Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [221]
“I was after visiting the cathedral to say a prayer for my poor family—and for you, too, Fionnuala—when who is it sees me but your father.” She had dragged Fionnuala to the corner of the building where they couldn’t be overheard. “And he says to me, ‘It’s a fine thing that Fionnuala’s spending so much time at the hospital. But as she was with you last night, I couldn’t tell her to be sure to be back at the house before this evening. We have visitors. Will you tell her that?’ And there’s myself, standing there like an idiot and saying, ‘Yes, Father, I will.’ And it was almost out of my mouth to say you weren’t at the hospital at all.” She was staring at Fionnuala now in wide-eyed reproach. “So if you weren’t here and you weren’t there, then in the name of God where were you?”
“I was somewhere else.” Fionnuala looked at her friend enigmatically. She was enjoying this.
“What do you mean you were somewhere else?”
“Well, if I wasn’t here, and I wasn’t there …”
“Don’t play games with me, Fionnuala.” Una flushed with anger now. She looked at her friend searchingly. “You don’t mean … Oh God, Fionnuala, was it with some man you were?”
“I may have been.”
“Are you out of your wits? In the name of Heaven, who?”
“I’m not telling.”
The slap that struck her face took Fionnuala by surprise and almost sent her reeling. She struck back, but Una was ready for her and caught her hand.
“You childish fool!” Una cried.
“You’re jealous.”
“Isn’t it like you to think so? Have you no thought for what will become of you? Not a care for your reputation and your family?”
Fionnuala flushed. She felt herself starting to get angry now.
“If you shout any more,” she said crossly, “the whole of Dublin’s going to know anyway.”
“You must stop it, Fionnuala,” Una dropped her voice almost to a whisper. “You’ve got to stop it at once. Before it’s too late.”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.”
“I’ll tell your father. He’ll stop you.”
“I thought you were my friend.”
“I am. That’s why I’ll tell him. To save you from yourself, you stupid child.”
Fionnuala was silent. In particular she resented her friend’s patronising tone. How dare she order her about like this?
“If you tell, Una,” she spoke slowly, “I’ll kill you.” It was said so quietly, and with such force, that Una, despite herself, blanched. Fionnuala looked at her steadily. Did she mean it? She hardly knew herself. Was she in the act of destroying their friendship? Anyway, she realised, it wouldn’t do any good to threaten Una.
“I’m sorry, Fionnuala. I have to.”
Fionnuala paused. Then she looked down. Then she sighed. Then she stared longingly towards the west gate. Then she looked down and did not move for a minute or so. Then she groaned. “Oh it’s so hard, Una.”
“I know.”
“You really think I have to?”
“I know you must.”
“I’ll stop seeing him, Una. I will.”
“Now? You’ll promise?”
Fionnuala gave her an ironic smile. “You’ll tell my father if I don’t. Remember?”
“I’d have to.”
“I know.” She sighed again. “I promise, Una. I’ll give him up. I promise.”
Then they hugged each other and Una cried and Fionnuala cried, too; and Una murmured, “I know, I know,” and Fionnuala thought, you know nothing at all you little prig, and so the matter was settled.
“But you mustn’t tell on me now, Una,” Fionnuala said. “Because even if I never set eyes on the man again in my life, you know what my father would do. He’d whip me till I couldn’t stand and then he’d put me in the convent over at Hoggen Green. He already threatened me with it before, you know. Will you promise Una?” She looked at her pleadingly. “Will you promise?”
“I will,” said Una.
Fionnuala was in a thoughtful mood that evening when she went home. If she was to continue the affair without interference from Una, then she’d have to take some fresh precautions. Perhaps she should come to the hospital with her father or her brother one morning, to show that she’d been at home. She’d have to