Chapter Four

.oOo.

As the autumn began to take hold in earnest, the kids in Ballykissangel looked at the ever-increasing falling leaves in dismay. Their summer was over, it was time to go back to school. Dermot was particularly nervous, at nearly fifteen he was heading into third year in secondary school. Third year meant the dreaded junior certificate exams and his days were going to be pestered by study and revision. Gráinne was looking forward to the coming year. She was now in sixth class, top of the bunch in primary school and Brendan Kearney was going to be her teacher again. Dermot looked at his sister with envy.

“Enjoy it while you can, squirt! All you have to worry about is your weekly spelling test!”

“Don’t call me squirt!” Gráinne had no sympathy for her exam stricken brother. “I’m finishing primary this year!” She was about to say more but she saw what time it was on the kitchen wall clock and cried out, “Oh, I’m late, Avril will be waiting!”

She gathered up her riding gear and marched off, with her head held high. Vincent, who was sitting at the kitchen table with Óonagh laughed at her indignation.

“They’re growing up fast, Óonagh!”, he said.

“They sure are Father. I can’t believe she’s nearly finished primary and Dermot’s doing the Junior Cert. It only seemed like yesterday when it was their first day in school.”

Dermot thought he might find some sympathy with his mother. “Hey Mam? Can I go out with the lads tonight to celebrate?”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah! You know, going back to school, blah, blah, blah!”

“You want to celebrate going back to school?” Óonagh looked at him suspiciously.

“Just to see everyone again after the summer.”

“You’ve spent your entire summer with them!” Óonagh relented, seeing the disappointed look on her son’s face. “Where are you going?”

“Stevo’s Da said he’d give us a lift to Wicklow to go to the cinema.” Dermot didn’t add that Stevo’s sister might be there too.

“That’s very nice of Mr. Connelly. I suppose you can go, just make sure your father doesn’t need a hand with anything. Oh, before I forget, carry up that food from the cellar for Lizarazu.”

“Lizara-who?” asked Vincent.

“Lizarazu, Father Vin, Gráinne’s goat,” explained Dermot. “She finally decided on a name.”

“What sort of a name is that?”

“Father! Weren’t you watching any of those soccer programmes?” exclaimed Dermot, almost horrified. “Bixente Lizarazu, the French soccer player. The one who plays for Bayern Munich?”

“But that’s in Germany, right?” said Vincent, at a loss.

Dermot gave him a look. “Yes Father. He only plays for that club and then for the French national team. He’s from the South of France - remember we talked about his name before? Bixente is Basque for Vincent? Remember?”

Dermot said all this in a most calming voice, as if explaining something to a child. Vincent couldn’t help laughing, as Dermot had diligently tried to teach him almost every soccer player’s name, rank and serial number in Europe. Trying to remember one specific player was difficult!

“Oh yeah! Now I remember! So Gráinne called her goat after me?” he said, delighted.

“Emm, well not quite... She overheard us talking and liked the surname, not the Bixente part. So Lizarazu it is! I wanted her to call him Roy Keane,” he said, a bit crestfallen.

“Oh! After the Irish soccer player!”

“The Irish soccer player! He’s only the best-”

“Dermot! Up!” exclaimed Óonagh, seeing her son about to sit back at the table and have a nice long soccer debate again. “Off you go and do that for me! Don’t forget to ask your father about tonight!”

Dermot knew that tone in his mothers voice, he ran off before she changed her mind. Óonagh rose too, time to go back to the bar.

“I need to be moving Father, otherwise I’ll sit in here all day! I’ll see you later.”

“See ya’ Óonagh!” said Vincent, getting ready to out to St. Joseph’s. On his way through the town, he bumped into Dr. Ryan, who he hadn’t seen for a while.

“Hey Doc! How’s it going?”

“Not too bad Vincent! The weather’s turning a bit chilly now, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit. It hasn’t been too bad yet though.”

“You arrived here in the spring! No wonder you think it hasn’t been too bad. Just wait and see.”

“This sounds ominous.”

“Usually, once October arrives, you won’t see a sunny day again until March or April or maybe even May.”

“But that’s…” he did some counting in his head “Six months! Maybe seven!”

“Yup! The dark side of the year. By three o’clock, you’ll be turning on lights and by four thirty it’s dark. It doesn’t snow much, but the wind is so cold some days you can’t go outside. It pours rain and if it does snow… watch out. One inch of snow and the whole country grinds to a halt! The roads turn into ice-rinks which melt slowly during the day and freeze up twice as hard during the night. Anyway, you know what they say about Ireland, it rains 367 days a year with the extra two days thrown in for good measure.”

“I want to go home!” he said, mournfully.

“Welcome to Ireland, Vincent.” Michael waved cheerfully and sauntered off down through the village.

Vincent leaned on the wall and stared down at the river trickling slowly by.

“Oh dear, this looks bad!” said Frankie on her way to Fitzgerald’s for a late lunch.

“Hi Frankie. The Doc there was just telling me about the horrors of the coming winter. This doesn’t sound like a nice place to be.”

“Well, last year wasn’t too bad, apart from the floods and the snow. Sure, didn’t you arrive to glorious sunshine by the end of March? Maybe this year will be the same.”

“How can you think that’s a good thing!?! And it might have been sunny when I arrived, but it wasn't warm!” What sort of a country had he come to? Where people thought a six-month winter was good? And what was that about floods and snow? Frankie couldn’t resist teasing him a little further.

“Will this be your first white Christmas?”

“Christmas is a time for celebrating with friends and relations – outside – with a barbeque!”

“Well Vincent, if that’s what you want to do, by all means knock yourself out! I’ll be sure to have the hypothermia unit in Cilldargan waiting for you!” With that Frankie realised she had about ten minutes left before Fitzgerald’s stopped serving lunch. “Cheer up! It won’t be that bad, I’m only winding you up! You know what they say about payback. Maybe you’ll stop trying to annoy me now! See you later.” Frankie waved goodbye, smiling at his forlorn face.

“Yeah, bye Frankie.” He made his way to the church and looked around. Leaves littered the ground in piles of golden brown. He found it hard to imagine this place bare and grey, as it had been green for so long. An involuntary shiver crept down his back and he retreated inside.

.oOo.

The Saturday before school started was the traditional day for the parish sports day. It wasn’t limited to Ballykissangel residents so many people from neighbouring areas joined in. It was just as well because there wouldn’t have been enough people to make up the various teams. It was a farewell to summer get-together and everyone, young and old, participated in some way. Brendan was going to referee gaelic football matches, Paul was going to be ref for the hurling ones. Óonagh was looking after the small girls skip-a-thon. Vincent had interested enough people in Aussie Rules to have two teams and Michael Ryan agreed to be the ref. To ensure fairness, the people who had played Rules before were distributed equally between the teams. Michael was glad he was going to be the referee. At least he’d be on site when the various injuries happened. Between the gaelic, hurling and this, he was definitely going to have a busy day. He thanked his lucky stars that the soccer was going to be limited to the under tens.

Frankie was organising her usual raft race, except this time it had to be limited to the older children who were better swimmers. This event was to end the evening by the lake and the winner would receive a PlayStation 2, generously donated by the new electrical shop in Cilldargan. Frankie already had thirty teenagers on her list, plus some volunteer lifeguards. Avril was organising a gymkhana, which Gráinne was looking forward too immensely. Siobhan had organised a gerbil race and was most surprised to see grown men debate over whose kid had the fastest gerbil. Kathleen was head of refreshments ably assisted to everyone’s great surprise, by Fr. Mac. The usual gauntlet of egg and spoon, three-legged and sack races all had to be run by anyone who was willing and able.

The Saturday dawned a bright, sunny morning much to everyone’s relief. There was nothing more miserable than a damp sports day. By eleven o’clock, everyone had assembled in the local GAA grounds to watch the main team sports. Fr. Mac took over as Master of Ceremonies and gave a stern warning to each individual group.

“Gaelic players, no biting, gouging, punches or kicks of the illegal kind! Hurling players, it’s the clash of the ash we want to hear, not the clash of ash on heads! Aussie Rules players, all of the above!! Let the games begin!”

With a roar, the different teams moved onto their separate pitches. There were enough spectators to make a decent crowd at each game, so people went to the games where relatives or friends were playing. Avril and Frankie went to see the Aussie Rules game, having never seen one before. It was easy to tell the men who played before apart from those who didn’t as they moved about the pitch with greater confidence and most of them were well over six foot tall. Howls of indignation drifted across from the gaelic pitch, where a goal had just been disallowed by Brendan and the crowd was momentarily distracted by the remonstrations. Their attention was drawn back suddenly, when poor Edso ended up in a heap in front of Avril with at least six men charging after him.

“Edso!! Let go of the ball! LET GO!!” shouted Vincent.

Edso realised he was going to be squashed if he didn’t release the ball so he tossed it up in the air. The men stopped charging and back-pedalled to where the ball was going to drop. They didn’t see Liam, who was ready to pounce and who rugby tackled the end man to the ground. This had the desired domino effect and all six men toppled into one another. Michael blew the whistle at Liam for a foul.

“Low tackle!” he shouted. “Liam, you watch yourself! I’m warning you!”

“Spoilsport!” said Liam, keeping out of Michael’s hearing.

Edso had been set on his feet again and was waiting to take flight, when he realised he was facing the wrong direction. He turned around quickly, but didn’t see that the ball was coming straight for him, like a rocket, and he caught it right between the eyes.

“Oh Jesus!” he howled, just before he crashed to the ground again.

“Medics!!” hollered Vincent.

Michael rushed over to Edso and held up four fingers. “How many, Edso?” he asked, holding his hand in front of Edso’s eyes.

“How many Edsos?” he replied, totally dazed. “I think there’s only one.”

“Well that’s just great, he’s knackered!” cried Liam. “We need a sub here!”

“We don’t have one,” said Vincent. “Is he okay Doc? Can he play?”

“Vincent!” cried Avril. “The poor fella’ can hardly stand! Are you all right Edso?”

“Grand Avrilie! I’m… fine…. ish..” mumbled Edso, Avril’ and Frankie’s face were swimming before his eyes.

“There’s no way he can play. Avril, keep an eye on him. He’ll be fine in a minute or two. He’s just stunned,” stated Michael. “Vincent, you’ll have to play on with a man down. Sorry.”

The players ran back onto the pitch and Vincent reordered his team to cover for Edso. Soon the points were coming in thick and fast. Vincent’s team had managed a couple of six pointers but the others had a constant stream of ones also. Another man on the opposite team was sent off for fouling, which brought them level again in players. The Ballykissangel crowd cheered heartily for Vincent’s team but by the time the last quarter was up it was clear they weren’t going to win. When Michael blew the final whistle, they lost by just three points. But, as it was a ‘friendly’ match, nobody minded too much and there was a good atmosphere amongst the players. Edso’s team-mates made sure he was okay and acknowledged his contribution with friendly thumps on the back.

“Bad luck, Edso!” said Vincent. “How’s the head?”

“Do ya’ have to talk so loud?” said Edso, still holding a tea towel filled with ice against his forehead. “I didn’t know what hit me!”

“A ball!” chimed in Liam, helpfully.

“Feck off, you!” groaned Edso. His head was throbbing relentlessly now. “I feel like I eaten too much ice-cream or something! My head’s just killing me!”

“Eh, Edso?” asked Vincent. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if you took the ice away? I mean, you’ve kept it on your forehead for at least an half an hour.”

He was trying not to laugh at the poor man, sitting forlornly on the ground between Frankie and Avril. Frankie was shaking with barely contained laughter and was afraid to look at Vincent in case she cracked up. She focused her eyes on a distant hill, biting her lips. Avril, who was genuinely concerned, wondered what Frankie found so funny.

“What’s up with you?” she asked her.

Frankie, not wanting to laugh while Edso was still moaning with self-inflicted pain, merely shook her head and looked away again.

“Hey! I’m dyin’ here! Will yis keep it down!” lamented Edso.

Avril looked at his head again. “I really don’t see any bruising Edso, but you sort of look a bit burnt!”

“How are you feeling Edso? asked Michael, finally reaching his last patient. “Is your head better now?”

“Oh God! I think it’s split open!”

“Nonsense! – wait – what are these red burn marks? What did you do to yourself?” Michael was looking at a case of freezer burn but he just didn’t realise it yet. Frankie composed herself enough to be able to answer.

“He kept putting ice directly onto his skin Michael, and it froze on to him until I made him use a towel.”

Frankie couldn’t believe it when she saw Edso pulling ice cubes of his forehead and told him to stop, but he was having none of it. After all, he couldn’t go around Ballykissangel with a bump could he? She warned him that he was going to look a lot worse if didn’t at least cover the ice. Eventually he took her advice but insisted in holding the ice filled towel to his head until he could be sure no bump was forming, hence the bad ice-cream headache.

“Well done Edso! A most clever thing to do! Well, I’m sure I have some cream for that burn in the car. Come on.” With that, Michael turned on his heel and walked over to his car while Vincent and Liam pulled Edso to his feet. Avril took hold of his arm and walked with him, ignoring the three who had now collapsed with laughter.

“Don’t mind them Edso! Let’s get you fixed up,” she said, encouragingly. Edso tried to walk away with his head held high, but it was just too sore.

“Ah, there’s no fear of him getting angry!” called Liam after them. “After all, isn’t he one of those that always has a ‘cool’ head!” Avril turned to glare at him and the other two, who were wiping away tears of laughter at Liam’s comment.

.oOo.

The afternoon wore on and finally people started moving towards the lake to watch the raft race. The kids began to arrive but before Frankie let them out in their rafts, she checked all safety gear thoroughly. Finally, everybody who was involved turned up and they were dispatched out onto the water. Frankie took a megaphone and stood on the end of the jetty.

“Welcome everybody!” she called and the kids all cheered back. “Firstly, should anyone fall overboard don’t panic. We’ve two rescue boats here and we’ll come pick you up. Secondly, you are NOT to ram your competitor’s boats! Remember, I am watching!”

“Yes Guard!” said Dermot Dooley from his boat. He quickly ducked his head as Frankie gave him ‘the look’.

“Right!” she called. “First off today will be the teams and then we’ll have the solo race. So, teams, move out to the centre and solo people come in towards the shore.”

The rafts moved into position and when they were ready, Frankie fired the starting gun. The teams rowed away with all their might. They had to weave in and out through red and green buoys and complete a 180-degree turn near the far side of the lake. All teams were rowing well but a group of boys and girls from Cilldargan secondary school were obviously the strongest. The cheering from the lakeshore was incredibly loud as people blew whistles and shouted, encouraging their favourite boat home. The effort of staying ahead of the pack was beginning to tell on the Cilldargan boat but they fought bravely on, rowing in perfect synchrony. They just managed to keep the lead, crossing the finish line a length ahead of their nearest rivals, Cilldargan CBS. The six exhausted crew were helped ashore by friends and relatives, delighted to have come first. The presentation of a trophy would be given after the solo race. Frankie was relieved when the last boat crossed the line that nobody needed the rescue service. She met each team as they landed, congratulating them. She then returned to her place on the jetty, megaphone in hand.

“OK, solo people, move out to the centre and line up behind that stretch of rope.”

The boats moved along as directed and the kids jostled for position. Nobody wanted to be at the ends, as they would have choppier water than those in the centre.

“Hey!” called Frankie. “Knock it off! There’s plenty of room if people would just spread out. There should be at least two meters between each boat and if you row fast enough, you won’t be in anyone’s wake, will you?”

Eventually everybody was settled into position and Frankie explained what they had to do. They each had five yellow foam balls aboard which had to be dropped into baskets, placed at 100 metre intervals along the lake. Once the last ball was in, they had to turn around and sprint back to the finish line. The winner would be the first person who crossed the line who had a ball in each basket.

“It that all understood?” she asked. The kids shouted back in confirmation. “OK then – On your marks! Get Set! GO!!” she shouted, firing the start gun. When they reached the first basket, it was funny to watch them try and control the boat and oars while they reached up to throw. For some, it took more than one attempt to get the ball in but thankfully they all managed in and rowed on to the next one. Again, everyone managed to stay afloat except for Stephen Connelly, Dermot’s friend, who dropped an oar and cursed as it floated away. The rescue boat was dispatched to tow him in. The third stop had a few missed baskets and people wasted valuable time fishing the ball out of the water to try again. The fourth basket passed without incident but at the fifth three people ended up in the water. They had been too eager to turn around and paid the price. The other rescue boat picked them up and they watched and cheered with the rest of the crowd as the remaining contestants sprinted home.

Dermot was still rowing and was currently third. The cheers of support rang out loudly across the lake. Ballykissangel had to win some water sport this year! After all, the lake was in their parish! Dermot managed to gain second place and was about a boat length behind the leader, a girl from Ballinaclash. Meabh was a strong rower but Dermot’s determination was stronger and he gained on her slowly.

“Come on Dermot! COME ON!!” shouted Gráinne, who had won the gymkhana as expected.

Dermot made a final effort and managed to draw along side the leader and as the cheers got louder, he noticed that he was gaining ever so slightly. In fact, it was actually Meabh who was tiring and she began to slip back further and further. With the end in sight Dermot kept focused on the finish line and with two boat lengths to spare, he crossed it in triumph. He was helped ashore by a joyful Ballyk crowd and heartily congratulated by all. Once all the others were back on dry land, the prize giving began on the jetty. The team from Cilldargan received their trophy with glee from Frankie and Dermot got the much-coveted PlayStation. Gráinne was almost as happy with her brother’s prize as he was himself. Frankie was hassled into giving a speech of congratulations to the winners and all contestants, who were gathered around her.

“I’d just like to say that this has been the best raft race ever!” She was interrupted by hollers of approval from the crowd. “Well done to everybody who took part. They were hard races and you all did very well. I am amazed at the amount of budding sailors we have here. The Navy will have nothing to worry about in a few years time! All that remains for me to say is congratulations to the winners, you truly deserved your prizes!”

Frankie stood down to a round of applause and Dermot found himself being called upon. He stood up gamely and looked around.

“I think I speak for us all when I say that we had the best time out here today. It was great fun and we hope that Frankie will do the honours again next year, but with less baskets!” The whoops from his fellow competitors egged him on, as they had something planned. “So all we have to do is commence the victory celebrations and since now is the only time we’re going to be able to do this without getting in serious trouble…” he paused for dramatic effect. “We have to GET FRANKIE!!!!”

The kids cheered loudly and Frankie, immediately knowing what was going to happen, shrieked, and made a run for safety. She made it to the end of the jetty without anyone catching her when she collided with someone who held her firmly.

“Going somewhere Frankie?” smiled Vincent.

“Oh, don’t you dare…” she warned, catching the look in his eyes. She tried to free herself, but he held on.

“Hurray Father!!!” cheered the kids. “Bring her back! Bring her back!!” They beckoned from the end of the jetty and Vincent was only too ready to join in.

“Yahhh!” shouted Frankie as he picked her up. “Put me down! Oh no! Vincent! Oh – I beg you! Please!”

He remained totally oblivious to her threats and pleadings and carried her down the entire length of the jetty. He was cheered on with shouts of encouragement from both ends. The kids and the crowd were enjoying this immensely, as this was a side of Frankie they never got to see, a side where she wasn’t afraid to shout and scream and join in the fun.

“Well guys! Here she is as requested! What to you want me to do?” he asked in his most innocent voice. Frankie was still pleading, but to no avail. She was held tightly, with no chance of escape.

“I think you know Father Vin!” smiled Dermot. “We’ll give you a three-count! Everybody join in!”

“ONE”

“Oh no! Oh please don’t!”

“TWO”

“I’ll take you with me! You’ll be SORRY!”

“THREE!!!!”

With that, Vincent heaved her into the lake, the splash drowning out whatever it was she just said. The crowd cheered mightily as Frankie resurfaced, spluttering.

“You! I swear! You’re done for!” she shouted at Vincent, pretending to be annoyed as she splashed about. He on the other hand, just looked on calmly.

“Now, now, no swearing – there’s children present!” he said, offering her his hand. Frankie sensing an opportunity, grabbed it and pulled.

He didn’t move an inch.

“That’s quite a grip you have there, Frankie!” he said, laughing at her failed attempt to haul him in. “Oh come on! You didn’t think I’d fall for that one did you?”

“Maybe not,” she said, “but then again, maybe I did!”

Gráinne was furiously winking and pointing at Vincent’s back during this exchange and gave him a shove. Frankie, who hadn’t let go of his hand, pulled at the same time and in he crashed.

“Hurrray!” she crowed in glee, along with the crowd. “Nice one Gráinne!” Vincent resurfaced next to her, coughing.

“You miserable pack of-” He was interrupted by splash of water from Frankie.

“No swearing – there are children present!” she reminded him joyfully.

“Ahh come on Father Vin! Isn’t the water lovely? Come on lads!” called Dermot, jumping in. He was immediately followed by all of the other contestants, thus commencing a huge water fight with splashes and dunkings galore. Some of the other children also joined in and after a while, the two adults left them to it. Vincent pulled himself onto the jetty and reached down to help Frankie up. They sat down, totally exhausted.

“Where the hell do they get the energy from?” asked Frankie, trying to squeeze out some water from her clothes.

“I have no idea!” he replied, looking at her and starting to laugh.

“What?”

“The look on your face as you went in! I wish I had a camera!”

“The look on my face? It couldn’t have beaten the look on yours! I owe Gráinne big time!”

“That little minx! And by the way, you pulled me too!”

“Did not.”

“Did too!” A sudden flash interrupted them and the turned to see a nice and dry Avril with a camera, smiling at them.

“I thought the kids were going to drown you,” she said.

“Almost!” said Vincent, standing up. “I didn’t expect that ending to the day!”

“Serves you right! Throwing poor Frankie in like that.” Avril brushed passed him and handed Frankie a towel. “You can share if you want, though if I were you I’d leave him to catch his death of cold!”

“Thanks Avril! You’re a real pal!” said Vincent, dripping. “And she pulled me in, just so you know!”

“Boohoo!” came Frankie’s muffled voice from beneath the towel, as she scrubbed her hair dry.

Avril had to laugh when she emerged, looking like a hedgehog. Frankie quickly smoothed down her hair and tossed the towel to Vincent.

“Here you go! See what a nice person I am! You don’t deserve it!” She thanked Avril and turned to leave, calling out her farewells to the children who repeated their thanks and tried to get her to continue the water fight, but she really was too tired. “OK, I’ve got to go. I see they’ve brought all the equipment back so I need to bring it to the hall. Anyone need a lift back to town?”

“How are you going to fit all that into the car?” asked Avril.

“I don’t have the car today, I brought the van. Borrowed it from Cilldargan.” Frankie pointed over to the big Garda van, parked behind the boathouse where her helpers were already loading the equipment into the back.

“Tell you what Frankie, if I give you a hand to unload at the hall, can I have a lift?” asked Vincent. He intended walking back to the town but as he was soaking wet, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.

“The cheek of some people!” she huffed.

“Please…” he dipped his head and smiled at her. “Pretty please?”

“Don’t fall for it Frankie!” laughed Avril.

“Oh, go on then!” she waved him towards the van. “I know, I know, Avril! I’m far too soft!” Frankie shook her head in mock disgust.

Dónal and Liam, who were passing, heard her last comment and looked at each other, horrified. Vincent said his goodbyes to everyone and hopped into the van to wait for Frankie. Avril left for her jeep, as she needed to get her stuff back to the yard. Gráinne bounded up to her, offering to give her a hand and Avril set off with her. The rest of the crowd were leaving in drips and drabs, calling out farewells to friends. Eventually, all the equipment was secured into the van and Frankie was able to leave. She blew the horn as she drove away and waved to the last of the crowd.

“That was a great day Frankie. It took some organising!” said Vincent, trying to direct some warm air from the heater his way.

“I really enjoyed it, even the water tossing thing. But you’re not allowed to tell!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I thought it was great too!”

“You had better mean when Gráinne pushed you!”

“I need to clarify one thing. I wasn’t just pushed by a little girl – you also pulled me!”

“Everybody thought it was Gráinne. It’s too late now!” she sang. They continued on with the banter until they reached the village where Frankie pulled up outside her house.

“Hey, I thought we were going to the hall!” he said, puzzled.

“We are, but you’re beginning to turn blue and I should change. So go! I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”

“Would the real Frankie please not stand up! Can we keep this one?” said Vincent, referring to the numerous nice things she’d done today and her good humour.

“Keep going Vincent. Once the clock strikes midnight, I’ll go back to being me and then you’ll regret it. Your car will be permanently covered with tickets, you’ll have-”

“I’m going!” He jumped out of the van and ran into Fitzgerald’s before she could say anymore.

She laughed to herself and went inside to change. As she got ready, she thought to herself that this was probably one of the best days she’d spent since coming here. It wasn’t often she got a chance to join in the fun herself as she was almost always on duty at parish events. Thankfully, today two Gardaí from Cilldargan were sent so she could have the day off. She took full advantage of it, joining in where she could. The match was great and the raft race was the event of the day. Vincent throwing her into the water was funny as was her revenge. She had good friends here, a good job and a good life. For the first time in what felt like ages, she was happy.

.oOo.

A few weeks later Siobhan was called out to the yard by Avril. She arrived promptly and looked for Avril in the stables.

“Avril! Hello! Where are you?” she called.

“She’s out in the field,” answered Johnny, the stableman, peering out from one of the stalls.

“Which field?”

“The training one,” he replied. “Best take the jeep, it’s a bit mucky”

“Thanks Johnny.” She got into her jeep and drove back out the lane a bit. She finally saw Avril in the field with a horse on a tether. She opened the gate and drove the jeep in thanking Johnny as the field was turning into a quagmire. She stopped the jeep and got out.

“Siobhan! Thank God you’re here!” said Avril, worried.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s this horse I’ve been training for a friend. I think he’s got colic. He keeps trying to lie down and I can’t get him out of the field. We spent all morning trying to get him into the horsebox. What am I going to do?” Avril was near frantic. A horse with colic was a dangerous thing. If he lay down, he might not get up again.

“Let me have a look.” Siobhan approached the animal and after a few minutes confirmed Avril’s diagnosis. “It’s colic. We have to get him out of this field. It’s going to start raining any minute.”

“I’ll call Johnny,” said Avril, whipping out her mobile. “Johnny, get the box back here. We’ve got to get Flash inside. I know we already tried but we’ll have to try again.” She hung up and looked at Siobhan. “Did I call you early enough?”

“I hope so Avril. When did you notice he was sick?”

“After about the twelfth attempt to load him into the box. It just wasn’t normal reluctance. I knew it had to be something else. Is it bad?”

“I can’t tell. I don’t think so. I think we might be able to do something.” Johnny arrived with the box as the first drops of rain began to fall.

“All secure in the yard Avril. We’re ready for this fella’” he said.

“Thanks Johnny. How do you want to do this Siobhan?” Avril was looking at Siobhan’s concerned face.

“Give me the rope,” she said. She took firm hold and marched determinately towards the box. Flash resisted and the rope pulled taut but Siobhan paid no heed. “Come on Flash. In you go.”

She pulled again and thunder rumbled overhead. They had to get him out of the field, now. Flash was startled by the noise and Siobhan was able to pull him a little further. As the rain began to fall in big heavy drops, he reared up and almost pulled Siobhan off her feet. She spent enough time around horses to know better than to hang on so she let the rope go and stood back out of the way. The sky was turning blacker and blacker and the thunder was getting louder. Flash was in obvious pain now and didn’t want anyone near him.

“Forget this!” said Siobhan. “Johnny, move the van out of the way.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Avril.

“I’m going to walk him. I hope he won’t mire down near the gate, but it’s the only way. Stay back Avril – in fact take my jeep down to the yard. Johnny, you follow her and have the big shed ready for me. I’ll bring him along.” Siobhan made a grab for the rope again and caught it.

Avril didn’t want to leave her in case the horse jumped, but Siobhan was resolute.

“He’s too nervous now. One person is all he can manage. Go – I’ll be Okay.”

So, the two vehicles left Siobhan and Flash alone in the field. Siobhan started to walk the horse gently in a circle. Amazingly, he seemed to understand that she was here to help and he became less agitated. The thunder was bothering him, but as long as the lightning held off, Siobhan thought she might have a chance. She guided the horse across to the gate, sinking to her ankles in mud. Flash was sinking too, but again, he followed Siobhan through the gate without slipping. Siobhan heaved a sigh of relief as they made it too the road. She continued walking slowly with him, both of them getting soaked. After about half an hour, she made it to the yard gates and led the horse in.

Avril went to take the rope but Siobhan waved her away. “Bring some horse blankets to put over him and get some washing gear to clean him up a bit. Johnny, is the shed ready?”

“It is Siobhan. Over here,” he beckoned them over. They entered the shed which was big enough to walk the horse around in circles.

“OK, we can’t let him lie down, so we’re going to have to make him comfortable on the hoof. Avril, start drying him off, but no sudden movements”.

hey worked together, and eventually got him dry and clean but the horse was getting worse. They kept going, with Siobhan directing their movements until she finally admitted that they had to operate or the horse would die. The colic was not letting up and this was the last option. Siobhan scrubbed up and was soon ready. She had put in a call to the Cilldargan vet to come and assist her and Gerry was on the scene just as Siobhan was preparing the horse.

“Good timing Gerry!” she said. “Are you ready?”

“Almost. Hi Avril. Do you want to stay for this?” he said.

“Ummm, will you need me to hold anything?”

“Avril, I already told you no. Really, don’t stay – this can get messy,” said Siobhan.

Avril needed no further encouragement and with a final pat to Flash, she left the shed. Siobhan and Gerry started the operation but within a very short space of time, they knew it was no good. The intestine was twisted too badly and the horse would only suffer. They stitched him back up and waited. Siobhan listened to his heartbeat growing fainter and fainter until it eventually stopped. She looked up at Gerry and shook her head.

“Do you want me to wait until you tell her?” he asked.

“It might be a good idea,” she said. “Come on, we best get it over with.” They made their way over to the kitchen where Avril was sitting with a cold mug of tea.

“You don’t have to say it,” she said sorrowfully. “I know he’s dead.”

“We’re sorry Avril, but it was too bad. He’d only have suffered. There was nothing we could do.” Siobhan sat down beside her. “Gerry will take the body, if that’s what you want.”

“I can’t say. I’ll have to call Michael, as he’s the owner. Will you wait?” she asked as she got up to phone.

“I’ll wait,” said Gerry. They heard her tell the sad news to Flash’s owner and within ten minutes, she was back.

“He said Flash’s mother went the same way. He’s coming down tomorrow and will take the body himself. Thanks for coming out Gerry.”

“Not at all Avril. Sorry we didn’t have a happy result. Siobhan, I’ll phone you tomorrow. Bye all.” With that, he left and the two women sat and stared at the table.

“It’s too bad Avril.”

“This is not my year Siobhan. The Cat hasn’t regained form since Daddy G died. She’s friendly with Lizarazu but that connection is gone. Money is a big problem and now this. What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know. What can you do? There must be something?”

“I owe more than I can earn. I think I’ll have to face facts. Close the place down.”

“It won’t come to that Avril. You’ll find a way.”

“I hope you’re right. At the moment, things look grim.” She looked at Siobhan who was sitting, exhausted, in her chair. “You must be tired. Why don’t you go home?”

“Will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine. Go on. I’ll see you in the morning. Michael would like to see you too.”

“OK, I’ll be here for eight thirty. Good night Avril, sorry about Flash.”

“You did all you could Siobhan. Don’t feel bad. I’ll se ya’” Avril showed Siobhan out and watched her drive away through the rain.

She made it home where Brendan was just putting Aisling to bed. She told him all that happened and was truly sorry for Avril. He got Siobhan some dinner while she got ready, but he couldn’t stay. He had a meeting with Vincent and Fr. Mac to discuss school funds and he needed to be off.

“Sorry I can’t stay. Do you want me to come back later?” He saw that she was still upset. Siobhan hated when an animal under her care died.

“No, off you go. I’ll see you tomorrow after school. Thanks for dinner.”

“OK. Night so.” Without thinking twice, he kissed her forehead and was out the door. Siobhan looked after him in amazement.

.oOo.

The following day, almost everyone in the village had heard of Avril’s misfortune. When she was in the village getting some shopping, numerous people had stopped to commiserate with her. It was well known that the yard was in financial trouble and something like this could have a devastating effect. She called decided to call in and see Frankie to ask if they could postpone their usual lunch. Avril knocked on the door as it was closed and waited until Frankie answered it.

“Hi Avril, come on in,” said Frankie when she answered it.

“Hi Frankie. Do you mind if we skip lunch today? It’s just-”

“I was ringing you to ask the same thing. I understand. Too bad about Flash.”

“I can’t believe it. I put so much into that horse and then something like colic wipes him out. Damn it anyway. The owner picked the body up this morning. He didn’t say anything.”

“He can’t possibly blame you?”

“No, I don’t think so, but he didn’t exactly look overly thrilled with his dead horse, if you know what I mean.”

“Avril, you know colic is nothing to do with the trainer. Horses just get it. Don’t worry – something will turn up. You’ll be Okay.”

Frankie hoped her assurances didn’t give Avril false hope. Avril knew that she was only trying to help, but the situation was a lot bleaker than most people realised. Money was no longer tight, money was gone. She said her goodbyes to Frankie and made her way home. Just as she arrived she saw Vincent leaving and he turned back as soon as he saw her.

“There you are! I was just coming to see how you’re doing.”

“Not great,” she sighed as she got out of her jeep. “What more can go wrong Vincent?”

“Avril, come on. Don’t give up!”

“It’s easy not to give up when you’ve got money but Vincent, I don’t have a penny. It’s just too bloody ironic. It seems so long ago when I was dumping them into Kathleen’s till and now … I’m going to have to sell some land – anything!”

“How much can you spare, land wise?”

“A bit. I really only need the fields this side of the road and the training one. The rest can go.”

“Will it be enough?”

“God, I hope so. I’m going into the bank tomorrow to sort some stuff out. I hope they’ll be lenient.” She heard the phone ringing inside and Vincent waved her in.

“Go on and get that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks for coming out.”

“No problem. Take care and good luck with the bank.” He got into his car as Avril waved goodbye.

He was concerned about her. She hadn’t been attending the AA meetings and trying to battle out this latest crisis on her own wouldn’t help. He hoped there was something that could be done, the sooner the better. Just as he was about to pull out onto the road, he spotted an empty brandy bottle sticking out from the rubbish bin. He didn’t know what to think, did she drink it? Was it an old bottle that was lying around? Maybe she gave someone a drink? He knew she kept alcohol in the house to give to people but at a time like this, it was a temptation. He couldn’t just walk back in there and ask her but he couldn’t just forget about it either. He decided that the best thing to do would be to ring her tonight and ask her to come to the next AA meeting. He hoped he was jumping to conclusions.

.oOo.

It was a quiet in Fitzgerald’s as people were not too keen on going out on a wet and windy night. Vincent was sitting looking at the television but not really seeing it. He was worried about Avril and was still deciding the best way to approach her. Brendan had observed him long enough to know that something was up, after all Vincent was looking at soccer. It was almost sacrilege.

“Are you going to sit and cry into your drink all night?” he asked. Vincent looked over at him.

“Ehh?”

“What’s up with you?”

“Oh. It’s nothing Brendan. Just… something on my mind.”

“I see. Something or someone?”

“Something about someone and I can’t say anything else.”

“Ahhh, mysterious priest’s stuff. Glad I’m not one.”

“You wouldn’t last a minute mate.”

“Hah! That’s what you think.”

“How’s Siobhan?” asked Vincent, with a knowing smile, making his point a bit clearer. After all Brendan had a daughter and a… whatever in Siobhan.

“Hummm – message received! She’s fine, in fact, she asked me to go on holidays with her an’ Aisling.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, a while back. Tell me, what do you know about that other vet Gerry What’s-his-face from Cilldargan?

“Gerry What’s-his-face!?!”

“You know who I mean! What do you know about him?”

“If you mean the vet, Gerry Hogan,” said Vincent, putting emphasis on the surname, “I don’t know much. Nice bloke, I suppose. Why?”

“Nice bloke… hummm… No particular reason, I was just asking.”

“Would Siobhan be that ‘no particular reason’?”

“You know what Vincent, sometimes you-”. He was interrupted by three strangers walking into the bar.

“’Scuse us lads, but is this the place where there are rooms available?”

“Sure is,” said Vincent. “Paul! Óonagh! Customers!” Paul climbed out from the cellar.

“Yes Gentlemen?”

“My name is Sean Riley, from Riley Constructions. We’re building the new houses outside the town and I need a place for the men to stay. Would you be interested?”

“Need you ask? How many rooms do you want?”

“It’s an all or nothing contract. I’ll leave the lists here. They detail what’s acceptable to me. I won’t put you on the spot now, as you’ll probably need time to think it over so I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll have a look over what you want and I’ll have an answer for you then.”

“That’s grand Mr…?”

“Dooley, Paul Dooley,” said Paul, holding out his hand.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then Mr. Dooley” said Riley, shaking his hand. “Goodnight now. ‘Night lads.”

“Goodnight Mr. Riley” said Paul, as Brendan and Vincent acknowledged Riley’s goodbye. “Well, isn’t that a stroke of luck? Wait ‘til I tell Óonagh!” Paul went into the kitchen, delighted.

“Looks like they’re really going to get started on those houses now Vincent.”

“It’s about time. What was the delay, do you know?”

“Planning. They were a little hasty in marking out their plot of land. Typical builders. I’d say they should have the first of the houses ready in the New Year, around March.”

“March!”

“Well, it’s mid November now. They’ll work until Christmas and then break up until the first week in January. They’ll be doing well to have the first few ready by March.”

“I suppose so,” he sighed.

“It’ll be worth waiting for. You must be fed up not having your own place.”

“You have no idea. I like it here, I really do, it’s just-”

“You’re a guest here. Can’t exactly walk around in an old tea-shirt and tracksuit, can you?” Vincent laughed at this, imaging himself propped up at the bar dressed as Brendan described. “I need to be off Vincent. I’ll see you tomorrow sometime.”

“’Night Brendan. See you.” Vincent watched Brendan leave and caught a glimpse of the night outside. It was pouring rain and the wind was howling through the town. He was beginning to see just how bad a winter could be here. The place seemed to be permanently wet. He turned around again and focused on the TV, which was still showing the match. As it was so quiet, he could hear Óonagh and Paul talking in the kitchen.

“It’s a lot of money Óonagh!”

“Paul, I know it is. But we can’t ask him to leave. Where would he go?”

“I don’t know. But look what Riley said - it’s an all or nothing contract. We either put up twelve men or we loose the lot to some place in Cilldargan.” Paul was leaning against the door and it closed behind him; Vincent could hear no more.

Not that it mattered, he had heard enough. They needed his room. There was no question that he wouldn’t move, after all this kind of a deal could bring in huge profits for the Dooley’s. Vincent just needed to figure out what he was going to do so he went up to his room and closed the door.

He quickly ran through his options, where could he go? Fr. Mac – no; Kathleen – no way; Avril – best not to, under the circumstances; Brendan – okay for a night or two, but not long term as he had Aisling to stay sometimes, ditto for Siobhan; Michael – too far; Frankie – not sure, possibly no room. Who else? He drummed his fingers on the desk, no obvious answer to his problem. The only one that could have a room would be Frankie, but he didn’t know if she’d finished decorating and he didn’t fancy any more time in the cell. He looked at his watch and saw it was half past eight, so she’d definitely be there. Should he go and ask? After all, she did offer ages ago. Fr. Mac wouldn’t want the Dooley’s to loose out on account of him but he wouldn’t be thrilled at the prospect of him staying with Frankie either. He had made it abundantly clear that Vincent would have to stay in Ballykissangel and that he would arrange something should it become necessary. Vincent knew Fr. Mac’s definition of ‘arranging something’ was to send him back to Kathleen’s. He decided that there was only one way to find out, he’d go and see Frankie. He got into his coat and on his way out the door reminded himself to call Avril later. Paul and Óonagh were still in the kitchen, talking about the builders so he knocked on the door to tell them he was going out for a bit.

“I’ll be back soon guys and I want to have a word with you later, if that’s okay?”

“Of course Father. We’ll be here,” Óonagh replied. Vincent nodded goodbye and went out. He pulled up his hood and held his coat tightly around him as he waited for Frankie to answer the door. She opened the door and was surprised to see him standing there.

“Come on in. What are you doing out on a night like this?”

“Hi Frankie. Christ, it’s miserable out there,” he chattered, his teeth rattling of their own accord.

“Hang your coat there and come in to the fire,” she said, pointing to a free coat hook.

“Thanks, I won’t be staying long. I need to ask you a favour,” he explained, hanging his dripping coat and following her inside. Frankie made room on a chair for him, putting various files on the floor. It was obvious she was working in here, where it was warmer.

“What is it?” she enquired.

“I need a place to stay.”

“Oh, well, I have the room and you’re welcome to it. Can I ask why?”

“Paul and Óonagh got a good offer to board the guys who are building the new houses. But, they need my room and rather than have them ask me to go, which they probably won’t-”

“You’d rather find another place to stay, to avoid an awkward situation,” she finished.

“Exactly. I know this is short notice Frankie, but I’d really appreciate it. They’ve been so good to me that it’s the least I can do. Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. I offered it to you ages ago, so you’re more than welcome, plus it’s fit to be lived in again. It’s ready when you are.”

“This is really great of you. I’ll let Fr. Mac know and we’ll work something out rent wise, he-”

“Vincent! Don’t be silly, there is no rent.”

“Frankie, come on - I can’t stay here without paying for it.”

“This house belongs to the Gardaí, who wouldn’t dream of taking rent from a priest in need. Honestly, it’s fine. All I have to pay for is food and fuel for the fire, so we can work something out over that.”

“Wow! Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. It’s normally family who stay here like the guard who was here before me, but there have been instances in other places where someone has been allowed to move in. It’s at the discretion of the garda in charge, which in this case, happens to be me. The other stipulation is that the person staying is usually requested to make a donation to the parish fund or a charity. But that would be like paying yourself to stay here, which wouldn’t make a lot of sense.”

“Well, I see your point. But I think Fr. Mac would prefer to give a donation, as would I. Is there a garda fund or something?”

“Yeah, there’s one or two I think. Perhaps he had better talk to Inspector Foley about it.”

“Okay, if it’s alright with you then and presuming that Fr. Mac doesn’t go ballistic, I’ll move in as soon as the Dooley’s need the room. I hope that suits you?”

“Sure. Have you mentioned any of this to Fr. Mac yet?”

“No. I was planning that move strategically,” he said, thoughtfully.

“What? Tell him and then run away?”

“I need to consider all my options. You’ll probably hear the shouts all the way from Cilldargan. Anyway, I better go and break the news across the road. You’ve saved me from a fate worse than death!” he said as he made his way to the hall for his coat.

“Worse than death?”

“Kathleen’s.”

“Oooh. Say no more,” she said, remembering his last experiences at Kathleen’s. Vincent was struggling to get into his coat, as it was so wet. She held out one sleeve for him.

“Thanks,” he said as he managed to pull it on. “This bloody coat. I can’t believe I got this wet just crossing the street.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Call that a winter coat?”

“Yes, I did, but I can see my definition of a winter coat is a bit lame.” he laughed as he pulled up the hood. “Thanks again Frankie. Presuming it’s okay with Fr. Mac, can I drop some stuff over tomorrow evening?”

“Sure. I’ll be here after five.”

“Great. I’ll be in touch tomorrow, then. Goodnight and thanks!”

“Night Vincent.” she closed the door behind him, glad to shut out the stormy night. She went back into the sitting room and reclaimed her place by the fire. She was looking forward to his arrival, it’d be good fun. She picked up her files again with a smile.

.oOo.

Continue to Chapter 5