Long Goodbyes Read Free

apologise most profusely. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter, I’m sure’, he said. ‘Conall, come here at once!’ But the animal was cowering, keeping his distance.
    I could see, however, that Mr Benjamin was somewhat troubled by the incident and was trying not to show it - for fear, perhaps, of offending us further. This he had not done at all for I do not consider myself easily offended, particularly by something which seemed at the time so trivial.
    ‘How extraordinary,’ said Jack. ‘And such a big animal.’
    ‘Now then,’ Benjamin said, apparently anxious to divert our attention from what had just occurred. ‘I am remiss in not having invited you to dinner. My wife, Orla, has begged your forgiveness for our poor hospitality and hopes to put things right by extending an invitation to you both for tomorrow evening, if you are able to come?’
    ‘We would love to,’ I said. ‘Please send our best wishes to your wife and tell her that she is not to feel in the least bit inhospitable. Rather, it is we who are the guilty party, for you have done so much already in preparing the cottage and making us feel so welcome.’
    ‘It’s settled, then,’ said Benjamin. ‘Seven o’clock is the hour.’
    ‘Until then,’ Jack said. ‘And thank you.’
    We watched him make slow progress along the shore, Conall romping in and out of the sea alongside him. On our way back to the cottage we spoke little. It was the first in a series of incidents which would in time undo all the good that had been achieved in those early weeks.

chapter two

    The Benjamins’ home was modest, but comfortably furnished. As we knocked and waited I glanced at Jack. He had been strangely subdued since the beach walk and I couldn’t imagine what had unsettled him so. Why should a dog’s behaviour be any cause for concern? For the incident with Conall was the only thing to which I could attribute his mood, except of course the troubling memories, the illness , which was how I had begun to think of his condition. It was an illness, as surely as if one of his organs was suffering from some disease - a disease of the soul, not of the flesh, but a disease nevertheless.
    As it transpired, the evening was a great success. Orla Benjamin was a quiet but pleasant woman and her expertise in the kitchen was evident in the quality of the meal she presented. Jack ate moderately, while I, for some reason, enjoyed a voracious appetite the like of which I had rarely experienced before. Perhaps, I thought, it was the novelty of having another prepare a meal which so engaged my digestion that evening. My enthusiasm did not go unnoticed.
    ‘It’s a pleasure to cook for someone who enjoys their food,’ Orla Benjamin declared with satisfaction.  
    I felt a small flush of embarrassment. Had my pleasure been so evident? Perhaps I had crossed some line of Irish etiquette? But if that were the case then it didn’t seem to bother Mrs Benjamin, although I noticed that Mr Benjamin regarded me with not a little curiosity for the remainder of the evening. In due time we repaired into the spacious drawing room and fell into pleasant after-dinner conversation. The men set to work on their pipes as we exchanged pleasantries, and soon the atmosphere was fragrant with the smell of tobacco mingled with woodsmoke from the open fireplace. It was a comfortable and enjoyable hour. The Benjamins, we discovered, had roots in Ireland traceable to the early seventeenth century. They had lived in London a long while but the call of the auld country, as Orla Benjamin rather quaintly put it, had been, in the end, impossible to resist.  
    ‘Ireland is peaceful and pretty, and one has such a sense of community,’ she ventured brightly.
    Mr Benjamin tamped the tobacco in his pipe and grunted. ‘Long may it remain so.’ He looked meaningfully across at Jack. ‘But the events in Dublin last April shook things up more than a little, I can tell you. And we’ve not heard the last of