Read Online Promised Land by Marita Conlon-Mckenna - Free Book Online

nothing that she could do about it.
    Uncle Jack insisted that she come back and stay in Rathmullen, and truth to tell she was glad not to have to face Liam and Carmel after getting such bad news. She’d already brought a change of clothes with her, and everything else she needed she could borrow from her cousins over the weekend.
    ‘You’re as welcome as the flowers in May, Ella pet,’ chuckled her aunt, leading her up upstairs to the bedroom she would share with her cousin Marianne. ‘You may as well have Kitty’s bed as there’s no chance of her coming home for the weekend. She seems to be having much too good a time in Dublin.’
    Ella smiled to herself. She’d already heard plenty of stories about her cousin’s behaviour in Dublin. Apparently she’d broken her boyfriend John Prendergast’s heart when she’d left Kilgarvan, and promises to remain faithful to him had long since been forgotten as Kitty went from one attachment to another. She was such a flirt, thought Ella as she hung up her things in Kitty’s still-crowded section of the wardrobe and put her nightdress under the pillow. Kitty would never let anyone or anything get her down for long and Ella envied her that quality.
    She ran downstairs to join her aunt and cousins in the large farmhouse kitchen where Marianne was curled up in a corner with her long thin legs tucked under and a worried frown on her face as she read the latest Agatha Christie novel. Her eighteen-year-old cousin was a real bookworm and you could almost tell how good or bad a book was by her involvement and the expression on her fine features and the way she curled her fingers in her short fair hair when she got to a good bit. Slaney returned from her convent school and dramatically tumbled her school books out on the table.
    ‘Sister Angela wants us to do an essay on the life of our favourite saint, it’s such a pain!’
    ‘Who are you going to do?’ quizzed Ella, curious.
    ‘They’re all awful! Utterly awful!’
    ‘What about St Patrick, our patron saint,’ suggested her mother.
    ‘Mammy, half the class are doing St Patrick!’
    ‘Well what about St Brigid then?’
    Slaney tossed her mass of wavy strawberry blond hair, which was caught in two bunches. She was quite an actress and always ended up the centre of attention; Ella supposed it was because she was the youngest in the family and they all spoilt her rotten.
    ‘I want to do someone interesting, not just another boring bloody saint! There must be one or two!’
    ‘Slaney Kavanagh, I’ll not have that filthy language at my table, do you hear me.’
    The three girls looked at each other suppressing their giggles. Aunt Nance was known by the whole family for her own use of rich language.
    Ella laughed and relaxed. It was so good to be back at Rathmullen, safe with her cousins and family. The Kavanaghs had become her second family when her mother died. At eight years of age she hadn’t understood the explanations about septicaemia and blood poisoning, only the fact that God had robbed her of the person she loved the most in the world. Her aunt had done all in her power to provide some of the support and love and care that she so desperately needed. Teresa, the eldest, had become like a big sister to her, always minding her and making the rest of the girls accept and be nice to her.
    Ella was glad to give a hand preparing the meal. Aunt Nance was a great cook and always hoped that her good example would somehow or other rub off on her five daughters and their cousin. Ella was sent scurrying to the pantry to search for cherries and raisins to add to the fruit loaf that her aunt was mixing.
    ‘Have a stir for luck!’ urged her aunt. ‘Go on!’
    Ella didn’t feel very lucky at the moment but knew how superstitious her aunt was. Besides, she might get to lick the spoon at the end. Grabbing the wooden spoon she closed her eyes and wished hard. Her wish was secret and her aunt knew better than to ask. Satisfied, her