The Glass Lake Read Online Free Page A

family had its own stitch. Complicated and perverse, Dr. Kelly thought. Why hadn’t they taught the young fishermen to swim?
    As soon as the young Kellys and McMahons could walk they were taken to the lakeshore. Other families followed suit; the doctor was a figure of great authority. Young Philip O’Brien from the hotel learned and the Hanley girls. Of course, Old Sullivan from the garage told him to keep his hands off other people’s children so Stevie and Michael probably couldn’t swim to this day.
    Peter Kelly had been in other countries where lakes like this one had been tourist attractions. Scotland, for example. People came to visit places just because there was a lake there. And in Switzerland, where he and Lilian had spent their honeymoon, lakes were all-important. But in Ireland in the early fifties nobody seemed to see their potential.
    People thought he was mad when he bought a small rowing boat jointly with his friend Martin McMahon. Together they rowed out and fished for perch, bream, and pike. Big ugly fish all of them, but waiting for them on the ever-changing waters of their lake was a restful pastime.
    The men had been friends since they were boys. They knew the beds of reeds and rushes where the moorhens sheltered and sometimes even the swans hid from view. They occasionally had company on the lake as they went out to fish, a few local people shared their enthusiasm, but normally the only boats you saw on Lough Glass were those carrying animal foodstuff or machinery from one side to the other.
    Farms had been divided up so peculiarly that often a farmer had bits of land so widely separated by great distances, the journey across the water could well be the shortest route. Yet another strange thing about Ireland, Peter Kelly often said, those inconvenient things that weren’t laid on us by a colonial power we managed to do for ourselves by incessant family feuds and differences. Martin was of a sunnier disposition. He believed the best of people, his patience was never-ending. There was no situation that couldn’t be sorted out by a good laugh. The only thing Martin McMahon ever feared was the lake itself.
    He used to warn people, even casual people who came into his chemist’s shop, to be careful as they went along the paths by the lakeshore. Clio and Kit were old enough to take a boat out alone now. They had proved it a dozen times, but Martin still felt nervous. He admitted it to Peter over a pint in Paddles’ bar. “Jesus, Martin! You’re turning into an old woman.”
    Martin didn’t take it as an insult. “I suppose I am, let me look for any secondary signs, I haven’t developed breasts or anything, but I don’t need to shave as often…you could be right, you know.”
    Peter looked affectionately at his friend, Martin’s bluster was hiding a real concern. “I’ve watched them, Martin. I’m as anxious as you are that they don’t run into trouble…but they aren’t such fools when they’re out on the water as they seem to be on dry land, we’ve drilled that into them. Watch them yourself and you’ll see.”
    â€œI will, they’re going out tomorrow. Helen says we have to let them go and not wrap them in cotton wool.”
    â€œHelen’s right,” Peter said sagely, and they debated whether or not to have another pint. As always on these occasions they made a huge compromise by ordering a half pint. So predictable that Paddles had it ready for them when they got around to ordering it.

    â€œM R. McMahon, will you please tell Anna to go home,” Clio begged Kit’s father. “If I tell her it only starts a row.”
    â€œWould you like to go for a walk with me,” Kit’s father suggested.
    â€œI’d like to go in the boat.”
    â€œI know you would, but they’re big grown-up girls now, and they want to be having their own chats. Why don’t you and I go