Blue Sky (The Blue Bird Series Book 2) by Trish Finnegan

Author:Trish Finnegan [Finnegan, Trish]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Burning Chair Limited
Published: 2022-09-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

I pushed open the door and stepped inside the Hornthorpe club. The warmth was welcome.

‘Are you a member?’ asked the man behind the desk in the foyer.

‘Samantha!’

I looked across to Pete who was coming towards us. ‘Hi Pete, this is my cousin Eamon. He’s staying with us over Christmas, and I thought it would be nice to bring him for a drink here.’

‘No problem; you can sign in as my guests.’ Pete held his hand out to Eamon. ‘Peter Flinders, Samantha’s instructor.’

‘Eamon Kildea.’ Eamon took Pete’s hand and shook.

‘Where are you from?’ Pete asked when he heard Eamon speak.

‘Downpatrick,’ Eamon replied.

‘A lovely part of the world,’ Pete said. ‘When I was a boy, I had some wonderful holidays with my aunt and uncle in Ballycastle. For two pins, I would have moved there permanently, but my uncle died and my aunt came to England to be near us.’

‘There’s a lot come over here from the old country, with the troubles and all that,’ Eamon said. I noticed his accent had thickened as he spoke to Pete.

‘Sad times. Let’s hope they don’t last,’ Pete said. ‘Anyway, here I am keeping you chatting. Let’s get you signed in and then you can enjoy the evening.’

We all signed the book. Pete went into the office, and Eamon and I went to the bar where Barbara was working.

‘Hello again. Merry Christmas,’ Barbara said.

‘Merry Christmas. This is Eamon. He’s staying with us over the holidays.’

‘What can I get you, Eamon?’

‘Pint of bitter and a lager and lime for my cousin please,’ he said.

Barbara got us our drinks and we settled on a couple of bar stools that gave us a good view of the room.

‘Do you know what you’re looking for, Eamon,’ I whispered.

‘Anything and everything.’

I pointed at the photographs on the wall. ‘Recognise that?’

Eamon put his drink down and went over to inspect them. ‘I’ve seen that one before.’ I went and stood beside him.

Barbara noticed us looking. ‘Have you shown him the one we talked about?’

‘We were just looking at it,’ I replied.

A man, mid-fifties, silver hair came to the bar. ‘Summerskill’s last jump,’ he called to us.

‘The usual, Minchie?’ Barbara said.

‘The usual, Barbara,’ he replied.

‘Minchie, Tom Minchin,’ I whispered to Eamon. ‘The one Mr Donald told us about. He knows about storing the parachutes.’

This wasn’t exactly what we had been looking for, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. We returned to our drinks.

‘I couldn’t imagine anything more horrible,’ I said.

‘You wouldn’t get me jumping from a plane,’ Eamon agreed.

‘Oh, it’s not so bad,’ Minchie said. ‘I was nervous at first, but you get used to it.’

Barbara put a pint in front of him and he chugged half of it straight down and smacked his lips.

‘You were in the air force?’ Eamon asked.

‘I was a marine. Commandos trained in parachute jumping, it was necessary for some missions. We had to train with the RAF.’

‘I suppose it makes sense to pool resources,’ I said.

‘Exactly,’ Minchie said. ‘I was here on that day.

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