The Hawthorns Bloom in May by Anne Doughty

Author:Anne Doughty [Anne Doughty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780749017507
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2014-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

She was grateful for the warmth of the house by the forge. In the big kitchen the doors of the stove stood wide open. In the sitting room beyond, tall flames rose from a log fire and reflected in the small panes of a corner cupboard where Selina kept her best china and in the heavily framed portraits of American relatives. In both rooms, extra chairs were set against the walls and a laden table in the kitchen carried refreshments for those, like the Hamiltons, who had come a distance.

‘Ach, d’ye mind the time …’

‘George, how are ye? Sure I haven’t laid eyes on you in years. What way are ye, man?’

‘Ach, she’s rightly considerin’. She always said she’d niver want to see m’father sittin’ in a chair.’

Sarah listened to the voices around her, touched her warm teacup to her ice cold cheeks and then drank slowly, grateful for the conversations that meant she didn’t have to make an effort herself. Her mother was talking to Selina, their heads close together. Sam was shaking hands with Robert’s wife, Ellen, an awkward looking girl whose eyes never settled on the person she was speaking to. She said ‘Pleased to meet you,’ then went on to complain about the cold and how long the rector had kept them standing at the graveside.

‘Have a drop of this, Sarah, it’ll warm you up. You’re lookin’ desperit pale.’

Sarah smiled up at her father. She’d never much liked whiskey but she wouldn’t say no when he was doing his best to do his part, weaving his way through the crowded rooms, a bottle of Bushmills in his hand.

‘Your Ma just told me you used to live opposite the forge,’ Alex said, squeezing past Sam and Ellen Scott to come and stand beside her.

‘Didn’t you know that?’

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head.

Sarah looked at him in surprise. He seemed both agitated and anxious, as if this piece of information was of the greatest importance.

‘Come and I’ll show you,’ she said suddenly, finishing her whiskey. ‘It’ll only take a moment.’

She turned to Sam, spoke a word to him and slipped out of the crowded kitchen into the fading afternoon, Alex close behind her.

‘This way,’ she said, as he paused at the front door, looking down the path to the forge and the lane running on down to the main road.

With the shadows gathering, the long-abandoned house over to their left looked like an overgrown wall, weighed down with ivy and screened by flourishing bushes. As she walked towards it, Sarah saw the thatch had finally fallen in at the far end. The roof of the main room sagged perilously but had not yet given way. She picked up her skirts, strode up to the door, turned the handle and stepped inside.

After the warmth and bright lamplight in the house, the air struck chill, but the smell of damp was off set by the fragrance of a stack of fresh logs piled against the door to the bedroom. She

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