Turbulent Priests Part 28

*I want my mum!'

*Mary, dear, I can't . . .'

She fell forward and buried her face in my chest. For a moment I held my hands up and away from her as she heaved against me. I'm not a touchy-feely person at the best of times and the thought of embracing an eighteen-stone nuthouse would not normally have appealed to me, but there was something touchingly helpless about her outburst. I let my arms fall. I hugged her. *It's okay,' I said.

*I'm scared,' she cried.

*I know.'

*He said I was the Devil's work and I'd have a Devil's punishment.'

*He's just trying to scare you.'

*He's said he'd . . .'

*Mary . . . Mary . . . will you tell them that you're sorry?'

She nodded.

*Will you tell them that you believe in Christine? That you realise that you were wrong and that all you want to do now is pray and ask for forgiveness?'

*I will.'

*Do you promise me?'

*I do.'

*Good. Then I'll have a word with them all, and we'll see if we can't get it all sorted out. Is that okay?'

She nodded again against my chest. *I don't want to go there,' she whispered.

*I know you don't.'

*Can you not go there for me?'

*I'll be there with you.'

*Will my mum be there?'

*She will.'

*Will she hold my hand?'

*If you're good, and you tell the truth, she'll hold your hand when you're finished. Is that okay?'

I unclasped my arms then and she sat back. She pulled her free hand across her face. *I'm sorry for crying,' she said. She let out a little chuckle. *I'm so silly sometimes.'

*It's natural.'

*I will tell the truth. I'll be good.' She shook her head sadly. *I don't know what came over me. I'm just scared.' She rubbed at one eye with a knuckle. *I don't really remember any of it.' Her voice was lower now, more adult as the words began to spill out. *How I got to the church, how I came to be riding down that hill so fast . . . I remember you jumping out in front of me . . . and then waking up in Dr Finlay's . . . and all those horrible people shouting at me and throwing things and screaming and throwing and screaming . . .' Tears began to drip down her face again. *They were like . . . like wild animals . . . I could see their teeth . . . all bared and sharp . . . I don't know what would have happened if Constable Murtagh hadn't been there . . . all those people, people I've known for years . . . I've told their fortunes . . . and made them lunch . . . and gone to their homes and then suddenly they're all screaming at me as if I was the Devil himself . . .' She pulled suddenly at her lip; her eyes were wide, begging. *I'm not the Devil, am I? I'm not some . . .'

*Mary, I've never seen anyone less like the Devil.'

*Not even when I was coming down that hill . . .'

*Not even.'

*You will help me, then?' I nodded. *And you'll tell Mummy I'm all right, and that I don't need anything. But you'll get her to come all the same, to look after me when it's all over?'

*I will.'

*Thank you. I'm sorry I'm so much trouble.'

*It'll be okay, Mary.'

When we were going back down the stairs, Murtagh said: *She's a s.p.a.ce Cadet, isn't she?'

*Bonkers,' I agreed.

29.

The sun was just pus.h.i.+ng its face through the fast-dissipating mist as I emerged from the station and walked back along the sea front. The vigilantes nodded wearily as I pa.s.sed. *All sorted,' I said.

At the junction I turned up the hill towards the church. Halfway up I stopped at Dr Finlay's surgery to ask him if he would speak on Mary's behalf, tell them she had a split personality or bad mood swings or was largely harmless apart from isolated murder attempts, but he wasn't in. Mrs McTeague squinted up at me. *I've no idea where he is,' she said, true to form.

It was a little before 9 a.m. when I reached the churchyard. Although the trial was still an hour away people were already milling about the yard, hush-talking in little weedy clumps. Half a dozen of them had gathered about the doorway and were staring intently at something. Curious as ever, I wandered over. One of them looked up sharply as I approached. He murmured something and the rest turned towards me. Two I recognised as members of the Council: Carl Christie the Credit Union man and the ex-publican Jack McGettigan. I nodded.

*Morning, Dan,' said Christie. He angled his head back towards the door. *Did ye see this?'

He stepped back. A mess of blue-paint graffiti adorned the hall door: FREE MARRY RILY.

I resisted the temptation to smile. *Jesus,' I said, almost as thoughtlessly, then added quickly, *would not be amused.'

They nodded in agreement, and then, almost as if it was ch.o.r.eographed, they shook their heads in disgust.

*Jackie Lavery came to open up this morning, found it,' one of the men I didn't know said. Slim fella, ginger eyebrows beneath a tweed cap. A face as well. Hungry-looking. *It was still wet.'

Jack McGettigan pointed further down the door. *Ye see that too?'

I gave it a closer look. There was more writing, smaller, smeared across the bottom of the door. I screwed up my eyes. *What's it say?' I asked.

McGettigan knelt down beside it. *Says nothing. Just letters. Jackie started cleaning it up this morning, then thought better of it. You can just about work it out.' He ran his finger up the remains of the letters, tracing them out through the smear. *A, F, L, R. AFLR. Whatever that means. Any ideas?'

I shook my head. *Somebody's initials, I presume.'

*I was thinking maybe it was an anagram,' Carl Christie said. *Y'know, a clue.'

I studied the remains of the letters for a moment, but nothing coherent came to mind. *Going from the spelling above, it's not beyond the bounds of possibility that we have a dyslexic vandal called Ralf at work. Know anyone called Ralph?'

There wasn't anyone called Ralph.

I left them scowling in the doorway. There was now a steady stream of people coming through the gates. Whole families. It might have been the biggest thing to happen on Wrathlin for years, but for the little matter of a Messiah being born. Amongst the new arrivals was Father Flynn, chatting happily with a young couple. As I approached, they thanked him and turned away, hand in hand. We both watched them for a few moments.

*Ah, isn't it wonderful to be young and in love?' I said.

*Is it?'

*Sorry. Of course.'

He smiled, but it wasn't a real smile, just as his joviality towards the young couple wasn't real. His eyes were dark, red-rimmed, his face wan. *Did you see the artwork?' he asked, nodding at the church.

*Aye.'

He rolled his eyes. *All we need. Another crackpot.'

I nodded. *Any idea who?'

*None. As if I haven't enough on my plate.'

*Aye. I know. You're still not convinced, are you? About the need for a trial.'

*What can I say, Dan? It was a democratic decision. How can I argue with that?'

*I don't think twelve fascists voting together makes it democratic.'

*You're very cynical.'

*I see plenty to be cynical about.'

*You've no faith, Dan, that's your problem.'

*You've too much, that's yours.'

He broke off as several members of his congregation wished him a good morning. He smiled wearily at them, spoke quietly. They moved on.

*I was going to ask you if you would mind if I said a few words on Mary Reilly's behalf,' I said.

It took a moment for my enquiry to register, but when it did his eyes sparked suddenly back into life and he reached forward and clasped my arm. *Would you, Dan?'

*I was thinking maybe I should. I don't think anyone else will.'

*Dan, Dan, I would be absolutely delighted if you would.' He bent in a little closer, dropped his voice. *I've been so worried about all of this. You've no idea. I didn't sleep a wink last night. You know it's not right that Christine decides the sentence. I know that too. But what can I do? I can't go against what the Council has decided. We have to present a united front. It's such early days for the whole movement, Dan, that if we start arguing now there's no telling how it will all end up. Do you see what I mean?'

*Up to a point, Lord Copper.'

*Lord . . .?'

*I'm sorry, it's an old joke. Yes, I know what you mean.'

*Good. Excellent. I'm very pleased.' He rubbed his hands together. *She needs someone to speak up for her. I'm just sorry it can't be me.'

*Well, maybe it'll help her, maybe not.' I kicked at the dirt. *I'm not exactly Perry Mason, y'know? More like Perry Como.'

*Dan, you are less like Perry Como than anyone I have ever met in my life. But you'll do grand, Dan. I know you will. It's just that Father White is so keen . . . so enthusiastic, I hate to discourage him . . . that's why it really is a G.o.dsend.' He squeezed my arm. *It's the right thing to do, son,' he said earnestly, *and it won't be forgotten.'

I shrugged.

I didn't mind it being forgotten. I'd b.u.t.terflies in my stomach and moths in my head. I was the only thing standing between a mentally unstable woman and the possibility that a four-year-old Messiah might order her crucifixion, or at least make her do a lot of dishes.

A tug on my sleeve turned me round. Old Mother Reilly, dressed in black. A morbid quiver of her lips, with a ripple effect down her chins, pa.s.sed for an appreciative smile. Her hand lingered on my sleeve. *I just wanted to thank you for speaking up for her,' she said.

I shrugged. *You haven't heard me yet. But seeing as you're here . . .' I dropped my voice and moved a little closer. *Any news on the alcohol front?'

*Not yet. But I'm working on it. I won't let you down. These things take time.'

*Not too much time, I hope.'

She gave me the slightest nod, and turned for the hall. As she went towards the steps, her head down, people moved out of her way, then whispered things to each other when she had pa.s.sed.

*How're you feeling, love?'

Patricia, Stevie in the pram, had sneaked up. She put her hand where Ma Reilly's had been.

*I've been better,' I said. *I thought you weren't coming. I thought you were concerned about the baby.'

*I was. Then after a while I wasn't. He's fine. Didn't want to miss the trial of the century.'

I rolled my eyes. *This is going to be a disaster.'

*You'll be fine.'

I kicked up a gravel cloud with my left foot. Patricia turned the pram away to s.h.i.+eld the baby. *Calm down, love,' she said.

*I am calm.'

*You're not. Your nostrils are flared.'

*As long as my trousers aren't I'm not worried.' We exchanged weak smiles. Then Patricia's brow furrowed. She was looking behind me. I turned to see two men come running red-faced through the churchyard gates. They carried shotguns loosely by their sides.

*If they're outriders,' Patricia said, *they've forgotten Mary Reilly. And their motorbikes.'