The First Time I Said Goodbye Read Online Free

promised. Looking down over it, there was a patchwork quilt of greens unfolding below me. I wondered were there actually any cities in this country as field followed field followed mountain followed lake. Of course, as we began our descent little dots of houses appeared out of the greenness, and then more houses, and an industrial estate and lots of cars scurrying like ants along the network of narrow roads. The sky was grey and rained pattered against the side of the plane, trickling horizontally from one side of the window to the other. I guessed it would probably be cold and I was grateful for the sweatshirt I had packed and the sneakers I was wearing. No, they weren’t very glamorous and they no doubt screamed “tourist” but they were comfy and my mother had warned me we had quite a bus-ride from Dublin before we reached the North. I wondered how long it would take and, as my mother slept, I asked the tired-looking cabin assistant who shrugged and said it would only take maybe three or four hours depending on traffic. I felt my heart sink. I was bone tired and desperately in need of a power shower, some decent non-airline food and a warm bed to sleep in.
    “The roads aren’t too bad,” the crew member assured me. “Bit bumpy in places but you’ll be grand.”
    I nodded my thanks, glanced out the window to where we were coming in faster and faster to the ground and had a momentary fantasy about the whole thing crashing and me getting a decent rest at least before the day was out.
    Never mind, I laughed into myself as we bumped onto the tarmac, at least I would have Sam the Singleton’s chintzy house to stay in once we got there.

    Chapter 3

    They say we have choices – and you may think I made my choices – but I didn’t. It was beyond my control. It’s beyond what I can do. This is not what I would have chosen, my love. It is not what I would have chosen at all.

    * * *

    Ireland, June 2010

    The bus journey was exhausting. Not even the allure of the lush green hills and overgrown hedgerows and the quaintness of the villages we whizzed past could take away from the exhaustion that had crept up on me, sitting on my shoulder, jabbing me square in the neck every three seconds.
    “You should sleep,” Mom said. “Did you even close your eyes on the plane?”
    I shook my head. I didn’t sleep in public places – not even when I was tired right down to my very bones. I wasn’t a great sleeper anyway – only ever truly drifting into a deep sleep in the calm darkness of my own room, all sounds silenced for the night, all glints of light hidden by an eye mask over my eyes – no one near me, not even Craig. My best nights’ sleep were nights when he was working. I felt guilty for feeling that way, but that was how it was.
    “I’ll sleep when we get to Derry,” I offered. “When I can lie down on a proper bed.”
    Again the thought of no hotel filled me with dread.
    “I’m sure your cousin has a very nice room waiting for you – Auntie Dolores tells me he keeps a nice house,” Mom said and I cringed. “He’s a nice boy, she says.”
    I tried to block out my growing sense of unease as we wound through the roads. My iPod pumped tunes into my ears, the quiet melancholy songs of Adam Duritz soothing me.
    Any emotions my mother had been keeping in check disappeared as we neared Derry. I saw her sit a little more rigidly as the signs directing us to her native town revealed smaller and smaller numbers. By the time we reached a village – which looked more like a street to me – called Newbuildings, she had her hands tightly clasped and was muttering some sort of prayer under her breath. As we swept through a set of traffic lights and caught a glimpse of the River Foyle weaving its way towards the city ahead her prayer had become a sob. A “Jesus, Mary and Saint Joseph” of emotion accompanied by gentle rocking. I reached for her clasped hands, feeling a tear fall to my hand before she shrugged me