Page 121 of The Missing Sister
‘And how is Mary?’
‘As bright and sweet as she always is. She told me this morning she’s enjoying school.’
‘I’m only glad she’s going; that bright head of hers needs stimulation. How’s her reading coming along?’
‘I knew you’d ask that, so while I was there, I asked her to read a few simple sentences from the “Parable of the Sower and the Seeds”, which she’d been learning at school. She hardly hesitated with the words, though I worry she hasn’t enough reading material at home. She’s already surpassed her older brother and sisters and, to my knowledge, the O’Reillys only possess one book, which is, of course, the Bible. I told both Merry and her older sister Katie that they were to read and learn the words of the “Prodigal Son” and I’d test them the next time I visited. That way, it doesn’t look as if Merry is being singled out.’
‘Good man, and I know for a fact the O’Reillys have the means for her elder sisters to continue their education in future if they so desire, not just Mary. I’m sure it suits your purposes too, to know that Mary is receiving extra tuition in Bible study,’ smiled Ambrose. ‘It’s a shame I don’t see her as often as I have done due to her schooling, but I hope to see her in the Christmas holidays and it’s far more important she receives at least some level of education.’
‘Well, her teacher, Miss Lucey, is young and eager to bring the children on. I’d say that Merry’s in a safe pair of hands. When I was last down there, she mentioned how surprised she was to see the new little O’Reilly girl already reading.’
‘I only wish I could give her more reading material at home,’ said Ambrose.
‘We both know you can’t, my friend. A gift to a child returning from the priest’s house could be seen as suspicious.’
‘Of course, James, of course. You know I would never do anything to compromise your position. As you have said, your parishioners have now begun to trust you.’
‘I have come to understand their ways and they mine, although I did have an unfortunate incident recently with one young female member of my flock.’
‘You don’t even have to tell me what happened – she caught you after Mass, seeming distressed; you took her for a walk around the cemetery. And there, she declared her undying love for you.’
James looked at Ambrose in utter astonishment. ‘How did you know?’
‘Because you are a handsome man in your prime, who comforts the sick and administers last rites to the dying. You act as the community’s moral compass; you are approachable, yet untouchable. All that makes a tantalising recipe for young girls with no one else to idolise.’
‘I am a priest!’ exhorted James in frustration. ‘As I said to Colleen, any special attention she told me I’d shown towards her had simply been because her mother had died recently, leaving her with five young siblings to care for at the age of just fourteen. I was being kind, nothing more.’
‘I’m only surprised such a situation hasn’t come up before, James. I’m sure it will happen many times more in the future, so you’d better be prepared.’
‘I don’t believe I handled the situation with Colleen well at all. I haven’t seen her at Mass since it happened and when I went round to visit at her home, she refused to let me in.’
‘Leave her be for now; she’ll get over herself in time when she meets a more suitable target for her affections.’
‘You’re sounding like you’re an expert, so,’ James grinned.
‘Hardly, and I’m warning you that you are starting to put the word “so” at the end of your sentences. You are becoming a true West Cork native.’
‘What if I am?’ James chuckled. ‘It’s my adopted home, where I will live for the rest of my life.’
‘You also seem to have lost all ambition to move on to a more prestigious parish.’
‘For now, I feel I am doing good here.’
‘Well, from my point of view, even if I have to travel through the bogs of the Midlands to see you, at least I know you’re close to my special little girl, and for that, I am grateful.’
That night, Ambrose settled himself as best he could on the narrow iron bed with its hard horse-hair mattress, and gave a deep sigh. Not for the first time, he wondered what he was doing, driving down every month to the godforsaken southwest coast to visit his old friend, when he could have enjoyed a far more relaxed day in his comfortable apartment in Merrion Square, perhaps sharing a light supper with Mairead O’Connell, an English Fellow at Trinity.
While the rest of the world was rocking around the clock to Bill Haley and his Comets, West Cork was still caught in a time warp, with a pig’s head for a Saturday night’s dinner treat. The notion of a radio in every home, or even the television screens that had started to pop up in Dublin since a transmitter had been erected in Belfast, was still far off. Let alone that, he was making the journey to visit a man whom he knew would only ever regard him as his closest friend.
Long ago, when they were at boarding school together, he had dreamt that James would see what Ambrose believed he truly was, accept it and change the course of his life plan to accommodate it. Which, of course, in Ambrose’s dream scenario, would include him. But after twenty-five years, Ambrose had to accept that this was, and only ever could be, a dream because God himself was the love of James’s life.
He knew he had a choice: he could give up and move on, enjoy his pleasant and fulfilling life teaching his students at Trinity, or he could continue to hanker after something that could never be. Friendship was all James was prepared – orable– to offer him. But was that more painful than not having James in his life at all?
He knew the answer, of course: James loved him in his own way, and that would have to be enough, because the thought of a life without him in it was one Ambrose simply couldn’t contemplate.
Merry woke up in her new bedroom as her stomach turned over and her heart began to beat faster. Today it was her birthday, the seventh of November, and Mammy had sewn her a special pink dress to wear to her very own party. Her class at school were coming, along with their parents.
Mammy had had them all scrubbing every surface, and even dusting the inside of the presses since yesterday morning.
