By Maeve Binchy
After many chuffed years of marriage and elevating a kinfolk, Brian and Kathleen unexpectedly locate themselves a piece misplaced in existence. Midwesterners who’ve by no means traveled, Kathleen makes a decision that what she and Brian want is a holiday, and with assistance from an enthusiastic commute agent she plans a visit to eire looking for her roots. In attractive, old fashioned Lisdoonvarna, to the couple’s shock, they locate themselves in the middle of a joyous every year accumulating devoted to celebrating the lifestyles and paintings of a overdue Irish poet, they usually rediscover anything even more vital than proof of long-dead ancestors: their love for every different and for all times itself.
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Extra resources for A Week in Summer
Other teachers had vacations. In fact, people were always saying they met teachers on vacations. But not Brian, because there were papers to mark, or courses to do, or students to tutor, and he liked going up to the attic and writing little bits of poetry that he never showed to anyone. But anyway, what with all this … hey presto, the vacation was soon over. Me? Oh, I have worked forever at the same thing. Like my mother before me, I bake things. I used to work as a patisserie chef in a big hotel, but after I met Brian I had to think up something a bit more mobile.
Just give me time, Kathleen, just give me a little time. I know I don’t deserve it, but I can’t breathe properly. ” I don’t know why I agreed, but I did. “Right,” I said. “I’ll trade you. ” He smiled a horrible smile, as if there was nothing behind it. As if he was an empty head. All the color and life had gone out of his face. “And maybe you might go to the doctor for a checkup, too,” I suggested. “Don’t move the goalposts, Kathleen. A week in summer. You organize it. ” He looked wretched. He didn’t want a holiday.
Did my poor Brian now think this was his fate, too? Had he actually given up on his life on account of all these coincidences? Had he brought me to this beautiful place to say good-bye? Was this the result of all my scheming and plotting and planning with Chester, Chief Vacation Buddy of the Snappy Seniors’ Travel Agency? I hadn’t helped him at all; I’d only managed to rot his mind. ” “Of course there are,” he eagerly agreed. “And if we hadn’t come here I never would have known it. When he died, the first Brian Merriman that is, there were only a few short lines in the newspaper about him, and he might well have thought that he didn’t amount to much.