The Godforsaken Daughter by Christina McKenna Read Free Book Online Page A

much. But Ruby did as she was told.
    “You know, next Sunday is the blessing of the graves,” continued the mother. “Could you get another one of those angels for your father’s plinth?”
    Ruby replaced May’s plate and took her seat again. She saw the twins exchange furtive looks.
    “Oh, we’ll not be coming home next weekend, Mummy,” May said, avoiding her mother’s eye. “We’re going to—”
    “Manchester,” June blurted out, and winced at once. Ruby knew by May’s peeved face that she’d just kicked her sister under the table.
    Martha stared at the pair of them. “Manchester! And what’s in Manchester that could be more important than the blessing of your poor father’s grave?”
    Ruby saw May hesitate. “Well, it’s . . . Alistair in work. He’s . . . a—”
    “He’s a cousin of George Best’s,” said June, coming to the rescue. “And George will be playing at Old Trafford next Saturday, so he got us tickets for the match.”
    The mother set her cutlery down and glared at them. “So a hairy-faced, womanizing Protestant who kicks a ball about a field is more important to you pair than Cemetery Sunday. I must say I’m very disappointed in you, May.”
    “Och, Mummy, don’t be like that. The tickets were really expensive and it might be the only chance we’ll ever get to—”
    “I thought George Best retired last year,” Ruby cut in, risking May’s wrath again.
    May glared at her then busied herself with the food plate. “He did. But this is one of those . . . What’s it called, June?”
    “A friendly,” June said, but she was looking daggers at Ruby, too.
    “That’s the one: a friendly.”
    “Could you get me his autograph?” George was a heartthrob for the entire female population of Northern Ireland, and Ruby was immediately envious that her sisters were going to actually see him at such close quarters.
    May said nothing.
    “Well, we’ll see, Ruby,” June said, finally. “But we can’t promise.”
    “We’ll bring you home the angel the following weekend,” May added, covertly eyeing her sister. “Now, tell Mummy about that new nail polish you were telling me about.”
    Martha took up her cutlery again. She shook her head. “I don’t know what your poor father would say.”
    “Yes, Mummy, we launched a new color—Spice Romance—last Tuesday,” June began. She splayed a hand of perfectly painted nails. The twins were blessed with slim, tapered hands. Fingers made for rings, nails made for painting. “Isn’t it lovely? What do you think, Ruby?”
    Ruby put down her knife and fork, and dropped her hands into her lap, conscious of her bitten nails.
    May smirked. “What a daft question! How could she wear nail polish? She’s got no nails. They’re all chewed off her.”
    “They’re not chewed off me, May!” Ruby had had enough. The twin had been itching for a fight from the moment she’d stepped over the threshold. Well, now she was going to get one. “I can’t keep them long like youse two, ’cos I wash and cook and clean here every day. It’s easy for youse, standing behind counters, doin’ next to—”
    “How dare you speak to us like that!” May jumped up.
    Mrs. Clare whacked the table with the serving spoon, staining t he white tablecloth Ruby had so painstakingly starched that morn ing.
    “Stop bickering this minute!” The room filled up with a stunned silence. But not for long. “Your sisters work hard all week. They need peace when they come home.”
    Ruby, close to tears, but using her anger to buttress herself, took aim at the mother. “Oh, and I don’t work hard all week, too. Why do you always take their side?”
    When her father was alive, he’d kept the peace at the dinner table, always supporting Ruby. Since his death, it was as if all three of them were taking their revenge. Pent-up vitriol held in check for years, erupting like a Yellowstone geyser.
    “Oh my good God! What have I reared at all?” Mrs. Clare’s