Saints and Sinners

by Paul Cuddihy

  ‘Mick couldn’t have known,’ she whispered as a stray tear escaped from the corner of her eye and crawled down her cheek.

  She knew she wasn’t going back to her old life, however. That was gone for good and she was determined that a new city would mean a new start. She also realised that if she did go back, Duffy would kill her. He’d done it to plenty of girls in the past – she didn’t even remember all their names – and he’d think nothing of doing it to her. Duffy always warned that she couldn’t hide from him, but she still hoped that he wouldn’t come after her.

  ‘You’ll be safe in Liverpool,’ Thomas had told her. ‘My friend has arranged a job as a maid for you, with somewhere to stay as well, and as far as anyone knows, you’ve just arrived from Donegal. There will be no mention of Glasgow to anyone.’

  Kate had finished her tea – it seemed like that’s all she did these days. The only other times she’d drunk that much tea was whenever someone had died back home. The house was as tidy as it could possibly get, yet she unmade her mattress and then began slowly to smooth out the cover and fold it across the bed again.

  She’d just finished patting down the pillow when there was a knock on the door. Perhaps this was the day when she was to leave and Thomas was here to take her safely to the train station? Now that it had finally arrived, she realised she was glad to be leaving Glasgow. There was nothing to keep her here anymore and the city just seemed to be crammed full of unhappy memories for her. It was time for a new beginning and there was a spring in her step as she headed for the door, looking forward to seeing Thomas again and now eager to be on her way. What belongings she did own were already packed into a small case that Mrs Breslin had given to her, so she was ready to go now. She wouldn’t even bother waiting to say goodbye to Eileen. Thomas could do that later, along with her gratitude for having given her a safe place to stay.

  Kate opened the door and saw a ghost.

  ‘Hello, Kate.’

  She stumbled back, still hanging onto the door handle and Mick gripped her free arm to steady her. She knew it was Mick from the fresh cut on his temple and the arm which still hung loosely at his side, though he did not smile the way he always had before whenever he saw her. His pupils darted nervously in their sockets, not keen to catch her own gaze, where before he’d always stared into her eyes and told her they were so beautiful he would gladly have died a happy man at that very moment.

  ‘Can I come in?’ he said and she nodded, still trying to find her voice.

  He guided her over to the table and she sat down. He took the seat opposite her and lit a cigarette with trembling fingers. She ran her hands through her hair and stared at him through the cloud of smoke that now enveloped him. Was he really here in this room with her or was it a dream? She’d heard stories of people being visited by their loved ones just after they’d passed away, the dead returning to bid their final farewells before continuing their journey to wherever it was they ended up – heaven, though in Mick’s case, she doubted that’s where he’d go.

  ‘How are you?’ he said.

  She stretched out a hand and touched his arm, running her fingers up and down it before nipping the skin. He flinched but there was also the flicker of a grin that appeared on his face. He was real. He felt real. She wouldn’t have been able to touch a ghost, and could ghosts smoke? Still, she couldn’t find her voice and just shook her head a few times.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

  She looked at him again, more closely this time, almost demanding that he meet her gaze and hold it. Eventually, she blinked and looked away.

  ‘What for?’ she whispered.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What are you sorry for?’

  ‘For everything. For not telling you the whole story, for getting you involved.’

  ‘For Agnes?’

  ‘Of course, for Agnes.’

  Kate sighed and sat back. How could someone she’d pictured dangling from the gallows now be sitting here beside her, so close that she could almost kiss him without even having to lean in? There was part of her that wanted to do just that and her heart felt like it was doing somersaults. Yet, he might think everything was okay then and that he’d been forgiven and that wasn’t the case either.

  ‘How … how did you escape?’

  ‘I didn’t. They let me go.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, sort of,’ Mick said with a shrug. ‘I’ve got about a week before they come after me again.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Walsh.’

  ‘But he already had you. Why did he let you go?’

  ‘They caught Dan Foley,’ he said. ‘Thomas helped them.’

  ‘Is he okay?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Thomas?’

  ‘He’s fine,’ said Mick. ‘God knows how many times he’s saved my life now, but I know I’ll never be able to pay him back.’

  ‘I thought that was him just now, at the door,’ said Kate. ‘He’s got me a job and a room in Liverpool.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So why did they let you go?’ Kate asked, tugging his arm and then keeping her hand on it.

  ‘Thomas made a deal with them that if they let me go, he’d tell them where Dan Foley was.’

  ‘So you’re free now? It’s all over?’

  ‘Not quite,’ Mick said. ‘Walsh was paid to bring me back to Ireland, remember? And that’s what he’s still planning to do. So he’s given me a few days’ head start. He’s in Ireland now with Foley, and when that’s all finished, he’s coming back over here to get me.’

  ‘Oh God.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be long gone from here by then. He’ll not find me again.’

  Kate sat back and for a few minutes there was silence in the room. Mick had finished one cigarette and immediately lit another one and she found the smell of the smoke strangely comforting, breathing it in deeply as it swirled around her head. There were a million and one questions dancing in her head though she couldn’t get any of them out, and all the time she kept thinking of Agnes and James, which would make her angry at Mick. Then she’d remember how he made her feel and how she longed to kiss that map of Ireland just one more time, and it pushed her mind into turmoil.

  It was like she was thinking about two different men, though if was as easy as that, then she’d be able to forget about the Mick who had delivered Agnes Flaherty to her inevitable death, and just concentrate on the Mick who made her laugh and smile and feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. She wanted to go back to when it was just the two of them in the chapel house, lying in bed. She’d be resting her head on his chest as it rose and fell; he was in a contented sleep while she was glad to be awake, knowing that her dreams would not make her as happy as the way she felt right at that very minute.

  Would she ever be that happy again? Would anyone love her the way Mick did, and could she bear to go through all that just to find out that, at the end of it all, there was only pain?

  ‘I want you to come with me,’ he said at last.

  She stared at him, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

  ‘I’m going back to Ireland,’ he said.

  ‘Ireland? Are you crazy? They’ll catch you for sure if you do that.’

  Mick grinned and Kate felt another somersault in her heart.

  ‘Well, I figure Walsh will come back here and then, when he can’t find me, he’ll head for Liverpool and then London. He’ll never think to look for me in Ireland. As you say, who’d be crazy enough to go back there?’

  ‘You’re not going home, though?’

  ‘I have a cousin who’s a farmer in Cork. There’ll be work for me there.’

  Kate shook her head, but she couldn’t help smiling. He was a daft Galway boy but his plan just about made sense. As long as she knew he was safe, then she’d feel better, even if the Irish Sea continued to separate them.

  ‘So will you come with me then?’

  She shrugged.
<
br />   ‘I know I don’t deserve another chance, Kate,’ he said. ‘And I won’t blame you for saying no but I love you and I don’t want to spend another minute without you, never mind the rest of my life.’

  ‘But what you did…’

  ‘I know, and I’ll never forgive myself, so I don’t blame you not forgiving me either. But I want you to come with me. I need you to come with me.’

  ‘I don’t know…’

  ‘Please, Kate.’

  She looked at him again, and there was a tiny spark in his eyes that she locked onto, knowing it was something to treasure. Thomas had arranged a new life for her in Liverpool and that was the sensible choice to make, but it would be a lonely life with little or no prospect of that ever changing. She didn’t think she’d ever forget what Mick had done, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever really forgive him, but she also knew that she’d never be able to get that map of Ireland out of her mind.

  ‘So will you come with me then?’ he asked.

  She sighed. ‘I’ll put the kettle on and we’ll have a cup of tea and talk about it some more.’

  28

  HEART AND SOUL

  Thomas knew in his mind that this was going to be a day like no other, even though it had started with him waking at seven o’clock in the morning as usual. He lay in bed for ten minutes before pushing himself out from under the covers into the chilly early morning temperature that filled his room. His feet touched the cold wooden floor but he found it strangely invigorating as he almost danced towards the door, heading for the bathroom at the other end of the corridor.

  He was always first to get up on Sundays, and that wasn’t just because he said eight o’clock Mass. He found it impossible to sleep any longer than his body normally allowed and by the time he had returned from the bathroom, cleansed by the cold water he splashed on his face, he was ready for the day ahead. Still, on both journeys to and from his room, he crept past Monsignor Dolan’s door, anxious to avoid provoking the parish priest’s anger by waking him before he was ready to get up of his own accord.

  Back in his bedroom, Thomas quickly dressed, realising that he only had two more days at St Alphonsus’ before he had to leave. It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet that he was being sent away to Benbecula. It meant nothing to him. The Archbishop could have as well said Botany Bay or Ellis Island for all the difference it would make. As far as Thomas was concerned, it sounded like the end of the world and he felt like his banishment was taking him away from everything and everyone he cared about.

  It was why he knew that today was going to be different, because he had decided to speak up. Now that he was leaving, what was the point of holding everything in? That hadn’t done him any good thus far and he was tormented at what could be or even what probably would never be. No more, he had decided while lying in bed last night. Today was a day for finding out. The thought was enough to make him feel sick and his mind continued to wrestle with the positives and negatives of his course of action, even after he’d finished getting dressed and headed down to prepare the church for Mass. He decided against eating anything, fearing that it would only make him sick, though he knew at some point later in the day he might regret it. Then again, he would probably have other things on his mind.

  Thomas prepared the altar methodically, laying out the cloths and the candles like it was second nature to him. There were never too many people at the first Mass of the day but whether it was one person or a congregation of a thousand, they all deserved the same effort. He stood behind the altar and looked out into the empty church. Most of the time he had his back to the people as he performed the rituals of holy Mass, ones he’d followed as a boy, taking comfort from the pomp and ceremony of the occasion. That feeling had never left him, even after his ordination, and celebrating Mass remained the highlight of his vocation.

  Yet, he couldn’t shake off the guilt that now seemed to cling to his body like an unwelcome cloak of stale smoke. For, even as he celebrated Mass and read the Gospel and preached to the people and consecrated the body and blood of Christ, he was thinking of Kate.

  Those thoughts slid up and down the scale of impurity, depending, it seemed to Thomas, on how many garments of clothing she wore in his fantasies. The first time he had imagined what it was like to kiss her, he should have immediately headed to the confessional box in the hope that Monsignor Dolan would give him absolution, or at least offer some advice or hope that the feelings would eventually evaporate.

  The parish priest had asked for his own absolution for betraying Mick, but Thomas had told him there was no need. The old man was crying as he tried to explain what had happened. He’d been faced with the prospect of his own banishment if he didn’t help Father McNeill and, at his age, such a move was a virtual death sentence.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Thomas,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t be,’ Thomas said. ‘You’ve been a good friend and I know you did what you felt you had to do.’

  He’d handed Monsignor Dolan a handkerchief to dry his eyes and there was an awkward silence between the two men before Thomas held out his hand.

  ‘I’m going to miss you,’ he said, and the Monsignor grasped his hand gratefully, nodding as more tears poured down his cheeks.

  Thomas wasn’t surprised at his own punishment. He’d been summoned to the Cathedral just a couple of days after his confrontation with Father McNeill and he half expected that he’d be sacked. That would have been a messy option, however, and the Archbishop was much cleverer than that.

  Even as he’d strode out of the Chancellor’s office, having left him bloodied and battered on the floor of his office, Thomas knew there would be a price to pay. There was no way he would be allowed to challenge the authority of the Church, threaten it even, and then expect to get away with it. So he was leaving Glasgow for good, banished to some God-forsaken place that he’d never heard of.

  ‘You’ll like the Western Isles,’ the Archbishop had said without looking up at him as he stood before his desk. ‘I spent many enjoyable times there before I came to this city. And Father McNeill will put in a good word for you, I’m sure.’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace,’ Thomas muttered.

  ‘It can be good to take some time to reflect on life, Thomas,’ the Archbishop said. ‘Everything seems to move so quickly these days, don’t you think? How often do we get the chance to actually sit down and examine our consciences, asking ourselves whether what we did was right or wrong? Benbecula will give you that opportunity.’

  ‘Thank you, Your Grace.’

  ‘Our Church has been around for nearly nineteen hundred years now, Thomas. We endure, sustained by the truth of God’s word. It would be a foolish man who’d think he could challenge God’s power on earth and that there would be no repercussions for that.’

  Thomas nodded. It was just the two of them in the room. There was no sign of Father McNeill, who was normally never too far away from his boss. Perhaps they both feared more violence if Thomas saw the Chancellor again, but he knew that angry moment had long since passed. The Archbishop looked up, tapping the Bible that sat on the desk in front of him.

  ‘Saint Paul, as you know, can be so perceptive,’ he said. ‘And it was his letter to the Romans which came to mind today … “That is why you must not let sin reign in your mortal bodies or command your obedience to bodily passions, why you must not let any part of your body turn into an unholy weapon fighting on the side of sin; you should, instead, offer yourself to God, and consider yourselves dead men brought back to life; you should make every part of your body into a weapon fighting on the side of God, and then sin will no longer dominate your life, since you are living by grace and not by law.”’

  ‘Quite appropriate, don’t you think?’ The Archbishop closed the Bible over and slowly stood up. ‘I doubt we’ll meet again, Thomas,’ holding out his hand. Thomas bowed slowly and then leant forward to kiss the large gold ring on the Archbishop’s index finger. ‘But you will be in my prayers.’

  ‘Than
k you, Your Grace,’ Thomas said, even though he didn’t believe it.

  Thomas was heading for Eileen’s house now, feeling nervous and excited and sick all at once. Several times he stopped, trying to calm his breathing, and once he actually turned round and started walking back to St Alphonsus’, telling himself that what he’d been about to do was crazy. Yet, he turned back after a few steps and began walking towards the house again. He had to tell her. He knew that in his mind. Whatever else he would do in his life he had to be sure that she knew how he felt. He didn’t want to be tortured with regrets, and even though his heart and his head were telling him that it would be a painful experience, he was still charging blindly towards it.

  At least he knew his brother was safe, or as safe as he could be. By the time Walsh returned to Glasgow, Mick would be far-gone, back to the one place he’d probably never think of looking for him. Thomas had joked that he should go home to Ireland, but while Mick had laughed at the idea, they both realised that it made sense. Walsh seemed to relish the chase and was confident that he’d catch up with Mick again. He’d not be looking in Cork for a while, thought Thomas with a smile, hoping his brother would be able to keep his head down and out of trouble.

  Now there was just Kate. She was going to Liverpool and once she’d boarded that train, he knew he would never see her again. Would he go with her? He hadn’t really thought about the future, beyond the next fifteen minutes when he would speak to her, but occasionally he would allow just a hint of optimism to creep into his thoughts, a picture of the two of them together flashing briefly in his mind before it evaporated.