Mr Lynch’s Holiday Read Online Free PDF Page B

that day hadn’t (and was unlikely ever to) come, Ian and Becca’s arrival had provided some respite, as they became the prime object of Roger and Cheryl’s attentions. Eamonn and Laura engaged in fierce and scandalous speculation as to what went on between the four of them.
    Becca was still talking to his father. ‘That’s absolutely right, Mr Lynch – you of all people will understand that, transport-wise, we’re completely stranded.’
    Roger came in carrying a tray of ribs: ‘Why stop at transport? We’re stranded whatever way you cut it.’
    Roger had earned his money running various tech companies with nebulous names like SysPop and ROKware. Eamonn had no idea what they made or did or sold or traded. They morphed into each other in Roger’s stories – as one called in the receivers a new one was spawned. The fact that he appeared to have left a trail of collapsed companies and unpaid creditors behind him didn’t seem to impinge on Roger’s view of himself as a straight-talking, clear-headed businessman of the world. The reason for his move to Spain was never made explicit. It was possible that he was retiring early, or equally possible that he was simply sitting out a ban before returning to the UK, to launch yet another flawed business enterprise.
    Dermot turned to him. ‘Are you trying to sell your property, then?’
    ‘No point doing that. No point at all. You can send yourself mental asking who’s to blame. Thieving developers? Corrupt town councils? A useless government? A mismanaged global economy? That fucking android Gordon Brown? It’s everybody and nobody. But what you have gathered here before you, Dermot, are the mugs who have to pay the price for all of that. The survivors of a shipwreck. All of us washed up here on the same little island.’
    Eamonn wanted to squeeze Laura’s hand, to give her a secret smile. She had always enjoyed Roger’s shipwreck analogies. Soon he’d move on to the shark-infested waters and start lamenting Ian and Becca’s lost life-savings. Eamonn privately doubted that Ian and Becca had saved a penny in their lives. But Laura was no longer there to share the joke with, to make it all easier to bear. She had left him alone with these people. He felt a sudden urge to weep.
    Roger’s mention of shipwrecks had prompted Becca to interrupt.
    ‘Oh God, Eamonn, isn’t it terrible? Did you see it? We were just talking about it before you came.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘It’s started again. Bodies down on San Pedro beach.’
    ‘Eight of them,’ Ian added. ‘Africans, of course.’
    ‘What? Murdered?’ asked Dermot.
    Roger looked grave. ‘Illegal immigrants, Dermot. Trying to reach Europe on nothing much more than a raft. They die of thirst or hunger or hypothermia, or they drown. Happened all the time a few years back, but most of them seem to have got the message now. No bloody jobs here either. Evidently someone forgot to tell this lot.’
    Becca turned to Eamonn. ‘It was just vile. They showed the pictures on the telly. Covered-up bodies on the beach. Can you imagine it? There were families and kiddies right there when they got washed up. How awful for them. I said to Ian, “Imagine seeing that.” How would you explain that to your kids?’
    At that moment Cheryl emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of salad.
    ‘Is the dressing out there, Rebecca?’ She stopped when she saw Eamonn. She looked at him and he gave a small smile. Becca brightened.
    ‘Thank God for Cheryl! Perfect timing. We were getting ever so depressing. Look, you’ll never guess who this is?’
    Cheryl moved her eyes slowly from Eamonn to Dermot. ‘I’d imagine it’s Eamonn’s father. The resemblance is quite strong.’
    Eamonn felt the heat in the back of his neck.
    ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Lynch. What brings you here?’
    ‘Dermot, please.’
    ‘Dermot. What a lovely name.’
    ‘I thought I’d come and see what this one was up to.’ He gestured towards