The Healing Place

by Clare Nonhebel

CHAPTER 29

  ‘What I don’t really understand,’ Ella said, in the car, ‘is why priests can’t marry, anyway. The whole thing seems so unnecessary.’

  Franz nodded. ‘It’s bound to change, eventually. There are married priests in the Catholic church now, ones that have come from being priests in other denominations, like Eastern Orthodox or Anglican.’

  ‘What are the reasons against it, then?’

  ‘The Church quotes theological reasons but theologians never agree. My own feeling is that by now it’s more logistical than anything. Priests get paid basic living expenses; they get a place to live, more often than not shared with one or two other priests, and a car to use for parish visiting.

  ‘In small rural parishes, at least, there’s not enough financial support for one person, let alone a family – and if the Church goes on not accepting artificial contraception, a priest could have a family of ten, eleven kids! Who’s going to support that lot? If they say yes to married priests, everything will have to change.’

  ‘Do you see it changing?’

  ‘Something’ll have to give. A lot of good priests leave and get married. The ones who stay are either very committed to their calling, or nobody would have them anyway!’

  ‘Or gay.’

  ‘A lot of them are leaving as well.’

  ‘Did you ever think about being a priest?’ Ella asked curiously.

  ‘You can’t grow up in that setting and not think about it,’ Franz said. ‘For five minutes, anyway. Ella, do you mind if I switch my phone on? I haven’t checked for messages today.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He pulled into a lay-by and got out, walking up and down with his phone to his ear. Pacing again, Ella thought. And I’m asking questions again, assuming it’s all right now. Maybe the two are connected. I’ll stop questioning and see if he stops pacing.

  Franz came back to the car. ‘All good news,’ he said. ‘Sharma’s wife and children are coming back tomorrow.’

  ‘Fantastic! What about the missing boys?’

  ‘No, nothing more. He’s narrowed it down to one area but still can’t get anything more definite.’

  ‘Well, at least he’s got something good happening to take his mind off it.’

  ‘Yes. And there’s a message from Alison saying everything’s going well at The Healing Place and every room is booked to capacity for tomorrow evening – all the new courses and workshops. There’ll be seven hundred people in, if not more.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘She also said someone had come in asking about me and as he turned out to be a builder she’d let him look at the ceiling in the main hall.’

  Ella looked at him, noting a change in his voice. ‘Is that okay with you?’

  ‘It was Pat Quinn,’ Franz said.

  ‘The name rings a bell,’ said Ella, ‘but I can’t think where from?’

  ‘Rachel mentioned him. My schoolfriend.’

  ‘He’s in London? Looking for you?’

  ‘I knew that. He phoned me. Asked if I knew anyone called Michael Finnucane, possibly known as Micky Finn. He’s the one who used to call me that at school. "Finn and Quinn," he used to say: "What a team!"’ He paused. ‘I said I didn’t know anyone of that name.’

  ‘Don’t you want to see him?’

  ‘I didn’t, then. It was another reminder of … all this.’

  ‘Everything was happening at once, then,’ Ella said thoughtfully. ‘Pat Quinn, Leroy Thingy, the letter from Sister Briege.’

  ‘Sharma’s straight-talk, Phil’s prayer with me.’

  ‘You didn’t stand a chance!’ Ella said, and he laughed.

  They had arrived back at the B&B. Tom came out to meet them in the hall, and shook Franz by the hand.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear your news,’ he said. ‘Very sorry.’

  ‘Where did you hear?’ Franz asked.

  ‘A neighbour’s cousin works at the nursing home as a cleaner. The neighbour heard from her that Father Francis had passed away.’

  ‘You knew him?’ said Franz. ‘But how did you know …?’

  ‘That he was the dying relative you’d gone to see? I didn’t, until I heard the news about Father Francis, then it clicked. I knew you reminded me of somebody, the moment you walked in here, but I didn’t put two and two together until today. You’re the spitting image of him now, you know that?’

  Franz blew out his breath.

  ‘You don’t recognize us, though?’ Tom asked. ‘Myself and Mary?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Franz slowly. ‘I don’t. Do I know you?’

  ‘Not directly,’ Tom said. ‘But your sister was best friends with our Tina, our third daughter. It was our family Rachel lived with when she came home from Jamaica and finished off her time at school.’

  ‘Of course! I never connected you with her Mr and Mrs O’Connell! I booked our stay here from a list on the internet but I never thought … You weren’t living here then, were you?’

  ‘No, we took this place on once the kids had all left home. How is young Rachel now? Still in Jamaica with her ma?’

  Franz laughed. ‘Your neighbour’s cousin has let you down there – she didn’t know Rachel’s been working at the nursing home, the past five months?’

  ‘No! Get away!’

  ‘And Ella and I have come back to ask you if you can let us have a room for her to stay here tonight?’

  ‘Little Rachel! Wait till I go and tell Mary! She can have all the rooms she likes – sure, she can have the whole house! Wait till Tina knows she’s here!’

  He rushed off, leaving Franz and Ella bemused.

  ‘Everybody knows everybody here!’ Ella said.

  ‘Yes. And sometimes it works for good,’ Franz said thoughtfully.

  ‘Rachel didn’t contact them and tell them she was back here,’ Ella pointed out.

  ‘She probably didn’t know where they were, if they’d moved house and Tina had left home. I remember Tina now; she and Rachel were close friends. I don’t know if I ever met Tom and Mary; I don’t remember them.’

  Ella took a quick look at her watch.

  ‘We’re picking up Rachel at half-six,’ she reminded Franz. ‘And she wanted you to finish telling me something before we met her again.’

  They started going upstairs to their room but Mary’s cries of delight as Tom broke the news to her about Rachel stopped them. As Mary rushed out of the sitting room and called after them up the stairs, Franz said in a low voice, ‘It may have to wait, I think.’

  ‘Tom and I were racking our brains to think who you put us in mind of, when you first arrived,’ Mary said. She had insisted they came into the kitchen and had a cup of tea with her while Tom phoned their daughter Tina. ‘It was only when Siobhan said Father Francis had passed away that we made the connection with you, with your relative you’d said was in a bad way. You’ve changed your name?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Again, Ella was struck by how difficult it was for Franz to be himself, being who he was. As Sister Briege had said, it wasn’t surprising that he had left Ireland – only surprising that he hadn't left earlier. And that he had ever returned. Ella wondered if he was regretting it now. She felt for him, trying to cope with the very private grieving for his father, in his very public perception as the illegitimate son of a priest who seemed to be known to everybody, for better or worse.

  Tom walked in, holding out a cordless phone. They could hear Tina’s excited shrieks on the line. ‘She wants to talk to you,’ Tom told Franz, ‘to confirm it’s really true. She won’t take it from me.’

  Franz took the phone. ‘Hi, Tina.’

  There was a long pause, while chattering chipmunk noises filtered through to them in the kitchen.

  ‘No, don’t phone her right now,’ Franz told Tina. ‘She’s saying goodbye to everybody at the home. I’ll get her to phone you, okay?’

  More excitable sounds conveyed that Tina had other ideas.

  ‘I know yo
u can’t wait to talk to her,’ Franz said, ‘but she’s had a tough few days. Tonight or tomorrow, she’ll phone you, I’m sure. I know she’ll want to talk to you, Tina. It’s great to hear you.’

  His persuasive skills were beginning to work. The speed of talk from the other end was slowing down.

  ‘Tonight or tomorrow, for sure,’ Franz promised. ‘Bye now, Tina.’

  He handed the phone back to Tom. ‘She wanted Rachel to go straight round there,’ he told him.

  ‘She’s no more sense than she was born with!’ Mary declared. ‘There’s poor little Rachel just said goodbye to Father Francis and all Tina can think of is getting hold of her old schoolfriend and talking her half to death!’ She stopped as Tom frowned at her, conveying that the metaphor of death was inappropriate.

  Franz seized the moment to say, ‘Ella and I are going to go up and get changed now, before going to pick Rachel up. It’s great to see you, now we know who you are!’

  ‘And to think of all those times Rachel talked about you, and we didn’t even recognize you when you walked in through our door, even though to look at you we should have known instantly, because anyone would know just from looking at you who your father has to be …’

  ‘Mary,’ Tom warned, giving a quick look at Franz. Though he had said himself that Franz was the spitting image of Father Francis, to hear his wife about to say it again seemed to remind him that it was clumsy. Franz’s face was beginning to show strain.

  ‘Let them go and get changed now,’ Tom said, and Mary, after a few more exclamations about the past, let them go.

  Upstairs in their room, Franz said, ‘I’ll ring the ferry company and see if we can get places on the boat home tomorrow.’

  His hands were shaking, Ella noticed, as he checked the number and dialled the phone.

  ‘I can’t get a signal,’ he said, after a moment. ‘I’ll have to take it outside.’

  Ella could hear Tom and Mary talking excitedly in the hall.

  ‘Leave it,’ she said. ‘You’ll get waylaid. Try when we go out.’

  ‘Okay. We may not be able to change the booking,’ Franz warned. ‘What do you want to do, if not? We could take off for a couple of days if you like, leave Rachel here, do a bit of touring? Turn it into a bit of a holiday after all.’

  Ella hesitated.

  ‘Say what you want,’ he encouraged her.

  ‘Could we try for a flight, if we can’t get the ferry?’ she asked. ‘I mean, I know it’s a waste of money if we can’t get a refund on the boat tickets …’

  ‘Don’t worry about the money. Isn’t it a risk, though, flying in early pregnancy? You’re really that keen to get home?’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Ella said. ‘It’s a beautiful place. I’d love to come to Ireland again sometime, see more of it, do it properly, in easier circumstances. It’s just that I feel this urgency to get home. I don’t know why.’

  ‘Okay. Would you rather get a flight anyway if it feels urgent, rather than even try for the ferry?’

  ‘I think I would. Sorry.’

  ‘Your instincts are usually good,’ Franz said. ‘And it’s difficult here for you.’

  ‘It’s difficult seeing how difficult it’s been for you,’ Ella admitted. ‘How people look at you and speculate about your resemblance to Father Francis and make remarks and say things behind your back.’

  ‘It’s in the past,’ said Franz.

  ‘It’s not,’ said Ella passionately. ‘I wish it was! But it goes on at The Healing Place too!’

  She stopped, aware she had said more than she wanted.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. No, it’s not the same. I didn’t mean that.’

  He was very still, looking at her with intensity. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Not the same as here. Not about your father and everything, obviously. But – well, you told Phil you had loyal colleagues. I wouldn’t call them loyal, Franz.’

  ‘Go on,’ he said, when she hesitated.

  ‘Well, everyone at The Healing Place – not everyone, but many of them, most of them, I’d say – are out for what they can get out of you. They’re not kind about you behind your back. They don’t really care about helping the people who come there, either; they care about their own ideas, and their career. And those are the accusations they make about you, when really it’s about themselves.’

  He sat on the edge of the bed, watching his hands flick buttons on his mobile phone. ‘Is that why you left?’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You haven’t told me this before. Why haven’t you?’

  ‘I didn’t want you hurt. I thought if you hadn’t noticed, it wouldn’t hurt you. But I couldn’t stand being there, hearing it, seeing it all.’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t notice,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s just that it’s to be expected, isn’t it? People are like that. You just have to put up with it.’

  ‘Do you? Perhaps you shouldn’t do.’

  ‘It’s only people’s insecurity, Ella. A lot of the guides have retrained as a new career, giving up their previous jobs because they were too stressful or they couldn’t see meaning in them any more. Or some have done it after redundancy. Either way, it takes courage, starting out in something totally new, not knowing if they’ll get enough clients to make a living, possibly having doubts about the theory or the therapy being really as effective as it’s said to be, if the results aren’t all good.’

  ‘So that’s justification for dumping on you, blaming you if they don’t make enough money or get enough seekers or claim enough territory at The Healing Place – more hours, more space, the pick of the best facilities?’

  ‘No, it’s not a justification. But it’s understandable.’

  ‘You don’t think you’ve got too used to it, do you?’ Ella said carefully. ‘The gossip, the malice – during your childhood?’

  He looked bewildered. I’ve hurt him more now, Ella thought. I shouldn’t have said anything; I’ve made things worse.

  ‘I am used to it,’ he said. ‘But that has its good side, doesn’t it? That’s how I can keep it together at The Healing Place, trying to keep everyone reasonably happy but not worrying too much if they don’t all like me or agree with my way of doing things.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ Ella said. ‘I don’t think you should have to put up with it.’

  ‘It’s me too, you know,’ he said. ‘If they say I care more about career than people, there may be some truth in that. I’m not the most caring person on the planet. I can be manipulative to get the results I want. I want to see people coming through the doors in increasing numbers, keep the place growing, have a good success rate. I’m claiming territory as well.’

  ‘I know. Most motives are a bit mixed, though, and at least it is your territory, Franz. It’s your place, your risk and your work that’s gone into it. I just feel all these people – no, not all but most of them really – are riding on your back, without taking any of the risk themselves or putting very much into it.’

  ‘When did you start feeling like this?’

  ‘When it started growing big. When the forums started, the big workshops, the new courses, all the different guides and different therapies. That’s when the trouble started. The people who were already established didn’t welcome new things coming in, even if there was evidence that those ways might help people more. And they didn’t want to hear of any research that pointed to flaws in their subject or suggested that some other approach might be more beneficial to the clients. That worried me.’

  Franz nodded. ‘I remember the outcry after the media reports that some herbal medicines could damage the liver or kidneys, and the research saying that aromatherapy could bring on miscarriage, and other times when something appeared in the press. Some of the therapists were so angry. They took it as a personal affront. They didn’t show any concern about whether there might be truth in any of it, or seem worried about whether people might be badl
y affected.'

  ‘I was there when the aromatherapy scare came out,’ Ella recalled. ‘You suggested putting the dubious parts of the therapy on hold till you’d contacted the various associations and also the author of the report,’ Ella said. ‘You told all of us aromatherapists who were working at The Healing Place that in the meantime we shouldn’t treat pregnant women without permission from their doctors, and to wait for you to get more information about the risks. I thought you were doing the only responsible thing there.’

  ‘And the others wanted my guts for garters? I know – they didn’t make much secret of that, Ella!’ he said, half-laughing.

  ‘I thought it should have told you something,’ she said seriously. ‘You should have listened.’

  ‘You can’t listen to every criticism, or you’d never do anything. I accept that I can’t please everyone.’

  ‘Not that, Franz. You should have listened to the fact that they weren’t concerned above all about the safety of their clients. You shouldn’t employ them, in a Healing Place that was set up to foster people’s health.’

  He sucked in his breath, then looked at his watch.

  ‘It’s half-past six. I am going to think about this seriously,’ he added quickly. ‘I’m not avoiding the subject, honestly. I need to let it sink in. You haven’t said this before.’

  ‘I have, Franz. You haven’t been listening.’

  ‘I haven’t been listening to myself,’ he said. ‘A lot of what you’re saying is what I’ve been thinking, but I haven’t let myself hear it because I didn’t want to go there. Too many things would have to change.’

  She put her arms round him and laid her head against his shoulder for a minute. He stroked her hair.

  ‘Things are going to change,’ he said. ‘I feel it. I don’t know how, at the moment. I need time to think.’

  ‘Okay. Take time to grieve as well. Don’t rush it.’

  ‘And you, keep on telling me things,’ he said. ‘Don’t hold back what you think. If I don’t listen, tell me again, louder. All right?’

  ‘You asked for it,’ she said, laughing at him.

  ‘I may live to regret it. Are you ready to go?’

  ‘Yes. I’m ready if you are.’