Free Aisling Gayle by Geraldine O'Neill Page B

the others as they all picked their steps down the grassy bank to the lake. Each person was armed with plates of pancakes and bacon strips, fresh rolls and Danish pastries.
    “What I’d give for a good plate of black pudding, some rashers and decent Irish sausages,” Maggie commented to Aisling, “and I know your father feels the same . . . it’s just that he’s not confident enough to say it out straight.”
    Aisling shook her head, and concentrated on climbing down the wooden steps to the lower part of the garden. She knew that her father was perfectly happy trying out all the different foods, just as she was.
    Half an hour later, everyone sat full and contented, chatting and looking out over the shimmering lake. Then, further down the lakeside path, a red-headed figure came running into view. He slowed down as he reached the group.
    “Hello, buddy!” Bruce said. “Come and join us.”
    Thomas stopped and held up a hand of greeting. Then, hand on hips, made a great issue of getting his breath back.
    “Don’t tell me you’ve run all the way around that lake?” Jean said, trying to sound as though she were completely shocked.
    “All the way around that lake!” Declan exclaimed, sitting up straight in the deckchair. “I don’t believe it.”
    Thomas nodded vigorously, grinning from one to the other, delighted with the attention.
    “And I – “ he gasped, “can swim all the way – all the way – around the lake, too!” His arm swept in great wide circles to reinforce the point.
    There were even more gasps of incredulity from the receptive audience.
    Then, satisfied with his impact, Thomas sat down heavily in one of the empty deckchairs. He turned to Aisling. “You!” he said, running a stubby hand though his damp red hair. “Come to my house to see my medals – now!”
    “That’s you told!” Maggie laughed. “You can’t get out of that one!”
    Aisling smiled and nodded. “I promise you I’ll come and see your medals later.”
    “I think,” Jean said, standing up, “that what you need is a drink, young man – a nice cold drink.” She winked over at Maggie. “And maybe some pancakes?”
    Maggie jumped to her feet. “There’s still some of the mixture left,” she said, gathering up plates. “I’ll make him some right now. A growing lad like that needs a good breakfast.”
    “Tell you what, buddy,” Jean said to Thomas, “you carry in some of those plates, and you can have some of Maggie’s famous pancakes. Her first time making them, and they’re the best I’ve ever eaten in America.”
    Thomas clapped his hands delightedly. “It’s a deal!” he said, holding out his hand, palm upwards.
    Jean gamely brought the palm of her hand down on his in a loud slap, then they went into a routine of slapping each other’s hands in a variety of ways.
    The men stayed outside in the sun, while Maggie, Aisling and Jean went inside with Thomas. A little while later, while Maggie was serving up the pancakes, Aisling gestured to Jean to come into the hallway out of Thomas’s hearing.
    “What do you think,” she asked, “about me going over to see Thomas’s medals?” She pulled a face. “I’m not too sure . . . you know . . . his father.”
    “You should go across to the house,” Jean said without hesitation. “It means a lot to the boy. Don’t be put off by Jameson’s manner – when you get to know him, he’s a real nice man. I think he’s some kind of artist, and those creative types are often temperamental.” She glanced towards the kitchen. “He’s kind of wary of people – but I guess being on his own with a handicapped kid isn’t easy. Even a nice kid like Thomas.”
    Aisling nodded slowly. “I didn’t realise they were on their own . . . what about Thomas’s mother?”
    “Honey,” Jean said, raising her eyebrows, “your guess is as good as mine. When we moved here two years ago, there was only the two of them in the house on their own. Definitely no woman. And,