Island of the Heart Read Free Page A

thatched roofs. Here and there, the earth had been deeply
    scarred by turf cutting, and piles of turfs stood stacked and awaiting
    collection near the verges. There were great stretches of water too,
    looking grey and desolate under the lowering sky. Some of the lakes
    had islands, and Sandie, fascinated, spotted the ruined stones of an
    ancient tower on one, half hidden by trees and undergrowth. She
    would have loved to have asked its history, but after sneaking a look
    at O'Flaherty's forbidding countenance she decided to save her
    questions for Crispin.
    She was frankly puzzled by the little man's hostility, and it made her
    apprehensive about her reception generally when eventually they
    reached their journey's end. If they ever did, she thought, stretching
    her cramped legs in front of her.
    'Too long a ride for you, is it?'
    'No, I'm enjoying it,' Sandie said mendaciously. 'The scenery's
    fabulous, isn't it? So romantic.'
    Her innocent comment was greeted by another snort, and silence
    descended again.
    There was little other traffic—some cyclists, a lorry piled high with
    bales of hay, a few cars and a couple of horseboxes. Occasionally
    they were brought to a halt by sheep and cattle wandering across the
    road in front of them.
    Rain splattered across the windscreen, and O'Flaherty swore under
    his breath, and flicked on the wipers, before turning off on to a side
    road bordering yet another enormous lake. The clouds were down so
    low now that only the lower slopes of the mountains were visible.
    'What are they called?' Sandie asked, pointing.
    'The Twelve Pins.'
    The road unwound in front of them, like a narrow grey ribbon,
    edging the water. Sandie watched the rain dancing across the flat
    surface of the lake, and shivered a little, not from cold, but a sudden
    swift loneliness.
    If she was at home now, she thought, she would probably be helping
    her mother in the garden, with its neat lawns and beds and well-
    pruned trees. And instead, here she was driving, through a
    wilderness of water and peat bogs, to what?
    She hadn't expected Crispin to be at the airport to meet her, but she
    wished with all her heart that he had been. Perhaps she wouldn't
    have been feeling quite so strange—and desolate, she thought
    swallowing a lump in her throat, as she realised just how far she was
    from home and everything familiar.
    'There's Killane,' said O'Flaherty abruptly, and gestured towards
    where a broad promontory jutted out into the lake. Peering forward,
    Sandie could see a thin trail of smoke rising above the clustering
    trees and, as they got closer, could make out the outline of a house.
    He turned a car across a cattle grid, through empty gateposts, and up
    a long drive flanked on each side by tall hedges of fuchsia, growing
    wild in a profusion of pink, crimson and purple.
    And then the house was there in front of them, big and square, like a
    child might draw, with long multi- paned windows. Stone steps,
    guarded by urns filled with trailing plants, led up to the double doors
    of the main entrance. It looked grand, forbidding and slightly
    shabby, all at the same time, Sandie decided wonderingly.
    O'Flaherty brought the car to a halt at the foot of the steps. 'Away in
    with you,' he directed. 'I'll see to your luggage.'
    Sandie flew through the raindrops up the steps, and turned the
    handle on one of the doors. It gave more easily than she anticipated,
    and she nearly fell into a wide hall, with a flagged stone floor.
    'God bless us and save us!' exclaimed a startled voice.
    As Sandie recovered her equilibrium, she found she was being
    observed by a tall grey-haired woman in a flowered overall, carrying
    a tray laden down with tea- things.
    She said, 'I was told to come straight in. I am expected...'
    It was beginning, she realised with exasperation, to sound a little
    forlorn. It was also irksome to find the woman gaping at her, rather
    as O'Flaherty had done at the airport.
    Sandie straightened her shoulders.