Saints and Sinners

by Paul Cuddihy

  ‘Please,’ Kate pleaded. ‘Help me.’

  With another shake of the head, the woman quickened her pace, scurrying along the street without a glance back at Kate, who stood, bewildered, on the pavement. She gazed after the woman and child for a few seconds before looking back down the road. Then she suddenly started running towards where the cart had turned, her panicked gasps hurting her throat and a pain began to stretch across her chest like a rope had been wrapped round her and an invisible hand was tightening the bounds. She wanted to push herself faster but found herself slowing before she reached the corner.

  Even as she did so she knew the cart wouldn’t be there. There was one coming towards her, but the driver gave her barely a glance as he careered round the corner; the back of his cart was empty at any rate, and it was hardly likely that he would be heading back to the scene of the crime if he was the guilty party.

  Kate felt that her throat was on fire and she was suddenly desperate for a cooling cup of water. Slowly she was sinking as all the strength in her legs began to seep out of her. As her knees hit the wet ground, her body began shaking and dry sobs escaped into the air every few seconds. The wind attacked her face, nipping her cheeks and flicking her watery eyes, and she buried her head in her lap, a muffled and incessant cry of pain causing passers-by to keep their distance as they continued on their way.

  She must have remained there for ten minutes at least, though the final sounds had quickly drained out of her and her shoulders, which shook with every sob, gave the only clue that she was not just another bag of bones to be scooped off the street and deposited in a hastily dug hole. It was difficult for her to swallow and every time she tried coughing, her throat seemed to seize up. A hand touched her back, gently at first and then with a greater sense of urgency.

  ‘Are you alright there?’ the voice said. It was a woman. Kate didn’t hear her at first though when she repeated her question, she guessed it was an old lady. When she finally managed to look up, her eyes barely able to focus, her nose running with snot that she carelessly wiped on her sleeve, she could just about distinguish a face peering at her.

  Kate wiped her eyes with the same sleeve and looked again. The woman’s head was wrapped in a scarf, which gave her face a round, kindly shape. A few stray hairs hung limply from her chin while a heavier concentration gathered around her top lip, which she occasionally caressed with her tongue.

  ‘You’ll catch your death lying there, darling,’ the woman said. ‘Come on, I’ll help you up.’

  She touched Kate’s elbow and pushed it, encouraging her to stand up. Kate managed to put her body weight on her legs but almost stumbled over immediately. The old lady managed to keep her upright and Kate swayed back and forth like a flag in a summer’s breeze.

  ‘A wee cup of tea. That’s what you need,’ the woman said, beginning to steer Kate down the street, but she resisted.

  ‘I have to tell Thomas,’ she blurted out breathlessly.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Thomas. Now. I’ve got to go.’

  She broke free of the woman’s loose grip and stumbled back, muttering, ‘Thanks,’ as she retraced her steps towards the church house.

  Thomas had barely put the cup to his mouth when Kate burst into the room.

  ‘They’ve taken Mick,’ she shouted.

  Thomas almost dropped the cup and a few drops of tea splashed onto his trousers. Kate darted over as he placed the cup on the table beside his chair and grabbed his shoulder.

  ‘Did you hear me? Mick’s gone.’

  ‘But who – ?’

  ‘Who do you think? Duffy! We need to go. We need to find him. Now!’

  She almost dragged him up out of the armchair, ignoring the pain that flashed across her left hand. She could sense his reluctance and she glared at him, which seemed to inject a greater sense of urgency in him. Every second wasted here increased the danger for Mick. She tugged at his sleeve, almost pulling him towards the door.

  ‘Thomas, you must introduce me.’ Monsignor Dolan’s voice pierced the room and Kate glanced round to where the parish priest sat, legs crossed, his hands joined together as if in prayer, and wearing a frown that reminded her of the stern priests of her childhood.

  Kate froze and she could feel her jaw hanging open. She hastily shut her mouth, though her face was burning like the fires of hell and she stared at the scuffed toes of her shoes which peeked out from under the hem of her skirt.

  ‘Monsignor, this is … well, she’s … I mean…’

  ‘You must be our other house guest,’ the older man said, slowly standing up, the leather chair creaking painfully as he eased himself out of the seat. He held out his hand and nodded. She stretched out her own nervous hand, which Monsignor Dolan shook briefly but firmly.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said. ‘I’m Monsignor Dolan.’

  ‘Kate,’ Thomas blurted out. ‘This is Kate Riordan.’

  ‘So are you enjoying your stay here, Miss Riordan?’ Monsignor Dolan asked.

  ‘Yes, Father,’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s Monsignor,’ Thomas prompted.

  ‘That’s okay, Thomas,’ the parish priest said. ‘I don’t think we need to stand on ceremony. Now, I believe your brother might be in trouble, if I am to understand Miss Riordan. Is that the case?’

  Kate nodded.

  ‘Well, don’t let me detain you.’

  ‘Thanks, Peter,’ Thomas said as Kate smiled gratefully.

  ‘We’ll have a chat later on, Thomas. When you get back,’ Monsignor Dolan said as they disappeared out of the room. Kate glanced at Thomas, whose face seemed to be as pale as hers was crimson but she thought better of saying anything. When they got outside, they made their way back up to the corner where Mick had disappeared. Thomas walked alongside her, having to check his own stride every few steps so that he didn’t leave her behind. When they stopped, Kate took a few seconds to regain control of her breathing.

  ‘What now?’ Thomas said.

  ‘This is where they took him,’ Kate said.

  Thomas glanced around him and then shrugged. ‘So what do we do next?’

  ‘We have to go back to Duffy’s.’

  He raised his eyebrows and Kate stepped forward, grabbing hold of his arm.

  ‘We’ve got no choice.’

  She sensed him flinch at her touch and she let go of his sleeve, muttering, ‘Sorry, Father,’ and blushing again.

  He plunged his hands into his pocket, frowning as he began pacing back and forth in front of her. Kate watched him like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. Eventually he stopped in front of her and nodded.

  ‘We’ll go back to the house.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘We’ll go back just now and I’ll get some help. I don’t really think you and I would have much chance of success on our own, do you?’

  Kate shook her head reluctantly, though she knew he was right. If they went charging into Duffy’s place right now, it would just give him two more victims. She knew if he caught her again, she’d lose a lot more than a couple of fingers and Thomas’ dog collar wouldn’t protect him.

  ‘But you’ll need to be quick,’ she said. ‘Mick doesn’t have much time.’

  ‘I know, Kate,’ he said.

  She stared at him, as shocked as if he’d slapped her suddenly across the cheek. It was the first time he’d said her name and not sounded like he was embarrassed to be uttering it. She had to suppress a grin that threatened to burst out across her face as she saw his own face quickly regain its colour and much more besides, and she felt that she could warm her hands on his cheeks if she held them close enough.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked nervously. ‘What have I said?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, looking away.

  He brushed past her as he began walking back towards the church and she followed in his wake, not bothering trying to keep pace with him this time but also noticing that he wasn’t slowing down to wait for her either.

  The clo
ck had stopped. She was sure of it. Every time she stared at the face, it seemed like the hands hadn’t moved at all, even though she knew that wasn’t the case. She could hear it, the machinery hidden behind the grand exterior going through its noisy motions, letting her know that it was working and time was, indeed, moving on. She sat on the chair facing it, adopting a lonely and silent vigil. Thomas would sit, stand, pace up and down the room, disappear completely and then re-emerge five minutes later, shaking his head when he saw how little time had actually elapsed.

  Kate felt sick. Every second that Mick was gone left her feeling more worried and she feared that she’d never see him again. She wanted to speak, if only to break the tension hovering in the room but she couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t involve pleading with Thomas to go and look for his missing brother. He’d ignored all her other pleas so she was aware that any new ones would fall on deaf ears.

  He was waiting for O’Connor, the man who had rescued them before, but so far he hadn’t responded to the priest’s call for help. He’d sent out messages, stressing the urgency of the situation to those who he’d asked to deliver it, but it hadn’t made any difference.

  ‘I don’t understand it,’ he muttered, as much to the window as to Kate. ‘He usually never takes this long.’

  ‘Well, we can’t just sit here like this. We’ve got to do something.’

  There was an impatience in her voice which made Thomas frown. She knew she was stating the obvious but she stared him down until he looked away again out the window. Five more minutes, she thought, and then she was going to Duffy’s, with or without Thomas. With just seconds to spare, there was an urgent knocking at the door and Kate relaxed slightly, glad that she wasn’t going to have to face the danger on her own. Thomas rushed over to the door and pulled it open.

  A man stood, cap in hand, head bowed, his bare scalp wearing a purple splash like someone had squashed blackberries on it.

  ‘Where’s O’Connor?’ Thomas asked brusquely.

  ‘I’m sorry, Father,’ the man stuttered. ‘But you’d better come with me.’

  ‘I can’t. Not now. I’m waiting for O’Connor. It’s urgent.’

  ‘So is this, Father. O’Connor’s dead.’

  They could see the body lying in the middle of the road as soon as they turned the corner. Thomas jumped down from the cart and broke into a run as the man who’d accompanied them shouted, ‘Be careful, Father.’ Kate sat beside the man who steered the cart, though there was a storm in her stomach that felt like a rough crossing on the boat from Belfast. This was Duffy’s street and she feared she was heading towards her own death.

  When they reached the body, Thomas was already kneeling over it, muttering prayers that Kate vaguely recognised whenever the wind caught snatches of the incantations and carried them out into the air. She presumed it was O’Connor lying on the ground, though the face was bruised and bloodied and swollen beyond recognition. His arms were outstretched across a plank of wood with his hands nailed to either end. He was naked from the waist up and a pool of blood formed on the cobbles underneath the gaping wound in his side.

  Thomas had finished his prayers and shuffled over on his knees to examine O’Connor’s hand. He tugged on it gently and then stopped, glancing round.

  ‘We need to get him off the wood,’ he said in a voice that seemed on the verge of cracking. The man beside Kate brushed past her and knelt down beside the priest, quickly examining the same hand and then peering underneath the wood.

  ‘The nail’s gone right through,’ he muttered. ‘We’ll need pliers for sure unless we just pull…’

  Kate saw Thomas shake his head furiously and the man shrugged before moving over to examine the other hand. Kate knelt down beside Thomas and took off her shawl, crunching an edge up in her palm and then wetting it in her mouth. Gently she began wiping O’Connor’s face until pockets of flesh began to appear through the blood. She used different patches of the shawl until it was patterned with blotches of blood, but she continued her job quietly as Thomas’ helpless sighs echoed mournfully in her ears.

  ‘I’ll need to get some tools,’ the other man said after a few minutes, standing up and shaking his head as he glanced again at O’Connor. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  He started to walk away towards the cart when there was an angry clash of metal and stone and the three of them glanced round. A claw hammer lay on the ground just a few feet from O’Connor’s head. Kate was the first to look up. Duffy stood, arms folded, leaning on the wall at the mouth of the close and wearing a satisfied grin.

  ‘That’ll probably help you,’ he said.

  The other man snatched up the hammer and began trying to lever it under the nail head on O’Connor’s left hand.

  ‘Where’s Mick?’ Kate suddenly shouted, managing to suppress the fear that had gripped her body at the sight of Duffy, who just shrugged.

  ‘Where is he?’ she screamed, moving towards him and only held back by Thomas’ firm grip.

  ‘Still as fiery as ever Kate,’ Duffy said. ‘I’m glad you’ve come back to me.’

  Kate pushed forward again but Thomas kept hold of her arm while continuing to stare at the giant who still leant against the tenement. A sudden creak caused them both to look round. The other man had managed to free the first nail from both the wood and O’Connor’s hand, though patches of flesh clung to the thin piece of iron. He took O’Connor’s arm and slowly laid it across his bare chest before transferring his attention to the other hand, which remained attached to the wood.

  ‘I want my brother back,’ Thomas said in a firm voice.

  Duffy shrugged.

  ‘Did you hear what I said?’

  Duffy pushed himself off the wall and stretched to his full height.

  ‘I don’t think this is a place to be making demands, Father,’ he said.

  ‘I just want my brother.’

  Duffy limped towards them, retrieving a small tin from his jacket pocket as he did so and pushing a cigarette into his mouth. Lighting it, he blew a heavy cloud of smoke towards Thomas and Kate.

  ‘Well, you’ve got something of mine, Father,’ he said, nodding at Kate. Thomas immediately stepped in front of her and Duffy laughed coldly.

  ‘How very gallant of you, Father,’ he said. ‘I’m sure she’ll reward you later. Well, if the collections have been good enough.’ He laughed again as he flicked away the cigarette which had almost vanished within a couple of seconds.

  ‘So what about a trade then, Father?’

  Thomas shook his head and gently squeezed Kate’s arm, which he still held.

  ‘Oh well, God loves a trier as they say,’ Duffy said with a smirk.

  ‘I’m not leaving without my brother,’ Thomas said, his voice still steady though Kate, almost pressed against him, could feel his whole body trembling and she hoped Duffy wouldn’t notice.

  ‘You’re either brave or stupid, Father, but I’m wondering if you’ve noticed your friend there,’ he said, nodding towards O’Connor, whose body was now released from the wood. ‘That’s what can happen to brave, stupid people around here.’

  Duffy had stopped just a couple of feet from them, and he leant heavily on one leg, a brief glimpse of pain flashing across his face and Kate realised he was still feeling the effects of the wound Mick had inflicted on him. If he stretched out his long arm now he’d be able to grab her and she inched her way behind Thomas’ shoulder, even though she knew the priest would be flung aside like a bale of hay if Duffy wanted to get to her.

  The cart driver coughed and Kate glanced round. He stood over O’Connor, who’d now been released from his wooden cross. Both arms were laid across his chest and Kate could see the holes in the back of his hands, which still seemed to her to be weeping with blood. She knew, even as a shudder rippled through her body at the thought, that O’Connor would have been alive when the nails were hammered into his hands.

  She wondered whether he was married. Someone would have to te
ll his wife – Thomas probably – though she was sure he’d spare the gory details. Or maybe he lived alone? She hadn’t really even had a chance to thank him for saving her life before he’d vanished as quietly and quickly as when he’d arrived in front of Duffy’s house with a gun in his hand and a cart to escape.

  This was his reward and she felt guilty, even as her thoughts returned to Mick. If Duffy had done this to O’Connor, what did he have planned for the man who’d actually stabbed him? She bit her tongue to stop any tears escaping – she didn’t want Duffy to see how scared she was, and as she pressed down on it, she could taste the blood beginning to swirl around in her mouth.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ Duffy said, lighting another cigarette.

  Thomas shrugged. ‘I already told you, I’m not leaving without my brother.’

  ‘And I’ve told you to be careful what you say around here.’

  ‘I don’t think you want the hassle that would come with a dead priest, do you?’

  ‘Don’t tempt me, Father,’ Duffy laughed. ‘But here’s the thing. I don’t have your brother. I can see you don’t believe me but there you go.’

  ‘Why should I believe you?’

  ‘Trust me, Father, if I meet him again, it’ll mean more work for you arranging another funeral. So take this chance to leave here while I’m in a good mood and you still can. And don’t worry, Kate, I’m sure we’ll meet again soon … now that I know where to find you.’

  He turned and limped back towards the building as Thomas tugged her shoulder and they shuffled over to O’Connor’s body.

  ‘So where is he?’ she whispered.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Thomas said, shaking his head. ‘Maybe they’ve caught him.’

  ‘Who are “they”?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Thomas!’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ he said quickly, avoiding eye contact. ‘Come on. Let’s get O’Connor out of here.’

  He leant down and gripped the dead man’s ankles as the cart driver took his shoulders and they lifted the body gently up and into the back of the cart as Kate climbed up onto the seats at the front. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine how she’d feel when they were doing the same thing with Mick’s body and now she didn’t try to stop the tears escaping.