The Ballymara Road

by Nadine Dorries

  ‘Jesus, let’s hope she doesn’t remember you, Austin. She was one of your favourites. You and the bishop had more than your fair share there when she was a kid. Anyway, she’s simple, isn’t she? No one will believe anything she says. She’s mental, isn’t she? That’s what you always said.’

  ‘You cheeky bastard,’ said Austin, ‘don’t blame any of this on me.’

  ‘I’m not blaming you, but what do we do now?’

  ‘We do nothing, Stanley. We aren’t the main players in this, for fuck’s sake. Why do you think everyone’s identity is kept secret? You and I only know each other because I took you. We only know Arthur because he took me. The only other people we know are the bishop and that policeman, but I know this, Stanley: there are people way, way more important than you or me in that ring. Jesus, who do you think I sell all my photos to?’

  ‘I don’t fucking care,’ said Stanley, his voice rising.

  Austin lightly placed his hand on his sleeve.

  Stanley dropped his voice and continued, ‘Who is that Daisy going to finger next if she’s named the policeman? This is a disaster, Austin. She knew all about what went on at the Priory, for fuck’s sake. She even opened the door and let some of the kids in. The priest was so up his own arse he thought he was too important to do it himself.’

  ‘It isn’t people like me and you at the bottom of the pile that they will be looking for. It’s the posh nobs, the politician from London with the chauffeur-driven car, the ones who speak like they’ve got a finger stuck up their arse – those are the ones they will be after. And anyway, like you say, she was fucking simple. She won’t even remember our names. It’s much easier for her to say, the policeman, the bishop or the politician. That’s why the policeman has been fingered. She said a policeman and then probably identified him. She didn’t know where we work or what we do for a job. Relax, mate, haven’t I always been right, eh? Eh? Haven’t I? Every time you’ve had a wobbly, didn’t I always know what was what and that it would all be all right?’

  Stanley nodded. It was true, Stanley was always the nervous one and Austin had always been right.

  ‘It’s all right for you, Austin, you live alone. I have me mam to worry about. I can’t even think how it would affect her, if she ever knew what I did.’

  ‘Relax, mate,’ said Austin. ‘There’s nothing to worry about with your mam, it will all be good.’

  Austin’s words weren’t having their usual calming effect as, Stanley had noticed, his voice shook slightly.

  The nurse called out for Austin as she wheeled her child out of X-ray.

  ‘Let’s meet up for a fag in ten in the lodge when you are done here,’ he whispered to Stanley as he rose from the bench.

  It was Austin who had kept Stanley on the straight and narrow when he had the collywobbles, on the days when he was tormented by guilt, fear and worry about his being caught and his mam being disappointed in him. It was Austin who pulled him up sharp and made him see right again.

  Not today, though. Never before had Austin failed to reassure Stanley. His guts had turned to water.

  Since he and Austin had become involved in the group to which Arthur had introduced them, they often talked about the legalizing of their own inclination. Stanley had even gone by coach with Austin and Arthur to a meeting in London about that very thing. Times were changing. Arthur never stopped saying, ‘Homos will be legal soon, we will be next.’

  Soon, paedophiles like themselves would be protected by the law just as homosexuals would soon be. This, they firmly believed.

  Stanley knew that someone in the ring was involved in all of this progress. He just didn’t know who it was, which was how it would always remain. They were each protected by their own anonymity.

  Stanley could tell Austin was spooked. The cool, untouchable swagger was gone, replaced by rounded, almost slumped shoulders.

  The pretty little girl in the wheelchair was about six years old, Austin’s favourite age, but even this hadn’t put the usual grin on his face. He carried his Kodak Brownie in his big overall pocket everywhere he went. In normal circumstances, in the lift, he would have slid the little girl’s blanket and nightdress up over her knee and photographed her, before she was returned to the ward, laughing and joking as he did so.

  It was so easy. The poorer and more impoverished the children were, the more they loved the attention of the camera. Not today, though.

  Stanley stood and, through the circular porthole windows, high in the wooden doors leading to the X-ray department, he followed Austin’s retreating back. Agitated at the news that Daisy was in Liverpool once more, he then sat down and turned to look through the large window to the courtyard. He could watch Austin cross, wheeling the chair to the ward doors on the opposite side.

  It took a few moments for Stanley to register what was happening as, with an action as slick as an uncoiling snake, a policeman stepped out through the ward doors and snapped a pair of handcuffs onto Austin’s wrists.

  Stanley immediately knew what he had to do. They had been through the drill so many times at their monthly meetings. Slowly, he rose from the bench and, so as not to draw attention to himself, he walked calmly out of the back door.

  ‘Porter, porter, your patient’s ready,’ shouted the radiographer from within the lead-lined cubicle. ‘Would you believe it,’ he heard her say to her workmate on reception, ‘the porter has only gone and buggered off for a ciggie.’

  By the time he reached the hospital gates, Stanley was running. He turned out on to Queens Drive and kept on running. He knew that he had to reach Arthur, the ringleader as quickly as possible. Arthur would know what to do.

  The plan had been in place for over ten years and it was always the last thing discussed each time the group met. Secrecy was their modus operandi. People like them were never, ever, caught. Never. They were methodical and careful. They had strict rules. Should those fail, they would resort to long-established and well-rehearsed procedures. Arthur had people who could protect them, contacts who could offer places to hide. Once the others found out what had happened to Austin, Stanley would need just such a place himself.

  11

  ‘FANCY DELAYING YOUR honeymoon, Miss Devlin. I can’t believe it, I just can’t. You should be in the Isle of Man by now. I feel so bad that I have upset everything. Do I still call you Miss Devlin, or is it your married name now?’

  It was Monday morning. Daisy was ladling as much marmalade as she possibly could onto her last piece of toast before popping it into her mouth. This meant that, for a brief second, she ceased talking and drew breath.

  She had almost finished her breakfast in the convent where she had spent the previous two nights. She talked so much and so fast, it was hard for anyone to slide a word in edgeways. Not only was Daisy talking fifty to the dozen, she was surrounded by nuns and children. Annie O’Prey, Sheila from Nelson Street with her children, and a constant relay of neighbours were tripping up and down the convent steps to visit her.

  Alison laughed. ‘You do love your food, don’t you, Daisy? I want to be here because I want to see your brother again and make sure that, this time, I hand you over personally. Besides, they have asked Howard to return to work and to delay our honeymoon. We don’t mind at all. In any case, I will have a much nicer time, knowing that everything is properly sorted here. It would have been difficult, Daisy, trying to enjoy myself, having no idea where you were or what had happened to you.’

  Sister Evangelista walked into the refectory and sat down at the table with them both. No longer a stranger to a crisis, she was absolutely certain this time about what to do.

  ‘Will you be ringing the bishop to let him know Daisy is back?’ Alison asked.

  ‘Sure, I will not. What use would he be if I did tell him? He was as much use as a chocolate fireguard last time we needed him and with half the backbone. No, thank you. We have Father Anthony and Harriet with us now, sent directly to us by the Lord, I have no doubt. They will be a grand help. I
have no use for a weak bishop. Father Anthony will know what to do and, if the bishop needs to know what is happening, Father Anthony can tell him. I am washing my hands altogether of that responsibility.’

  The new Mrs Davies was almost sure she heard Sister Evangelista mutter, ‘Stupid man,’ under her breath, following on from the ‘chocolate fireguard’.

  ‘The bishop doesn’t need to know Daisy has returned or that the police have already been to the Priory to see Father Anthony, who, I will have you know, Alison, has handled everything in an exemplary manner. The man is magnificent in his ability to project authority and calm. That’s what a spell in Rome can do for a priest. We have a different quality in the parish altogether now and, sure, we are very lucky here, we are. Is he not the most fabulous priest? We could do no better at all. No, leave it all to Father Anthony, he will know what to do, not the bishop.’ She began to mutter as she poured her tea and from behind a plume of steam, Alison was sure she heard what she said.

  There it was again, now Alison was certain: she definitely heard Sister Evangelista say, ‘Useless man,’ when she had finished speaking.

  Alison had not wanted to pass comment, but she was quite sure that at one time, she had heard Sister Evangelista heap exactly the same praise she had for Father Anthony on the dead priest, Father James. She would now no longer discuss him, no matter how much Alison tried to persuade her to do so.

  Without knowing it, Father Anthony had shamed the bishop over his obscure and evasive behaviour during the previous investigation.

  Sister Evangelista looked lighter and happier than she had in months. ‘I noticed Harriet leaving the Priory earlier and I wouldn’t be surprised to find she is on her way over here. Everyone else appears to be. I’ve never known the convent so busy, Daisy. You are quite the attraction.’

  ‘Well, I’m here because I cannot go anywhere else and I don’t want to leave Daisy,’ said Alison. ‘Howard has been called back to work to assist the new commander from today onwards. At least we had the weekend, eh? Anyway, thank goodness it is the summer holidays and the school is closed. I don’t want to miss having a few days with Daisy. I think it would be nice for her to get to know Harriet and Father Anthony.

  ‘Ah, speak of an angel and hear the rustle of her wings,’ Alison trilled as Harriet swept in through the door.

  ‘Morning, everyone.’ Harriet’s voice rang out from the hallway. ‘Are you up already? Have you recovered from the wedding and all that dancing on Saturday night?’

  ‘You will often hear Harriet coming long before you see her,’ Alison said to Daisy with an indulgent smile.

  ‘Aye, she seems to forget she’s in a convent and silence is a virtue,’ Sister Evangelista said drily.

  Daisy smiled. To all who had asked her, she had explained about her having been in a convent in Ireland. From the moment she had arrived back in the four streets she had been besieged with questions. Once the wedding festivities had begun, Daisy knew she was safe and so she had the time of her life.

  It was hard for Daisy to find words to express the difference between Sister Theresa’s convent in Galway and the one in Liverpool. She could not understand why it was that the nuns at St Mary’s were kindness itself compared with those at St Vincent’s. It was a mystery to everyone other than Daisy as to why Simon had taken her to the convent.

  Maggie had told Daisy to be very careful what she told and to whom she told it.

  ‘Keep your powder dry. Tell no one anything they don’t need to know, not even the sisters at St Mary’s. The only people you should tell almost everything to are the police. But you don’t mention another word about that little girl’s da, Tommy. It sounds as if that family have been through enough.’

  Daisy had listened very carefully to Maggie. She felt mean not telling everything to Miss Devlin, who she must try and remember to now call Mrs Davies, but she knew Maggie was right and had worked everything out meticulously.

  ‘I loved the dancing,’ said Daisy. ‘’Twas fantastic to see all the girls dancing like that, it was just grand. I know I shouldn’t laugh but the funniest thing was watching Big Paddy trying to throw Peggy over his shoulder. She wouldn’t give the man a rest.’

  They all laughed at the memory of Little Paddy hiding his head in his hands in shame.

  ‘Mam, Da, will ye stop!’ Little Paddy had shouted, bouncing up and down with the ruff of his shirt collar muffling his words.

  When Peggy and Paddy had ignored him, he had tried to cut in between them both, but to no avail. His mother had then taken his hands and, twirling him round on the dance floor, danced with him instead. An experience which had left Little Paddy traumatized with embarrassment at the memory. That morning, it had been the first thing he thought of when he woke and it made him blush with shame when the boys on the green had shouted, ‘Give us a dance then, Paddy,’ when he ran to the shop for his da’s ciggies. Boys didn’t dance but if ever one was so misguided as to try, the last person he would dance with in public, and in front of all his school friends, would be his mother.

  ‘Would ye stop,’ said Alison, catching her breath. ‘I enjoyed my own reception more than I should have. I thought I would be on pins and nervous, but, Daisy, you made it the best.’

  ‘I would like to visit a few of the women if that is all right with you, Sister Evangelista,’ said Daisy. ‘I told Annie I would call over this morning. Would ye mind if I leave now?’

  ‘Not at all, Daisy, you go ahead. I am here all day and your room is your own until the police say your brother can collect you. Harriet and I are both off this morning to a meeting about the new nursery, but we will be at the Priory if you need us.’

  Maura was surprised when she heard a knock on her front door. It was only just audible, more of a gentle, nervous tap than a knock. As it was the school holidays, everyone was still in bed, catching up on their sleep following a weekend of excitement that included a late night after the wedding. None of the children had made it to bed until the early hours on Sunday, and they were still recovering by Monday.

  When Maura saw Daisy on the doorstep, she smiled.

  ‘Well, what a commotion you caused on Saturday, miss,’ she said as she opened the door wider for Daisy to step into the hallway.

  ‘You were laughing and talking away on Saturday night with everyone, so you were. I never had the chance to catch a word meself.’

  Maura hadn’t set eyes on her for six months and she noticed a difference in the girl. She was more grown up, with a worldly-wise look about her. As both women moved into the kitchen, Maura gestured for Daisy to take a seat.

  ‘Sit down, love,’ she said, ‘and I’ll make us a cuppa.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Doherty,’ said Daisy, sitting on a week’s worth of Tommy’s Liverpool Echos, which lived under the seat cushion and crinkled in objection as she gently lowered herself onto the sofa.

  ‘Miss Devlin told me about Kitty. I’m sorry for your troubles. I really am, I’m sorry for your troubles.’

  Maura didn’t reply. She couldn’t. There were no words to be said.

  ‘You haven’t been in my kitchen before, have you, Daisy? You were always too busy in the Priory,’ said Maura brightly, wanting to change the subject. ‘Although I know Molly used to visit you sometimes, and Annie O’Prey. Did ye talk to Annie last night?’

  ‘I did, Mrs Doherty, I am off to see her in a minute, but first I wanted to talk to ye. I have to tell ye summat.’

  Maura stood the pot of tea and the cups on the range shelf and poured milk from the bottle into the two cups.

  ‘Will you drop the Mrs Doherty, Daisy. My name is Maura and you aren’t working at the Priory now.’

  ‘I saw him, Maura. I saw him every time he left the Priory and walked down the entry towards your door. I watched him from the window and I was glad he was over here and not bothering me. I’m sorry, Maura. I’m sorry I never told you.’

  Maura gasped and lowered herself onto the sofa next to Daisy.

  Maura co
uldn’t speak. She could make no response other than to wring her hands in her lap and stare at Daisy as though she had grown an extra nose whilst sitting in her kitchen.

  ‘God in heaven, he was doing it to you too? It never crossed my mind.’

  Hot tears sprang to Maura’s eyes. God knew, she had cried enough to fill the Mersey but they were always there, just beneath the surface, looking for a reason to flow. She reached out and held Daisy’s hands in her own.

  ‘It is me who is sorry, Daisy. Me. That man was evil itself and I don’t feel sorry when I say that, as God is my judge, I am glad he is dead.’

  Now it was Daisy’s turn to well up. There, she had finally said the words she always knew she should share with Maura, so that Maura would know, she hadn’t failed Kitty and that there was nothing she could have done. Father James’s behaviour had been beyond the comprehension of any decent human being.

  The two women looked at each other for a long moment. One was considered simple and vulnerable. The other had thought she was an expert at keeping her children safe and out of harm’s way. Maura reached out and took Daisy’s hand in her own. They were now keepers of the same secret.

  Daisy said, ‘You are right, Maura. He was an evil man, a son of the devil, Maggie says, and me and Kitty and the others, there was nothing we could do.’

  Daisy didn’t tell Maura that he had done the same thing to lots of girls and that she and Sister Evangelista knew this because they had found the photographs in his desk drawer. Daisy didn’t say this to Maura, but she was going to say it herself to Sister Evangelista. Maggie had told her she had to. She had written down all the things Maggie had told her she had to do, one by one, and telling Sister Evangelista that she had to tell the police what she had found in the father’s desk drawer was number four.

  Talking to Maura was number two. Stepping into the police station and giving them the letter from Maggie and Frank, that was number one.