Chapter Three

.oOo.

Meanwhile, Vincent was out and about visiting parishioners. One of his last visits of the day was to see Frankie’s aunt, Sheelagh. He pulled up to the house and got out of his car where he noticed that the front door was left ajar.

He knocked on the doorframe and called out to her. “Hello! Anyone home?”

“Hello Father!” floated Sheelagh’s voice from the kitchen. “Come on in. I’ve just put the kettle on.”

“G’day Sheelagh, how’s it goin’?”

“Does that never get old?” she smiled at him.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“You know full well ‘what’! The whole Sheila / Sheelagh thing!”

“Ahhh – I see you’ve been studying your Australian,” said Vincent, his joke rumbled.

“Not really, but Crocodile Dundee was one of my favourite films in the 80’s. He called the girl from the city a Sheila.”

“Oh God! Please don’t tell me you judge Australians on a Crocodile Dundee scale!”

Sheelagh pretended to give this some thought. “Well, not Australian women, only the men.”

“I can’t resist – where do I rank?”

“I couldn’t possibly say, well at least not until you pull out a machete on some flick-knife waving street hooligan and say ‘That’s not a knife… now that’s a knife!’ Then I’ll be able to tell you.”

Vincent laughed with her at the mental image. “Just where am I going to find one of them in Ballyk?”

“The machete or the hooligan?”

“Both I think!”

“Well, until you do Father, you won’t rate on the scale. Sorry.”

“I’ll just have to wait it out. Thanks,” he said, accepting the mug of tea from her.

“Pull up a chair Father and sit down,” she said wheeling herself around to the table. “I hear you’ve moved on from Avril’s house?”

“Yeah, I moved into Fitzgerald’s today. Makes a bit of a change.”

“It’ll be good to be a bit nearer St. Joseph’s, won’t it?”

“Sure will, I didn’t realise how handy it was until I couldn’t walk to work, so to speak. Anyway, if no properties become available in the meantime, Frankie said I can have her spare room, should things not work out in Fitzgerald’s.”

“In Frankie’s place? Listen, if you find her secret stash of cigarettes you have my permission, as her Godmother, to destroy them!”

“Oh, she’s quit smoking now. Just a momentary lapse.”

“A momentary lapse! And she had the nerve to lecture me on smoking can-” Sheelagh suddenly stopped.

“Hummm, I wonder if this has something to do with a certain Garda dropping charges against Doc Ryan? Don’t say anymore Sheelagh,” he interrupted her before she could speak. “You don’t have to explain yourself or Frankie. I can put two and two together!”

“I was using it for medicinal purposes,” said Sheelagh, explaining anyway. “But do you think I could tell her that? Sometimes, I don’t know where my niece starts and the Garda ends!”

“You do know! Frankie thinks the world of you and you know it. When it came down to it, she looked the other way.”

“I suppose she did, but she was very reserved when she came here on Sunday. I wasn't sure how to react. She was still in her uniform so I didn’t want to mention the whole thing again. But I know there’s something she’s not telling me. I always could see right through her.”

Sheelagh was genuinely worried about her niece and was hoping that Vincent could shed some light as to what was going on. Vincent, true to his word, wasn’t going tell Sheelagh what Frankie had told him in confidence, however he wanted to put the woman at ease.

“If you think that Frankie is keeping something from you, you should ask her straight out. I presume she’d tell you if she could.”

“I just worry about her. I know she’s well able to take care of herself but I can’t help seeing the little girl who first learned to tie her shoes in my kitchen and who played down near the river building traps for worms and snails.”

“Yuck! What did she do that for?”

“She needed bait to go fishing with her brothers and they wouldn’t share theirs, so Frankie used to spend ages thinking up more and more elaborate plans to catch her own. I think she preferred that to the actual fishing! It all seems so long ago now.” Sheelagh paused here, thinking about bygone days. “I was delighted when she was transferred here as I’d only moved in a few months before that but I wasn’t prepared for the tough Garda that she’d become. I always thought she’d marry and have loads of kids, doing the whole school run thing and loving every minute of it.”

“She still can.”

“You know what I mean! The Frankie you see today is so different from the sunshiny little girl, you could hardly reconcile the two. I think something happened to her in Dublin that knocked all the softness out of her. I wish I knew what it was, so I could help her.”

“Oh, hey, I think you’re overstating things a bit! Frankie isn’t all hard and snappy. She has to be tough sometimes, but I’ve seen her relax and enjoy herself too. Maybe something did happen, but I don’t think it’s crushed her totally. She’s shown herself to be a good friend first and a great Guard second, plus she’s fun to be with when she’s relaxed. You should be proud of her.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I am proud, very proud of her, in fact. All I know is that Frankie changed very suddenly and if something is bothering her, I want to help her. I don’t want any problems in her life-”

“I think Frankie is a very lucky person. I bet you were the ‘cool aunt’ who she went to for all sorts of advice when she was growing up. That’s something that you two will always have and will continue to have.”

“I hope so. I didn’t live too far away from them when I was in Dublin so I was around when they were all growing up. I remember one time when Frankie ‘ran away’ from home because her father, Charlie, wouldn’t let her go to the shops on her own. She was determined to show how she could look after herself by making it all the way to my flat. I came home from work and there she was, sitting on the steps with a plastic shopping bag packed with pyjamas, two left shoes, her favourite doll and some chocolate biscuits. I felt so sorry for the little mite, who waited for at least three hours for me, not realising that she’d scared the life out of her mother and father. I never saw two more grateful people when they picked her up that night. She was just four years old and she made her way through a housing estate, past the afore mentioned shops, across a main road and into a block of flats. Actually, come to think of it, I’m not surprised she’s a fearless Garda!”

“You see! It was always there, she’s just put her energy into recovering lost children instead of being one!”

“Oh, Frankie wasn’t lost. She knew exactly where she was, as she pointed out to Charlie who wouldn’t let her out of his sight. ‘But Daddy, I wasn’t missing, I was waiting on Auntie Sheelagh!’ Poor Charlie, there was no arguing with her, although she wasn't allowed out to play where her mother couldn’t see her for at least a week. A terrible sentence to Miss Adventure!”

“I can just imagine! Hey, don’t worry too much. Frankie will be fine and if she was genuinely in trouble, I’m sure she’d come to you.”

“Sometimes I think that she’s keeping me in the dark because I have M.S.”

“Even if she did, you have to accept that she doesn’t want you to worry about her too much. She’s an adult now and it has to be hard for you to see her that way. But you must admit, that it’d be pretty strange of she still came running to you with every problem in her life.”

“I suppose you’re right, as usual! I’ll see her tomorrow and make sure she’s okay. It can’t hurt to ask!”

“Good! Well, I’ve got to be off. Thanks for the tea Sheelagh. I’ll see you next week.”

“Goodbye Father! Thanks for dropping by. We had a good chat!”

“Indeed we did. G’day Sheelagh!” He couldn’t resist.

“Out you!” she laughed as she saw him to the door and then, thinking about the conversation, she decided not to wait until tomorrow to hear from Frankie so she picked up the phone to see if her niece wanted a late supper.

.oOo.

Vincent just made it back to Fitzgerald’s as Óonagh was dishing out dinner.

“Oh great! You made it. Sit down Father.”

“Thanks Óonagh. Evening Paul.”

“Evening Vincent. Busy day?”

“No more so than usual. Where are the kids?”

“I just called them! DERMOT!!! GRÁINNE!!!” shouted Paul.

Óonagh winced and rolled her eyes with a sigh. Why couldn’t Paul remember his manners?

“We’re here!! We were just finishing a computer game,” said Gráinne, smiling at Vincent.

“Oh deadly! You’re here Father Vin!” said Dermot. “I taped the Aussie Rules matches for you off TG4.”

“Excellent! I haven’t seen real football in ages! Thanks Dermot!” he paused for a moment. “Did you say I’m deadly?”

“He meant ‘deadly’ as in ‘great’,” explained Gráinne.

“Ahhh, I see! I’ll have to brush up on the local slang!”

“What do you mean – real football?” said Dermot, suddenly realising his beloved Manchester United might just have been insulted.

“Aussie Rules is the real deal mate, not that wimpy soccer!”

“What you need to see Vincent,” said Paul, “is a good Gaelic Football match. Last year a fella’ on the Dublin team kept on playing even though he broke a bone in his foot. And in the Hurling, the Kilkenny captain played in the All Ireland Final with a broken rib! The whole match!”

Óonagh and Gráinne rolled their eyes, as the three boys debated over which of the three football games was the toughest. Having a third one added to the usual soccer versus gaelic question and taking a separate side totally, was not the best for dinner conversation. However, following the old saying that if you can’t beat them, join them, Gráinne chipped in.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Rugby football is the best of the lot!”

Óonagh hung her head in despair; her old reliable ally had just jumped ship. The conversation continued long after dinner was over and once the kids had cleared the table, Vincent was dragged off by Dermot to watch and explain Aussie Rules. Gráinne had a letter to write so she headed for the solitude of her room. Óonagh and Paul went into the bar to look after their customers. The regulars were there and currently Siobhan and Brendan were trying to get a game of poker started. It had begun to rain heavily about an hour ago, so nobody was too keen to leave. Dónal and Liam rushed through the door, slamming in behind them.

“Jays, that’s a rotten night!” exclaimed Liam.

“Indeed it is lads! What are ye’ havin’?” asked Paul.

“The usual Paul, thanks,” said Dónal. “I hear you’ve a new house guest. You’ll have to watch yourself now, what with the boss around! Where is he anyway?”

“He’s explaining the finer points of Australian Rules Football to Dermot. And he’s just the owner, I’m the boss – just so you know!” said Paul. “Errr, I mean, she’s the boss!” he said hurriedly, catching Óonagh’s glare.

Liam made a ‘whhtshhhh’ sound, miming a whip.

“Shut up you!” said Paul. “Here’s your pint, and yours Dónal.”

Before he could say any more Edso arrived, soaked to the skin. “Brrrrr, I hope youse have lit the fire! Pint please, Paul!”

“Howrya’ Edso! What’s the story?” said Liam, hoping for some news.

“Same old, same old, Liam. Nothing strange,” said Edso, giving nothing away to his rival. “Hey Brendan, are you using your fishing gear at the weekend?”

“No, I wasn’t planning to. Why? Do you want it?” asked Brendan.

“Yeah, I see Vartry reservoir is open again complete with loads of good fish in it.”

“You’re not supposed to fish there, you eejit! Those fish belong to the waterworks people!” exclaimed Siobhan. “It was closed for a reason. To let the fish grow a bit.”

“How do you know that no-one’s allowed to fish there?” said Edso, shaking out his wet jacket.

“Edso, are you thick or what? There’s big ‘No Fishing’ signs all over the place! How did you miss them?”

“Oh them! I didn’t think they were serious, maybe it’s just for the tourists or something.”

“No, it’s not just for the tourists – it’s for everyone. You leave them fish alone and go somewhere legal for a change!”

“Where?”

“Oh my God!! I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. A – you live beside a river and B – you’re within two miles of a lake. You have a think about it and tell me where you could go fishing.”

“I know all that. I meant where would I get the same kind of fish like up at Vartry?”

“You won’t know unless you look, will you? By the way, stay away from the salmon farm. You can be arrested for fishing there too.”

“I’m sure Frankie has better things to do with her time than-”

“Ahhh, would you stop! If you’re determined to illegally fish, then there’s nothing more to say. Honestly!!!!”

Siobhan turned back to her poker game, ignoring the smile on Edso’s face. There was nothing he enjoyed more than teasing people. He had no intention of salmon fishing. He just said it to see what kind of reaction Siobhan would have, predicting that it would annoy her. His purpose achieved, he turned around to the bar and started chatting with Dónal.

“Siobhan, phone call for you!” called Óonagh. Siobhan reached over the bar and picked up the extension phone. She looked worried by the time she hung up. Brendan immediately knew something was wrong with Aisling.

“Is it Aisling?” he asked.

“Yeah, that was the babysitter. Aisling is hot, crying and won’t settle down. I think we’d better go. She was trying my mobile, but there’s no service – must be the storm. Come on.” Siobhan gathered up the cards and handed them to Paul. “Hang on to those for us, see ya’ tomorrow.”

“Bye Siobhan, bye Brendan. Hope Aisling is okay,” said Paul, putting the cards under the bar.

“She was fine today,” said Brendan, handing Siobhan her coat. “I wonder what’s wrong?”

“Probably just one of those childhood things,” said Óonagh. “She’ll be fine by tomorrow, wait and see.”

“Bye all!” called Siobhan, nodding her thanks to Óonagh.

They made their way to her jeep and headed for home. As soon as they arrived, Brendan was out of the jeep even before Siobhan had switched off the engine. He went inside and went upstairs to see Aisling. The little girl was crying fretfully in her cot, her blankets pushed out of the way. As soon as she saw Brendan, she reached out for him, sobbing. He picked her up and carried her downstairs to Siobhan. Siobhan checked her over, took her temperature and looked for any telltale rashes. She shrugged her shoulders at Brendan when there was nothing unusual to report.

“Mary?” she asked the babysitter, “When did she start crying?”

“I don’t know Siobhan. She seemed quiet and I went upstairs at ten, just to check on her. She was already crying quietly in her cot so I tried to calm her down. Nothing worked and she kept asking for you and Brendan, so I just decided the best thing to do would be to give you a ring.”

“Well, she seems fine now, thanks for ringing us, you did the right thing. Brendan will give you a lift home. There’s no way we’re letting you cycle home on a night like this. I’ll drop the bike over tomorrow.”

Brendan headed out to the car and Mary followed him. Siobhan, seeing that Aisling was quieter, asked her what was wrong.

“I don’t want you to go away!” sniffed Aisling. “I wants you an’ Daddy to stay with me!”

“Why sweetheart! We’re not going anywhere! Why did you think that?”

“’Cause I seed Gwada Snuffalin stumpin’ your paper so you could go ‘way!” she wailed. “And then I waked up an’ you was gone and only Mawy was lefted with me!”

Suddenly the whole thing clicked with Siobhan.

“Oh Aisling! Garda Sullivan only stamped a form for me so I could go on a holiday if I wanted too. Of course I’d be taking you with me!” She hugged Aisling tightly. “You see, when people go on holidays they have a little book with them called a passport,” Siobhan paused here, trying to think of an easy way to explain the situation to her. “This passport will tell other Gardaí in other countries that I am an Irish person. The one I have now doesn’t have your name written on it, so I needed to get a new one. That way, you can come with me and your name will be written beside mine. Your Daddy already got his new passport but I forgot to do mine. Do you understand now?”

“So you isn’t going away now?”

“Nooo, we might go on holidays when all the little baby animals are born and Mammy has some free time. Would you like that?”

“Will Daddy be coming too?”

“We will ask him when the time comes and I’m sure he’ll try to come as long as he doesn’t have to teach in the school.” This answer seemed to satisfy Aisling much to Siobhan’s relief. She didn’t want to answer for Brendan and she didn’t want to get Aisling’s hopes up. “So, will you go back to bed now?”

“Uh huh!” nodded Aisling. “Buts I had too many blankies and I was too hots.”

“Okay, well I’ll take some of them away and get you all snugly again. Come on pet!”

Siobhan now realised why Aisling woke up. As it was such a bad night she was afraid Aisling would be cold so she put on an extra blanket over her on her way out. She tucked Aisling back into bed and was downstairs by the time Brendan arrived back.

“How is she?” he asked as he came in.

“She was just upset. She thought we’d gone away and left her!”

“Huh?”

“She thought that because Frankie did the passport form earlier that I left tonight, leaving her with Mary!”

“Ah no! She seemed fine earlier, Frankie even stamped a piece of paper for her!”

“I know! She stuck in up on the fridge when you brought her back. Don’t worry about it Brendan. She was too hot, woke up, called for me and got no answer. You can imagine then that she probably lay there thinking all sorts of things and got herself all worked up! Amazing the way kid’s minds work!”

“Yeah! Well, I’m glad she’s okay. I won’t disturb her now. Give her a kiss for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“She was wondering if you’d come on holidays with us?” asked Siobhan, deciding to just go for it. Brendan looked at her warily.

“She was wondering or you were?”

“A bit of both.”

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t know.”

“When?”

“New year, maybe.”

“Do ya’ want me to?”

“It’d be nice.”

“Okay then.”

“Grand.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Night now.”

“Night.”

With that, he was out the door and on his way home. He smiled to himself, Siobhan was gradually becoming used to having him around, which suited him just fine.

.oOo.

The following week, Vincent met Frankie in the street, just as she was loading up her car with all sorts of interesting looking boxes.

“Hey Frankie, haven’t seen you around lately!”

“Oh Vincent, hi!” she smiled. “I’ve got target practice today down at the firing range. I’ve been so busy lately I haven’t had a second free. After tonight though, I’m done for a while. What about you?”

“Nothing much, just the usual. I didn’t know you had to know how to use a weapon.”

“We generally don’t, but I did some firearms training for a while in Dublin. I’ve kept my hand in and I need to work at it, hence all the gear!” She gestured towards the piles of stuff in the car. “Listen, if you’re free on Friday, do you want to come over for some dinner and a chat. I know we said ages ago that we’d meet up again, but we haven’t so far!”

“Sure, okay, that’d be great, would five o’clock suit you?

“Yep, five would be fine. Actually, make it six, I just remembered I’ve weekend traffic duty on Friday. I’m not off until five thirty.”

“Six it is. Take it easy out there today!”

“I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t gone in ages! See you Friday!” she called and got into the car, waving goodbye as she pulled off. Vincent waved after her shaking his head. Frankie with a gun? Thank God the Gardaí were an unarmed force otherwise Dónal and Liam might have been dispatched with sometime ago!

“What are you staring at?” came a voice from behind him. Vincent jumped and turned around to face the speaker.

“Don’t do that!”

“See, it’s not that funny, is it?” Avril smirked, referring to the numerous times he’d appeared out of thin air in front of her.

“Hummm, what are you doing out and about?” he said, ignoring her question.

“Just picking up some stuff from Kathleen. How are things?”

“They’re great! It’s been so handy living in the town again. Not that I didn’t appreciate living-”

“Oh relax! I know what you mean. Have you managed to convert Dermot to Aussie Rules yet?”

“Almost, I just need a little more time. I think he’s beginning to crack!” he joked.

“You against the might of the Church of Manchester United! Good luck with that! Oh, did you see the builders have moved in to start the new houses today? Well, at least the surveyors were there on my way in, marking out the various plots of land.”

“Really? I wonder how long it will take them?”

“Well, they’ve just started to mark out, so I reckon it’ll be at least next month before the builders really get going. Judging by the rate they’re building houses in Dublin now, it won’t take them long once they start. By the beginning of winter, you could be in your own place!”

“That’d be great! I’ll take a look over there later and see what’s going on.”

“Do! Maybe they’ll let you pick out one already. Ask and see. Where was Frankie off to? I was wondering if she’d like to meet for lunch tomorrow.” Avril and Frankie had met for lunch at least one day each week since the whole misunderstanding thing.

“Get this – she was off for some target practice!”

“She has a gun!?! Dónal and Liam had better watch out!” she said.

Vincent laughed loudly at this comment. “I was just thinking the same thing myself! I was wondering why are the Gardaí unarmed here? I mean, okay, you don’t need an armed Garda in Ballyk, but surely in parts of the bigger cities they’re armed?” he asked, as they walked down towards Kathleen’s shop.

“Nope. They do have a special unit that gets called out if they need it and some detectives are armed. It depends on the situation I suppose. You’ll have to ask Frankie for the details. Anyway, it’s part of who they are, the ‘Guardians of the Peace’ or as we call them, the Garda Síochána.”

“Wow! I wonder if any of them were ever shot at?”

“Well, there was one last year. A detective was shot dead by the IRA in Limerick during a raid. But apart from that I can’t think of any off hand. Are you getting stuff in here too?” she asked, opening the shop door.

“Yeah, I’m just picking up the paper. Hi Kathleen!”

“Oh, hello Father! Hello Avril! How are things over at the pub Father? inquired Kathleen, barely concealing her distaste. A priest living in a pub? Whoever heard of it? Kathleen asked him the same questions every single time she saw him and Vincent was getting slightly tired of her. He managed to answer her civilly again, for about the fiftieth time.

“Never better Kathleen! I’m really being treated like royalty. The whole family are looking after me so well!” He hoped that’d keep her quiet for a bit and he glanced through the newspapers until he found what he was looking for.

“The Irish Times, please” he said, handing it over with a smile.

“One pound, Father. Remember you can always come back to my place if things get a little rough for you over there.” Vincent again tried to circumvent Kathleen’s arguments.

“Very kind of you Kathleen, I’ll keep that offer in mind. Bye now, bye Avril!” he called, trying to get away as fast as he could.

“Oh wait! I’m just done here,” she said as she handed over her purchases.

Kathleen put the shopping through the till and told Avril the price. Avril paid all eleven pounds seventy-three pence in pennies and two-pences, much to Kathleen’s annoyance.

“Sorry Kathleen, I’ve had this change weighing me down for ages. It’s good to get rid of it, hope you don’t mind,” she said, as she plonked one moneybag after another down on the counter. She broke open the last one and painstakingly counted out the seventy-three pennies. Vincent could barely keep a straight face throughout the exchange.

“Not at all,” said Kathleen tightly, indicating that she did mind, a lot.

“Thanks!” said Avril brightly as they made their way out of the shop.

“Did you call me back there just to see that?” asked Vincent.

“Yup, sure did! And for insurance – what could she say with you standing there? You know the way she always moans on at you if you give her twenty quid. ‘Oh, have you not got anything smaller? You’ll clear me out of change!’” said Avril, in a surprisingly good Kathleen impression. “I’ve been keeping all that crappy change just to annoy her. At least I put it in moneybags! Damn near tore my pockets!”

“How long has it taken you to collect that amount?” he laughed.

“I had a tin at home that I threw loose money into, I’ve been meaning to get rid of it for ages with the Euro coming in and two weeks ago I decided to let Kathleen have the lot. She nearly wouldn’t sell me a bottle of water because I only had a fiver. So, I went over to the post office and got some moneybags, went home, counted out the change and I’ve waited for a rainy day so I could carry in my coat pockets. See?”

“Geez! Remind me not to get on your bad side!”

“Ahh go on! You thought it was funny! Admit it!” she laughed.

Vincent couldn’t help but give in. “Oh all right! Yes, it was a very well thought out plan! You’ve given her enough change to last for a good while!”

“Not only that, I’ll bet it’s the last time she asks me if I’ve ‘anything smaller’. Hah! Sweet, sweet revenge!”

“Any handy hints on how I can get her to stop asking me about the pub?”

“Sure do! You just tell her to fe-”

“No bad words!” he warned.

“Oh, okay… well, let’s see… Just say the next time she asks – ‘Why Kathleen, so kind of you to take such a persistent interest in how the pub is doing. In fact, as you seem so keen and Óonagh could use a hand, you won’t mind if I suggest to her that you’re going to come over. I’m sure Óonagh would be delighted.’ Then all you have to do is walk away before she gets a chance to answer you. That’ll stop her. She’ll be so afraid that you might actually do as you say that she’ll be scared to speak to you. Kathleen Hendley in a pub! Imagine it!”

“Avril, sometimes I can’t believe the deviousness you plot in that head of yours. Good one though – I must remember it!”

They parted company with instructions from Avril that if he saw Frankie before she did, tell her that she was looking for her. Vincent made his may back to his room where he picked up a few things before heading back out to St. Joseph’s.

.oOo.

On Friday, Vincent showed up at the Garda station at six o’clock. However, he noticed that the squad car wasn’t parked outside. He knocked on the door, just in case she was there, but received no reply. He was just about to walk back down to the pub when Frankie drove up.

“Sorry I’m late!” she said getting out of the car. “The usual Friday evening rush! Where everybody is going is beyond me! Come on in.” Vincent followed her into the kitchen, where efficient-to-the-last Frankie had dinner already in the oven. She took a quick look at the food and then turned around to face him. “Just in time! A few more minutes and this chicken would’ve been a bit too much on the crispy side!”

“How do you manage to guess how long you were going to be out?”

“Simple, no way in hell am I working overtime traffic duty on a Friday, which leaves me fifteen minutes to get back from the main road to here. I would’ve been on time, only some idiot decided that the way from Dublin to Wexford was via Ballykissangel.”

“I’m not following you. You could go to Wexford through here, right?”

“You could – if you knew the way and didn’t mind adding on at least two hours to your journey! This fool hadn’t a clue where he was so I had to spend ten minutes directing him back out onto the main road. Anyway, enough griping! Would you like something to drink before dinner? Avril gave me this pink-”

“You’re not going to foist some miserable health drink on me are you?” said Vincent, immediately alerted by Avril’s name and the hint that the drink was ‘pink’.

“I should’ve known better, I forgot she’s had ample time to experiment on you. I’ll have to try it on some other unsuspecting guest”, laughed Frankie, rummaging around in a press. “Here you go, some real non-alcoholic beer this time. Can’t be too careful with the cops around these days!” She handed him two bottles and an opener.

“I know! You won’t believe what I heard. This local cop, she pulled over the parish curate for drink driving. Breathalysed him and all!”

“She didn’t!” said Frankie, mock-horrified, accepting the beer he held out.

“Yeah! I hear the cop was a real old crone! The poor bloke was totally innocent.”

He could barely keep a straight face and covered up a snort of laughter by taking a drink. Frankie, who was just rinsing off some vegetables under the tap, turned around with dripping hands.

“Old crone, you say!” shaking her hands vigorously, flicking most of the water in his direction ‘accidentally’. “Tut, tut, terrible thing! Imaging allowing her to deal with the public!”

“Truce! Truce!” called Vincent, ducking out of range. “I was only kidding. I actually heard that the cop was the sweetest person you could meet, brilliant and young too. The priest was this washed up old geezer who deserved to be banged up!”

“Ah, I thought so!” laughed Frankie, drying her hands. “Make yourself useful here and put this veg in the microwave. I’m just going upstairs to change. Won’t be a minute.” She turned to leave, giving him a friendly shove on the way out. “Old crone! Huh!” she huffed. Vincent sniggered and did what he was told, making himself busy setting the table and keeping an eye on the microwave. He was just checking the vegetables for the last time when Frankie reappeared, looking much more comfortable in old jeans and a jumper.

“I’ll keep you!” she said. “I don’t like cooking and if I turn my back on the microwave for one second, anything in there comes out all shrivelled.”

“How can you not like cooking and still know exactly how to roast a chicken?”

“Many, many, many failed attempts! You should know this is nearly all I’m able to do. I follow cookbooks but it never turns out the way it’s supposed to. Especially with that thing.” She glared evilly at the microwave.

“Perhaps your microwave is more powerful than the one in the cookbook?”

“How d’ya’ mean? How can it be more powerful? It uses the same power.”

“Oh God! I meant the different watts, you know, 900 or 1000? He looked at her mystified face. “You really do know sod all about cooking. Forget I said anything. Just don’t cook stuff for as long as it says in the book.”

“You mean, it’s not me that’s wrong, it’s the book?” she asked, hopefully.

“Frankie, this desire to always be right - how long has it been a problem?” he joked. Frankie turned around from the oven.

“Are you saying I have a problem or that I’m not right?” she asked, catching him nicely.

“No… err, well, I… um…”

“I win again!” she sang. “Sit yourself down. Everything’s just ready.”

“You know who you remind me of?”

“Who?” She looked at him quizzically.

“Kathleen, on one of her infamous ‘I’m right and you’re wrong’ crusades!” he said, waiting to see the reaction.

“I am no-” she paused, no way was she falling for that one. “Do you want gravy over those carrots or on the side?”

“I don’t mind Kath-, I mean Frankie!”

“Do you want to wear this?” she threatened, waving the gravy close to him. Her serious face was betrayed by a grin that kept raising the corners of her mouth.

“You need to work on that poker face, you know!”

“Do you have a smart answer for everything?”

“I try!”

“When did priests get so annoying?” she said as she took her own seat. “No! Don’t answer that!”

.oOo.

During the meal, Vincent told her about Avril’s ‘payback’ to Kathleen. Frankie was highly amused.

“Oh, I must remember that!” she laughed. “She’s always going on at me for giving her twenty pound notes. Nice one, Avril! I’m going to start collecting crappy change.”

“Oh no! What have I started?”

“She’s had it coming Father!” said Frankie, not noticing what she just called him.

“Old habits die hard Guard,” he said, grinning at her.

Realising what he meant, Frankie held up her hands in apology. “Opps! She’s had it coming, Vincent,” she said, correcting herself. “ I know you’re technically off-duty but when you’re a priest I suppose you can never really have the night off can you? I mean if you were needed by anyone, you’d have to go. No ‘I’m off tonight – contact Father Mac’ for you!”

“Yeah. That’s the thing living in a place like this. I’m always Father Sheahan, no matter what I’m doing or dressed like. I don’t mind it too much though. In a way, it must be the same for you. If you’re around, you’re the Guard, no getting away from it.”

“Sort of. If I go into Fitzgerald’s, out of uniform, people react differently to me. At first they didn’t and they were always careful about what they said in front of me, but now they realise that I don’t keep mental notes of conversations while off duty. Some people, I should say. The likes of Dónal and Liam are always so busy hatching some scheme or other that they stay well clear of me.” She paused here, smiling. “Believe me, on the inside, I’m devastated over that!”

“I see what you mean. Even though you are seen as the local Guard, people have learnt to be friends with the ‘in civvies’ Frankie. With me, they behave the same all the time. I’m their friend and their priest. They can come see me if they have a problem that they can’t talk about with anyone else and they know it’ll go no further. Or, they can stop by for a chat. Even though I’m never off duty like you, I don’t really mind it.

“I see you differently!”

“No you don’t!”

“I do! During the week or whatever, I’ve called you Father Sheahan, whereas now, you’re here as a friend and you’re just Vincent. I know you’re a priest, but it’s different – oh, this is coming out all wrong. You know what I mean! You don’t see me as Guard Sullivan now. Or do you?” she asked, suddenly not so sure.

“Nahh! You’re Frankie, the bad cook!”

“See! And you’re Vincent, the not-very-funny friend!” she replied, glad to see that he understood her point.

“It’s nice to know that there are people here who see ‘me’. Brendan, Siobhan, Avril, Michael, you – crikey, I need to be careful! Pretty soon, there’ll be nobody left and Fr. Mac would just love that.” He paused here, for a brief moment imaging himself in Ballyk just as himself, not a priest. “Sometimes, I just wish I could be Vince again and do what I like, but I suppose I can’t, so there’s no use wishing otherwise, is there?”

“What would you do, if you were just Vince?”

“What, job wise or for fun?”

“Both, what would you be if you weren’t a priest, just Vince Sheahan, doing his own thing?”

“That’s some question. I don’t know if I can answer it,” he said, thoughtfully.

“You don’t have to, I was just wondering,” said Frankie, not wanting to bother him. “Do you want to take desert inside?” she asked, getting up from the table.

“Sure,” he answered, taking a tray from her which was loaded with cups, plates and cutlery. He went into the sitting room and Frankie followed holding some apple tart.

“Óonagh gave me some this morning. She couldn’t have better timing!” She out the plate down on a coffee table and started to cut it up, smiling at Vincent’s happy face. “Are you full after dinner? I could always put this away.”

“You just try it!” he said, delighted.

Frankie poured out tea and handed his desert over. They continued talking about nothing in general. She got up to light the fire and Vincent said he had an answer for her.

“About…?” she asked, puzzled.

“Your question – what would I do if I wasn't a priest?”

“Oh! You don’t hav-”

“I know, it’s just something I don’t think about really. Firstly, I probably wouldn’t have left Australia. When I was younger I was a real pain in the ar- *cough*, neck!” he smiled at her. “You name it, I was there, marching for the cause. It drove my Dad nuts and to tell you the truth, I was a bit sick of it myself! Anyway, I suppose I would’ve copped on eventually and taken over a farm he owned. I loved working with the horses in particular. I wanted to be a trainer and own a stud farm. Don’t know if I would’ve stayed in Wagga Wagga, maybe for a while until I got established, then move on, nearer to a bigger city. Might have got married to a girl I went out with for years. Might have had kids – I really don’t know. That’s what I thought I would do, but then everything went downhill pretty fast when I started drinking.”

“What happened?” asked Frankie.

“I was one stupid bloke! I really did have it all. Nice girl, nice family, good home, friends – the whole lot. It started when I’d meet up with my mates in the local every Friday night. Then it was every Saturday night too and pretty soon it was every other night. Afterwards it’d spill out onto the streets. A gang of us, shouting about how wrong everything was, kicking over rubbish bins and making a real nuisance of ourselves. I can’t count the amount of times the local cops picked me up and threw me into the drunk tank to settle down. My parents were really mad and my mother knew enough to see that it wasn’t normal student rowdy behaviour. It took my Dad a little longer to see it and it took me ten years! When I came home from college one summer he kept me on the farm. I nearly went crazy without drink and it was then he realised it. I wouldn’t listen and went back to college extremely angry. The college chaplain Father Murphy, saw me one day passed out on a park bench at eleven o’clock in the morning. He took me back to his place, sobered me up and gave me some dinner. For some reason I just couldn’t shut up and told him everything that was bothering me. By this stage Laura had left too, she wasn’t able to take it anymore. Anyway, long story short, he watched out for me until I finished college and I really was doing well. I’d decided to stop being a prat and joined the priesthood. Ol’ Murph’ said I should wait a bit, but I felt that it was the right thing to do. So, I went ahead with my studies in the seminary and when I was finished, Dad pulled a few strings and I was sent to this posh parish in Sydney.”

He stopped taking for a bit while Frankie threw some more turf on the fire. He watched a shower of sparks fly up the chimney as she turned around to him.

“Did you like it? In Sydney, I mean?”

“Yeah, at first I did but I soon found that I had very little to do. I had far too much time on my hands, plus I just didn’t fit in. I embarrassed the parishioners and the bishops on more than one occasion. Drink was ever present and while I didn’t return to my larger lout days, there were a few times when getting up out of bed was unthinkable. When I heard they were looking for volunteers for Brazil I applied. A fresh start again, people who needed me, a place I could make a difference or so I thought. I did enjoy the five years I spent there and it definitely helped me grow up. Having to fend for yourself out there wasn’t easy. But as bloody usual, I fouled everything up again with drink. It all got too much and again I went crashing down. The locals were so good to me and that made me feel worse. I came back to Australia and for the first time admitted I was an alcoholic. Going to those AA meetings saved my life, I’m sure of it. Knowing that I had a problem but help was available this time, made me more confident. After a bit, I wanted to get back out there, to go some place new. The Bishop was a ‘friend of a friend’ who knew Father Mac from way back. Next thing I knew, I was on my way here and you know the rest!”

“Did you want to be sent so far away from home?” asked Frankie, feeling a great admiration for him and all he had overcome.

“Not really, but I was the one who asked for a transfer. It just clicked for me when I got off the plane in Dublin. I don’t know why, but I feel more at home in this little village than anywhere else. For the first time in my life I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to ‘change things’, I don’t want to drink, I just want to stay here and be happy. So, your question about what would I do if I wasn’t a priest? I really can’t say because too much has happened to make me the way I am. I’d have liked to get married I suppose, but then I wouldn’t be here today, would I?

“No, you probably wouldn’t. That’s an amazing story, I’d never have imagined a person could’ve gone though all that and managed to come out the other side.”

“So we’ve both had ups and downs in our history.”

“Yeah, but my life has been relatively secure compared to that.”

“I suppose it depends on how you describe secure. From what I’ve heard you were always the adventurous type.”

“Has Sheelagh been bending your ear? she laughed.

“She told me the story about the time you ‘ran away’ from home to her flat and waited for her on the steps.”

“I should keep you away from her before she tells any other embarrassing childhood stories!”

“Aww, it was sweet! You’re lucky to have a family that cares about you so much. Sheelagh was really worried when you started smoking again, convinced that something disastrous had happened.”

“She’s like a second mother to me. I know she worries but I don’t want to trouble her with things that she can’t do anything about. She just has to trust me that I’m able to do things for myself. Just like your parents – I’m sure they must’ve found it hard to let you go and make your own way in the world, knowing the trouble you’ve had.”

“They haven’t really let me go! My mother is on the phone every weekend and she still asks the same questions. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ ‘Are you happy?’ ‘Do you have enough socks?’ That kind of thing!” he laughed. “I suppose parents will never see you as anything other than their children, no matter how far away you are. Sheelagh probably feels responsible for you as she’s your nearest relative here.”

“I know she does. Still, she has to know that there are things I can’t tell her. She knows about Derek, but there’s a whole other thing that I can’t talk about that I just have to put up with it. So, she is right that something happened but she’s better of not knowing.”

“Can you tell me? I mean, I’m here if you want to talk.”

“You have know idea how much I want to, but I’m not sure it would be a clever thing to do. It’s a police thing and maybe it’d be better that you didn’t know.” She was on dangerous ground here again, with her head and her heart telling her two different things.

“Frankie, are you in some kind of trouble?” he asked, genuinely worried now. Frankie hesitated before answering.

“Look, please don’t be worried!” she said. “I came so close to telling you when we talked a while ago but I just couldn’t-” her voice quivered and she coughed to cover it up.

“Okay, this is obviously something big. I’m not going to push. Just answer me one thing if you can, a simple yes or no will do. Are you in trouble?” Frankie hesitated and then made her decision. She got up and headed over to an old desk. She pulled open a drawer and took out a sheaf of papers, quickly flicking through it until she found what she was looking for. She took a deep breath and handed a photograph to him.

“Do you recognise this person?” she asked.

Vincent studied the photograph of a smiling young woman with long blond hair sitting on a motorcycle.

“No, should I?” he asked, mystified.

“Look closely.” Frankie was amazed that he didn’t see it.

He studied the photo again carefully. “Well, I don’t know. She kinda looks a bit like you. Is she a relative or something?”

“No, it’s me.”

“No way!” he exclaimed, looking again at the photo and looking at her. “Frankie, this doesn’t look anything like you!”

“So you wouldn’t recognise me if you knew me as that person?”

“No I wouldn’t, you don’t look at all like this- what are you trying to say?” he asked, feeling that she was saying something important but he couldn’t grasp it. So, Frankie told him about the whole disastrous undercover operation and how Derek saved her life.

“We’re still looking for a fifth member of the gang. He just disappeared after that incident and until he’s found…” she trailed off. “These people never forget and I sent three of his best buddies to prison and was involved with the death of his brother. So, until he’s caught, I’m to stay here in Ballykissangel and keep my head down.”

“Oh God,” his hand shook as he ran it through his hair. It wasn’t everyday you hear a friend is hiding from drug dealers. “But these guys knew you as this person?” he pointed towards the photo.

“Yeah, but I’m just not comfortable knowing there’s one of them still out there.”

“Frankie, that’s a pretty good make-up job. If you didn’t tell me, there’s no way I’d know.”

“It’s not just the disguise. I know I’m probably blowing this whole thing out of proportion but what if he makes contact with some crooked cop in headquarters? Say that person knew me and knows I was sent here? Or worse, knows who my family are and they’ll shoot one or more of them to get even? Or-” Frankie’s voice was getting higher and more panicky so he took hold of her hands.

“Listen, you told me that only five people knew about this?” he said in a soothing voice. Frankie nodded her head. “Who are they?”

“Inspectors Malone and Foley, Sergeant Hanrahan, who was my sergeant at the time, Derek and myself.”

“Would these people ever tell anyone else?”

“No, not even Derek, even though he is a bastard. He’s in danger too, more so than me because he pulled the trigger, so it’s in his best interests not to say anything.”

“Well then, how could this other dealer find this hypothetical crooked cop who would spill the beans? If the ‘blond you’ never existed for the rest of the police force, how could anyone know? As far as the gang was concerned you were a just a police snitch and Derek was the cop – presuming that they even knew that.”

“I know you’re right and I know in my head that it’s unlikely to happen. It’s just worry I suppose, exaggerating the whole situation. I’m glad I told you, but please don’t you worry about it either!”

“I can’t help but be concerned but I won’t worry over it! I think you’ve done enough of that. Anyway, it’d be impossible for that yob to put two and two together. They’ll catch that him eventually. Rats like him always float to the surface and he’s been under for long enough. You wait and see.”

Frankie smiled and gave him a hug. “Thank you!” she sniffled into his shoulder, appalled at the sudden tears.

“Hey, no worries! Anytime! And thank you for listening too.” He hugged her back and she gave a small squeak of laughter.

“Oh God! Look at me - what a wuss!” she said as she composed herself.

“I think God would understand, although He might want to give you a swift kick for worrying yourself like this!” he joked, releasing her. “Was this part of why you were so upset a while ago? The weekend you came back from Dublin?”

“Yeah, but that was mainly seeing Derek again. He brings back more than just one bad memory. I can’t tell you how glad I am to be able to talk-”

“Frankie, that’s what friends are for! You have to let people help you; nobody can do all on their own. No matter how hard you try. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I didn’t accept help.”

“Do you regret not getting help earlier, driving people away, like your girlfriend or your family?”

“At first I didn’t. I just figured that if Laura couldn’t stick around then it was her problem not mine. I didn’t want to listen when she told me I had a drink problem. So, when she left I was glad, sort of a ‘free at last’ kind of feeling. It wasn’t until I got my act together under Murph’s care that I realised what I threw away. It was too late then, she’d met someone else and had moved to Brisbane.”

“Did you ever see her again?”

“No. It’s been over fifteen years now. We were both nineteen and she had enough common sense to realise I was bad news.”

“I bet she’d be proud if she saw you now.”

“I bet she’d die of shock! Vince Sheahan a priest? Sometimes it even sounds funny to me!”

“Well, given what you went through, maybe it does sound a little strange.”

“Oh, so much other stuff happened. My parents threw me out of the house once. I was nearly tempted to leave the priesthood in Brazil. I thought about ending it all when I got back to Australia. Loads of miserable stories.”

“Yet you still survived them all and made a go of your life.”

“Maybe sometimes, some people have to hit rock bottom before they realise just how good everything could be. Other people manage to go about their lives in a happy medium with ups and downs, but never derailing totally. I always envy that. People like Brendan and Siobhan, bad stuff happens but they have enough strength to carry on regardless. People like you.”

“Yeah, I just worry myself to pieces! You don’t want to be like me. I don’t want to be like me!”

“Oh no, don’t say that! You might worry but you didn’t crash and burn. Despite it all, you’re still here, doing a job you love, in a place where people respect you. You didn’t let that incident put you off your chosen profession, you’re even a sergeant now. It may be in qualification only, but someday you’ll be the real deal.”

“Don’t you see? If you think that what you just described is strength, then you have it yourself. In abundance! Vince, you pulled yourself out of the gutter and got back on track. Here you are on the other side of the world in charge of a parish! You had a dreadful sickness, unfortunately one that will be with you for the rest of your life. But every day you beat it! What’s that famous quote?” she paused trying to remember. “Oh yeah - Whatever doesn’t kill you, will make you stronger.”

“Where were you two years ago? If someone had pointed that out I could’ve saved myself a lot of agonising heartache.”

“Two years ago I wouldn’t have been much use, too close to my own situation. Anyway, even if someone did tell you this then, you weren’t ready to hear it.”

“That’s true. It must be a different form of strength then. Some people have enough to keep them on the straight and narrow, when other, like me-”

“Have what it takes when it really counts,” she finished for him. “This agonising heartache you were talking about – would this have something to do with leaving the priesthood?”

“It has everything to do with it,” he said with a smile. “Do you want the whole truth?”

“Well, this is the night for it!”

“I was too bloody lazy.”

“Huh? How come?” she asked, not expecting that answer.

“See, even though I’m a priest…” he trailed off, gathering his thoughts. “There was this woman in Brazil-”

“You didn’t!” she said, immediately figuring out what he was going to say.

“No! I didn’t – well I almost did! That was the problem. She reminded me a lot of Laura. Anyway, one thing led to another and I had to decide – her or the priesthood. Not an easy decision when you’re drunk half the time, I might add. You know how long it takes to get dispensation to leave the church. It can take years! Basically, I just couldn’t be bothered going through all that, so I shipped out back to Australia. Too make matters worse, it wasn’t just me who needed dispensation anyway,” he looked at her sideways, wondering if she got his meaning.

“What? Are you saying she was a nun?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my Go…w-what did you do? What did she do?”

“She knew that she didn’t want to be a nun anymore, long before I came along, so she was leaving anyway. I think she knew that there was no way I was going to leave. I didn’t love her, not really and she knew it. We’re still friends though. In fact, she wrote to me last week, with pictures of her wedding. She received dispensation shortly after I returned to Australia, it took her three years.”

“Oh Vincent…” she said, sorrowfully.

“No, it’s fine! I’m really happy for her. I’m happy for me too. It would have been a terrible mistake.”

“What was her name?”

“Sr. Mary O’Neill, an American before you ask. She was a really lovely person. Another one who tried to help me and who had it flung back at her.”

“Well, something must’ve worked.”

“I suppose it did, although it probably didn’t seem that way to her at the time. If it weren’t for her, I’d never have reached the airport. She drove me all the way, checked my bags through, put me on the plane and never looked back.”

“That must’ve been hard for her. Do you know the guy she married?”

“Nah, he’s some bloke who she used to know from home. I hope she’ll be happy.”

“What would’ve happened if you left then? Things could’ve turned out so different!”

“Well I’m happy I stayed. I wasn’t in any condition to make a decision like that, everything was so confusing, there just seemed to be no way out. I know it would’ve been a disaster if I left. I would never have gone home, wouldn’t have gone for treatment, wouldn’t have put my life back together and I wouldn’t have come here. God knows how long it would have taken for me to leave. I can’t just walk into the Bishops office and say ‘I quit!’. I’d probably be still in Brazil, a truly miserable drunk, just biding my time until I could move on. I can’t even say for sure I’d still be alive.”

“How did you manage to bounce back from all that?” she whispered.

Frankie wanted to say more but his story was so sad that she didn’t trust herself to speak. Vincent understood what she was trying to say.

“I didn’t bounce. It was a slow, hard crawl! But you know how I think about it? It’s like walking up this really steep, rocky hill. You keep on going because you know the view from the top is spectacular, but getting there is so difficult. At the beginning, when you take a step you walk on loose rocks which slide you back down. As you get more used to the climb, it gets a little easier and you learn to grab on to stuff so you don’t slip. Eventually, you find yourself enjoying it and then you reach your goal. You look around and say ‘Wow! It was worth the effort! I did it! And it’s amazing up here!’ I feel that Ballyk has been the top of my mountain. I like it so much.”

“That took strength, Vincent and plenty of courage. I feel sorry that you went though such a hard time, but so much admiration for all that you’ve done. You’re right, maybe some people do crash before they realise what they’re giving up, but at least they realise it! It would’ve been so easy for you not to fight, to give up and quit. But the important thing is you didn’t, you picked yourself up and carried on. Well done, is what I say!”

“I think we’ve both fought our own battles and in our own way, we both need to be vigilant. You have to make sure that you stay safe and I have to make sure I never forget what it took to get here. We’ll be okay Frankie! Remember, nobody has to be alone,” he sat back in his chair and looked at her undercover photo on the table. “Why do you still keep that?”

“I don’t know,” she said looking at it. “I should get rid of it.” She reached over and with one last look, dropped it into the fire, where they both watched the flames lick at it. “Good riddance!”

“That was a pretty cool bike you had. Not to mention the hair!”

“Knock it off!” she said, poking him good-naturedly. She leaned back on the chair stretching.

Vincent couldn’t help a yawn escaping. “Maybe I should head off. Guess what time it is?” he asked, glancing at his watch.

“Umm, about eleven?”

“Not even close, it’s 1:45am!”

“What!?! Almost two o’clock? Are you sure?” asked Frankie, horrified.

“Yeah, why, what’s wrong with you?”

“Vincent! What will the Dooley’s think? You’ve been gone all evening! They’ll just love this! You creeping back at all hours!”

“They won’t know. I’ve got my own key to the side door,” he smiled, waving the keys at her, laughing at her mortification.

“Well, how was I to know that?” she said, hoping her red cheeks didn’t show in the darkened room.

“Ah Frankie, sometimes it’s just too easy to wind you up!” he said, getting into his jacket.

“I’m learning fast. See if you catch me out again!”

“I’ll remember that!” he stopped in the hall. “Listen, thank you for the great evening, the dinner and the company. It means a lot.”

“For me too. Yet again, you’re walking out of here with me feeling much better. We really need to have a fun night sometime, without all this angst!”

“Do we ever! I’ll get a film next time - a funny one. Goodnight Frankie, despite the angst, it was a great evening.”

“Yeah, it was. ‘Night you, see you tomorrow,” she gave his arm a squeeze. He gave her another grin and headed across to the pub. She waited at the door until he reached the pub’s side entrance. He turned around and gave her a final wave before closing the door behind him. Frankie quickly tided up and went to bed, thinking she was an idiot not to have told him earlier. Vincent was having similar thoughts as he went to bed. Frankie’s phrase ‘that which doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger’ echoed in his head. He went to sleep more determined that ever not to let himself sink that low again.

.oOo.

Continue to Chapter Four