Signposts pointed every which way until the one that announced 'Docks' appeared. His mind changed the D in 'Docks' to a C, and he looked at himself in the rear-view mirror and said aloud, 'My good God, you really are sad, aren't you?'
He passed the lorry park and the little chip van, and pulled over when he saw the public toilets. He had begun to sweat with fear. Without turning off the engine, he lit a cigarette and cracked his window open slightly. He made sure his car doors were locked. Images crowded his mind: himself being dragged off by policemen; the nine o'clock news announcing to every household in Northern Ireland that a local priest had been caught 'cottaging', going to public toilets to have silent sex with a stranger of the same sex... A sodomite! Father Mac was light-headed with stress, and he hadn't even got out of the car.
If he had arrived only a minute earlier, he would have seen a familiar figure step through the doors of the public toilet and into the uncertain darkness. The smell of stale piss was enough to make Fergal want to leave, but then one of the cubicle doors opened and Doncaster Derek stepped over to the urinal. Fergal nervously followed, listening all the time for the slightest sound. He heard Derek undoing his zipper, and he did the same. The street lamp was right outside the window, and when their eyes slowly adjusted, there was just enough light to see by.
Derek waved his penis and looked over his shoulder. Then he dropped his hand between Fergal's legs and whispered, 'You're a big lad, aren't you? I bet you know what to do with it too, eh?'
Fergal didn't know what to say.
'What do you think of mine, eh? It might not be as long as yours, but it's fat. Do you want to... you know?'
Fergal nodded, glad of the half-light. Derek went back into the filthy cubicle, motioning him to follow with a jerk of his head.
Suddenly, the sound of a car door shutting made Fergal panic. All he could think about was the police and Father Mac. He knew he couldn't bring himself to do it. He spun round and lost his footing on the slippery urinal steps, His hand, breaking his fall, went into a pool of urine on the uneven floor. 'Fuck!' Derek forced himself back out of the cubicle with his trousers undone, and Fergal managed to squeeze out an apology as he hurried out the door and back into the night. Everything seemed brighter all of a sudden. Derek shouted from inside, 'Don't you want that lift to England, then?'
'Ah, no, sorry - I've changed my—'
The last thing Fergal had expected to see was Father Mac, standing by his car only a few feet from the entrance to the toilets.
After a stunned second, he took off down the road. Behind him he heard Father Mac shouting 'Fergal! Wait!', and then the sound of the car starting, gaining on him. He kept going, not knowing where. Blurred images of Noreen and Father Mac melted into each other, and Fergal started to cry.
Father Mac wound the passenger window down with one hand and steered badly with the other, pleading frantically. 'Fergal, please, stop - get in! Come on! What are you doing? England? Who was that man? What did he mean about England?'
Finally Fergal ran out of breath. He stopped, leaning against a set of railings that looked out over the docks.
Father Mac pulled up beside him and opened the passenger door. 'Fergal, get in right now. There'll be police along soon. This is a dangerous place to be. Do you know what time it is?'
'Leave me alone.'
A gang of skinheads turned the corner chanting some football anthem, and broke into a sprint as they saw their potential human football. Fergal just made it inside Father Mac's car in time. Father Mac pressed his foot to the pedal and sped out of range of the skinheads' missiles.
Fergal covered his face with his hands and hyperventilated. 'I'm... I'm... sorry...'
'It's OK, Fergal, we're safe - we're safe... Just breathe. Breathe.'
They drove back to St Bridget's House in complete silence. When they parked, Father Mac turned in his seat and said, in the kindest voice he could find, 'Fergal, come in and I'll make some tea or something. I don't know what's going on, but you can't go back to Noreen's like this. Can't you tell me what it is? Is this something to do with me?'
All Fergal could do was burst into tears again.
Father Mac left Fergal in the front room while he went to put on the kettle and gather his thoughts. He looked into the little mirror above the sink, and the voice inside his head accused him, It's all your fault. You drove him to it, you know you did. After all he told you about the way his family have treated him, you go and reject him too. Well done, you bloody idiot.
He threw a little bit of cold water on his face and carried in a tray piled with anything he could find. He sat on the sofa and offered his arm around Fergal's shoulders.
'Fergal, my dear Fergal, you're safe now. In your own time... what happened?'
Fergal had finally stopped shaking, but he couldn't look at Father Mac just yet. He stared into the fire. 'I don't know, I just... everything just got on top of me... I had nowhere to go. Even Granny told me to fuck off and not come back this morning. I mean, I know she was drunk and on tablets and all, but... Oh, I don't know.'
'But England, Fergal? What about everything we've been doing? All your hard work? Your exams? Were you just going to vanish?'
'I don't know, Father. I didn't plan it. I felt so bad when I left here earlier, and... I walked around for the longest time and then I ended up at the docks. My mother has sisters in England, and... oh, Father, I don't know what I was thinking.'
'Did I upset you, Fergal? Be honest, now.'
'Well, you seemed so... different.'
'How do you mean? You can be honest with me, this goes no further than these walls.'
'Well, any time I've been near you recently, you seemed to - I don't know - you seemed to... Do I smell bad? Is that why you don't want to be near me?'
'Fergal, it's not that I don't want to be near you! It's... Oh, how do I put this? I'm a priest, I'm older than you... I feel responsible for you. I don't want you to get the wrong idea - or anyone else for that matter.'
There was a long silence as Fergal's heart sank further and further into the bottomless depths of himself. Finally Father Mac asked, 'And what about the... the toilet business?'
Fergal went bright red again, and his voice was barely audible. 'I met him in the lorry park. He said he'd give me a lift to England if I - you know... But I didn't, Father. I changed my mind. At the last minute, I couldn't go through with it, so I ran out. I'd never gone there before in my life and I never will again. It was disgusting in there. The smell would've knocked you down. Oh, God, I feel so... so stupid and dirty.'
'Ah, Fergal... come here.' Father Mac hugged him with all his strength, and Fergal surrendered for a moment.
As they moved apart, Fergal had a thought. He looked the priest in the eyes this time. 'Father, why were you there?'
It was Father Mac's turn to panic. 'Ah - well... Fergal, I... I...'
His voice trailed off. Much as he wanted to employ a brilliant lie, he knew he could not. 'OK - seeing as you've been so honest with me, I owe you the same. I'm trusting you wholeheartedly. This is between you and me?'
'Of course. Who am I going to tell - Granny Noreen? I don't think so.'
'Right. Well... I had a terrible time after you left earlier. An old man in the parish died tonight. Death always reminds me of my own mortality but this one upset me more than usual. He was all alone in the world, Fergal, never married. His new neighbour found him and I got there just in time to offer him the last rites, but he refused, saying God had done nothing for him. He pushed my prayers away. We were the last people he saw before he died. I don't know, it just made me feel... lonelier than I ever have in my life. I couldn't sleep. I drove around and ended up in town. I had heard about that public toilet, and I found myself stopping there - for... for... reasons similar to yours. I'd changed my mind too, though. I was about to get back into my car when you appeared in front of me. I just couldn't believe it. I thought I was hallucinating or something.'
They laughed
in uncomfortable unison.
'You were right to think that I've been more distant recently. I didn't mean to be so cold - I just wanted to... set boundaries. I didn't realise you'd take it to heart so much that you thought your only option was to run away! I'd never have forgiven myself. I'd have been worried out of my mind, don't you realise that? You're an extraordinary fella. I think the world of you, I really do - but we can't...'
'Can't what?'
'Fergal, we can't... be anything other than friends. It just wouldn't be right. I'm sorry if I—'
'Father... I think about you all the time. I'm nearly seventeen - I'm not a kid. I know what I'm saying. Is it because I'm too ugly? Is that why you went to that place - to meet somebody else? Somebody better looking?'
'No, Fergal! Stop! For goodness' sake - you have no idea how beautiful you are, do you? That's one of the things that makes you so beautiful - your eyes, your smile...' Father Mac took a deep breath, 'Look, I mustn't say these things to you. It's not right. I'm a priest, I'm older than you... I wouldn't want anyone to think I would take advantage of you. I just couldn't bear to see anyone hurt you, ever...'
'Father, you wouldn't be taking advantage of me! I want to be near you, to be with you. I think about me and you all the time. I've never been so sure of anything in my life. It's like when I'm singing, you know, it feels right. It just does. How can that be wrong?'
'Oh, Fergal... I don't need to tell you, of all people, about the world outside these four walls, do I? Think about what it is you're saying. This is West Belfast, we're in one of the most turbulent times in history—'
'Don't you think that's all the more reason to live while you can? You think I don't know what it's like to be lonely? When I lived in Walker Street with my parents and my brothers - that's five other people - I was the loneliest I've ever been. When I moved to Noreen's and then met you, I didn't feel lonely any more. You don't have to be lonely, Father. You... you have me... if you want me.'
'Fergal, stop. Don't say these things. If anyone found out... do you realise what would happen? Do you? People have been killed for less!'
'I don't care - I really don't! I want to be with you. There - I've said it.'
Father Mac stood and walked up and down the room. 'Look, Fergal, I think you should go home to Noreen's now. And I'm giving you a lift, it's way too late to be walking around this area alone.'
'OK,' Fergal said, even though he wasn't entirely sure what all this meant.
'Now listen, I want you to promise me that what's been said between us will stay between us, and that you will never try to run away again. The next time you feel bad about anything, please know that you have me to turn to. I'm so sorry I underestimated the pressure you were under. You do know I care for you deeply, don't you - very, very deeply? But... we just can't...'
'But, Father—'
'Fergal, promise me you'll never do anything like this again?'
'OK, I promise. I'm sorry.' Fergal yawned loudly with sheer exhaustion.
'Look, let me get you back to Noreen's. We've said more than enough for tonight. I take it you still want to continue working towards the audition?'
'Oh, Father, I do! More than anything! I feel a lot better just being here. Thanks for saving me.'
'I didn't save you, Fergal, not really. There seems to be an angel watching over you. Did you see the size of those skinheads?'
Father Mac dropped Fergal outside his granny's house, and waited till he found the key and was safely inside. Fergal needn't have worried about waking Noreen, he could hear her snoring from the bottom of the stairs. He got a drink of water, climbed under the freezing covers and was asleep in seconds.
As Father Mac drove back to St Bridget's, he replayed the entire evening in his mind and thought about the coincidence of it all. He felt a sudden chill across his back as he realised what could have happened if his timing had been different even by only a few minutes.
He climbed into his waiting bed, said a prayer for Fergal and once again asked God for forgiveness and guidance.
'I know you're testing me, Lord, but did you hear Fergal tonight? He said he didn't care, he wanted to be with me... What were the chances of us meeting like that tonight? One thing is for certain, Lord, I've never met anyone like him, and something tells me I never will. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.'
~
When they met again, two days later, things between them were a lot better. Fergal felt like more of an equal somehow and he felt much less alone, now that he knew for sure that Father Mac fancied men too. It was all he needed to know.
Father Mac thought Fergal was singing better than ever. He did his best to tread a careful, calm line with him. As they were having tea, he asked lightly, 'Is everything OK, Fergal?'
'Yeah - yeah, Father. Noreen's not great, but I feel like... like I know you better and you know me better. I mean - well, after what happened I thought you'd never speak to me again.'
'Fergal, I can't imagine that day ever coming. To err is human, to forgive divine. Isn't that what I'm trying to preach every day of my life? I actually think you're incredibly brave. I mean, at your age, I don't think I would have coped as well as you have.'
'But I tried to run away, and to—'
'Well, yes, but you didn't go through with it in the end. You made the right decision in the middle of a lot of wrong ones. I'm glad you decided to finish your exams, it would've been a shame to throw away five years in five angry minutes. You're a brave one, Fergal Flynn, there's no doubting that.'
As a proper smile spread over Fergal's face for the first time in a while, Father Mac thought that Fergal looked less haunted, somehow. He was amazed at the way Fergal seemed to take things in his stride and bounce back. And he knew music was the glue that helped Fergal put things carefully back together, piece by fragile piece.
Over the next few weeks, they worked harder than ever for the audition, until one night Father Mac said, 'You know what, Fergal Flynn?'
'What, Father Mac?'
'I think you're ready.'
14
On the morning after his last exam, Fergal was at his parents' house in Walker Street doing some last-minute laundry for his auditions later the same day. The twins were prowling around, bored and curious, trying to wreck his ironing any time Angela left the room. He'd found an old suitcase in one of Noreen's junkyard bedrooms that had belonged to his late grandfather, and Angela had come over all tearful when she saw her father's handwriting on the faded label.
When Father Mac parked his car outside the Flynns' house and rapped on their front door, it was like a carefully rehearsed cue for the neighbours to appear, pretending to clean their windows or front steps. Angela came to the door, beaming, and said in her loudest voice, 'Father MacManus, how nice of you to come! How are you since the last time we had tea and all at your house?'
He stepped back slightly. 'I'm fine, Mrs Flynn. And you?'
'Our Fergal is ready to go with you to make that record for the Pope!' She practically shouted the last word, for fear they might not hear her in the next street. 'Won't you come in for a wee cup of tea?'
Father Mac had purposely left the engine running. He told her he was sorry that he couldn't stay, but time was of the essence and they were expected at the monastery in the early afternoon.
As Fergal was getting into the car, Angela came running over with John's prized deep-blue velvet jacket, which she'd ordered from a catalogue for a formal he was taking some girl to. 'Here, our Fergal - you nearly forgot your good coat!' As the car pulled away slowly, to accommodate the fact that she was pushing the cheap velvet coat through the back window, Fergal saw John at the front-room window miming as only John could. He was pretending to hang himself with a thick rope and then pointing at Fergal.
They drove up the Falls Road in silence, past the park where the winos punched one another in slow motion, making some meaningless drunken point They moved on towards the turning for the Ml motorway, wh
ich would carry them west to Enniskillen and eventually to County Sligo. They passed Mill-town Cemetery, and Fergal thought about his Granda Flynn, lying there under six feet of clay.
Once they were safely out of Belfast, Father Mac turned to Fergal and said, 'See, fella - I told you not to worry! Everything will be great. Now just sit back and try and relax.'
'Do you know I've never been out the west before?'
'What?'
'No, never. We went on holiday to Butlins a couple of times, though, not too far from Dublin. That was mad.'
'Why?'
'The six of us and one of Paddy's mates were booked into a one-bedroom chalet. We were sleeping all over the place in sleeping bags and blankets, and Ma was always warning us not to make too much noise or we'd get found out. John nearly got caught shoplifting.'
'Well, you've certainly earned this wee trip, especially after the exams - which I want to hear all about, if you're ready to tell me.'
So, as they glided further and further away from their hometown, Fergal talked about the exams and began to feel calmer. 'I wouldn't have been able to do enough studying if I'd been at Walker Street - my brothers would've been at me. I think I did OK - although Noreen's been having trouble sleeping these last few weeks, so she was always trying to talk to me at night. And some of the teachers steered us wrong in the mock exams—'
Father Mac suddenly took his hand off the gear stick and patted Fergal's shoulder. 'You did your best. Sure, that's all that counts as far as I'm concerned. I'm proud of you.'
Fergal shifted in his seat. He'd missed school the day they'd handed out the instructions on how to deal with compliments from anyone, never mind from a handsome priest.
~
After a lifetime in Belfast, Father Mac's parents had retreated to Derrygonnelly, a little town on the outskirts of Enniskillen. Their only other son, Seamus, had married a Derrygonnelly girl called Barbara and the moment she fell pregnant, she had convinced him to embrace the roads and fields of her childhood. Her parents were still young, and they were thrilled to get the chance to be hands-on grandparents, and it wasn't long before the MacManuses took the bait and followed their son.
The Arrival of Fergal Flynn Page 11