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
He threw off the bedclothes, went and drew the curtains, cutting off the moonlight. Back in bed he let his thoughts drift, his mind going back to the earlier part of the evening when the girl Gwen had gone missing—the event that had led him to walk Sarah home and meet Angela. Whatever Sarah, Finn and Alf thought, he was not so accepting that Gwen had gone off with some other young man. He could only hope he was wrong. Perhaps tomorrow the mystery would be solved. It was a funny world they lived in, a dangerous world.
Eighteen
Finn arrived at Pat and Eileen Kennedy’s house for Sunday dinner exactly on time and, as he usually did, he had lots to tell. But in this instance, it was not gossip. It was news, and bad news, at that.
Blackie knew at once that Finn was aching to speak about something important, yet was polite enough to greet Uncle Patrick and Aunt Eileen first.
“Welcome, Finn,” Eileen said, appearing in the kitchen doorway, a bright smile on her face.
Patrick shook Finn’s proffered hand, also smiling, and then led Finn into the main room. “Nice to see you, my lad,” Patrick said. “Come and sit with us.”
Blackie was standing in front of the fireplace, which was not blazing up the chimney today. It was a lovely warm June Sunday, and outside there was a bright blue sky and sunshine.
Stepping forward, Blackie gave Finn a friendly punch on the arm, and asked, “Would ye be liking a lemonade?”
“Thanks, Blackie, I’d enjoy that.” Turning to Patrick, he went on, “Thank you very much for inviting me for Sunday dinner. It’s my favorite, but I don’t get it very often. I’ve been looking forward ter it all week.”
Patrick added, “It’s mine too, my lad, and Blackie’s, and you’re in for a treat. My wife’s a wonderful cook.” Glancing behind him, and then stepping toward the kitchen, he asked, “Can I tell the lads what’s on the menu, love?”
Eileen came to the doorway. “Certainly you can,” she answered, laughter echoing. Patrick announced, with something of a flourish, “First course will be a Yorkshire pudding, one each, served from oven to table as fast as possible, so it doesn’t sink. With gravy, of course. Main course is my favorite, a leg of lamb, with roasted potatoes, boiled greens and carrots. Gravy, as usual, and mint sauce to top it off.”
“A feast indeed!” Blackie cried, and moved across the kitchen. “Do you want lemonade too, Uncle Pat?”
“I will have a glass, please.” Patrick took Finn to the sofa, where they sat together.
Patrick peered at Blackie’s best friend, and then frowned. “Do I detect worry in your eyes? Is something wrong, lad?”
Finn nodded. “I’ll wait for Blackie to come back; then I’ll tell ye, Mr. Kennedy.”