by Lisa Ryan
Another crash of thunder sounds directly overhead, and lightning flares briefly, revealing the silhouettes of trees, black against the searing sky. Daisy, terrified by the storm, jumps up and runs outside, squealing wildly. Sirius follows, his tail tucked between his legs.
‘Come back!’ Astarte shouts, then giggles. Everything suddenly seems extraordinarily funny. She feels as free as a bird, fearless, lighter than the air that crackles with electricity around her. Something deep within her cracks open, and even the storm holds no fear for her. Astarte spreads her arms wide, lifting her face to the downpour, not minding that she is soaked to the skin.
Lightning flashes again, and Astarte sees Daisy huddled beneath the blackthorn. Laughing, she runs outside, whirling in giddy circles until she is almost breathless, calling out Daisy’s name.
The next bolt of lightning sends a white finger forking down to strike a tree. With a resounding crack it topples slowly, coming to rest on the cottage roof, slates and tiles giving way beneath its weight. Astarte, her attention fixed on soothing the pig, doesn’t even notice at first. When she turns and sees it, she merely shakes her head in wonder at the power of nature.
Flynn is slumped on the sofa when the storm comes. He stands to look out of the window and, seeing the magnitude, throws on his raincoat and strides out of his cottage. He knows that Astarte’s worst fear is storms and, despite her treatment of him, he cannot leave her to cower, trembling and alone, in her living room. His feet carry him swiftly, forcing him onwards against the wind and driving rain. When he turns the last corner he begins to run, screaming a drawn-out ‘Nooooo!’
An oak tree has been uprooted. Its giant trunk crushes the roof of Astarte’s cottage. The doorway is blocked with stones and beams, and the door hangs from its hinges. Shouting Astarte’s name, he grasps at stones and tiles, hurling them aside as he frantically fights his way through.
A touch on his shoulder him makes him turn, his face screwed up in anguish. Astarte stands like a banshee, hair and clothes soaked. ‘Flynn, I’m sorry! Can we start afresh?’ she shouts over the howling wind. Leaping up, he throws his arms around her, lifting her above the ground.
‘Jaysus, I thought you were gone!’ he cries. Gathering her up, he swings her around in a circle. She laughs like a child. Arms around each other, staggering a little, the pig, cat, and dog following, they walk back to his cottage.
Home and dry, snug against each other in bed, Flynn looks down at her as she snakes her arms around his neck.
‘I think you have need of a good builder,’ he tells her.
Her answering kiss informs him that she agrees.
Epilogue
Spring spreads its colours across the landscape, painting over the browns and greys of winter. Astarte sits by the lake, gazing at the clouds reflected on the water. Sirius roams around in the grass, casting around to follow the scent of a rabbit. She loves this time, when the morning mist begins to drift away, exposing the beauty of the landscape while still infusing it with mystery.
The swans paddle close together. As she watches, they turn in a leisurely semi-circle, their necks curving as they lower their heads to rest against each other, a heart-shaped space marked out between them. The water glistens slightly like trailing hair, and Astarte is convinced it’s Sinead. Somehow Astarte knows that this is the last time she will see her.
The rustling of the breeze through the first leaves of spring is her answer. Astarte smiles. ‘Goodbye,’ she whispers.
A twig cracks, and she turns. Flynn, his hair still ruffled from sleep, comes to sit behind her, his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She leans against him. They look up as the swans take off to fly directly over their heads, powerful wings humming as they soar upwards into the bright morning. In the distance they can see Mairie and Seamus, arm in arm, walking towards them.
Contemporary Women’s Fiction
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Published by Accent Press Ltd 2015
ISBN 9781783757046
Copyright © Lisa Ryan 2015
The right of Lisa Ryan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon, CF45 4SN