Chapters (71)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Part Two
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part Three
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Part Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Part Five
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
Martha O’Malley was glad to help. She had been widowed several years when Blackie arrived on their planet. Her own son, Dennis, had been eight years old. He was her only child and her joy in life. Dennis had grown up well, and, now at the age of twenty-one, he lived and worked in county Cork, where her sister Agatha Nolan and husband, Jimmy, had a small shop selling groceries in the busy port of Queenstown. Childless, and also fond of their nephew, they had taken him under their wings. Dennis worked in their grocery shop. He enjoyed his job and his life there.
Mrs. O’Malley put the stuffed shoes on the hearth and turned to Blackie. She reached for the wet socks and placed them next to the shoes. Straightening, she turned to Blackie and said, “Now, how about a cup of nice tea? It’ll warm the cockles of yer heart.”
“Faith and it would,” he responded, and flashed her a wide smile.
She smiled back and felt a small rush of pleasure. There was something special and endearing about the boy. Everyone felt his warmth and friendliness and was drawn to him immediately.
His geniality was part of his natural personality, and he spoke to everyone, radiated kindness. These traits never varied, and his dark good looks played into the attraction he exuded.
After taking the bubbling kettle off the hob, Martha O’Malley filled her brown teapot with tea and then poured in the water. She left it to mash for a few minutes. She went to the larder and took out the biscuit tin, well aware Blackie liked her sweet oat biscuits.
The two of them sat in front of the roaring fire, silent, lost in their own thoughts, comfortable with each other. This easiness between them came from the longevity of their friendship, the middle-aged woman and the young boy. They understood each other perfectly.
Martha O’Malley was pondering Blackie’s clothes. The dark coat, drying now, hanging on a chairback near the fire, was threadbare and looked as if it had seen better days. And his boots, drying as well, were in poor shape, but just about held together at the moment. Fortunately, the heavy-knit fisherman’s jumper was one she had knitted years ago for her son.