Catherine O’Flynn - Mr Lynch’s Holiday

Eamonn crossed over the road and let himself in through the turnstile. A few minutes later he heard the gate open again.

‘Did he wake you up?’

‘No. I was awake.’

‘Is she still asleep?’

‘He’s watching her. I mean literally: watching her. Peering into her face. She’ll get a shock when she wakes up.’

Something moved behind them and they turned to see a mottled cat emerging from the shadows under one of the sun loungers. It scampered away in panic at the sight of them.

Eamonn looked at her. ‘How are you?’

‘OK.’ She pushed the hair out of her eyes. ‘What about you?’

‘Yeah. OK.’

They stripped and stood at the edge of the pool. It never failed to entice. The clean lines. The perfect contrast. The endless blue.

‘It’s strange to be back.’

‘Maybe it’s too soon.’

They held hands, experiencing the same desire to break the surface of the water. To feel the shock of the cold.

‘No. It’s OK, I think. A few days. It’s finite.’

He smiled and they leaped together into the view.

Sincere thanks to Stan Nutt and Bill Ralph from the National Express Yardley Wood Bus Garage for sharing their time and experiences with me.

I’m grateful to Jim Hannah, Francisco Dominguez-Montero, Dr Kristin Ewins and James Yarker of Stan’s Cafe, who all gave time, advice and/or assistance with research at various points.

Thanks also to Emer Carr, Oonagh O’Flynn, Mary Noonan, Frances Jones and Nicholas O’Flynn for help with questions about our parents and countless things past; and Damien Flynn for information about Uncle Tom and the Irish Citizens’ League. In addition James Moran’s book Irish Birmingham (Liverpool University Press) was fascinating and especially helpful.

Thanks to Lucy Luck, Venetia Butterfield, Sarah Bowlin and Sarah Coward.

Finally, the least adequate thank-you of all to Peter Fletcher.