by Paul Kelly
Aggie could feel herself blushing in the darkness of the small confessional where she knelt.
“No Father,” she answered softly.
“Do you like men, Aggie?” the priest asked slowly but firmly and she could feel her blushes getting deeper.
“Yes, Father.”
The priest sighed.
“Then would you not rather want to get married and have lovely children and a nice husband?” he asked, thinking how stupid he had been to put the horse before the cart and hoping that Aggie would understand. Aggie listened carefully to the suggestion that had been made to her, aware that she had tried to explain her feelings to this man and had failed. Meekness went from her as she thought further.
“Father, forgive me, but I don’t think you have understood me. I don’t want to become a nun because I can’t get a man. I love Our Lord and I can’t stop thinking about Him, the same way as if I loved a man and couldn’t stop thinking about him. I want to become a nun because I love God and not because of a substitute for some other kind of love. I lie awake at night and yearn to be with God in the cloister. I toil for Him in everything I do during the day. I laugh for Him and I cry for Him. There is no place in my heart for any one man, but I love humanity, for His sake. Father, I have tried to put this yearning from my mind, but it returns to me.”
The priest listened to what Aggie had to say and the comparison to his own vocation became apparent to him, but she was a very young girl and he was an old man. He had undergone all the trials and tribulations that accompany a vocation to the Religious Life, so how could he now encourage this frail girl to undertake all of that? He knew, only to well, the life of loneliness that lay ahead of her if she persisted in her yearnings and unless she could keep that vision of God to the fore in her mind and more particularly, in her heart, FOR THE REST OF HER LIFE . . , she would undergo a most agonising and lonely existence. He had seen so many young men coming to the priesthood with pure hearts and with intentions that would scale any height ... for ‘Many are called Few are chosen.’ and only a few remain . . .a very few. If they leave without disillusionment, it is a blessing that they can take with them for the rest of their lives, because they have tried, ,but if they should leave in bitterness, as indeed many did, they would carry with them a venom that would rot through everything they did in life . . . into the grave and beyond He felt sure of that. He knew that he would have to bear the responsibility for this young girl’s soul and he prayed that God would give him the wisdom to do what was right.
“Aggie ... Aggie dear ... can we talk about this some more ... another time perhaps. Come to the presbytery some day soon and we’ll have another chat, eh?”
“Thank you Father I will do that and Father . . .”
“Yes, my child?”
“I am sorry if I have been rude.”
“Aggie, there is no apology required, I do assure you. It has been my pleasure to talk with you and I look forward to our further discussion soon.” He made the Sign of the Cross and Aggie went home.
***
All were asleep, except Meggie when Aggie got back to the house. She was glad she had that evening off from the factory and wanted to have an early night and get into bed. Meggie was the only one who wasn’t fast asleep.
“Had a nice time, Aggie?” she asked quietly as she rolled over in her bed, trying not to disturb Sadie who was sleeping beside her but Aggie did not answer immediately. She was tired and wanted to get a bath and get into bed as soon as she could, without waking Mary, but Meggie was persistent.
“I mean ... Have ye got a boyfriend, Aggie?”
Her sister thought for a moment as she undressed.
“I might have,” she responded softly and her hair fell about her shoulders as she removed her petticoat, pulling it over her head. “Is Mammy in bed already, do you know?”
“No ... she’s waiting up for the boys. They’ve gone to that youth dance or whatever it is. I think Mammy is dozing in the kitchen in the armchair. You won’t disturb her until the boys come home ... Will you marry him, Aggie?”
Meggie sat up ... wide awake when she asked her last question, but Sadie snored on as if there was no tomorrow.
“I hope so,” Aggie whispered, “Goodnight Meggie . God bless.”
Meggie yawned and Sadie stirred
“Goodnight Aggie .Sleep well ...I envy you,” said Meggie as Aggie ran the water for her bath, closing the bathroom door quietly so as not to disturb any of the sleepers.
Chapter Ten
Father Kane called for the last dance as the young people were still enjoying the evening, without trace of weariness or of being tired.
“Last drinks,” called Harry McKenzie with the authority of his position in charge of the bar. He hadn’t wanted to dance, but he was annoyed nevertheless that he had never been asked, and when after a little while and his confidence had become a little more sure, everyone had made some excuse or other as to why they were ‘Otherwise engaged’ when he offered himself gratuitously .
Charlie and Rachael only had eyes for each other and Willie stared sadly at the floor as Wattie approached.
“Saw ye dancin’ wi yer brother’s wee bit o’ stuff,” he said breezily and Willie looked up in anger.
“She’s no’ a wee bit o’ stuff . . . an’ she’s no’ oor Charlie’s girlfriend,” he snapped.
Wattie looked confused and touched his glasses nervously. He never liked to see Willie in an angry mood. He glanced across the room to where Charlie and Rachael were still dancing, although everyone else had left the floor.
Well, they look like they are havin’ a nice time together. See where he’s got his hands?”
Willie turned away sharply.
“Ye canna judge a book by its covers, Wattie, ya stupid sod,” he said philosophically and looked importantly to a large, yellow balloon that hung precariously over his head. Somehow he knew it was going to burst Maybe his anger compelled it to do so as he waited expectantly for a few seconds. It burst as he had anticipated and Wattie jumped.
“I didn’a think that thing would burst Willie. Did you?”
“Everything bursts in time, Wattie. Just give it time, that’s all.”
Wattie was amazed at his friend’s deep thinking as he sniffed and did the necessary with his nose on his sleeve.
***
“Well Have you had a nice evening, lads?” Father Kane was standing near Wattie as he spoke. The boys spun round.
“Yes Father,” they answered in chorus.
“That was a very nice wee girl I saw you dancing with at the last dance there, Wattie. I don’t think I’ve seen her at Mass lately. Is she a Catholic?”
Willie looked from the priest to Wattie and back again in surprise. He scoured the room to see who the priest could have meant, but he couldn’t see anyone ... except Rachael.
“I’m not sure, Father but you’re right. She is a nice wee girl, isn’t she?”
Wattie remarked as Father Kane raised his left eyebrow and strolled casually towards the door where the EXIT sign was illuminated in green.
“What nice wee lassie was that Wattie?” Willie demanded to know when the priest had left them and Wattie looked shy.
“That one ...that one over there, see?” Wattie pointed to a corner near the door and Willie stared at the young girl in question. He hadn’t seen her all evening, even if she had ‘danced the night away’with his friend.
“Did ye buy her chips, Wattie?” he asked mischievously.
“Yes, of course I did and she liked them too,”
Willie watched the skirt of Fr. Kane’s cassock slip round the door as he left the dance floor and he smiled.
“Oh! God, Wattie. You’ll have to go to confession now, won’t ye?”
Wattie stood covered in confusion as Moira McKenzie came swishing
out from the cloakroom and marched past Willie without saying a word.
“Goodnight Moira,” he called out, thinking it best to take the initiative, but Moira only glowered at him and narrowed her eyes.
“Goodnight, William Blair,” she barked and tightened her already thin lips in her usual manner and William Blair knew that a chapter in his life had just come to a brief end.
He was about to leave the hall when a voice called out to him.
“Would you like to walk me home, Willie?”
Willie went pale as he looked at the speaker, but before he could answer, Rita Watts came to his rescue, interrupting the conversation.
“I think my James should walk you home dear ... After all, he did have the last dance with you, didn’t he?”
Rita grimaced and stared at Willie as Wattie wiped his nose and waited in gleeful anticipation.
“No thanks,” the girl retorted, “I’ll walk home on my own.”
Rita Watts stood back in dismay and her face fell.
“Cheeky wee bissam and after you buyin’ her chips too, Jamsie.” she said as she turned to Willie, but he had shot into the toilet to avoid any further confrontation.
He met Charlie coming out as he went in. His brother was adjusting his flies.
“Nice night, wasn’t it, Willie?” Charlie commented cheerfully and started to whistle.
“No’ bad,” came Willie’s reply, with great effort . . .
“See you when I get home, wee brother and don’t wait up for me I think I might be quite late.”
Willie stepped in front of Charlie, angrily.
“Are you takin’ Rachael home then ... are you Charlie?”
There was a rasping sound as Charlie pulled the roller towel down in the machine on the wall.
“What’s it to you if I do or if I don’t?” he asked, ignoring Willie as he turned to admire himself in the mirror, taking a comb from his inside pocket. “Do ye think she fancies me, Willie ... Do ye?”
Charlie turned away from the mirror and looked into Willie’s face as he spoke, replacing his comb, carefully into his pocket. He knew he was annoying his younger brother and he knew how Willie felt about Rachael by the look in his eyes. He knew Willie well . . . and he stuck his thumb in the air as he left the toilet.
“Go do your pee-pees Sonny and bugger off home. You’re Mammy will be waitin’ for ye.”
***
Willie lay awake for a long time before Charlie came creeping into the bedroom and he pretended to be asleep as his brother undressed, but as Charlie pulled the toilet chain, he came to life ...and the bed creaked ...
“Are you awake, Willie?” Charlie whispered into the darkness.
“No,” came the answer and Charlie giggled, but there was a long silence before Willie turned around in bed to face his brother as he snuggled into the warm, cosy mattress.
“Do ye love her, Charlie?” he asked wearily but Charlie did not answer.
“Charlie ... do you love her ... he asked a second time with a pronounced emphasis in his voice.
Charlie turned towards him. Their faces just inches apart.
“I could come, just lookin’ at her,” he said and Willie bashed the pillow and tried to get back to sleep. I hate you, Charlie Blair, he thought but he knew he could never ever say those dreadful words to his older and only brother.
Chapter Eleven
“Mammy ... There’s a man at the door asking for you.”
Mary Blair wiped her hands on a tea towel and came to her front door.
“Oh” Hello Tom,” she said as the butcher stood in her doorway.
“I just thought I’d look in and see if you were alright today Mrs. Blair.”
Mary was pleasantly surprised.
“That’s very kind of you Tom but please call me Mary.”
Tom Carey shuffled where he stood and pulled at his cap which he held nervously in his hands.
“Thank you Mary Are you feeling better?”
“Och Aye! It was only just a wee bad spell that took me, Tom. I’m fine now.”
Mary looked at Tom with concern. She was thinking how no man had ever treated her with such consideration since her husband had passed away and she never attributed any great beauty or quality to her character. In fact, she had always regarded herself as rather a plain woman and so quite naturally, she wondered what the attraction could be ... nevertheless, out of politeness, she invited Tom into her house.
“Would you like to come in and have a wee cup of tea, Tom? Meggie is just about to make some and you’d be very welcome.”
Tom stepped into the small lobby and wiped his feet most carefully on the door mat.
“Thank you Mary Oh! Mary, I’ve brought you a wee joint for your Sunday dinner.” He produced a parcel from a plastic bag he was carrying, “For you and your family, of course,” he added nervously.
Mary thanked him and Meggie made the tea after which she joined her mother and their guest. Tom told them that his wife had died five years previously and that they never had any children. His business was small, but thriving and he was obviously proud of his achievements as City butcher. The shop took up most of his time and that pleased him also, since it stopped him thinking or dwelling on the past. Meggie watched Tom carefully and with great curiosity, but she concealed it well, making remarks about anything and everything that came into her head. She knew nothing about the price of beef, but she discussed it with so much detail that Tom was impressed and told her she’d make a good butcher even if she was a woman. Meggie laughed. She was beginning to like Tom Carey and he left after he had his tea and they had thanked him again for his kindness. He assured them the pleasure was entirely his and that he would like to bring another wee parcel to them again soon, but Mary pooh-poohed the idea, kindly.
“There’s no need to do that Tom. If you have time and you find yourself at a loose end, you can always call and see us again .well anytime, actually, but don’t bring anything. It really isn’t necessary.”
He smiled his appreciation and bid them good-bye.
***
Meggie grinned when Tom had left the house.
“I think he fancies you, Mammy,” she said and Mary flustered and dusted with great agitation with her feather duster.
“Oh! Don’t be so silly Meggie. The man is just being kind, that’s all.”
“Well, I still think he fancies you and what was all that about Come again soon Tom and don’t bother to bring anything Tom and about him being at a loose end when he practically told you he lived in that shop of his. Mammy, I think you fancy him too. Do you?”
Mary stopped doing her chores and looked at her daughter cautiously.
“I’m an old woman, Meggie Who would want to look at me and besides, you young people are full of romance ... You are all dreamers, that’s what you are.”
Meggie grinned saucily and took the feather duster from Mary’s hand.
“Sit down then, you old woman and rest your old legs you poor old soul. Anyway, Tom Carey is not what you’d call a spring chicken himself, is he ... and besides Mammy,” Meggie flicked the feathers in the as as she spoke..
“Besides what ... Meggie ...”
“I like him. I think he’s nice and I liked the way he was lookin’ at you.”
“Meggie Blair ... behave yourself ... You don’t know how it was with your father and me ... I could never put anyone in his place NEVER.”
Meggie collected the tea cups and nibbled at a biscuit.
“But Mammy, it wouldn’t be wrong,” she mumbled, “You’re still very attractive for an old woman, that is . . . and ...”
Mary stood up and grabbed the duster from her daughter.
“Meggie, if you say another word on that subject, so help me I’ll ... I’ll skelp ye, that’s what I’l
l do. Do ye hear me young lady?”
“But, Mammy ...”
“But nothing Meggie . . . Now leave it please.”
***
Charlie called for Rachael every evening and they were happy together. She would walk past the site every day, just to look at him. She could see him stripped to the waist and admire his gorgeous tan, whereas she couldn’t do that when they met in the evenings. All the lads on the building site would whistle madly when she came to see Charlie and he was so proud. He would be seventeen soon and Rachael was sixteen, even if she did look a lot younger and he thought it was nice to have a steady girl-friend at his age.
***
Willie accepted the situation sulkily and was always happy when Rachael came to the house for tea as he could watch her when she wasn’t looking at him and his dreams didn’t upset anyone in the family.
“You’re a corker, Rachael Harris. You are that, lassie. A real corker an’ no mistake,” he would murmur to himself each night before he went to sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Wattie stayed at the far end of the playground, near the heap of sand that was to be used in the building of the new gymnasium extension. He sat on his satchel.
“Wish we could have another dance like that last one,” he said sadly, but Willie, who was sitting nearby, stared into space and said nothing. “Don’t you wish we could have another dance like that last one, Willie?” he repeated, but Willie kicked out at the sand and sent it scattering about the ground.
“Oh dry up Wattie. You’re always wishing ... You’ll wish your bloody life away, you will.”
“But Willie ... that really was a nice wee lassie I danced with. ...a very nice wee lassie.” Willie looked to the sky and crossed himself with a sigh. “What are ye doin’ that for Willie?” Wattie asked.
