Aisling Gayle Read Free

becoming as good an actor as Oliver was in his local, amateur dramas.
    A tide of sorrow rose up in her now, and she closed her eyes tightly to hold back the tears. There was no time for crying or feeling sorry for herself. She had to get dressed and get ready for school.
    Eventually, when the tears had dried, Aisling opened her eyes to stare out over the garden. Out over the trees, and out to the fields which surrounded their house. Then, her gaze shifted down into the garden again. A movement on the path caught her attention. She looked closer now, and recognised a small bird. It was a goldcrest – a tiny, yellowy-green thing. It was hopping aimlessly. First in one direction, and then another.
    Without realising it, Aisling smiled. It was a young bird, obviously learning to fly. She watched intently as it hopped a few inches into the air, wings flapping, only to descend again back to the ground.
    For several minutes she watched, until she was rewarded with the sight of the bird taking itself several feet up into the air. It then disappeared into the depths of a small fir tree. Aisling smiled and clasped her hands together in pleasure.
    A few moments later she turned from the window, a thoughtful look on her face. She picked up her dressing-gown and made for the bathroom. A few minutes later she sighed out loud with annoyance when she realised that Oliver had used up most of the hot water. Thankfully, she had bathed and washed her hair yesterday morning in the hotel. Her long, thick hair took ages to dry, and she had to get up a good half-an-hour early on schooldays when she washed it. She filled the bath a third of the way up with the barely lukewarm water and got in. At least it was a warm, early summer morning. There had been many winter mornings when she’d shivered in the freezing cold, after Oliver had gone off early, leaving a grate full of ashes and a tank of cold water. It would rarely cross his mind to stack the fire up before he left. Aisling did all that before setting off for school. There was no room in the house for two sets of vanity. Oliver’s vanity took all that space up for him alone.
    Later, as she towelled herself dry, a small seed of an idea started to grow in Aisling’s mind. A seed sown by her mother a few weeks ago – buried and forgotten but now brought to life again after Oliver’s behaviour this morning, and further nurtured after watching the little bird’s determined attempts to fly.
    Aisling Gayle was going to fly. She was going to rise up and leave her home. She was going to fly – far, far away. Even if it was just for a short time. She was going to leave Oliver – and everyone who pitied her for being his wife – a long, long way behind. She was going to join her parents on a trip to attend a wedding in a sunny, beautiful place. A place with a beautiful name: Lake Savannah.
    She made up her mind as she rubbed the towel vigorously over her firm, attractive body.
    She was going to fly away to America.
    She was going to fly to Lake Savannah.

    Chapter 2

    “ Surely you can do better than that?” Oliver said, an encouraging smile on his lips. “Surely you can do a better deal than that? An’ me an oul’ Dub like yerself.” He put his wavy black head to the side, and a finger to his lips. He was putting on a good show, knowing that Fergal, the young salesman at the back of the shop, was listening to every word, and possibly the two women who were through the side door in the ladieswear department. “Now . . . what if I was to take three dozen of the ties and the hankies, would you do me a good deal on the scarves and the braces?”
    “I would!” the salesman said, slapping a hand on the counter. “Begod, I would.” He went back to his case, which lay open on the counter behind him. “Now, these new long-johns. I’d say they’d go down well with the farmers round here. They’re a new make – just over from the States . . .”
    Oliver shook his head, and tried to conceal