‘Jacinta . . . well . . . she has a strong imagination,’ Dad said.
‘Ah,’ the Bishop nodded, as if he knew a thing or two about strong imaginations. ‘Of course.’ He said ‘of course’ as if that was what he had been expecting all along. At the same time, he seemed a little relieved.
Jacinta’s half-hearted resolution, already more or less consigned to oblivion, was obliterated entirely when Dad appeared to dismiss, in front of the Bishop, what she knew deep down that she had seen and heard.
‘I didn’t imagine any of it,’ she found herself declaring loudly, and with rather more outward confidence than she felt inside. ‘I didn’t imagine her, Our Lady.’
The Bishop stopped sipping his tea. He looked down at her again, and this time spoke directly to her.
‘All right then Jacinta,’ he said. ‘So, let’s hear a little more about what happened. From the horse’s mouth, so to speak. Where did you see Our Lady?’
‘On the television screen. In the Crow’s Nest. Above the Field,’ Jacinta told him.
‘She means the Southerham Stadium where her Dad works,’ Father Dunally explained.
‘The Crow’s Nest is the private box for the stadium management,’ Dad explained. ‘In this family we call the stadium the Field. With a capital F,’ he added. ‘It’s always been a special place for us.’
‘Our Field of dreams,’ Jacinta said.
‘Ah, dreams,’ said the Bishop, taking his eyes off Jacinta for a moment and gazing upwards, at the ceiling. ‘We all have those, don’t we?’ He refocused his rather intimidating stare on Jacinta once more. ‘Dreams of happiness,’ he continued. ‘Dreams of success. Dreams of fame and fortune. Dreams of dancing with the stars. Isn’t that right?’
No one answered him. Father Dunally looked even more hot and bothered, and even a little embarrassed. It was obvious what the Bishop was implying.
‘I don’t want to be famous and I never touched the TV,’ Jacinta said.
She was amazed at how assertive she was being.
‘It turned itself on. It took a few seconds before Our Lady appeared. And then she was there.’
‘What did she look like?” the Bishop asked.
Jacinta could almost see his unspoken words taking shape in the air in front of him. Did she look like a news-anchor, dressed in designer clothes and made-up like a model?
‘She looked like our Mother Mary in the car,’ she told him.
This description took the Bishop by surprise.
‘She means the little statue of Our Lady that we keep in the car,’ Mum clarified.
‘Oh, I see.’
‘And she looked like the big statue in the church, as well as the small one in our classroom at school,’ Jacinta elaborated. ‘Only younger looking than any of them.’
Father Dunally was nodding. ‘Our Lady was younger than most people realise,’ he said.
The Bishop sent a frown in Father Dunally’s direction. ‘What happened next?’ he asked Jacinta. ‘Did you speak to her first, or did she speak to you?
‘She talked to me. I answered her of course.’
‘Of course. What did she say to you Jacinta? Take your time to remember.’
‘I don’t need time to remember,’ Jacinta said. ‘The lady told me she wanted people to come to the Field in six weeks’ time.’
‘And did she say why she wanted people to gather in the . . . the Field?’
‘No. Except that she would have a message for them. For us,’ Jacinta explained. ‘She said she would see me there one more time. One last time, actually. I told her I didn’t know many people. She said many people would know me. I don’t know what she meant by that. Do you?’
If the Bishop knew, he wasn’t telling. ‘How often have you seen the lady?’ he asked.
‘Three times,’ Jacinta replied.
‘The magical three,’ the Bishop said quietly. He turned to Jacinta’s parents. ‘Did anyone else see what Jacinta saw?’
‘Josh and I were up in the Crow’s Nest with Jacinta the third time,’ said Mum, tight-lipped, ‘and we watched her watching the television. It looked to us as if she was listening and speaking to someone, but we didn’t see anyone on the screen. We heard only Jacinta’s side of the conversation. But it was a conversation,’ she added.
‘Tell me what you feel about all of this?’ Bishop Harris asked Jacinta.
Jacinta found this question the most difficult of all to answer. She had to think about it for a while. And thinking wasn’t the easiest thing to be doing, not with everybody waiting for her to speak. At length she said, ‘It’s not as easy as having just one feeling. I’ve felt all sorts of things. Scared. Surprised. Excited. I feel amazed that this is happening at all. And to me. Why me? I don’t know. But I kind of feel grateful and resentful at the same time. It’s like getting a birthday present when it’s not your birthday, and then you find out you have to do something with the present but you don’t know what exactly it is, or how to do it. That makes me feel scared. I don’t know how I’m going to do what Our Lady’s asked me. The other day I even felt like pretending it hadn’t happened. I tried telling myself it hadn’t but I gave up in the end. I was just lying to myself.’
‘So you’re not saying you made all this up?’ the Bishop asked. ‘That it wasn’t your imagination? That it didn’t not happen?’
Confused by the Bishop’s negatives, Jacinta didn’t know whether to agree or disagree.
‘It happened,’ she finally said to him.
‘I had a sinking feeling you’d say that,’ the Bishop said, but so quietly that only Father Dunally heard him.
Bishop Harris leaned back in his chair. Jacinta waited anxiously for what he would say next, unaware that he already had. Father Dunally scratched his head and cleared his throat. He looked sympathetically at them all. He wants to believe me, Jacinta realised but I’m not sure he’s actually allowed to.
Finally the Bishop spoke again. ‘I think for the time being that it would be best to let this matter settle,’ he said. ‘I for one need some time to mull it over, to consider more deeply what Jacinta has told me today.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘over the centuries many people have had, or claimed to have had, apparitions of Our Lady.’
‘Like the children from Fatima, in Portugal?’ Jacinta said.
‘Yes, like them. And Bernadette at Lourdes. But most have been proven illusory,’ Bishop Harris said. ‘Products of active imaginations, you might say. Only a few, a very few, have received the stamp of approval. And that usually doesn’t happen until extensive investigations have been carried out. That’s not to say that those people were telling lies. Most of them certainly seemed to believe what they claimed to have seen. Just as you do Jacinta. It’s just we have to be careful, very careful indeed, before we can say that their visions are true. Imagine if word of this got out. How would people react?’
‘They’d think my sister was mental,’ said Josh. ‘She’d be all over the papers, the TV, the internet.’
‘We don’t really want anyone else to know,’ said Mum.
‘Definitely not,’ Dad agreed.
The Bishop nodded. Father Dunally looked sadly at Jacinta.
Jacinta stood up. She knew her body was shaking but she did her best to keep her voice steady. She thought of the children at Fatima, and all the difficulties they’d had.
‘But that’s not what I want,’ she said. ‘Or what Our Lady wants. No one seems to care about that. The truth is I know for sure I didn’t imagine Our Lady. I don’t know why she talked to me through a television, or why it had to be the one in the Crow’s Nest, or what I can do about the thing she asked me to do. But I do know I’m not lying, or imagining, or trying to be famous or whatever else you think I’m doing or wanting to be. And I don’t have time to wait. She said six weeks, and now there are only five left and I’ve done absolutely nothing yet to help her. I thought you’d help me,’ she said to the Bishop.’
‘That’s what I’m trying to d
o,’ he said, sounding as if he meant it.
But Jacinta turned her back on all of them and walked out of the lounge, down the hall, into her room, and shut the door on their disbelief.
On his way home, the Bishop sighed again and shook his head. Why me? he thought glumly to himself. Why did this have to happen on my watch?
Shortly afterwards the journalist, whose son had passed on Josh’s story, found himself some free time. Exactly a week after the Bishop’s visit to Jacinta and her family, he knocked on the door of the family home. Dad was out at the Stadium. Mum opened the door.
‘My name’s Jonathan Rivers,’ the journalist said. He explained the reason for his visit.
‘We don’t have anything to say about the matter,’ Mum told him. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘So there is something behind what my son mentioned to me?’ Jonathan asked.
‘There is no story,’ Mum insisted. ‘At least, not one for sharing.’
‘Look,’ said Jonathan. ‘I’ll be upfront. I’m not a Catholic, my wife is. That’s why our boy goes to St Sebastian. I’m neutral about all this sort of thing but it does interest me, as I think it may interest other people as well, whether they’re Catholics or not. I promise I wouldn’t write anything that was unbalanced or inaccurate. Just the facts as Jacinta sees them’
Hearing her name, Jacinta came to the door.
‘Hi,’ said Jonathan.
‘Who is he?” Jacinta asked her Mum.
‘A newspaper journalist,’ Mum said.
‘I’d really like to hear your story,’ Jonathan said.
‘He knows,’ Jacinta said. ‘Did the Bishop tell you?’
‘No. I had no idea the Bishop knew. What did he have to say?’
‘He has to think about it,’ Jacinta said.
Jonathan nodded. ‘Fair enough. A man in his position will have to consider the event from various perspectives, I’m sure. On the other hand I’m also sure that ordinary people will be interested in what you say you’ve experienced. And from what my son tells me, there’s a deadline to all this as well. Is that right?’
‘That’s right,’ Jacinta said. ‘And it’s not just what I say happened,’ she insisted. ‘It’s what actually happened.’
‘Ordinary people,’ said Mum. ‘People who’ll enjoy having a laugh at someone else’s expense? People who’ll think my daughter is . . .’ Here she stopped. She’d almost forgotten Jacinta was standing right beside her.
‘A nutcase,’ Jacinta finished the sentence.
‘This is the way I see things,’ Jonathan said. ‘The news these days is saturated with stories of wars, flash floods, raging bush fires, deadly tornadoes, exploding volcanoes, tsunamis, and earthquakes. I think people are starting to realise that life isn’t as safe and cosy as they’d like it to be. And that the other side of the news coin, the stories of glitter, glam and gossip, fame and fortune aren’t what life’s about either.’
‘Huh,’ said Jacinta. ‘The Bishop said I wanted to be famous.’
‘He didn’t actually say that,’ her Mum reminded her.
‘He might as well have.’
‘We’re just ordinary people ourselves,’ Jacinta’s Mum said. ‘We shouldn’t be put into this position.’
‘Well, the fact is, you can’t escape what’s happened,’ Jonathan replied.
‘So you do believe me?” Jacinta asked him.
‘Like I said to your Mum, I’m neutral,’ Jonathan said. ‘And I’m a journalist. I don’t take sides. I keep an open mind which means not believing everything I’m told. On the other hand, I don’t disbelieve you. My job, as they say, is to report the news, not to make it, and not to make any comment on it. What I do believe is that your story – your news –should be shared with others.
‘And, as I said, people are looking for brighter news these days, news that’s going to give their lives some more depth. Maybe even some more meaning. Jacinta’s apparently seen something that hardly anyone else has been privileged to see. That could be meaningful to people. Maybe more people than we realise. And here endeth my lesson!’
‘Let me tell him,’ Jacinta said to her mother. ‘Our Lady said many people would know me even if I didn’t know many people. If Mr Rivers writes the story about what happened, then people will know. And they might come to the Field. And then we’ll see what happens.’
‘But the Bishop . . .’ Mum began.
‘The Bishop should have been the one helping me,’ Jacinta said. ‘But he’s not.’
‘Perhaps the Bishop knows what the consequences will be if he does. We don’t. Do you Mr Rivers?’
‘Please call me Jon. No, I don’t know what the consequences will be if I’m allowed to write the story. As you say, I’m sure some people will have a good laugh at your expense. Others will get annoyed and angry that the story has been written at all. Probably the majority won’t care about it one way or another. But then, there will be some, who knows how many, who will be keen to find out what happens four weeks from now. People like to know how a good story ends,’ he finished. ‘And I think it is a good story, in all the senses of the word.’
‘And if nothing does happen?’ asked Mum. ‘What then? Will we become the laughing stock of the town? And what effect is that going to have on my daughter? That’s what I’m afraid of.’
‘I’m offering you a choice,’ said Jonathan. ‘If you say no today, that’s where it ends as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Four weeks,’ Jacinta said to herself. ‘We don’t have much time. Mum. I want Mr Rivers - Jon - to write the story.’
‘Let’s wait and see what Dad says when he comes home.’
‘I don’t have time to wait for Dad,’ Jacinta insisted. ‘I’ll take the responsibility.’
‘It’s far too big a responsibility for me to let you take on,’ Mum said. ‘You have no idea what you might be letting yourself in for. Not to mention us.’
Jacinta said nothing in reply. Her mother recognised the stubborn line her daughter’s mouth had adopted. It was not dissimilar to the one she often used herself. She had been just as stubborn the day she bought Mother Mary and blu-taked her onto the dashboard.
So she let Jonathan into the house.
As he set up his mini digital recorder on the kitchen table, ready for the interview, Jacinta got in the first question. ‘If you had to take sides,’ she asked, ‘whose side would you be on?’
Jonathan laughed. ‘That’s actually an easy one,’ he said. ‘I’d always be on the side of the angels.’
PART TWO
Scrapbook
Newspaper article
Apparition?
12 year old girl claims to have had visions of God’s Mother
by Jon Rivers
Jacinta Grogan, twelve years old, claims she has received a message from Mary, the Mother of God. Mary is a figure revered by Catholics, and many other Christian denominations, and by Muslims. During the school holidays Jacinta and her brother spent some of their day with their father, Graham, at Southerham Stadium. It was there, in the management’s private box, that Jacinta says Mary appeared to her via the screen of the room’s plasma TV set. Jacinta, a year-eight student at Saint Sebastian School, said that Mary appeared to her on three separate occasions, and that during the last apparition Mary instructed her to tell the people of the city to gather at Southerham Stadium on July 23 at 7pm so she could pass a message on to them. The city’s Roman Catholic Bishop says that he has been informed of the apparitions and he has spoken to Jacinta about them, but that it is far too early to make any comment about their authenticity or significance. A great many Marian apparitions have been recorded in the past, arguably the most famous being at Lourdes in France in 1858, and at Fatima in Portugal in 1917. In both cases Mary made more than just three appearances. Jacinta Grogan stands by her story, saying that she has spoken publicly about her visions because of the soon approaching deadline of July 23. Jacinta says she wants to let as many people as possible to know what is about to ha
ppen. Curiously, the date and time she was given by the ‘Lady’ coincides with the initial rugby test match to be held at the soon-to-be-opened TekNat Arena. This means that Southerham Stadium will be available that evening, although rugby bosses have indicated they will recommend that the Stadium’s owners, the City Council, not make the Stadium available for what would undoubtedly be a religious event. ‘The last time that happened,’ a representative was quoted as saying, ‘was when the Pope came to visit. But he was a real, flesh-and-blood person, not a figment of a young girl’s over-worked imagination.’
[Online edition. Click here for more information about Marian apparitions.]
Letters to the Editor
Complete disbelief!
I cannot believe that your newspaper, a normally guaranteed repository of sanity and good sense, could see fit to publish the drivel by your so-called reporter Jon Rivers. The fairy-tale ramblings of the twelve-year old girl he has interviewed are beyond belief. I’m strongly tempted to cancel my subscription, unless you publish some sort of retraction.
Sceptics
Of course there will be sceptics whose response to your story of Jacinta Grogan will consist of snide cynicism. But let and let live I say. Why not a story about something other than disasters, taxes or the imbecilic goings-on of the jet-setting movie ‘stars’?
A message for all
I for one will wait to hear what our Dear Lady has to tell us before I make any judgement about Her Messenger! I am proud to be a Catholic!
The Field (ACHUKAbooks) Page 4
