Chapters (66)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- PART ONE
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- PART TWO
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- PART THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- About the Author
‘You’re one to talk, missy. Aren’t you so lucky you live in an era when you can try out various men until you find the one that suits you? You don’t have to worry about chastity like my generation did – not that your dear Mère was too bothered about it either,’ Imelda snapped. ‘At least I was chaste and pure until I got married. I didn’t give myself airs and graces, and pretend to be something I wasn’t. The hypocrisy in this room tonight is sickening – and my own brother there has the cheek to make smart comments about me in front of a crowd of strangers. I’m sorry if I’ve put a blight on the evening but I just couldn’t take it anymore. I’m not condoning any of your lies—’
‘Imelda, stop making a show of yourself. Get your coat!’ John ordered, so sternly that Imelda stopped mid-sentence. ‘Get your coat,’ he barked. ‘You’re leaving. Brigid, I’m very sorry about this,’ he said, taking his eldest sister’s hand. ‘Forget all she’s said. She’s only jealous of you. Always has been—’
‘Jealous, you say!’ Imelda’s voice shook with anger. She didn’t care anymore. All the resentment she’d swallowed down for years erupted out of her and she wasn’t going to stop now. The wine had loosened her tongue. There was no going back.
‘My sister took everyone I ever loved away from me. My first love was Johnny Larkin. Did you know that, Brigid?’ She turned back to her sister. ‘He stopped walking out with me when I wouldn’t part my legs. Not like you. And then you had the nerve, the absolute hypocritical nerve to enter the convent and leave me to be a slave to that damned farm. Notions that were paid for by Daddy. There was nothing left for me after he paid your dowry to that French lot, so you wouldn’t have to be cleaning their kitchens and toilets. Not for you to be on your hands and knees scrubbing floors and cooking and washing, like I had to for Mammy and Granny—’
‘Imelda, please, control yourself. This is so unseemly,’ Brigid commanded, amazed that her voice was so firm and authoritative, because her knees had started to knock, and she was shaking inside.