Free Another Kind of Life by Catherine Dunne Page A

herself that one last hope. Other than that, there was nothing else she could do.
    She was going to have to rely on the charity of others.
    There was a tap on the drawing-room door.
    ‘Come in.’ Calmly, Sophia put down the papers in her hand and waited.
    Lily curtsied.
    ‘It’s Mrs MacBride, ma’am.’
    ‘Show her in, Lily, and bring tea.’
    ‘Yes, ma’am.’
    Sophia felt grateful to Lily. No matter what she thought or felt, she was keeping up the pretence of normality.
    Constance MacBride swept into the room, bringing a waft of cold air and energy with her.
    ‘My dear,’ she said, her round, plain face full of concern. ‘I’m so sorry.’
    Sophia returned the sympathetic pressure of her hand, unable to reply for a moment.
    ‘I’m very grateful to you for coming.’
    ‘Nonsense, my dear, I’m only too glad to help.’
    Sophia waited until the older woman had settled herself on the sofa, her voluminous skirts spread out all around her. She stood up, then, agitated, and walked towards the window. She waited for
a moment, making sure that she was composed enough to speak, that her voice would have no telltale tremor. Constance MacBride’s large, kindly presence had made her feel her humiliation all
the more keenly. For the moment, she kept her eyes fixed on the window, seeing nothing.
    ‘I need to get my girls back to Dublin, as soon as possible. Everyone is going to know about Edward by tomorrow, and even if I could afford to keep them here, Belfast is no place for them
to grow up, not with that kind of shame.’
    She paused. She had said it. No question of Edward’s being innocent. That much had to be understood between them.
    ‘Your father will help you.’
    There was only the slightest change in intonation at the end of the sentence, as if Constance MacBride feared giving offence by asking the question too openly. Sophia turned away from the window
now, her face composed.
    ‘I wrote to him first thing this morning. I’ve asked him to meet us off the evening train tomorrow. I’ve just written to him again this afternoon, asking if he could help to
place Lily and Katie.’
    Sophia pressed on her temples with the tips of her fingers. The beginnings of another awful headache, right behind her eyes.
    ‘I don’t know if we’ll be able to keep them with us, but I have a duty towards them. On the other hand, I don’t want us to be too big a burden for my father.’
    Sophia paused. Of all the ignominious things to happen to her, she felt that nothing could be worse than this. Had Edward set out to punish her, to avenge himself for some unknown crime against
him, he could not have chosen better. What could he possibly have been thinking of?
    As though reading her mind, Constance MacBride said softly: ‘You can tell an old woman to mind her own business if you wish, but have you any idea, my dear, any idea at all what drove
Edward to do as he did?’
    Sophia turned and looked at her sharply. The shrewd blue eyes were fixed on Sophia’s, their gaze unwavering.
    ‘How do you mean?’
    Sophia felt herself react at once, stiffly, to the older woman’s choice of words, to their implicit criticism. Nobody ‘drove’ Edward to be dishonest, he chose to be so himself.
She felt the beginnings of indignation that Constance MacBride might assume that she, Sophia, could be complicit in her husband’s wrongdoing. Nevertheless, there was a small germ of truth
nudging at her from underneath the other woman’s words, from the calm, almost benign expression on her placid face.
    They had fought about money a good deal, that was true. But Edward had an important position, a civil service appointment of great seniority. Such a position implied a certain lifestyle, the
maintenance of a certain standard of social intercourse. They had to attend the theatre, the opera; they had to entertain on a reasonable scale. She had never been lavish or wasteful, she was sure
of that. But appearances were important. And the