Spit Against the Wind

by Anna Smith

  ‘Wait a minute, tiger! Jesus! You’re a strong one!’ Dessie was saying as Tony was still throwing punches and kicking even when he held him in mid air.

  Billy staggered to his feet and tried to kick out at Tony, but his foot was grabbed by Kevin and he fell to the ground again.

  ‘Do you not know when you’re beat, son?’ Kevin said. ‘Now away to your mammy and get your nose wiped.’

  ‘Fuck off you. I’ll get my da down and he’ll sort you out,’ Billy was saying as he backed off. His lip was burst and his nose looked broken.

  ‘Aye! Well ye’d better tell him to bring the rest of the Lodge, ‘cos your da couldn’t beat Casey’s drums. Now piss off home before I lose my temper.’ Kevin lunged at Billy, who ran backwards giving him a two-fingered gesture of defiance.

  Tony, Jamie and Dan looked like warriors. There was blood on their clothes and Tony’s knuckles were bruised. Big Dessie finally put him down and he turned away, tears in his eyes. He walked off quickly past the bus stop and in the direction of the village. We all went with him, Kevin and Dessie walking behind us. Then Kevin and Dessie stopped, said something to each other and Dessie waved and went in the other direction, towards the pub they must have been in.

  Kevin walked after us as we ran after Tony. When we caught up with him, he was sitting on a wall at the side of the road with his head in his hands, crying. We all sat down quietly.

  ‘You all right, son?’ Kevin said, trying to ruffle Tony’s hair, but he flicked his hand away and sniffed.

  ‘Leave me! Leave me alone!’ Tony fumbled with stones in his hand, then chipped one into the distance.

  We all stood around in silence, awkward. Jamie broke the ice.

  ‘Hey, Tony! Cowan was killin’ you if I hadn’t jumped in!’ Jamie had his cheekiest smile on as he provoked Tony. It worked.

  ‘That’ll be right! My ass! He would have been history if he hadn’t pulled me off him.’ Tony gestured at Kevin, who sat with his arms folded, mildly amused.

  ‘Aye, that’s right! I’ll tell you this much, Keenan. You’ve got a big future with those fists of yours. Only thing is, if you were a boxer, something tells me you wouldn’t hear the bell!’ Kevin said.

  ‘And what about Dan? Jesus, Dan, I didn’t know you could fight. You were jumpin’ about there like Rocky Marciano!’ Jamie danced around, shadow-boxing with Dan, who was ducking and diving.

  The atmosphere picked up. Tony stood up and wiped some blood off his lip, spat and pulled a cigarette from a packet in his top pocket. He sucked in the smoke and blew it out hard. He looked at me through the cloud of smoke and I smiled at him. He smiled back.

  ‘C’mon, let’s walk to the next bus stop and get home,’ I said, wanting to be back on my own ground.

  But Kevin stayed sitting on the wall.

  ‘Listen, guys,’ he said, motioning us to stay where we were. ‘Listen. Er … I want to talk to you about Father Flynn.’ Kevin looked at Dan. I was shocked. Dan looked at me as though I had committed an act of treachery.

  ‘Kath! Kath! God’s sake! What did you tell him for?’ Dan gasped, his voice high and stunned.

  I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him that it just slipped out, that I didn’t mean to tell. To tell him that I didn’t mean any harm and that it would be all right because Kevin wouldn’t do anything. But inside, I couldn’t believe Kevin had brought this up. Before I got the chance to say anything, Kevin spoke. His voice was in command, gentle but firm. Everybody listened. Everybody loved Kev and they knew he would never do anything to hurt them.

  ‘Just hold on a minute. Don’t get all excited. I want to talk to you, to all of you, about this bastard Flynn. Now, Dan, don’t worry. Nobody will ever know what went on. But for you and for the rest of the wee boys that this is happening to, I’m going to get rid of Flynn. Somebody has to. And I can do it, I know I can. It’s right. But you have to trust me. You have to believe that I can fix it. And most of all, you have to tell the truth.’

  ‘I’m not going to no police!’ Dan said, nervously. ‘They’ll just take me away and put me in a home or something. No way!’

  Kevin put his hand out and touched Dan’s shoulder.

  ‘Dan, listen to me. There will be no police. No way. I won’t put you in that situation. But I’m telling you one thing. If Flynn is kissing you just now … well, in six months he’ll be doing much more.’ Everything went silent as we took in Kevin’s words. We tried to picture what that meant. Much more. We knew stories of people who had slipped into bed beside their nieces and nephews, men and guys you just thought were all right, until you heard that. We tried to picture what Father Flynn would be doing. But we couldn’t. It was still unthinkable that he was actually kissing the altar boys. Dan looked white and his eyes filled with tears.

  ‘He already is,’ he said, his head going down.

  ‘Bastard!’ said Jamie. ‘C’mon, we’ll go and pan all his windows in!’

  ‘No! We won’t do that,’ Kevin said.

  ‘What can we do?’ I said. ‘Who’s going to believe Dan? Everybody thinks Father Flynn is a saint.’

  ‘Yeah, Kevin. What can you do? Nothin’, that’s what,’ Tony said, throwing his fag end into the air and kicking it.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong!’ Kevin looked at Dan. He put his arm around his shoulder. Dan sniffed and kept his head down. Suddenly it all came home to me. The bed-wetting, the nail-biting and the look he always had lately. I thought it was because his dad had died. But it was more than that. Much more.

  Kevin spoke, softly. ‘We’re going to the Bishop! Today! Right up to his big fancy house, and we’re going to sit him down and tell him what is going on. What do you think, Dan?’

  ‘He’ll tell my mammy and I’ll get killed. What if I get put in a boys’ home?’

  ‘Listen, son,’ Kevin said. ‘Trust me. I know these people. I know how they like things kept quiet. They won’t want a scandal. But they’ll get rid of Flynn and that’s the most important thing. But you need to be brave, and you need to tell that Bishop everything that is happening and who else it is happening to. Do you understand?’

  There was a silence. Everybody looked at Dan. His face was terrified at first, but then he looked angry. He glanced up at Kevin.

  ‘Will you be there, Kev?’ Dan said.

  ‘We’ll all be there, son. Every one of us,’ Kevin said, looking around us all.

  We all looked at each other. We didn’t know what to say. But we were going with Kevin to the Bishop’s house, that much we did know.

  Chapter Eleven

  We had to walk for ten minutes across town until we got to the big private road that led to the Bishop’s house. This was the first time I had been as far away as this without my mum. I had only ever been allowed to go on the bus to the town nearest the village if I was going to the pictures or the café, but now it felt as though we were nearly in Glasgow. I saw a sign for Hamilton, but I had no real idea where I was. The journey on the bus had seemed like an age, and we hardly spoke a word. I sat beside Tony, who smoked two cigarettes but said nothing. Kevin sat with Dan, who stared out of the window most of the time. We went through small villages then countryside until the faster road that led to the town where the Bishop lived. Every now and again on the journey, I noticed that Kevin would pat Dan’s arm reassuringly, and Dan would look at him and try to smile. But there was no smile there. Not like the way it used to be, before his dad died and before any of this stuff came out about Father Flynn. I wondered how long it had been happening for. I felt angry. Jamie said nothing. He just sat with knees up on the seat in front, staring out of the window. The skin was broken on his knuckles and he picked at it. I knew that he was thinking about his mum and what Cowan had said about her going to the ‘laughing academy’. That was what they called the mental hospital and it was where they took you if you went crazy. A lot of people had gone crazy in the past few years. I heard people say it was the Valium or something. But Mary McCabe never seemed the type to be cra
zy. She was always working and having a laugh with the neighbours. Everyone asked her to parties because she was a great singer, but they were always afraid because if Jake was with her he would always pick a fight at the end of the night and she would end up getting a black eye. But lately she had been doing funny things. People had seen her crying and walking the streets late at night on her own. I sat next to her at mass once and the tears rolled down her cheeks and she had to get up and go outside.

  Jamie was always worried about her and tried to help in the house by running to the shops and sometimes even cooking chips for his sister and brother’s dinner, because his dad was drunk and his mum was upstairs crying. I wished Kevin could fix it for Jamie too, but I knew he couldn’t.

  *

  We all stopped in our tracks when we saw the Bishop’s house. I had never seen a house as big as this in real life. It was like a castle, with turrets and little windows and what looked like a tower at the very top of the building.

  ‘That must be where he keeps the people who don’t put enough money into the plate,’ Kevin said, half joking, half bitter.

  The street on the way up to the private road he lived in was lined with big old trees with fat leaves on them and the houses were huge stone efforts with wide windows and lawns that looked like tennis courts. There were no people though. I assumed they would be sitting inside on velvet chairs with their china cups drinking tea and reading great big newspapers. I wondered where the children were. I never knew any rich children and it would have been good to see what they looked like and what they wore.

  We walked up the driveway, the gravel scrunching under our feet. I felt my hands go sweaty. Dan took Kevin’s hand. Tony, Jamie and me all looked at each other, then at the house. Nobody was sure what was going to happen. I was thinking that maybe we had made a mistake. Maybe we should have written the Bishop a letter. I hadn’t seen him since my confirmation and he seemed like a good man, making us all laugh with his big cheery face, before he gave us the gentle slap on the cheek that was meant to be for all the sins we had committed. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet him like this. If my mum and dad ever found out I was here, they would kill me stone dead.

  It was too late though. Kevin was already banging the huge brass knocker against the vast dark brown door. We waited. We were hardly breathing. I felt my mouth go dry.

  To my relief, a woman opened the door. She was older than my mum, but quite nice-looking, with greying hair and lovely soft blue eyes.

  ‘Hallo!’ Kevin said, straightening up. ‘Bishop O’Toole there? Er … we’d like to speak to Bishop O’Toole,’ he said as if he was somebody.

  ‘Oh! Er … I don’t think so. Have you an appointment?’ The woman looked confused and worried because she couldn’t remember making an appointment for the Bishop to see a big guy and four kids.

  ‘Well, no, we don’t have an appointment actually. But it is very important, and urgent, and we have to see the Bishop right now. So could you go and get him please!’ Kevin sounded like a much older man. The woman looked a bit intimidated.

  ‘But Bishop O’Toole has people coming for dinner and he’s busy right now. If you haven’t an appointment then you’ll have to come back on Monday and I’ll make some time for you then.’ She stepped back into the house, but Kevin put his foot in the door.

  ‘Listen, missus, I don’t care if the Pope of Rome is coming to dinner! Could you just go in there and tell the Bishop I want to see him as a matter of urgency. And tell him it’s about Flynn … er, Father Flynn.’ I could see the anger and the colour rising in Kevin’s face as his voice got louder.

  Just at that point, as the woman was shrinking back, a voice came from inside the house.

  ‘What is it, Mrs Mulhearn? Who’s there? What the blue blazes is all the shouting?’ Suddenly Bishop O’Toole appeared, like a vision from the shadows of the hallway. He looked irritated. He was in his shirtsleeves, but still with his dog collar. I was quite surprised because I assumed priests always wore jackets all the time. I hardly recognized him without his big hat and all the robes he had on that day of the confirmation. But I knew his voice straight away. It was soft and Irish and he sounded as though he was singing when he spoke. He appeared at Mrs Mulhearn’s shoulder. We all swallowed hard as his eyes flicked around the group standing determinedly on his doorstep. His eyes finally rested on Kevin, who was holding Dan’s hand. I could see Dan’s knees shaking.

  The Bishop’s expression changed and became softer, but he looked suspicious. He pulled open the door and Mrs Mulhearn stepped away.

  ‘My name is Kevin Slaven and this is Dan Lafferty … er … your … er … Bishop O’Toole.’ Kevin couldn’t bring himself to say ‘your Grace’ to the Bishop.

  ‘Yes, boys. What can I do for you?’

  ‘We want to talk to you about Father Flynn … er … Bishop,’ Kevin said, standing his ground.

  The Bishop looked at everyone then at Dan. Dan’s face went white. He took a step back. Kevin held on to his hand tightly. The Bishop stepped back from the door and opened it wide.

  ‘Well, now, you’d better come in, hadn’t you?’ He motioned us all inside. ‘Follow me, lads … and lasses,’ he said, striding down the hall. ‘Mrs Mulhearn? Bring some orange squash for our visitors, please, to my study.’

  *

  The Bishop sat down behind the big desk, pushing his chair back to make room for his stomach. His cheeks were pinkish and jowly and he had full red lips which he licked and seemed to nibble with his teeth as his eyes surveyed the five visitors who had invaded his privacy. He took a deep breath and pushed his wavy black hair back from his forehead. He stroked the crown of his head as if he was trying to make sure it was still there. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked like a time bomb in what seemed like a never-ending silence. The four of us stood in a row facing the desk, with Kevin a step in front of us facing the Bishop. Tony, Jamie, Dan and me all exchanged glances. Dan looked at the floor. His knees were still shaking.

  ‘Now then!’ The Bishop spoke. He motioned us to chairs a few feet away from his desk. ‘Sit down, boys and girls.’ His eyes softened when he looked at me. I tried to smile back. ‘Now! Tell me your names again.’ He smiled inquisitively.

  Kevin turned to us as we sat on the high-backed dark brown wooden chairs, our legs dangling inches from the floor. He pointed all of us out and told the Bishop who we were.

  Bishop O’Toole sat with his hands clasped over his stomach. I looked around the room. It was dark and shadowy with chairs and tables you could see your face in. I could smell the leather and the furniture polish. The sun streaming through the stained-glass window made brilliant blue and gold colours on the papers that lay on the Bishop’s desk.

  A huge picture of the Sacred Heart with its flaming heart exposed looked kindly down at us. Dan was staring at it as if it was going to talk to him. There were other oil paintings in the room of saints and one massive painting that looked like the story of the resurrection of Christ with the stone pushed away from the tomb and all sorts of people walking around with surprised and peaceful looks on their faces, and with Jesus like a ghostly figure amongst them, his halo glowing in the sunlight. It was a beautiful room, but it felt cold and a shiver ran through me.

  ‘Well now, Kevin.’ The Bishop leaned forward. ‘You want to talk to me about Father Flynn? What’s the problem? He’s a fine priest and a good man. I’m sure you know that. But what have you come to tell me, Kevin?’ Bishop O’Toole’s voice was gentle and fatherly.

  Kevin took a deep breath and straightened himself up. He pushed his hair back.

  ‘Well, Bishop, you see, it’s very delicate … er … and I have to tell you that I don’t come here lightly, with some daft complaint. It is a very serious matter. Er … well, there’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll just say it … Father Flynn is interfering with the altar boys, sexually, and I’ve come here to tell you so that you can do something about it.’

  The Bishop’s face flushed, then he we
nt pale around the mouth. He breathed deeply through his nose like a bull ready to charge. I swallowed hard. The clock seemed to tick louder. Dan stared at the Sacred Heart. Tony stared at the Bishop and Jamie looked at his feet swinging beneath him.

  The Bishop sounded completely calm. ‘And what evidence do you have of this very serious allegation, Kevin?’ He sat back and looked across at the stained-glass window.

  Dan shifted in his seat. Kevin spoke. ‘I have the evidence, Bishop, of a young boy, Dan Lafferty, who is sitting here and absolutely terrified because of the whole business.’ Kevin turned and looked at Dan, who looked from him to the Bishop.

  ‘And exactly where and how is this happening?’ the Bishop said. ‘And exactly what has been done about it? I mean, has the young boy Dan spoken to his parents, or to police? Or has he just told his pals?’ There was an edge of sarcasm in the Bishop’s voice. It riled Kevin.

  ‘No, Bishop O’Toole. Dan hasn’t spoken to the police. He’s ten years old, for God’s sake. He wouldn’t know where to start. But by God he’s telling the truth. He’s a good lad from a fine Catholic family, and his father was just killed at the pit. Now I expect he’ll get a hearing from yourself, because he’s not the only boy it is happening to.’

  The Bishop’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘You mean there are others apparently being defiled at the hands of your parish priest? Well now, Kevin, this is indeed a serious affair, a most serious affair.’ The Bishop was trying to keep calm, but his voice was beginning to crack.

  ‘Yes, there are other altar boys. It’s not just Dan. Apparently he pulls them on to his knee in the sacristy after mass and kisses them. But according to Dan, he actually does more than that,’ Kevin said.

  The Bishop pushed his chair back and eased himself to his feet. He looked massive. He walked from behind his desk, his shoes clicking on the highly polished wooden floor. He stood facing all of us, with Kevin standing at his side.