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The nun raised her eyebrows. “Such lovely manners. And you speak so well, my dear. Why, I would almost think you were a proper lady with that cultured voice.”
Delia flushed. “I went to a good school,” she mumbled. “Shall we go and sit down?”
The nun smiled, her cheeks dimpling. She put her hand on Delia’s arm, steering her firmly in the direction of the table at the back. They had to push their way through the crowd, but eventually, they made it. Delia sat down with a sigh of relief.
“What’ll it be?” asked a gruff-looking man, suddenly materialising at the table.
“I will have cheese and bread,” said Miss Tilney.
The man nodded, turning to Delia and the nun.
“Do you have any stew, my good man?” asked the nun in a loud voice. “I’ve been hankering after a good stew ever since I left Wicklow.” She winked at Delia.
The man grinned. “We do, Sister. It is the finest stew in these parts. And for you, miss?”
Delia hesitated. She had no idea what to ask for. “I will have the stew as well,” she said quickly.
The man nodded before disappearing. Sister Mary Majella smiled. “It won’t be the same as a good Irish stew, of course, but it will fill the hunger at least.” She sighed. “It’s strange the things you miss when you’re away from home. For me, it’s mainly food. I am always hankering after stew and potatoes with lashings of butter.”
Delia smiled. She liked the nun. She had such a friendly air about her and a warm smile, even if the stiff black-and-white habit she wore was a little disconcerting.
“You come from Wicklow in Ireland?” she asked.
The nun nodded. “Aye, that I do. I was born in the town of Wicklow and lived my whole life in the county before I sailed across the channel two months ago.” She smiled wistfully. “I was at a convent in Surrey, but my order decided to send me north. So here I am, with a sore posterior from that coach and a hunger so great I could almost chew my own arm off, so I could.”
Delia burst out laughing. Even the prim-looking Miss Tilney smiled.
“I am Miss Euphemia Tilney,” said the woman, gazing at Delia curiously. “I am travelling to Bradford to take up a position as schoolmistress at the St. Ignatius School for Young Ladies. And why are you travelling, miss?”
“It is nice to meet you, Miss Tilney,” said Delia, her heart thumping hard. “My name is Miss Delia Parker. I am on my way north to stay with my grandmother in Bradford, who is ailing.”
Her face coloured a little as she told the lie, but she didn’t drop her gaze. It seemed easier just to appropriate Minnie’s reason for travelling. It made the lie that much easier to remember.
“I am sorry to hear that, Miss Parker,” said the schoolmistress. “What is wrong with your grandmother?”
Delia stared at her. “I think it is bunions,” she said in a tremulous voice. “Bad bunions because she is on her feet all day. She runs a shop, you see, and never gets a chance to sit down.”
The two women stared at her. Delia’s colour deepened.Were bunions not a sufficient reason to travel to assist her imaginary grandmother?It was the only thing she could think of and had only occurred to her because the cook at Twickenham Hall was always complaining about her bunions.
“Bunions?” said Miss Tilney, looking perplexed.
“She’s getting older, you see,” Delia continued in a high-pitched, breathless voice. “Her feet are not what they used to be.”
Sister Mary Majella sighed. “Aye, I have suffered with bunions from time to time. They hurt like the devil.” She patted Delia’s arm. “Well, I am sure your poor gran will be glad for your help, Miss Parker. You make sure she puts those feet up as often as she can.”
At that moment, their meals arrived. A bowl of steaming stew was placed in front of Delia. She was so hungry that she picked up her spoon immediately, ready to demolish it, stopping only when she saw Sister Mary Majella looking at her pointedly.
“I will say grace,” said the nun.
The sister rattled off a prayer before picking up her spoon. She grinned at Delia. “Now, let’s dig in!”
The stew was hot and filled with lumps of meat and potato. It was so good that Delia had already wolfed most of it down before she even drew breath. She gazed up to find the other two women staring at her.
“It has been a while since I ate,” she said in a weak voice.
Sister Mary Majella laughed. “I like to see a good appetite in a colleen, so I do,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought you could eat like that, though. You are a slender thing, child.”
Delia blushed. “I am hungry, as I said.” She stared at the nun curiously. “What is a colleen?”
