Secrets of the Lighthouse Read Online Free PDF Page A

sorry.’
    ‘Oh, don’t be. I have my youngest son and my brothers to look after me.’
    ‘One can never tell whether or not a marriage is going to last. Mum and Dad seem happy enough, but there’s no guarantee.’
    ‘Well, you never know what life is going to throw at you and how you’re going to react. Some things bring you closer while others set you apart.’
    ‘Do you ever see your ex?’
    ‘No, he emigrated to America. The boys go and visit him, of course. He married again, a much younger woman, and had a little . . .’ She paused and took a long drag. ‘A little
girl,’ she said softly, and her voice broke as if those words had caused her pain. ‘Well, she won’t be little now. Still, he’s got no reason to come back.’
    Ellen noticed the air change in the car. It grew suddenly heavy with sorrow as if the damp from outside had come in through the open window. Ellen felt sorry for her aunt, for she had obviously
been very hurt when her husband married again and started another family. ‘Tell me about your boys,’ she said cheerfully, changing the subject.
    Peg smiled and the atmosphere lifted. ‘Well, they’re good boys,’ she began. ‘Dermot, Declan and Ronan. Dermot and Declan are married with children and come and visit from
time to time, but Ronan, well, he’s still in Ballymaldoon and doesn’t look likely to settle down any time soon.’
    As they drove into the heart of Connemara, Ellen let her aunt rattle on about her sons. She watched the landscape change and the beauty of it took her by surprise. She found herself drawn to the
wild, sweeping landscape of rocky mountains and wet valleys, where rivers trickled through the heather and ruined stone dwellings stood like skeletons on the hillsides, exposed to the wind and
mists that rolled in from the sea. There was something melancholic about the sheer vastness of the wilderness, as if human beings had been defeated by its untameable nature and thrown up their
hands in despair, abandoning their homes to seek a safer existence in the towns and cities. There were no pylons, few telephone masts, little but the long, straight road that cut through the bogs
and long grasses, and the rugged hills that rose up into the sky, their peaks disappearing into cloud. Ellen had never seen anything quite like it and watched in fascination and fear as the
civilized urban world with which she was familiar was replaced by this defiantly silent land.
    At last they drove down the valley into the town of Ballymaldoon and Ellen caught sight of the ocean twinkling in the distance, as vast and untameable as the Connemara landscape. Aunt Peg would
have driven around the town were it not for her niece, who she felt would enjoy a brief viewing. ‘Not that there’s much to see,’ she remarked as they motored down a quiet street
of pastel-coloured houses neatly positioned in a line behind stone walls and shrubbery. The town was dominated by a large Gothic church which sat regally on an incline, shielded by tall sycamore
trees and rock. ‘I don’t go to church,’ said Peg. ‘Father Michael thinks I’m ungodly. He’s wrong, of course; I feel God with me all the time, but that priest
irritates the hell out of me, always has done. It’s as simple as that. So you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. It’s all the same to me.’
    ‘Mother goes to Mass every morning in London, would you believe,’ said Ellen.
    ‘Oh, I would. But I don’t think God has a great deal to do with it.’ They both laughed.
    ‘Ah, a pub, now things are looking up,’ Ellen exclaimed as Peg slowed down alongside the Pot of Gold. ‘Is it any good?’
    ‘Full of locals and family. I prefer the quiet life, myself. But the boys will take you, if you like.’
    ‘Your sons?’
    ‘No, I mean my brother, Johnny, and his eldest son, Joe. Johnny is estate manager up at the castle and Joe works for him. I think Johnny and Joe can be found at the bar most evenings. Go
with them.