An Irish Country Love Story (48 page)

He tried to distract himself by examining the British United Airways jet aircraft parked near the terminal building. BUA had started Belfast's first jet service in January 1966. The plane was different from any other Barry had ever seen, with a streamlined nose and its two engines mounted at the rear of the fuselage. Perhaps, he thought, with his appetite for foreign travel whetted by his short trip to France, he could whisk Sue off to somewhere exotic for their honeymoon in July.

He was aware of the high-pitched whine of aero engines and a brassy announcer's voice on a loudspeaker so distorted he missed pretty much everything except the critical, “… arriving at Aldergrove from Heathrow…” That was Sue's plane coming in to land. He shifted from foot to foot.

The twin-engined propellor-driven British European Airways aircraft touched down, taxied, and turned off the runway to come to a halt outside the terminal. The propellors changed from spinning discs reflecting the sunshine to slowly turning individual blades and then stopped. Ground crew ran a wheeled staircase to the front of the craft, where a door in the fuselage opened and a stewardess, neat in her Hardy Amies uniform of blue jacket and skirt, blue hat, and white gloves, stood smiling on the staircase's upper platform. Passengers started to disembark.

He waited to catch his first glimpse and, oh joy, there she was pausing at the top, with one hand shielding her eyes from the sun that made her copper hair glow. She trotted nimbly down and joined the crocodile of passengers moving toward the entrance to the building.

Barry ran to the door. Already the entrance, a single glass door, was becoming clogged with people so impatient to meet loved ones that as soon as they came through the doorway there was hugging and excited talking. The little family groups forming held up later arrivals and kept them waiting on the tarmac. “Excuse me, excuse me.” Barry was not shy about forcing his way past. The second she appeared, he grabbed her hand, dragged her aside, and hugged and kissed her as if he'd never have another chance. “Welcome home, darling. God, I've missed you,” Barry said, hoping that at last his pulse rate would start to slow. He released her, holding her at arm's length. She was glowing. “I love you.”

“Oh, Barry, I love you too, and it's lovely, lovely to be home. I've missed you so. I'm home for good now. No more exchange teaching for me.” It was her turn to kiss him before saying, “Now let's get my bags and head on down to Broughshane. I'm dying to see Mum and Dad too.”

*   *   *

“I must say, Barry,” said Selbert Nolan, “your colleagues and the nurses in the Waveney were all powerful nice to me, but I'm very glad they let me out two weeks ago. My Irene's cooking beats the hospital kitchen's by miles. That lunch really hit the spot. Them brown trout came straight out of the Braid. The season opened last month and your man Fred Alexander's a dab hand with a fly rod. And never you worry, son. Any time you want onto my water, just ask.”

“Thank you, Selbert,” Barry said. “I'll take you up on that one day soon.”

Selbert Nolan laughed. “Fishing's one way to get outside, and right now for me it's great til be in the fresh air after being cooped up in thon hospital.”

Barry and he sat on a bench at the side of a field that had been set up as a practice arena for training horses to compete in shows. Several jumps with red-and-white-striped cross bars were arranged in a circle where they alternated with fencing hurdles made of woven withies.

Sue, wearing a black hard hat, green cotton shirt, jeans, and riding boots, sat astride Róisín, her Irish Sport Horse. For the last half hour, while Barry had chatted with his father-in-law-to-be, he had been torn between trying to listen to words, not hooves on grassy ground, and keeping an eye on Sue. As he watched with his heart in his mouth, she and Róisín had soared over the jumps.

“Thon wee girl of mine sits a horse very well,” Selbert said. “I started teaching her when she was six. She won a fair wheen of jumping trophies when she got older. I think she misses it, but I know her job takes up a lot of time.”

“It's only a forty-minute run from the bungalow we hope to buy to Broughshane,” Barry said. “She can come out any time she likes if she needs to ride.”

“I'm pleased to hear that,” said Selbert, rising. “Thanks for bringing her from the airport, Barry.”

“My pleasure,” Barry said, “and I'm sorry I'm going to have to take her away tomorrow, but Doctor and Mrs. O'Reilly are having a party to celebrate the rebuilding of their dining room.”

“You two go on and have fun, hey. I know she'll be down to see us again soon.”

“She will.”

“Good. Now you and Sue enjoy the rest of the afternoon. I'm away off home for my nap. We'll see you at teatime.” And with that, he began his walk back to the farmhouse, leaning on a blackthorn stick. Barry studied his soon-to-be father-in-law. The man was taking measured paces. They weren't the long, businesslike strides Barry remembered from when he and Selbert had taken walks together before the man's heart attack, but nor were they an old man's shuffle. Barry reckoned Selbert was making a good steady recovery.

He turned back to watch Sue. At last. Apart from the drive down in the car when in the midst of all their catching up he'd taken the opportunity to park for a moment on a side road so he could kiss her properly, Barry'd not really been alone with Sue since she'd arrived. Tactful of her dad to take himself off.

Barry rose as Sue walked Róisín over to him. She dismounted and, holding the reins in one hand, kissed Barry. He was excited by the taste of her, but her faint perfume was overpowered by the strong smell of horse sweat. Róisín tossed her head and whinnied.

“Come on,” said Sue, “let's take a walk down to the bluebell wood. The flowers don't come out for another month or so and it's very beautiful then…”

“You are very beautiful now,” Barry said, kissed her, and took her hand. “Come on, show me the way.”

They left the paddock and wandered beneath a cloudless sky along a dry earth lane. Grass grew along its middle and the blue flowers of speedwell trailed from gaps in a dry stone wall on one side. Two small tortoiseshell butterflies, their red wings edged by black spots at their fronts and blue spots round the sides, sunned themselves on one of the wall's upper stones. A little grey rabbit—soft and round and toylike, very different from the athletic hares he'd seen boxing earlier—hopped along ahead. The blackthorn hedge on the other side of the lane was leafless but covered in masses of white, star-shaped flowers and the warm air was heavy with their delicate scent. A small flock of birds perched in the hedge, each about six inches from beak to tail, with bright yellow heads, darkly streaked backs, and yellow underparts. One sang “A little bit of bread and no cheese,” increasing the volume and length of the last two notes.

“Yellowhammers,” Sue said. “Pretty wee things.”

Barry was quite content simply to hold her hand and walk beside her in silence. They turned off the lane and onto a path through a wood where buds were ripening on broad leafless beech trees. The ground was springy underneath.

“You go ahead,” Sue said. “There's not room for us and Róisín side by side.”

Barry led and Sue, with her horse walking behind her, followed until they came to a grassy clearing surrounded and screened by the trees.

Sue moved beside Barry. “You should see this place when the flowers are out,” Sue said. “Acres of the brightest blue.”

“Let's come down and see it next month,” Barry said, feeling the nearness of her.

“Yes. Let's.” Sue stopped and loosely wrapped Róisín's reins round a low branch.

At once the horse began cropping the grass, making tearing noises as she pulled bunches free.

Sue turned to Barry and looked into his eyes.

He was speechless, drinking in the loveliness of her: copper hair, sparkling green eyes, soft lips with a hint of coral pink lipstick smiling over even white teeth. Lips opening for a tender kiss that became more urgent by the moment.

He held her to him, gently at first, his hands on her back feeling the muscle beneath her shirt, then more tightly, his chest against the soft firmness of her.

Together they sank to the grass and he felt its softness a springy cushion where the white-starred flowers of wood anemones and wild garlic gave their scents in counterpoint to Sue's light perfume.

He took off his sports jacket and made a pillow for her head and lay beside her, propped on one elbow, marvelling at the radiance of the woman he loved.

He stroked the side of her face and said, “Sue Nolan. I love you. I have loved you from the evening I saw you at the school Christmas pageant, although I didn't recognise it then. I knew it the day you nearly drowned…”

“And you rescued me,” she said.

“Because I couldn't bear the thought of a world without you. I loved you then, I love you now, and I will love you forever.”

“Thank you, darling Barry,” she said with longing in her voice. “And I love you, from the bottom of my soul.” She crooked one arm around his neck and pulled his lips onto hers.

And Barry Laverty made love with Sue Nolan on a bed of grass under a blue sky etched with a tracery of bare branches as an unconcerned horse ignored them and dined at her leisure.

 

40

Our Revels Now Are Ended

Barry finished knotting his black Old Campbellian tie with its narrow green-and-white diagonal stripes and boar's head motif, turned down the collar of his white shirt, and put on his blue blazer. “Will I do?” he asked.

Sue, looking lovely in red heels, taupe tights, a red tartan pleated mini, and cream angora sweater, was perched on a chair in Barry's quarters at Number One Main Street, thumbing through a book. The light from the window sparkled from her engagement ring as her fingers moved.

She cocked her head, scrutinised him, and said, “Very nicely, sir. I think I'll keep you.”

“Eejit,” said Barry with a grin. He turned and noticed what she was reading. “Interesting?” She had been flicking through a tome entitled
The Masting and Rigging of English Ships of War. 1625–1860
by James Lees. It had been Ronald Fitzpatrick's gift to Barry last month, along with
Morning Flight
and
Wild Chorus
by the naturalist Peter Scott, beautifully illustrated with the author's own oils of wildfowl for Fingal and the 1966
Impressionism and Post Impressionism, 1874–1904
for Kitty. The books for Nonie and Jenny Bradley had been chosen with equal care.

“Not really,” she said. “Not my cuppa, fore t'gallants, buntlines, and mizzen backstays, but I know how much you enjoy your modelling. You made a fantastic job of your
Rattlesnake
. I'm proud of you.”

The finished model sat in all its three-masted glory inside a perspex display case crafted by Donal Donnelly.

He crossed to her, took her hand, and gave her a chaste kiss. “Thank you. My next project's going to be HMS
Victory,
Lord Nelson's flagship at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805.”

“No,” she said, “your next project's taking me to the party. Come on.” She opened the door to the kitchen, where Kinky and Archie were putting the finishing touches to the nibblers for the evening's affair. “Can we help you with anything, Kinky?” Sue asked.

Kinky whipped off her apron and smiled. “Thank you, Miss Susan. If you'd be good enough to carry through that plate of cocktail sausages, and you, sir, those stuffed mushroom caps, I'd be grateful. Archie and I'll see to the rest when we come through.” She heaved a sigh of deep contentment. “It does be a great relief that old Number One is as good as new and won't be pulled down.”

“And right and proper,” Barry said, “that you and Archie are coming to the party as guests.”

“Well,” said Kinky, “we'd have been pleased to serve, but everything's ready, folks can help themselves, and Donal's going to be barman, so there's not much for us to do. And it is an honour to be invited, so.”

“After thirty … how many?” Barry said.

“Thirty-nine years since I first came here to look after old Doctor Flanagan. It was 1928 and me only nineteen,” Kinky said.

“After that long it's no more than your due, Kinky Auchinleck. You're family.” Barry lifted the plate. “See you soon,” he said, and with Sue by his side, headed for the hall.

The door to the surgery was shut and the surprise for Kitty that Barry, at O'Reilly's request, had bought today was hidden in there. On his boss's signal, it would be presented to Kitty.

The dining room door was open and the smell of fresh paint not yet gone. As he'd promised, Bertie Bishop's construction crew had started work the day after the council meeting. It hadn't been much of a gamble. The Ministry of Transport had ratified the council's recommendation within three days. For ten days, the house had rung to the sounds of hammering and sawing and smelled of wet cement, wood shavings, sawdust, fresh paint, and turpentine.

Barry let Sue precede him.

“How's about youse both?” Carroty-haired Donal stood beside a sideboard laden with drinks and glasses. He wore green elastic garters to hold his shirt cuffs up and a white tied-at-the-waist apron. “What'll youse have?”

“Sue?”

She shook her head. “I think later, Donal, thanks.”

“Me too. How are you, and how're Julie and Tori?” Barry did a quick calculation. Julie'd be twenty-five weeks now.

“I'm grand and Julie's blooming, so she is. Tori's growing like a dandelion in springtime and she's impatient til meet her baby brother.”

Barry refrained from suggesting that Julie might be carrying another girl. “Gotta put these down, Donal.” He moved to where the old bog oak table held pride of place in the centre surrounded by six chairs and set down his plate beside Sue's. “Kitty found a near match in a Belfast antique shop for the chair that got smashed by the lorry.”