say.
‘He’s twenty-one, same as you. Would you like to meet him? That’s him over there. Today’s his day off, that’s why he’s not in uniform.’ She signalled to the young man who’d been watching her so avidly. He jumped to his feet and came over. ‘Tom, this is my brother, Finn. I’ve just told him we’re getting married.’
Finn arrived in Kildare feeling limp and dejected. He’d had nearly four weeks off work - his boss was just as understanding as Maggie’s. He hadn’t liked Tom Ryan; he was too full of himself for words. What’s more, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel content again in Ireland after the hustle and bustle of New York. He caught the bus to Duneathly and stared gloomily at the scenery, the rolling fields, the trees just bursting into bud, the little cottages, like his own, nestling at the foot of the hills. It was all too damned quiet and dull.
The bus stopped outside his cottage, he opened the creaking gate that he kept meaning to fix, and went in the front door, to be met by a strange cry from upstairs. He dropped his suitcase, mounted the stairs two at a time, and burst into the bedroom.
Hazel was lying on the bed, looking as if she’d just climbed Mount Everest with lead in her boots, and Carmel O’Flaherty, the midwife, was holding a tiny baby covered in blood, who was yelling loud enough to bring down the roof.
‘You’re just in time to say hello to our son, Finn,’ Hazel said with an exhausted smile.
‘Is there something wrong with him?’ Had his son cut himself already?
‘It’s your wife’s blood, Mr Kenny. I’ll wash it off him in a minute. As for the crying, that’s quite normal. You’d cry if you’d just come out of a lovely warm place into the cold of the big wide world.’ Carmel gave him a severe look. ‘You shouldn’t really be here. Most husbands take themselves off to the pub, leaving their wives to have their babies in peace. But,’ she relented, ‘seeing as you are here, would you like to hold the baby while I tidy your wife up?’
‘Yes, please,’ Finn croaked. The baby was wrapped in a towel, still screaming, and placed in his arms.
‘Would you mind looking the other way for a wee while, Mr Kenny?’
He did as he was told, but not before glancing at Hazel, seeing the love in her eyes that he knew was reflected in his own. He stood in front of the window holding his baby. In the space of only a few minutes, he had forgotten all about New York and his sisters. Now he was just thankful that he was back in Ireland with his wife and his new son.
‘Hello, Patrick,’ he whispered.
Chapter 4
He opened the door and she came dancing towards him, her black hair flaring out.
‘We bought pizza from Lombardi’s, Lev, your favourite, ’ she sang, ‘with cheese and tomatoes and Italian sausage and olives.’ She threw her arms around his neck. ‘I’m starving,’ she announced. He watched, fascinated, as her hair settled in a tumble of little curls and waves around her shoulder.
‘Then we shall eat immediately.’ Levon Zarian removed his cap and jacket and put them in the lobby cupboard. His own hair was just as black and lustrous, if considerably shorter. ‘Where’s Tamara?’
‘In the kitchen, getting things ready. I’ve been helping. We’re having wine, red, and there’s coffee ice cream in the ice box.’
He smiled - Anne always made him smile. ‘Is there a reason for this feast? Or are we just celebrating the fact it’s Tuesday, the sun is out, and the trees in Central Park are in full bloom? I passed today and it looked lovely. We must go there for a walk one day soon.’
‘I don’t think we’re celebrating anything, Lev.’ She hung on to his arm when he went into the kitchen where Tamara was preparing a salad.
‘Hello, my love.’ He rubbed his cheek against her smooth one and she kissed his nose. Tall and queenly, with plaits wound around her well-shaped head, to him she always seemed out of place in a kitchen.
‘He’s twenty-one, same as you. Would you like to meet him? That’s him over there. Today’s his day off, that’s why he’s not in uniform.’ She signalled to the young man who’d been watching her so avidly. He jumped to his feet and came over. ‘Tom, this is my brother, Finn. I’ve just told him we’re getting married.’
Finn arrived in Kildare feeling limp and dejected. He’d had nearly four weeks off work - his boss was just as understanding as Maggie’s. He hadn’t liked Tom Ryan; he was too full of himself for words. What’s more, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel content again in Ireland after the hustle and bustle of New York. He caught the bus to Duneathly and stared gloomily at the scenery, the rolling fields, the trees just bursting into bud, the little cottages, like his own, nestling at the foot of the hills. It was all too damned quiet and dull.
The bus stopped outside his cottage, he opened the creaking gate that he kept meaning to fix, and went in the front door, to be met by a strange cry from upstairs. He dropped his suitcase, mounted the stairs two at a time, and burst into the bedroom.
Hazel was lying on the bed, looking as if she’d just climbed Mount Everest with lead in her boots, and Carmel O’Flaherty, the midwife, was holding a tiny baby covered in blood, who was yelling loud enough to bring down the roof.
‘You’re just in time to say hello to our son, Finn,’ Hazel said with an exhausted smile.
‘Is there something wrong with him?’ Had his son cut himself already?
‘It’s your wife’s blood, Mr Kenny. I’ll wash it off him in a minute. As for the crying, that’s quite normal. You’d cry if you’d just come out of a lovely warm place into the cold of the big wide world.’ Carmel gave him a severe look. ‘You shouldn’t really be here. Most husbands take themselves off to the pub, leaving their wives to have their babies in peace. But,’ she relented, ‘seeing as you are here, would you like to hold the baby while I tidy your wife up?’
‘Yes, please,’ Finn croaked. The baby was wrapped in a towel, still screaming, and placed in his arms.
‘Would you mind looking the other way for a wee while, Mr Kenny?’
He did as he was told, but not before glancing at Hazel, seeing the love in her eyes that he knew was reflected in his own. He stood in front of the window holding his baby. In the space of only a few minutes, he had forgotten all about New York and his sisters. Now he was just thankful that he was back in Ireland with his wife and his new son.
‘Hello, Patrick,’ he whispered.
Chapter 4
He opened the door and she came dancing towards him, her black hair flaring out.
‘We bought pizza from Lombardi’s, Lev, your favourite, ’ she sang, ‘with cheese and tomatoes and Italian sausage and olives.’ She threw her arms around his neck. ‘I’m starving,’ she announced. He watched, fascinated, as her hair settled in a tumble of little curls and waves around her shoulder.
‘Then we shall eat immediately.’ Levon Zarian removed his cap and jacket and put them in the lobby cupboard. His own hair was just as black and lustrous, if considerably shorter. ‘Where’s Tamara?’
‘In the kitchen, getting things ready. I’ve been helping. We’re having wine, red, and there’s coffee ice cream in the ice box.’
He smiled - Anne always made him smile. ‘Is there a reason for this feast? Or are we just celebrating the fact it’s Tuesday, the sun is out, and the trees in Central Park are in full bloom? I passed today and it looked lovely. We must go there for a walk one day soon.’
‘I don’t think we’re celebrating anything, Lev.’ She hung on to his arm when he went into the kitchen where Tamara was preparing a salad.
‘Hello, my love.’ He rubbed his cheek against her smooth one and she kissed his nose. Tall and queenly, with plaits wound around her well-shaped head, to him she always seemed out of place in a kitchen.
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