In all her fifteen years, this was the worst day of her life. She thought again and quickly corrected herself. No, not quite the worst because the worst was five years ago when Papa died. That would make today the second worst . . . No. The second worst was the day Mama married the Englishman. So today was third worst, no question. It was the day she must say goodbye to the only life she had ever known and face a life of . . . what? She had yet to see their future home, that small farm to the west, near Galway Bay. “It’s going to be fine,” Mama had assured them, but Evleen knew better. How could anything in the world be as good as the life she had now? What could replace her debut into the glittering Dublin society that she’d so looked forward to? Nothing. And Mama knew better than to promise there would be the same balls and soirees on the other side of Ireland in barren County Clare, which, as far as she was concerned, might as well be on the other side of the moon.
