Copyright
Flamingo
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Published by Flamingo 2000
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First published in Great Britain by
Flamingo 2000
Copyright © Gretta Mulrooney 2000
Gretta Mulrooney asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Source ISBN 0 00 655182 3
Ebook Edition © March 2016 ISBN: 9780007485376
Version: 2016-03-16
Set in Aldus
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Praise
From the reviews of Araby:
‘An amusing, totally unsentimental slice of life and a chilling meditation on mortality. Never angst-ridden or moralistic (a mixture of black comedy and over-the-top farce). I really enjoyed this truthful and affecting novel.’
Books Ireland
‘On hearing of Kitty’s admittance to hospital, her grown-up son Rory returns to Ireland to comfort his father and await the diagnosis. Rory’s narrative is interspersed with a series of flashbacks through which Kitty emerges larger than life. These snapshots of the past are part of a process of unpicking the odd tangle of love and petty grievances that characterise familial relationships. Mulrooney’s ability to make sense of the contradictions in clear, precise prose is the most remarkable achievement of the novel. A beautifully observed study of reconciliation, Araby makes astute points about conflict and shifting values between generations.’
The Times
‘Mulrooney has a real gift for dialogue, the words and phrases ring true and make her characters wonderfully real. A tenderly funny and genuinely moving piece. I loved it.’
Time Out
‘What is admirable about Mulrooney’s writing is the way she manages to keep the tone buoyant, while alluding to many heartbreaking strands of family history. For both Kitty and Rory, this is a story of gallant survival.’
Independent
‘I loved it. Such a sweet story without being in the least bit sentimental, and very moving without being harrowing. There are moments when the reader is absolutely there, so acute is this novelist’s eye and ear.’
MARGARET FORSTER
‘A wonderfully funny view of Irish motherhood, but Mulrooney also evokes powerful emotions as Rory comes to appreciate quite how much his infuriating but irreplaceable mother means to him. Highly recommended.’
Literary Review
1
JOAN
Alice Ainsley once told Joan that she always got a feeling in her bones when something was about to go wrong for her. It was like a dull ache, she said. She could sense in the morning if she was facing one of those days when the world was aiming to slide out of kilter. She felt like that the day her husband announced he was leaving and when her son rang to tell her he’d been arrested for possession of Ecstasy. Alice’s people had been tenant farmers in Somerset for generations. That was where she reckoned she got the knowledge in her bones from; it was inherited. Folk who worked the land needed a feel for all kinds of things. They had to be in touch with the world around them, the weather, their animals and crops. Her grandfather could tell if a cow was sickening from the feel of its ears and could forecast thunder, snow or drought. Alice had a habit of raising her nose and sniffing the air as if she were standing in a held, scenting rain.
Joan’s bones didn’t signal any warnings to her the morning she met Nina Rawle, but then she wasn’t from country stock. Her mother’s parents had worked in a garment factory in Bromley and her father’s family were street traders in Canning Town. No hairs stood up on the back of her neck as she parked the car outside Nina’s flat. She didn’t spot any black cats or magpies presaging disaster, there was no ominous rush of goose pimples on her skin. She walked in with a smile on her face, ready to do a good job. ‘Take people as you find them’ had always been among Joan’s numerous aphorisms, one of the many commonsense dictums she had heard from her Bromley grandmother. On that April day with the tart sap of spring in the air she saw in front of her a very sick woman who obviously needed help.