Second Chance at the Belfast Guesthouse
Will love be enough to overcome the odds? It is 1960 and Clare Hamilton is returning home to her beloved Armagh to marry Andrew, her childhood sweetheart. Full of the hope and possibilities of a newlywed couple, they plan to turn Andrew’s ancestral home into a guesthouse. Their ambition is to use their income to buy back the land of the former family estate so that Andrew can quit his hated job as a solicitor and farm the land he had known as a boy. But the sixties are a time of change, and when political unrest increases bookings begin to decline… Can the pair save their beloved guesthouse and achieve their dreams for a better life? Prepare to be spirited away to rural Ireland in this stunning new saga from Anne Doughty. Previously published as Come Rain, Come Shine Readers LOVE Anne Doughty: ‘I love all the books from this author’ ‘Beautifully written’ ‘Would recommend to everyone’ ‘Fabulous story, couldn't put it down!’ ‘Looking forward to the next one. ’
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ANNE DOUGHTY is the author of A Few Late Roses, which was nominated for the longlist of the Irish Times Literature Prizes. Born in Armagh, she was educated at Armagh Girls’ High School and Queen’s University, Belfast. She has since lived in Belfast with her husband.
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First published as Come Rain, Come Shine in 2012
This edition published in Great Britain by HQ, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019
Copyright © Anne Doughty 2020
Anne Doughty asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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.
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Ebook Edition © November 2019 ISBN: 9780008328832
‘This book was immensely readable, I just couldn’t put it down’
‘An adventure story which lifts the spirit’
‘I have read all of Anne’s books - I have thoroughly enjoyed each and every one of them’
‘Anne is a true wordsmith and manages to both excite the reader whilst transporting them to another time and another world entirely’
‘A true Irish classic’
‘Anne’s writing makes you care about each character, even the minor ones’
The Girl from Galloway
The Belfast Girl on Galway Bay
Last Summer in Ireland
The Teacher at Donegal Bay
For all those who have cherished
hope for peace in Ireland
‘Do what you can, do it in love and be sure that it
will be more than you ever imagined.’
Deara, fifth century healer from Emain
Contents
September 1960
The moment the Belfast flight was announced, Clare Hamilton put down her coffee cup and picked up the large, beribboned box parked neatly under the table. She walked quickly across the departure lounge, a small, slim figure in an elegant moss green suit and was among the very first passengers to enter the quiet, echoing corridor that led down to the roar and whine of engines, the oscillating turbulence of aircraft movements and the dazzling glare of acres of pale tarmac.
The waiting Vanguard shimmered in the strong evening sun as she paused to hand over her ticket. How long it might be before she flew again she could not guess, but if this was to be her last flight for some time, she hoped it would be like the one she’d made back in April. On just such a sunlit evening she’d flown into Aldergrove over the green landscape she so loved to the totally unexpected sequence of events which had changed her life.
‘May I put that in the hand luggage store for you, madam?’ the young steward asked politely, with a small bow towards her silver and white striped box.
He put out his hand for the box, large and rectangular, but clearly light in weight.
‘I’ll put it down by my side where it won’t get in the way,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘It’s my wedding dress,’ she added, as he seemed about to protest.
‘Who’s the lucky man?’ he asked, his careful pronunciation replaced by a familiar Ulster accent.
She laughed, suddenly delighted by the sound of home and the broad grin that creased his face as he waved her past.
She made her way to the window seat she’d booked weeks ago from her office in the Place de l’Opéra, settled herself and tried to relax, but the excitement that had pursued her all day was not to be dispersed so easily. She was going home, home to Andrew and to her beloved little green hills. In three days they would be married, ahead of them a life together quite different from any they had once imagined.
She looked down through the dusty window at the familiar activities of the airport, the small vehicles scurrying to and fro bringing luggage and catering supplies, the large fuel tankers now uncoupling their hoses and returning to their depot. Luggage manifests were being exchanged. A Royal Mail van appeared at speed, its back doors sprang open, sacks of mail flew out on to waiting trolleys that quickly disappeared from view. She listened for the familiar sound of the hold doors being banged shut.
Whenever she watched the familiar scene, whether in London or Toulouse, Zurich or Athens, she always thought of the summer of 1957, shortly before graduation, when she’d arrived in London, wearing her best summer dress and carrying a single suitcase. She had tramped the dimly lit platform at Euston Station, struggled with the escalator to the Tube, spent a night in a student hostel, got herself to Victoria for the train to Paris and wept. Whenever no one was looking, and even sometimes when they were, tears had streamed down her face. She was quite alone, without home, or job, or future. She had taken the Liverpool boat, because she had broken off her engagement with Andrew. She had loved him for so long and been so happy, but their bright hopes had been shattered and she could see no way forward for them.
