Heartstones by Kate Glanville Page A

know that I was crying, begging Mother to let me go with her, and Mother started shouting at me as if she didn’t care that Mr Flannigan was there. George passed Razzle to me through the window, the poor little thing was whining dreadfully. I heard Mr Flannigan tell Richard he thought it was a very bad affair to leave me with the doctor. Richard said it was none of Mr Flannigan’s business and I was sure that he and George had known about this plan for days, and that Mother has always planned to leave me here with Dr Brennan. Aunt Margaret has never liked me, though apart from being Father’s daughter I’ve never understood why. Now I’m sure she only agreed to take Mother in if she came without me. I have a terrible feeling that the words ‘look after’ mean marriage, and though Dr Brennan is a pleasant man the very thought of it makes me shudder. I once heard Mrs Reilly say he was the handsomest bachelor in the village but he is so old, at least forty, and no one seems to have wanted to marry him before.
    There will be much talk in Flannigan’s pub tonight.

    Phoebe let the notebook fall into her lap. She’d always imagined a great love affair between the village GP and her grandmother, the impoverished young girl from the Big House. But this sounded more like a hideous arrangement forced on to Anna by her unhinged mother. She rubbed her eyes and wondered why the local doctor would have wanted to marry a girl whose family were destitute and immersed in scandal?
    Looking around her, Phoebe realised that the light was fading fast. Outside the beach looked gloomy, the tide right up, the rock half-sunk into the sea. She needed to find another place to stay; making the long drive to Cork to find a cheap hotel was all she could think of doing tonight.
    She looked down at the diary still in her hand and wondered if she could take it with her, she longed to know what happened to Anna next but Honey obviously used it for a sketchbook. After a few moments she slipped it into her coat pocket; she would post it back to Honey when she’d finished reading.
    Phoebe made her way down the dark stairs and left the boathouse. As she started the climb up the lane she realised that hours had passed and she hadn’t thought of David at all. 

Chapter Eight
    ‘She’s back!’ Phoebe heard Fibber’s shout as she walked in through the door, but when she looked around there was no one in the bar.
    Katrina emerged from the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron and calling out in her rich European accent, ‘Phoebe, you have come back to us at last. We begin to wonder if you have left for good just when we are needing you so much.’
    ‘Sorry if you’ve been worried,’ said Phoebe. ‘I lost track of time. I’ll just go and get my bag, and then I’d better get going.’
    ‘No, no,’ Katrina came out from behind the counter and took Phoebe’s arm. ‘We need you to help us here tonight.’
    ‘I can’t, I’ve got to go.’
    Katrina steered her towards the kitchen door. ‘Please stay; it will be all hell here by seven o’clock.’
    ‘Why?’ asked Phoebe, looking behind her at the empty pub. ‘What’s going to happen?’
    ‘It will be the boys. They are coming.’
    Phoebe looked nonplussed. ‘The boys?’
    Katrina threw her hands up in exasperation, ‘You tell her Fibber; the curry it will never cook itself.’ Katrina vanished into the steaming kitchen leaving Phoebe seemingly alone.
    ‘I’m at your feet,’ a voice said. Phoebe looked down and saw Fibber, crouched down, sorting through boxes of crisps under the counter, the big man straightened up and grinned. ‘I’m getting rid of the out-of-date ones once and for all.’
    ‘Who are “the boys”?’ asked Phoebe.
    ‘It’s the football team, they’re all coming in this evening and the whole town will be in to celebrate.’
    ‘I thought that’s what the town did last night.’
    Fibber grinned and opened up a bag of onion rings. ‘Now we have to toast the team