not the way I used to when you and Ned and Síle lived with me. How is your dear father anyway?”
    The girl said casually, “I haven’t heard from him for a while.”
    Louise sniffed. “Too busy to write letters, I suppose. The government’s still arresting Republicans; I’d be very much surprised if our Ned’s not among them one of these days. But enough of that.” She put one arm around Ursula’s waist. “Come through and I’ll make you a nice cup of…my, you certainly are thin!” Drawing back, she gave Ursula a critical look. “You never did have a pick on you, but I thought once you grew up you would fill out a bit.”
    â€œI’m not thin, it’s my clothes. Ella insisted on my having the latest fashions while I was at Surval, and the style now is to flatten the bust and give a boyish figure.”
    â€œGod between us and all harm, why would a woman do that? You’ll be wanting some decent dresses straightaway.”
    â€œI’ll make do with what I have, Louise. From now on I shall pay my own way and I can’t afford to buy any more clothes.”
    â€œNo woman should be seen with her knees peepin’ out,” the other insisted. “You’ll never get yourself a husband that way.”
    â€œI’m not looking for a husband,” said Ursula.
    As soon as she was settled into number 16, she set out to reacquaint herself with the city of her birth. She took long walks up one street and down another. Dublin was a walking city.
    The deprived areas north of the Liffey had not changed from her earliest memories; poverty was still poverty. But there were signs of change elsewhere. The Free State government was housed in one of the great symbols of the old imperialism, the splendid Ascendancy mansion called Leinster House. As the new nation worked to establish its identity, symbolism was important.
    Dubliners had felt a profound sense of shock when the cast-iron pillar-boxes used for posting mail were repainted from British red to Irish green.
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    Henry Mooney sent Ursula a personal letter and four envelopes in a brown paper parcel. Each envelope contained a letter of introduction from himself, recommending “Miss Ursula