Brielle - Once Upon An Oceanside Town

Chapter 1: Inconclusive

~ Brielle ~

Chapter 1: Inconclusive

Mercedes-Fleur

13/12/11©

I hope its all you guys hoped for :)

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1956

Pateo, England

Ronan O’Connell

During the night, he paced the lawn before his childhood home. He could see the lights inside were well and truly on, but couldn’t bring himself to edge up onto the porch and knock cheerily at the front door after a multitude of absence. Ronan O’Connell had ran away to join the navy not nine years before this day, and he carried bricks of guilt atop his shoulders for that one reason. He ran a hand across the back of his neck, took one step. Surely Mr and Mrs O’Connell would understand, they always understood when it came to Ronan. He was their youngest and brightest of four boys. Their favourite. So you could only begin to imagine their surprise when they woke one morning to find his bed empty.

The slow speed of which he approached was sluggish but at least it was something.

It was nearly midnight, and the lighting inside was an indication that his father still suffered from the same insomnia. Ronan momentarily wondered if anything had changed in his hometown of Pateo. He tipped low his sailor’s hat and knocked at the door, luggage set at his shining shoes. Would they let him back in after he’d betrayed them like that?

His father’s Aston was parked on the gravel driveway, the same porch swing swung in the breeze to Ronan’s left. As if a ghost rocked, mocking his return. There was somewhat of an upheaval before the front door was roughly tugged open, a thumping of angry boots and enraged rambling. Along the lines of: ‘Who in their right minds!’ His father was cut short mid-sentence when he eyed his runaway son standing not two feet away.

~

The pub was full of stink and chatter. It sat on the brink of Pateo’s Main Beach and felt the pinching chill that washed in off of the water. You could slightly hear the beating of angry waves against the shore, and to many Pateo residents this was considered normal. Almost wonderful. For Ronan O’Connell it was a whispering from the past, one he used to listen to, falling asleep to as a teenager. Many times he’d escaped home life to come to that beach, many times he’d stayed overnight on that sand. He had a history here. Ronan, over the span of four years with the navy had visited numerous places but none quite felt like Pateo.

It was a small ocean side town, a few hours train ride from London. Home to mainly sailors - being convenient in every which way, it bred them too. The pub was bustling with customers and this brought a smile to Ronan’s face. When he’d left Pateo, he was all but a child, and couldn’t dare to go inside for fear that the news would reach his father. Now, he sat across from his father lighting up a cigarette and relinquishing in the awkward silence between the two. Despite the racket around them.

“You’re back,” His father murmured for the umpteenth time.

Ronan O’Connell Senior wasn’t a man of many words, he wore a tidy suit to match his tidy moustache and reading glasses. He was an accountant. He hardly touched a sip of alcohol. But it seemed to Ronan that some things certainly had changed around Pateo because sitting there in the booth, jittering with nerves, his father nursed a healthy sized cup of scotch.

Ronan never did have much in common with his father and he hardly knew the man. If it weren’t for the blood they shared, Ronan doubted he would want to know this man, but the burning need to bond with his father scorched his mind on a daily basis.