The Last Reunion by Kayte Nunn

Author:Kayte Nunn [Nunn, Kayte]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781398701151
Google: WHcLEAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B08N17S1KH
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2021-03-29T23:00:00+00:00

The women weren’t in the cafe when Olivia went to check later that morning, but as she was about to return to the hotel, she ran into Alex, who suggested they try the pub instead.

O’Connell’s Bar, a few yards from the hotel in a quaint cobblestoned laneway, was jammed with people and Christmas tinsel and noise and a fug of warmth. They quickly shed their jackets and scarves, and Olivia listened, entranced, as the lilting Irish accents swirled around her.

‘There they are!’ Alex called out over the hubbub of conversation. ‘By the fire.’

Sure enough, the four women were sitting at a table, each with a pint glass of Guinness in front of them. The women were animated, smiling and gesticulating as they spoke. The century had only a day left to run, and from the look of the women they were all ready to sail enthusiastically into the next one.

‘If you can’t beat them …’ Alex made a drinking motion.

Olivia nodded her thanks and as Alex shouldered her way to the bar, Olivia went over to where Beatrix was sitting, perching next to her.

‘Hello darling, nice walk?’

Olivia smiled. She was back to darling again.

‘Blew all the cobwebs away. And it’s just beautiful out there.’

‘Excellent.’

Alex arrived with drinks and a plate of bread and cheese then passed a pint to Olivia. ‘I think half the population of Galway is in here today,’ she said, surveying the room.

‘That’s because it’s too bloody cold to be anywhere else,’ said Lucy.

‘We’ve been catching up on the past fifty-odd years,’ said Beatrix.

‘I imagine there’s a lot of ground to cover,’ said Alex, sipping her beer and winking at Olivia.

‘We need to remind each other of our stories,’ said Beatrix as she and Lucy exchanged a knowing look. ‘Of surviving the worst of times.’

‘And the best,’ said Plum. She was either oblivious to the undercurrents that swirled between the other women, or a rather accomplished actress.

About half an hour later the crowd in the pub had thinned considerably and Olivia looked up as the door jangled once more, bringing with it a rush of cold air and a tall, square-jawed, grey-haired man in a dark, expensive-looking coat. A real silver fox.

‘Harold! Over here,’ Plum cried, an expectant look on her face.

Olivia turned to see Beatrix’s face blanched of all colour, her knuckles white as they gripped her glass.

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