The Glass Lake
(Sprache: Englisch)
Night after night the beautiful woman walked beside the serene waters of Lough Glass. Until the day she disappeared, leaving only a boat drifting upside down on the unfathomable lake that gave the town its name. Ravishing Helen McMahon, the Dubliner with...
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Night after night the beautiful woman walked beside the serene waters of Lough Glass. Until the day she disappeared, leaving only a boat drifting upside down on the unfathomable lake that gave the town its name. Ravishing Helen McMahon, the Dubliner with film-star looks and unfulfilled dreams, never belonged in Lough Glass, not the way her genial pharmacist-husband Martin belonged, or their spirited daughter Kit. Suddenly, she is gone and Kit is haunted by the memory of her mother, seen through a window, alone at the kitchen table, tears streaming down her face. Now Kit, too, has secrets: of the night she discovered a letter on Martin's pillow and burned it, unopened. The night her mother was lost. The night everything changed forever...
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Kit always thought that the Pope had been at her mother and father's wedding. There was this picture of him in their house - a different pope, a dead one - and the writing underneath said that Martin McMahon and Mary Helena Healy had prostrated themselves at his feet. It had never occurred to her to look for him in the wedding picture. Anyway, it was such an awful photograph. All those people in embarrassing coats and hats standing in a line. If she'd thought about it at all Kit might have assumed that the Pope had left before the picture was taken, got on the mail boat in Dun Laoghaire and gone back to Rome.That's why it was such a shock when Mother Bernard explained that the Pope could never ever leave the Holy See; not even a war would make him leave the Vatican.
"But he went to weddings, didn't he?" Kit said.
"Only if they were in Rome." Mother Bernard knew it all.
"He was at my parents' wedding," Kit insisted.
Mother Bernard looked at the little McMahon girl, a mop of black curly hair and bright blue eyes. A great wall-climber, an organizer of much of the devilment that went on in the schoolyard, but not until now a fantasist.
"I don't think so, Katherine," the nun said, hoping to stop it there.
"But he was. " Kit was stung. "They have a framed picture of him on the wall saying that he was there."
"That's the papal blessing, you eejit," said Clio. "Everyone has them . . . they're ten-a-penny."
"I'll thank you not to speak of the Holy Father in those terms, Cliona Kelly." Mother Bernard was most disapproving.
Neither Kit nor Clio listened to the details of the concordat that made the Pope an independent ruler of his own tiny state.
With her face down on the desk and hidden by the upright atlas Kit hissed abuse toward her best friend. "Don't you ever call me an eejit again, or you'll be sorry."
Clio was unrepentant. "Well, you are an eejit. The Pope coming to your parents' wedding, your parents of all people!"
"And why shouldn't he be at their
... mehr
wedding if he were let out?"
"Oh, I don't know."
Kit sensed something was not being said. "What would be wrong with their wedding, for example?"
Clio was avoiding the matter. "Shush, she's looking." She was right.
"What did I just say, Cliona Kelly?"
"You said that the Holy Father's name was Pacelli, Mother. That he was called that before he was called Pius the Twelfth."
Mother Bernard reluctantly agreed that this was what she had been saying.
"How did you know that?" Kit was full of admiration.
"Always listen with half your mind to something else," Clio said.
Clio was very blonde and tall. She was great at games, she was very quick in class. She had lovely long fair hair. Clio was Kit's best friend, and sometimes she hated her.
Clio's younger sister Anna often wanted to walk home with them but this was greatly discouraged.
"Go away, Anna. You're a pain in the bottom," Clio said.
"I'll tell Mam you said "bottom' out loud on the road," Anna said.
"Mam has better things to do than to listen to stupid tall tales. Go away. "
"You just want to be fooling around and laughing with Kit . . ." Anna was stung by the harshness of her dismissal. "That's all you do all the time. I heard Mam say . . . I don't know what Clio and Kit are always skitting and laughing about."
That made them laugh even more. Arm in arm they ran off and left Anna, who had the bad luck to be seven and have no friends of her own.
There were so many things they could do on the way home from school.
That was the great thing about living
"Oh, I don't know."
Kit sensed something was not being said. "What would be wrong with their wedding, for example?"
Clio was avoiding the matter. "Shush, she's looking." She was right.
"What did I just say, Cliona Kelly?"
"You said that the Holy Father's name was Pacelli, Mother. That he was called that before he was called Pius the Twelfth."
Mother Bernard reluctantly agreed that this was what she had been saying.
"How did you know that?" Kit was full of admiration.
"Always listen with half your mind to something else," Clio said.
Clio was very blonde and tall. She was great at games, she was very quick in class. She had lovely long fair hair. Clio was Kit's best friend, and sometimes she hated her.
Clio's younger sister Anna often wanted to walk home with them but this was greatly discouraged.
"Go away, Anna. You're a pain in the bottom," Clio said.
"I'll tell Mam you said "bottom' out loud on the road," Anna said.
"Mam has better things to do than to listen to stupid tall tales. Go away. "
"You just want to be fooling around and laughing with Kit . . ." Anna was stung by the harshness of her dismissal. "That's all you do all the time. I heard Mam say . . . I don't know what Clio and Kit are always skitting and laughing about."
That made them laugh even more. Arm in arm they ran off and left Anna, who had the bad luck to be seven and have no friends of her own.
There were so many things they could do on the way home from school.
That was the great thing about living
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Maeve Binchy
Maeve Binchy wurde in der Nähe von Dublin geboren. Nach ihrem Studium war sie zunächst als Redakteurin für die Irish Times tätig. Seit Ende der siebziger Jahre arbeitete sie als freie Schriftstellerin. Ihre Romane, darunter Cathys Traum, Echo vergangener Tage, Der grüne See, Ein Haus in Irland und Im Kreis der Freunde wurden in mehrere Sprachen übersetzt. Maeve Binchy lebte in Dublin und London. Sie verstarb im Juli 2012 im Alter von 72 Jahren.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Maeve Binchy
- 1996, 768 Seiten, Maße: 10,5 x 17,4 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Dell
- ISBN-10: 0440221595
- ISBN-13: 9780440221593
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
"A grand storyteller in the finest Irish tradition....She writes from the heart" - The Plain Dealer, Cleveland
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