The Sandycove Sunset Swimmers

Sian O'Gorman

Description

Can learning to say yes change your life?

When Cat Jones is given the opportunity of a lifetime to present one of Ireland’s most popular live daytime shows, alongside TV royalty David Fitzgerald she isn’t sure she is ready for the challenge.

But after being pushed by her mother’s friend Lorraine to say 'yes' to everything for a month, she reluctantly agrees.

What follows is a whirlwind of opportunities where Cat is forced outside her comfort zone with varying degrees of success.

Once she accepts the challenge to take the plunge with the eclectic sea swimming tribe The Forty Footers’in Dublin Bay, she never looks back. She is warmly welcomed into their lives, and learns to find reserves of strength she never knew existed which helps her deal with a toxic ex, and a growing attraction for a handsome TV executive.

With best friends, Becca and Sinead also in need of a re-boot, can Cat empower them to choose 'risk and adventure' or will they go back to their old, safe lives?

Say 'yes' and your whole life will open up in wonderful ways.

Fall in love with this uplifting, feel-good story from bestselling author Sian O'Gorman. Perfect for fans of Sheila O'Flanagan, Faith Hogan and Cathy Kelly.

Praise for the wonderful Sian O'Gorman:

'Utterly irresistible and joyful - the perfect summer read!' Faith Hogan

'A gorgeous story of friendship, community and starting over' Jessica Redland

'A book with everything. A real 5 star read.' Claudia Carroll

“Delicious! An upbeat, witty read about friends, family and following your dreams.” Gillian Harvey

Sujets

• Sea Stories
• Mashups
• Feminist
• Holidays
• Siblings
• World Literature
• Women
• Coming of Age
• 21st century
• Friendship
• SpongeBob SquarePants
• Sea story
• Sibling
• Ireland
• Woman
• Irish
• Feminism
• The Women
• Stephen Ireland
• Family Life
• Musique irlandaise
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 08 mai 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781804269916
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE SANDYCOVE SUNSET SWIMMERS


SIÂN O’GORMAN
For my dad
It’s always ourselves we find in the sea…


e. e. cummings
CONTENTS



Chapter 1

The Girls!

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

The Jones Family!

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

The Girls!

Chapter 11

The Jones Family!

Chapter 12

Lorraine!

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

The Forty Footers!

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

The Jones Family!

The Girls!

Chapter 21

The Girls!

Chapter 22

The Jones Family!

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

The Forty Footers!

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

The Forty Footers!

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

The Girls!

Chapter 38

The Jones Family!

The Girls!

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Lorraine!

The Jones Family!

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

The Girls!

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

The Girls!

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

The Girls!

Chapter 52

Big moves on the small screen

Epilogue


More From Siân O’Gorman

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Siân O’Gorman

Love Notes

About Boldwood Books
1

Saying ‘yes’ to life was actually the very last thing I wanted to do, but when I was cornered by Mum’s best friend Lorraine at Mum’s retirement party, somehow I got roped in to the latest of Lorraine’s hare-brained schemes.
Lorraine’s front room had been decked out with balloons and streamers for the occasion. There was a bunch of balloons with ‘Sorry You’re Leaving’ and a life-size photograph of Mum in her swimsuit, taken on one of their holidays together. ‘Lorraine!’ Mum had said, when she’d seen it. ‘For God’s sake!’
‘You look fabulous, Annie,’ Lorraine had replied to Mum. ‘Like a film star. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.’ Lorraine topped up her own wine glass to the brim. ‘And, Annie, your problem is, you hide yourself away. You need to live a bit larger, now you’re retired. You’ve got to say yes more. “No” is not in my vocabulary, which is why I have led such a full life.’ Lorraine turned to me. ‘You too, Catríona.’
After leaving nursing after forty years, Mum was looking forward to doing nothing, she had said. And I was doing fine, thank you very much, living alone in my lovely house, my best friends Sinéad and Becca close by, and I had an interesting and varied job as a reporter on a little-watched Sunday morning farming television show called Farming Weekly . Recently, I’d even had a brief moment of social media fame when a cow had knocked into me while I was trying to interview a farmer. I’d ended up slipping over on some mud and then slaloming through dung, across the farmyard, shrieking, all caught on camera. My producer, Mike, had jettisoned my dignity in favour of entertaining the nation and the clip went viral.
‘It will make great television!’ he’d said once he’d stopped laughing. ‘Just to see you, Catríona Jones, our intrepid roving reporter, falling about… the mud… the cow dung, your face!’ And as there weren’t many laughs to be had in the world of farming, obsessed as we were with tractors, the climate and EU subsidies, the piece made the final cut. I was hoping to return to interviewing people about serious farming issues and put this behind me, but Mike still couldn’t speak to me without laughing. ‘I can’t…’ he would say, already starting to laugh again, ‘it was just when you… and then the… and you… arms flapping… screaming…’ He would have to take a moment to compose himself.
And so, here we were at Mum’s retirement ‘do’ on a Friday night in July, hosted by Lorraine – who never needed any encouragement for a social gathering – when the ‘yes’ plan was proposed.
Lorraine lived just around the corner from Mum and Dad, and I lived around another corner from them, in Sandycove, a village, just along the coast from Dublin’s thriving cosmopolitan city centre. It was a world away from the traffic, the pollution and all the people. I could never imagine living anywhere else than here, where the sky sparkled with rainbows, where there were four seasons in an hour, a place where people and the sea were entwined, from sailing and paddleboarding to swimming and kayaking. Walking the seafront every evening was an obsession, and at this time of year, the end of July, the weather was warm, the days stretched like elastic, and the whole village was upended as people lived their lives outdoors – unlike in winter when people hurried from shop to shop.
Lorraine – the kind of woman for whom there was no such thing as too many accessories – was often caught up in ‘adventures’. Mum and Lorraine were the exact opposites, but Lorraine made Mum laugh, and Mum was the grounding influence that Lorraine desperately needed. She had married a waiter once, after falling in love over a sun-baked week in Kuşadası in Turkey. Another time, she’d chained herself to the railings of Dunnes supermarket when they discontinued their own-brand Prosecco. And there was that day a couple of years ago, when Lorraine was pulled aboard a float at Dublin’s Pride festival and spent the next eight hours dancing around to disco classics. Mum had spotted her on the news that night. ‘Is that Lorraine?’ she’d said, squinting at the TV. ‘Janey Mac, it is Lorraine!’
‘If she’s looking for husband number five,’ said Dad, ‘she’s on the wrong lorry.’
Resisting Lorraine was something Mum had never mastered. Mum was the one Lorraine had called from the cell of the Garda station to pick her up once they’d managed to cut off the handcuffs. Mum was the one who had to drive to Belfast when Lorraine had her handbag stolen, and it was Mum who had organised all four of Lorraine’s hen nights over the years.
‘It’s just saying “yes” to everything…’ said Lorraine. ‘And I’m challenging everyone I know to live large and embrace everything the world has to offer, just by saying “yes”. Now, vino? Who’s for more vino? Red, white, rosé or sparkling?’
Dad, standing beside me, said quietly in my ear, ‘Pity she said “yes” to husband number three. And to carrying that suitcase for that “charming” man to Ibiza that time.’
Dad had been retired for the last five years and had already perfected its subtle art. Never the most gregarious of men, in this post-work life, he took his hobby of fixing old electronics to a whole new level by retreating full-time to his shed and made it an obsession. Every time I called in, there was something electrical and ancient – from radios to old heaters to vintage record players – left in the front porch, ready to be fixed or collected by the owner.
Lorraine pointed a finger at me. ‘You, Cat, you need to get out more and do more… you do nothing but stay in. You’re wasting the best years of your life!’
‘Lorraine!’ Mum gave her a sharp elbow in the ribs.
‘It’s true!’ As my godmother, Lorraine had always felt able to speak her mind and probably would have preferred a slightly wilder god-daughter to go drinking with and on weekends to Palma Nova, if she’d had the choice. ‘We all need to be more open to life. You too, Annie.’
‘I’ve just retired from nursing after forty fecking years,’ said Mum. ‘I want to put my feet up.’
Lorraine gave her a look and I watched Mum’s resolve dissolve in front of our very eyes.
‘Okay, then,’ Mum said. ‘I’m in. How long do I have to say “yes” for? And what do I have to say “yes” to?’
‘A month,’ said Lorraine. ‘To everything. You too, Cat.’
Now it was my turn to try to resist her powers.
‘But there’s nothing I want to say “yes” to,’ I countered, as Lorraine poured more wine into our glasses. ‘Can I say “maybe”?’
‘It’s just “yes”,’ she said, sounding weary. ‘Say yes to life. For one month only. That is all. For four short weeks, you both’ – she fixed us both with a look – ‘just say “yes” to everything.’
‘Everything?’ quailed Mum.
Lorraine nodded. ‘Everything. It has changed my life, it really has.’
I was already shaking my head. ‘No’ was my go-to answer to everything and it had never let me down. Maybe I had missed out on a few opportunities over the years, but it had kept me alive. And sane. And there were a few things that I was glad I’d said ‘no’ to. PJ Doyle, my ex-boyfriend, was one of them. A handsome, successful chef, who was often featured in the Sunday supplements glaring menacingly with a meat cleaver in his hands or in bloodstained chef’s whites. Short of stature and, it turned out, he had an even shorter fuse. He would become almost comically hysterical if I accidentally used one of his special knives to chop an onion or mentioned ‘veganism’. I’d said a very firm ‘no’ to him, when, on a weekend away, I’d had enough of his rantings and ravings, and I flew home. And blocked him.
‘It’s a month,’ said Lorraine. ‘Are you two so scared of life that you can’t do something for a month?’
Mum and I looked at each other. A month didn’t sound that long. I had a bag of salad in my fridge which had lasted longer. I could, I thought, just say ‘yes’ to nice things, such as seeing my best friends Becca and Sinéad more, or ‘yes’ to eating more ice cream, or to lie-ins and long baths, and to early nights, to reading an extra chapter of my book in bed.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I will.’
Mum nodded. ‘Me too.’
Mum and I smiled at each other.
‘I was thinking of saying yes to another glass of wine,’ said Mum. ‘Maybe…’
Lorraine rolled her eyes. ‘The Good Friday Agreement was more easily accepted. Now, Annie, what I’d like you to do, as your first assignment, is a parachute jump. In aid of the hospice.’
Mum gulped. Lorraine knew the hospice was Mum’s weak point after Uncle Paul was minded amazingly and lovingly by the staff there.
‘And yours…’ Lorraine looked at me. ‘Yours is…’
‘H