eyebrow, and said, “I’d use just about any excuse to put off doing it for a while.”
Say something, he thought, not sure whether he was referring to himself or Sue. In truth he’d certainly enjoy another few moments in her company, and Helen, back at Number One, clearly wasn’t in a rush. “It is a lovely even — ”
The two dogs suddenly tore over the dune’s crest, sand spraying around them. The moment was shattered. “Here, Arthur,” Barry called. “Sit.”
The Lab came, planted his backside, and, tongue lolling, stared up at Barry.
“Max, Max, hold still, you goat.” She bent and struggled to clip a lead to Max’s collar.
Barry looked at the firm curve of her backside. Damn it, he hadn’t held a girl since last Christmas. The worst she could do was refuse an invitation. “Sue,” he said, “what are you doing on Saturday?” He knew Kitty was coming down and O’Reilly would be glad to have the place to himself, and it was his turn to take call.
She stood, straining against the springer’s leash as Max practically strangled himself on a choke-chain collar. “Nothing after eight. I’ve a meeting to go to before that. It’ll be over by seven thirty.”
“How’d you fancy a late dinner?”
“I’d love it,” she said. Then, arms stretched to full length, she was dragged away by the daft dog. “Phone me. I’ve gotta go.”
“I will. Tonight,” he yelled after her as she was dragged up and over the dune by Max. There, he told himself, that wasn’t too difficult, was it? And he grinned when he realised how much he was looking forward to Saturday night now. He set off. “Come on, Arthur. Heel. Show me you’ve better manners than that unruly brute of Sue’s.” She might be a first-class teacher at MacNeill Memorial Elementary School, but she herself needed instruction in the art of dog training. Oh well, Barry thought as he moved onto the Shore Road, nobody’s perfect, but Sue Nolan was very easy to look at. He wondered how it would feel to kiss her.
11
What Cat’s Averse to Fish?
Barry, smiling at the thought of his end-of-week pint with O’Reilly, hammered on the Browns’ door with its stern lion’s head knocker. Helen Hewitt, who this afternoon had vacuumed the rooms and landings on the first floor, was now well into Oliver Twist and said she didn’t mind staying at Number One Main to answer phones, even if it was a Friday. O’Reilly, accompanied by the faithful hound, and Barry on his own, had agreed to make separate follow-up home visits and meet later at the Mucky Duck.
“Come on on on in, Doctor Laverty,” Connie said “You’ve come for to see wee Colin? He’s in the backyard.”
“He’s well?”
“Fit as a flea.”
Barry followed her through the hall and into the kitchen, where two pots bubbled on top of a range and gave off mouthwatering scents. A loaded clotheshorse stood gently steaming in front of the range. He couldn’t help noticing how many of the pairs of socks had been darned.
“Sorry about the clutter. It’s right and sunny the day, but there’s no drying in it. And with them wee squalls every now and then, I’d be going like a fiddler’s elbow taking the washing in and putting it out again,” Connie said.
“Please don’t apologise. You’ll have been busy enough since Colin came home from hospital.”
She sighed and pushed her hair from her forehead with the back of one hand. “To tell you God’s honest truth, I hope you do say he can go back to school on Monday. Anyroads, them Royal bone doctors was spot on, so they were. Had him fixed in no time, you know, and home here on Wednesday. He’s been running round like a liltie, so he has. He has me driven daft sometimes. Och, but — ” and she smiled fondly.
Barry laughed. Colin Brown would be a going concern all right, a regular Irish berserker.
“This way, sir.” Connie unsnibbed a back door that led into a small yard enclosed between the house and three red-brick walls.
Say something, he thought, not sure whether he was referring to himself or Sue. In truth he’d certainly enjoy another few moments in her company, and Helen, back at Number One, clearly wasn’t in a rush. “It is a lovely even — ”
The two dogs suddenly tore over the dune’s crest, sand spraying around them. The moment was shattered. “Here, Arthur,” Barry called. “Sit.”
The Lab came, planted his backside, and, tongue lolling, stared up at Barry.
“Max, Max, hold still, you goat.” She bent and struggled to clip a lead to Max’s collar.
Barry looked at the firm curve of her backside. Damn it, he hadn’t held a girl since last Christmas. The worst she could do was refuse an invitation. “Sue,” he said, “what are you doing on Saturday?” He knew Kitty was coming down and O’Reilly would be glad to have the place to himself, and it was his turn to take call.
She stood, straining against the springer’s leash as Max practically strangled himself on a choke-chain collar. “Nothing after eight. I’ve a meeting to go to before that. It’ll be over by seven thirty.”
“How’d you fancy a late dinner?”
“I’d love it,” she said. Then, arms stretched to full length, she was dragged away by the daft dog. “Phone me. I’ve gotta go.”
“I will. Tonight,” he yelled after her as she was dragged up and over the dune by Max. There, he told himself, that wasn’t too difficult, was it? And he grinned when he realised how much he was looking forward to Saturday night now. He set off. “Come on, Arthur. Heel. Show me you’ve better manners than that unruly brute of Sue’s.” She might be a first-class teacher at MacNeill Memorial Elementary School, but she herself needed instruction in the art of dog training. Oh well, Barry thought as he moved onto the Shore Road, nobody’s perfect, but Sue Nolan was very easy to look at. He wondered how it would feel to kiss her.
11
What Cat’s Averse to Fish?
Barry, smiling at the thought of his end-of-week pint with O’Reilly, hammered on the Browns’ door with its stern lion’s head knocker. Helen Hewitt, who this afternoon had vacuumed the rooms and landings on the first floor, was now well into Oliver Twist and said she didn’t mind staying at Number One Main to answer phones, even if it was a Friday. O’Reilly, accompanied by the faithful hound, and Barry on his own, had agreed to make separate follow-up home visits and meet later at the Mucky Duck.
“Come on on on in, Doctor Laverty,” Connie said “You’ve come for to see wee Colin? He’s in the backyard.”
“He’s well?”
“Fit as a flea.”
Barry followed her through the hall and into the kitchen, where two pots bubbled on top of a range and gave off mouthwatering scents. A loaded clotheshorse stood gently steaming in front of the range. He couldn’t help noticing how many of the pairs of socks had been darned.
“Sorry about the clutter. It’s right and sunny the day, but there’s no drying in it. And with them wee squalls every now and then, I’d be going like a fiddler’s elbow taking the washing in and putting it out again,” Connie said.
“Please don’t apologise. You’ll have been busy enough since Colin came home from hospital.”
She sighed and pushed her hair from her forehead with the back of one hand. “To tell you God’s honest truth, I hope you do say he can go back to school on Monday. Anyroads, them Royal bone doctors was spot on, so they were. Had him fixed in no time, you know, and home here on Wednesday. He’s been running round like a liltie, so he has. He has me driven daft sometimes. Och, but — ” and she smiled fondly.
Barry laughed. Colin Brown would be a going concern all right, a regular Irish berserker.
“This way, sir.” Connie unsnibbed a back door that led into a small yard enclosed between the house and three red-brick walls.
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