Page 24 of The Last Love Song
‘Best to send any letters to Maureen’s house. She can pass them on to me. Your daddy collects the post every morning and I wouldn’t trust him not to tear a letter from you up.’
‘Will you explain to Maureen what has happened?’
Mary nodded, then looked at her watch. ‘I must go. Yourdaddy will be expecting his dinner on the table.’ She stood up and Sorcha followed suit. ‘Take care of yourself.’
‘I will.’
Mary reached out and pulled her daughter to her. She kissed her on the forehead. ‘If there’s ever anything you need, I’ll try and get it for you.’
‘Thank you, Mammy.’
Mary’s eyes were bright with tears as she headed for the door. ‘Ah well, Sorcha, there’s half of me that envies you. Goodbye, my darling. May God go with you.’
Mary was just about to shut the door when Sorcha remembered the question that had been nagging at the back of her mind.
‘Mammy, how did Daddy know where I was yesterday?’
‘Helen McCarthy telephoned us to say she was concerned because she thought she’d seen you on the beach earlier and the storm was very bad.’
‘Oh.’
‘Why?’
‘No reason.’ Sorcha went to the door and gave her mother a hug. ‘I’ll miss you, Mammy. Goodbye.’
Sorcha sat on a dune and stared out at the sea. The day was hot and the water was a perfect Mediterranean blue. The sound of the waves hit her senses as though she was hearing them for the first time.
She realised then how lucky she’d been to grow up in such a beautiful place. Her mind turned to the long lazy summer days she’d spent on this beach with her friends. And all the winter nights she’d scuttled home in the lashing rain to find a plateful of steaming stew and a warm fire to dry herself against.
Her life in Ballymore. A life that had seemed so dull whileshe was living it but now seemed so perfectly safe and secure. She felt like crying, but steeled herself not to. There was no turning back.
Con placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘Ready?’
Sorcha nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Good. I’ve not bothered locking the hut.’ He smiled.
‘No.’
Con sat down next to her. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Yes.’ Sorcha nodded. She stood up. ‘Come on, Con. I have a call to make on our way.’
Helen heard the doorbell ring, but, knowing her aunt would answer it, lay where she was on her bed.
‘Helen, it’s for you.’
She swung her legs off the bed and went onto the landing. ‘Who is it?’
‘Sorcha O’Donovan.’
‘Oh, I...’ She stood reluctantly at the top of the stairs.
‘Come on, Helen,’ said her aunt irritably. ‘Sorcha’s waiting.’
Helen made her way slowly down the long oak staircase. Sorcha was standing in the hall.
‘Shall I put the kettle on?’ asked Betty.
