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Since Georgie’s call two days ago Iris found herself gasping at the overwhelming sense of loss his death provoked. It caught her out when she was least expecting it. Making her heart pound, her stomach churn and filling her with an overwhelming sense of loneliness that felt as if it might suffocate her completely. She would have sworn that Myles’s betrayal and the news of his baby had been the final straw – but it turned out she was wrong.
A light misting rain breathed its filmy breath on her face as she left Knock airport. The sensible thing to do now was run and catch the next bus for Ballycove. She wasn’t feeling very sensible though and part of her just wanted to walk in the soft, dewy breeze and feel it cleanse from her the stain and stench of London.
‘Iris?’ she heard a broad familiar voice call out. ‘Iris Delahaye, is it yourself that’s in it?’ She swung around to see Moira Barry making her way towards her, accompanied by her husband Eugene. She was unchanged – a little older, a lot wider, but the same open face, full of welcome and warmth. ‘I can’t believe it! It’s too long since we’ve seen you. And your poor father – we’re so sad to hear it. He’ll be badly missed about the place.’
‘I know, sad times indeed,’ Iris said, her voice hollow in her own ears. Moira Barry was a hugger; there was no point fighting off the embrace. At least Eugene settled for a manly handshake and friendly nod.
Moira looked at her with a critical eye. ‘You look tired and you need feeding up, but you’re still the same girl; I can see it in your eyes. A few days here and you’ll be right as rain. There’s nothing the sea air can’t fix.’ She was not being unkind – or not intentionally, anyway – just solicitous in her motherly way, and Iris knew she’d say no different to her own girls when they arrived back at her farmhouse just a few miles along the road from Soldier Hill House. ‘You’re not thinking of taking the bus, are you?’
‘Well—’
‘Absolutely not, we wouldn’t hear of it. It’ll take you half the day and a third of the county to get home. Our car is just over there. Come on, now, Eugene will have you home before you know it.’ And then they were making their way towards the car park and loading her bag into the back seat before she could even thank them. She was glad, as they drove through towns she hardly recognised now. It was nice, travelling along in their little car, listening to all the latest news from Ballycove, even though it was mostly about people she’d hardly given a thought to for more years than she cared to remember.
‘Ballycove hasn’t changed much,’ Eugene said stoutly.
‘No. There’s no danger of you getting lost, anyway.’ Moira laughed. ‘New doctor, and of course the old Corrigan Mills have changed hands, but the hotel is still going strong and the sea is slowly trying to eat away at the pier when we’re not looking.’
‘And your family are…?’
‘Scattered to the four winds, apart from Aiden – he’s making a great fist of the farm,’ Moira said proudly as she gazed out across green fields that had been subdivided almost to the point of postage stamps. Aiden was the middle child in the family, but older than Iris, and she had almost forgotten about him; Georgie would probably remember him much better.
‘That must be nice,’ Iris said, thinking wistfully for the first time in as long as she could remember that it must be something special to have family about you as you got older. Actually, it must be lovely just to have a family in general. Iris looked out the window, concentrating on the scenery passing slowly by. The sky overhead had papered in a pewter colour that pressed down on the darkening hills rolling into the distance.
They were right about Ballycove. It hadn’t changed a bit, and the road along the bay seemed like it was extending a welcome home to her that she knew she didn’t really deserve. She’d loved it here, but that was something she’d managed to disregard when she fell in love with Myles. Back then, like everyone else her age, all she’d wanted was adventure and excitement. God, if only she’d known then where the road she was on would take her. Now, she rolled down the window and inhaled the sea air as if it was precious oxygen to a drowning woman.
‘You can’t beat it,’ Eugene said, proudly surveying the Atlantic Ocean below them. Perhaps, that was the secret to happiness, Iris thought: relishing what is on your doorstep, never having to leave your own backyard to find the kind of contentment that in her experience had only grown more distant as she’d tried to chase it down.
‘Aye, it’ll soon put a colour back in your cheeks,’ Moira said confidently.
‘It’s good to be back.’ Iris surprised herself by realising she actually meant it. Even today, with the sky a gloomy grey and the sea a molten cold steel and black, there was no mistaking the sweetness of the air and the enveloping welcome of coming home to somewhere she knew she had once belonged. They passed by the tiny cottages facing across the sea wall and then on up towards the top of the village, passing by the old Georgian houses that had stood proud but shabby when she was here last. Now, they looked as if someone had come along and spruced them up to their former glory. ‘The surgery is gone,’ she said softly.
‘No, it’s still here; the new doctor has opened up a brand-new practice at the back. It’s out on the market square – much better. There’s parking and no hanging about, not like in the old days,’ Eugene said as if he was giving tour guide information to a day-tripper.
From there the little car weaved through the two miles of bendy roads to take Iris back to the house where she had grown up. The avenue alone was enough to let her know that here, at least, the hand of reinvention had not yet waved its magic wand. A high growth of grass sprouted in the middle of the narrow avenue and on either side beech trees stretched lacy fingers towards the darkening sky.
Soldier Hill House stood tall and majestic, if a little worse for wear – her father had never been a man to notice much if it needed paint or pruning. Now, sleeping wisteria hung from the front façade waiting for the summer to bloom again in purple glory. Still, even in the overcast afternoon, she could see that the windows gleamed and the ancient brass adorning the old front door shone even in this grey light. Then she spotted the plumes of smoke rising from two of the chimneys, and unexpected warmth suffused her whole being.
She was home. The question was, what on earth was waiting for her now she was here?
