Canada for Andrew now. Sure how could he go, an’ all the property at Caledon and Drumsollen his now to see after?’
Clare never knew how she got through the hours that followed, the goodbyes to June Wiley and John, the drive back to Caledon with Elsie chattering away in the back seat, the changing of clothes, themaking of plans. Even more goodbyes as they prepared to go back to Belfast.
‘I’d never have managed without you, Clare,’ Ginny said, tears springing to her eyes, as they walked out together to the car. ‘I shall miss you so.’
Clare put her arms round her, careful not to press on her heavily bandaged arm. She’d always liked Ginny, enjoyed her company, appreciated her elegance and humour, but in these last few days, talking together, sharing the loss of Edward, weeping together, some quite new bond had been forged between them.
‘I’ll miss you too, Ginny,’ she said sadly. ‘We managed it together. Edward would have been proud of us.’
‘Get in the car, Clare. Go quickly. I’m about to bawl again,’ said Ginny urgently. ‘Andrew doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you.’
She kissed Clare’s cheek and ran indoors, just as a rattle of thunder echoed away in the west. Large, warm spots of rain the size of sixpences spattered down.
Barney opened the car door for Clare. ‘Thanks for everything,’ he said, bending to kiss her cheek. ‘Helen and I couldn’t have done without you. We’ll come up and see you before the wedding, when she’s a bit steadier.’
He went round to Andrew’s side. ‘Drive carefully now,’ he said. ‘The roads will be greasy enough once this rain gets on them, after all the heat and dryness.’
They made their way slowly down the drive, the rain already streaming across the windscreen, turningtheir parting view of the lawns and herbaceous border into an impressionist blur of brilliant colours.
Before they reached Armagh, it was lashing down so fiercely that they had to pull in and stop, because the wipers just couldn’t cope. There was a sudden blinding flash and a shattering crash of thunder right overhead. However anxious she might be, this was not the moment to speak about Canada or anything else. Just getting back to Belfast was going to be an achievement.
When they were able to go on again, lightning still lit up the sky; the noise of thunder and the swish of the tyres through the water now lying on the road was enough to make talk impossible anyway. Only as they approached Belfast itself did the storm move away and even the rain had eased when, at last, they stopped in Elmwood Avenue.
She looked at Andrew. In the lamplight, his face was drawn and white with exhaustion.
‘You must go home and go straight to bed. You’ve got to go to work tomorrow,’ she said, managing a firmness she certainly didn’t feel. ‘And don’t get out to help me. I can manage.’
Thankfully, he leaned his head and arms on the steering wheel while she got her suitcase out of the boot and shut it firmly.
‘I’ll come up tomorrow, as soon as I can get away,’ he said wearily. ‘Thanks for being so wonderful. I don’t deserve it.’
Shewatched him drive off and turned towards the house, grateful to see it was in darkness. The kind enquiries of Mrs McGregor were more than shecould bear tonight. She tiptoed quietly upstairs in the glow from the street lamp, dropped her suitcase inside her door, peeled off her jacket and went straight across to light the gas fire. She sat and held out her hands to the glow, though the room was warm and muggy.
‘It’s not going to work after all,’ she said, surprised to find her voice quite steady and matter-of-fact. ‘I knew it was too good to be true. Every time I’m happy, every time I have someone to love and a home of my own, it’s taken away. First there was Mummy and Daddy, then there was Granda Scott. Now it’s Andrew.’
She thought of the roomfuls of Richardsons, all doing what they had to do, what they’d
Clare never knew how she got through the hours that followed, the goodbyes to June Wiley and John, the drive back to Caledon with Elsie chattering away in the back seat, the changing of clothes, themaking of plans. Even more goodbyes as they prepared to go back to Belfast.
‘I’d never have managed without you, Clare,’ Ginny said, tears springing to her eyes, as they walked out together to the car. ‘I shall miss you so.’
Clare put her arms round her, careful not to press on her heavily bandaged arm. She’d always liked Ginny, enjoyed her company, appreciated her elegance and humour, but in these last few days, talking together, sharing the loss of Edward, weeping together, some quite new bond had been forged between them.
‘I’ll miss you too, Ginny,’ she said sadly. ‘We managed it together. Edward would have been proud of us.’
‘Get in the car, Clare. Go quickly. I’m about to bawl again,’ said Ginny urgently. ‘Andrew doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you.’
She kissed Clare’s cheek and ran indoors, just as a rattle of thunder echoed away in the west. Large, warm spots of rain the size of sixpences spattered down.
Barney opened the car door for Clare. ‘Thanks for everything,’ he said, bending to kiss her cheek. ‘Helen and I couldn’t have done without you. We’ll come up and see you before the wedding, when she’s a bit steadier.’
He went round to Andrew’s side. ‘Drive carefully now,’ he said. ‘The roads will be greasy enough once this rain gets on them, after all the heat and dryness.’
They made their way slowly down the drive, the rain already streaming across the windscreen, turningtheir parting view of the lawns and herbaceous border into an impressionist blur of brilliant colours.
Before they reached Armagh, it was lashing down so fiercely that they had to pull in and stop, because the wipers just couldn’t cope. There was a sudden blinding flash and a shattering crash of thunder right overhead. However anxious she might be, this was not the moment to speak about Canada or anything else. Just getting back to Belfast was going to be an achievement.
When they were able to go on again, lightning still lit up the sky; the noise of thunder and the swish of the tyres through the water now lying on the road was enough to make talk impossible anyway. Only as they approached Belfast itself did the storm move away and even the rain had eased when, at last, they stopped in Elmwood Avenue.
She looked at Andrew. In the lamplight, his face was drawn and white with exhaustion.
‘You must go home and go straight to bed. You’ve got to go to work tomorrow,’ she said, managing a firmness she certainly didn’t feel. ‘And don’t get out to help me. I can manage.’
Thankfully, he leaned his head and arms on the steering wheel while she got her suitcase out of the boot and shut it firmly.
‘I’ll come up tomorrow, as soon as I can get away,’ he said wearily. ‘Thanks for being so wonderful. I don’t deserve it.’
Shewatched him drive off and turned towards the house, grateful to see it was in darkness. The kind enquiries of Mrs McGregor were more than shecould bear tonight. She tiptoed quietly upstairs in the glow from the street lamp, dropped her suitcase inside her door, peeled off her jacket and went straight across to light the gas fire. She sat and held out her hands to the glow, though the room was warm and muggy.
‘It’s not going to work after all,’ she said, surprised to find her voice quite steady and matter-of-fact. ‘I knew it was too good to be true. Every time I’m happy, every time I have someone to love and a home of my own, it’s taken away. First there was Mummy and Daddy, then there was Granda Scott. Now it’s Andrew.’
She thought of the roomfuls of Richardsons, all doing what they had to do, what they’d
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