Aisling Gayle (4 page)

All in all, Aisling was pleased to see her parents throwing themselves into the holiday spirit, oohing and ahhing over the meals, and wondering how they managed to prepare and store the food in such a small space. Declan sat back, alternately enjoying the complimentary drinks and dozing off, and even Maggie threw caution to the wind and had a glass of wine with her meal, which the air-hostess told her would help her to relax.

Over the next few hours, while her parents’ attention was taken up with chatting to an elderly Dublin couple
who were sitting across the aisle, Aisling sipped on wine and lost herself in her latest romantic novel.

The pleasant cool breeze they had enjoyed when they left Dublin airport that morning did not prepare the three Irish travellers for the wall of heat that hit them when they arrived in JFK airport.

Apart from the unexpectedly high temperatures – even high by New York standards – this was the bit of the journey they all felt rather apprehensive about. Their luggage had to be collected , and then they had to find another part of the terminal to take an internal flight up to Syracuse airport.

“Oh, God!” Maggie gasped when she saw the little twelve-seater plane. “We’ll never make it alive in that thing. It’s no bigger than the Jimmy Martin’s shooting-brake!” Then she immediately dropped the case she was carrying, to rummage in her handbag for her rosary beads.

Aisling and her father made a good job of reassuring her that the small plane was perfectly safe, although later on they both admitted the trepidation they felt themselves as the noisy little aircraft took off.

“My fingers are paining me from clutching the beads!” Maggie complained as they made their descent into Syracuse airport, “but thank God the prayers worked, and we’re all in one piece.”

It was a grateful threesome indeed – in more ways than one – who threw their arms around Bruce and Jean after the plane touched down.

Chapter 5

Lake Savannah

Aisling had never seen such luxury. She had no idea that her Aunt Jean was so wealthy. If the truth be told, all three had expected a nice, modern American house – but nothing of the grandeur they now found themselves in the midst of. The photographs Jean had sent over the years had not done justice to the house and beautifully cared-for grounds.

“I didn’t realise that Bruce had such a big job,” Maggie whispered in a shocked tone to Aisling, as they followed her young-looking sister and tall, dark husband into the high,
wooden house – the likes of which they had only ever seen in magazines or the films. “I could never have imagined my own sister – who I slept in the same bed with –
owning a place like this.”

“Make yourselves completely at home,” Jean told them in an accent that was a mix of Irish and American. “I’ll give you a quick guided tour, then you’ll know where everything is.” Then, she quickly bustled them from one beautifully furnished room to another, and then guided them upstairs to view the bedrooms and second bathroom.

Maggie followed behind the nimble, neat-figured Jean and Aisling, and in front of Declan. She could feel her face bur
ning and her head whirling, and couldn’t decide whether it was the unaccustomed heat or the exertion of rushing up two flights of stairs. On the other hand, she reflected,
as she gratefully reached the top landing, it could have been the effects of the cocktail she had downed on arrival. Maggie wasn’t at all used to drinking, and if she hadn’t felt so flustered and overwhelmed by the house, she would have refused it. Instead, she had nervously downed the fancy sweet cocktail as though she were drinking lemonade – in two quick gulps.

When they arrived back downstairs, Jean called in to Bruce: “Honey? Is the kettle boiled yet?”

“It sure is,” the fit-looking, tanned Bruce confirmed, with a clap of his hands. “Now, Maggie – how many spoonfuls of that special Irish tea do I put in the teapot?”

Maggie beamed at the mention of tea, and then suddenly rushed towards the kitchen. “I’ll gladly make it,
Bruce,” she offered, “and if I know Jean, she’ll be desperate
waiting to have a cup herself. You can’t beat a decent cup of Irish tea. Oh, the stuff they tried to pass for tea on that plane! How they get away with it is beyond me.”

Aisling looked over and caught Jean’s eye. Then they both started laughing.

“I hate to tell her,” Jean whispered guiltily, “but I much prefer coffee these days.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Declan laughed. “Maggie can drink enough tea for two easily.”

A few minutes later, Maggie and Bruce appeared with cups of tea and plates of dainty sandwiches and cakes.

“After we’ve eaten,” Bruce said, “we’ll take you on a tour of the garden, and down towards the lake.” He gestured to the big, picture window behind them, from where they could see countless tall pine trees towering over trees of every size and colour.

“If the garden is as big as the house,” Maggie said, “you might never see me again if I go out on my own!” She shook her head and took another glorious sip of her tea.

“Oh, after you get your first day over, you’ll find your way around just like you do back home,” Jean told her, putting her arm around her sister and giving her stiff little body a hug.

“Don’t be surprised if you wake up in the morning, and find me sleeping in the bath!” Maggie said with a roar of laughter, the effects of the cocktail still on her.

“After the long journey you’ve made to come visit me, honey,” Jean quipped, “you can sleep between Bruce and me for all I care!”

“And would that be in or out of the bath?” Declan added for good measure.

Aisling looked from her mother to her father, and wondered what had come over them. If this was the effect that being in America had on her normally staid parents, Aisling wished they could have a holiday over here
every year
.

* * *

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come with us?” Jean called, as the car prepared to pull off.

Aisling shook her blonde, pony-tailed head and held up her novel. “I’m going to enjoy the peace and the beautiful scenery.” Then she smiled. “I might even do a bit of swimming if I feel energetic enough!”

“Okay,” Jean agreed, “but tomorrow I won’t take no for an answer – we’re going to a good shopping district, and I just know you’re gonna love it.”

“I’ll definitely join you tomorrow,” Aisling promised. “So off you go, and enjoy your visit. I’ll see you all later in the day.”

“Don’t get those legs burned like you did during that hot week at home last year,” Maggie called now. “You’d be far better in a skirt or a light dress in this heat.”

“I’ll stay in the shade,” Aisling told her, knowing full well that Maggie was making a last attempt at getting her to cover up. Women showing off their legs didn’t go down at all well in Maggie’s little world – even if they were on holiday in America. Shorts were almost worse than women wearing trousers, which her mother couldn’t come round to at all. And never would. And Aisling knew that the fact her Aunt Jean almost lived in them must be a thorn in her mother’s side.

“And don’t forget to watch out for the bears!” Maggie suddenly remembered, sticking her sun-hatted head out of the back window of the car. Several of Jean’s neighbours had related stories about bears in the locality. “Don’t fall asleep down near the water or anything – keep your wits about you all the time.”

“Don’t worry, Aisling,” Bruce called from the front. “We haven’t seen a bear in these parts for over five years.”

“Help yourself to the fridge, honey,” her aunt said, waving. “There’s plenty of everything in it.”

Aisling heaved a sigh of relief when at long last the car moved off, taking Jean and Bruce and her parents to visit some elderly couple whose ancestors came from Mullingar. Since they had arrived in Upstate New York, they had spent the first few days in a whirlwind of visits and introductions, until Aisling felt that she couldn’t take in another face or another name. And while everyone had been so nice and friendly, if the truth be told they were all a bit on the elderly side for Aisling. Definitely more suited to her mother and father’s age group than hers.

Invitations had come from practically everyone they met for barbecues, lunches and brunches. If they had accepted every invitation, they would have had to stay for six months instead of one.

Aisling turned back towards the house to pick up her sunglasses. Although it was only eleven o’clock in the
morning, the thermometer on the garage wall was climbing well up towards the eighties. It was going to be another ho
t, sunny day, and Aisling had all those hours stretching ahead in this beautiful place.

For the first time since arriving she could do whatever she wanted – when she wanted – without having to consider anyone else. She could eat when she wanted, read when she wanted, and swim when she wanted. And who knows – maybe even sleep if she wanted.

She went to the fridge to get a cool drink and some of the fresh fruit salad that Jean made by the bucketful.

She put her sunglasses on the top of her head and tucked a bottle of sun-lotion into the top pocket of her blue-checked blouse. Then, with her novel under her arm and the tray in her hand – Aisling made her way down to Lake Savannah.

Every now and again, she came across the windchimes that Bruce had dangling from various trees, and she couldn’t resist stretching up an arm to shake them. Like a child with Christmas-tree decorations, she found herself laughing as the metal and wood creations tinkled at the slightest touch.

The day after they had arrived at the Harpers’ house, Bruce had spent time telling Aisling where he had bought each windchime, and explaining the symbols and pictures that adorned them. There was a particularly striking one that hung from a weeping willow. It was positioned in the middle of the little ornamental bridge which stood at the bottom of the garden. It was made of bamboo canes and light metal, with flowers delicately painted on each part. It was her favourite one, and if she saw any like it in the shops while she was over, she planned on buying one to take back home.

When she reached the lake, Aisling set her stuff down on the wooden picnic table and, slipping off her cream sling-back sandals, she walked down to the edge of the water. She stood still, drinking in the breathtaking view that surrounded her.

At first glance, it looked as though the lake was completely encircled with trees, but on closer inspection, Aisling could see houses dotted every so often in between the gently swaying pines.

She had been down at this point several times in the last few days, but always with other people. Usually her mother – seeking Aisling’s advice in urgent whispers on whether they would like barbecues, and what sort of food would they be expected to eat at them. And how might all this unusual food affect Declan’s very sensitive stomach.

On her own in the silence, Aisling could take the time to really look around her, and appreciate the warmth of the sun and the balmy silence of the still, beautiful lake.

The morning passed into afternoon, and Aisling ate and drank, read and swam – exactly when she wanted. Moving in and out of the shade as she felt like it. It was bliss. Sheer bliss – with nothing to disturb it.

Every now and then, Oliver would creep into her thoughts. But she was actually surprised how little it bothered her. She discovered she did not miss him one little bit. Her only feelings were of relief. Relief at not having to pretend every day.

Nobody here in America knew Oliver, and they knew nothing of the life she led with him. Here – for this few weeks – she could be the Aisling Gayle she wanted to be. Apart from a quick phone call to say she had arrived safely, he might never have existed. And, for the rest of the holiday, that’s exactly how it would be.

She got up from the slatted, wooden deckchair now and stretched up as far her arms could reach. Then she took off her shirt and shorts, leaving only her swimsuit on. She climbed up on to the long, wooden pier, and – barefoot – walked along to the end. She paused for a few seconds, then dived deep into the clear, blue water. As she surfaced, she could feel the water was warmer than yesterday. It was like being in a huge, luxurious bathtub. A million miles away from the cool lakes back in Ireland, where she had learned to swim.

Aisling swam first in one direction – about a quarter of the way around the lake’s perimeter – then back to the pier and the same distance in the opposite direction. It was an
easy, comfortable distance. As she continued to swim, and
she stretched her path further by a few yards each time, she started to catch glimpses of the nearer houses through the trees. Six in all – spread out like the rays of the sun, each set back in more of the tall trees and multicoloured shrubs.

Occasionally, she could see some movement of people – but the houses were too far away to make out whether a person was male or female, young or old. She wasn’t too bothered who was around the houses. Today, the only company she needed was her own.

She decided to go in search of lunch around three o’clock. She pulled her blouse and shorts back on and gathered up her bits and pieces. She smiled to herself as she headed back to the house, because her mother would not have approved at all. Back at home, dinner was at one o’clock every day – without fail. By one, Charles would have already sat down at the kitchen table along with Pauline and Bernadette, and probably Peenie Walshe as well, and Mrs Kelly would have served him potatoes, meat and vegetables.