Read Online Miss Emily by Nuala O'Connor - Free Book Online

though she would not stoop to thank him. I link Uncle Michael’s arm to continue our vigil by Auntie.
    â€œShe is looking her best,” I say. “Her own gentle self is to be seen on her face.”
    â€œMy heart is in smithereens, Ada. I miss her,” Uncle Michael says. “She’s still here, and I miss her.”
    I press my hand to his arm and gaze on Auntie. She is quiet and gathered, free now from the pain the doctor said she must have endured a long time. Poor Auntie Mary. She called for my mammy—her darling Ellen—at the end.
    â€œEllen,” she said. “Ellen, a leana, will we go now? I feel I am ready to go.”
    And poor Mammy, three thousand miles away in Tigoora, doesn’t even know yet that her sister is gone.
    The house empties out, apart from some of the Tipperary people who will keep Uncle Michael company long into the night. I go in search of Daniel Byrne. I find him, still outside with the children, tossing a ball. He cups his hands around the hands of the littlest ones, to show them how better to catch. They do well under his guidance, whooping when they make a success of it. His patience with them touches me.
    â€œDaniel.”
    The children scatter, and Daniel comes to me. “Ada, how are you now?”
    â€œI’m grand, I suppose.”
    â€œWhat words of comfort can I offer? It’s a sad thing to lose one so dear.”
    He holds out his hand, and I take it, surprised to find it is hot when he has been in the cool air for such a long spell. His hand is large around mine; he presses the skin of my palm with his fingers, and there is immense comfort in his touch.
    â€œThank you for taking the children out. Their noise was upsetting my uncle.”
    â€œI could see that.”
    Daniel pulls me toward him. “I’m fond of you, Ada. I hope you know that.”
    It is strange to stand so close to a man, though with Daniel it feels natural and good. But my insides are tumbled up, too, with grief and weariness, and I am afraid to look into his face. I finally manage to lift my eyes to his. I nod, thank him again and, pulling my hand from his, I go back into the house.

    I am taking out the slops while the Dickinsons eat their breakfast. The smell of the frying meat and potatoes made me feel sick a while ago, and now the stink from the chamber pots is doing the same. My stomach has been a strange, churning pit since Auntie Mary left us. I sit on the stairs to gather myself. So quickly do I have to leap up when I hear footsteps coming toward me that I nearly spill the contents of the pots down my apron. Mrs. Dickinson is upon me before I am properly standing.
    â€œBegging your pardon, ma’am, I came over a bit queer, that’s all.”
    â€œNo matter, Ada. I was sorry to hear about Mrs. Maher. I trust yesterday’s funeral was a success.”
    â€œIt was, ma’am.”
    â€œThe years dull the knife of a pain that stabs.”
    She brushes past me, on up the staircase, and I stand there like an abandoned infant, tears plopping into the chamber pot and the smell from it making my throat close off. I nearly wish they wouldn’t be kind and would just let me get on with my work. Every gentle word and sympathetic look from them has me blubbing like a gossoon no matter how hard I push against it.

    Miss Emily tells me that I look drawn, and it is no surprise to me, as I am not getting much sleep.
    â€œI’m very tired, miss,” I tell her. “My cousin Maggie has turned me out of her bedroom. I couldn’t argue, of course, when she has lost her mother, but truly, I’m fit to be tied. I was comfortable there. Maggie marches around Kelley Square like the queen of Sheba, complaining about every small thing. Thankfully, I rise to come here before she gets up. And I’m so fagged out by evening that I take to the bed the minute I’m home, but she certainly lets everyone know that she is back.”
    Miss