Spit Against the Wind

by Anna Smith

  ‘And you, Dan,’ he said, looking at Dan. ‘Do you want to tell me all about this, my child? Do you want to tell me all about the terrible things that Father Flynn is supposed to be doing to you?’

  There was a look in Dan’s eyes that I hadn’t seen since the day of the school trip when he told us about Father Flynn. I could see that he sensed the Bishop didn’t believe him and there was anger building up in him. We all watched him, waiting for him to answer, willing him to be brave.

  He looked at the picture of the Sacred Heart, then to the Bishop. Dan took a deep breath and spoke.

  ‘Yes, your Grace.’ His voice quivered a little. ‘Yes, I’ll tell you. Er … Father Flynn has been kissing me on the face in the sacristy. He just does it all the time now. I know there are other boys because they talk about it and they call him a big poof.’

  Tony looked at me, his eyes wide. The Bishop blushed to the roots of his hair.

  ‘That’s a disgraceful way to talk, boy! You should have your mouth washed out with soap!’ He spat the words out and turned away from us, walking towards the window.

  But Dan wasn’t finished.

  ‘I don’t care! I don’t care what you say, your Grace! It’s true! I’m just saying what the other boys call him. But he does kiss us, honest, and … er … that’s not all.’ Dan’s voice began to shake. I could see tears welling up in his eyes.

  The Bishop turned his head slowly towards us and he started to walk across the floor.

  ‘Well? Come on, lad, let’s hear it.’ He faced Dan.

  Dan burst into tears, his whole body shaking. I thought I was going to explode with rage and fear.

  ‘Leave him!’ I said, putting my arm around Dan’s shoulder as the Bishop stood over us.

  But Dan spoke through his tears. He pulled himself away from me.

  ‘He … er … h … he puts his hand inside my shirt and under my vest and rubs my chest!’ He sobbed, his voice angry and desperate. ‘I hate it! I hate him! He kissed me right on the lips when he did that! I hate him. I wet the bed and everything now! Oh God! Oh God! Make him stop!’ Dan’s body crumpled as Kevin pulled him towards him and he buried his head under Kevin’s arms wrapped around him.

  Tears came to my eyes. I wiped them away quickly before they spilled over. Tony looked at me and bit his lip. Jamie’s eyes darted around the room as though he was about to smash the place up.

  The Bishop stood his ground. But his indignation and sarcasm had gone. He knew. He lowered his eyes. He looked as though he had heard it all before. He took a deep breath.

  ‘Come on now, my boy.’ He pulled a cotton handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Dan. ‘C’mon now, there’s a good lad. Don’t be upsetting yourself. You’ll be fine now.’

  Dan sobbed and sniffed and blew his nose. His face was flushed and his eyelashes wet with tears.

  ‘So what happens now?’ Kevin said, folding his arms defiantly. ‘I take it you do believe the boy? You must have heard stories before about priests abusing their position like this, because I’ve heard them, though I never really believed them until this happened. So what are you going to do about it?’

  The Bishop moved back behind his desk, and sat forward, playing with the gold ring on his wedding finger.

  ‘What happened to that orange squash now?’ As he said it, Mrs Mulhearn came in through the door like a ghost, with a tray of drinks. She passed them around and looked concerned as she saw that Dan had been crying. She smiled at him, and left the room.

  We all gulped the orange squash, our eyes flitting from Dan to the Bishop.

  ‘Well?’ Kevin insisted. ‘What are you going to do about it? You’re not going to pretend it didn’t happen, are you? Because this is not going to go away.’

  The Bishop looked angry, his eyes blazing at Kevin.

  ‘I find you rather an impertinent young man,’ he snapped. ‘Did St John Bosco’s not teach you to respect the clergy and the office of a bishop, an office for which you don’t even have sufficient respect to address with the correct title? Or did it teach you to barge into someone’s home making accusations and demands?’

  Kevin’s face flushed. ‘Aye, it taught me respect, Bishop. I’ve got plenty of respect. For decent Catholics who work like navvies and fork out their last every week for the parish plate to pay for the upkeep of a bloody mansion like this and to keep the likes of you going in good red wine and steak!’

  I thought I was going to faint. I couldn’t believe that Kevin had just spoken to a bishop like that. A man like the Bishop was closer to God than anyone, and here was Kevin more or less calling him a drunken sponger. Jesus, if my mum and dad could have heard him, they would have killed him. Tony, Jamie and Dan were all standing with their mouths half open. They couldn’t believe their ears.

  The Bishop got to his feet, his face ashen.

  ‘Get out of my house! You dare to speak like that in the presence of the Sacred Heart of Jesus looking down at you!’ He jabbed his finger at the picture. ‘You have no right to criticize the way I live. You have no idea what the life of a priest or a bishop is like … the loneliness, the pressure. You criticize, with your teenage insolence and your high and mighty indignation, but you do not know. No, you do not know …’ His voice trailed off, quivering …

  Kevin was not intimidated.

  ‘No, Bishop, I don’t know … I don’t know about the loneliness or the difficulties. But that is not my business. I’m just a daft boy. But I’ll tell you this. No priest, no man, should abuse the innocence of a child for their own perverted satisfaction. You know that and I know that. And you can spit and rage all you like, but you had better get rid of that bastard!’ We all gasped out loud when he swore. ‘Because if you don’t get rid of him, so help me God, I’ll have it all over the papers and you’ll be out of a job so fast your arse won’t touch the ground.’

  Kevin turned and strode across the room, leaving us four standing gawping at the Bishop, who looked as though he was about to collapse. We looked at each other and scurried after Kevin. As we swiftly left the room I was the only one to look back and see that the Bishop was standing as though he was rooted to the spot. I wondered if he had heard this before, not just about Father Flynn, but about other priests. No, I told myself, that could never happen. Priests weren’t like that. I felt kind of sorry for the Bishop because he seemed like a good man, but I was mad too. He should have told Dan he believed him and that he would do something. He should have told him that he would protect him and the rest of the kids. But he just let us go.

  Chapter Twelve

  The sound of Mum’s voice whispering to Ann Marie roused me from sleep.

  ‘C’mon now, Ann Marie. It’s nine o’clock. The bus is in two hours and you’ve got one or two last-minute things to do,’ she said as she gently shook Ann Marie’s shoulder.

  I felt a heaviness in my chest as I opened my eyes. This was the day Ann Marie was going to Donegal. Pictures flooded into my mind. Ann Marie was on the boat all by herself, then she was met by Aunt Nora, then was giving the baby away. I shut my eyes to make the scenes go away, but they kept coming back. I tried to imagine what Ann Marie was thinking as she sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed. As she got up, she pulled her nightdress over her head and stood naked, gazing out of the window. I peeked with one eye and saw her running her hand across her stomach, which was now quite swollen with the baby inside. Her breasts were heavy, with big pink nipples that looked like they were going to burst. There were tears in her eyes. I pretended to be asleep as she shuffled around the room getting herself dressed and sniffing. She pulled on a big wide dark blue shirt that belonged to Dad and a pair of crimplene trousers of Mum’s with elastic round the waist. It made her look much older because before she got pregnant I had got so used to her wearing tiny mini skirts or tight bellbottom jeans. Now she looked like somebody’s wife who couldn’t afford decent clothes. When she was dressed I faked a yawn and opened my eyes, throwing the bedclothes back. I sat at the
side of the bed and watched her snap her case shut. She looked at me and her lips moved like a smile, but it wasn’t a smile.

  ‘I wanted to get you something for the trip, Ann Marie,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘But I didn’t have any money.’ Then I swallowed hard and said, ‘I’ll miss you.’

  Suddenly she threw her arms around me. Tears sprang to my eyes. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, that I knew she was being sent to Donegal to have her baby and give it away, and that I thought it was so unfair. I wanted to tell her to keep on going and stay in Ireland and just keep her baby, and when I grew up I would come and help her look after it. I wanted to say sorry for all the rotten things I had done and for getting her into trouble sometimes if she annoyed me and I told on her. But none of it came out. I just squeezed and squeezed her and she held me so tight I thought I would be right through to the baby any minute. When we let each other go, our faces were wet with tears. Ann Marie rubbed my eyes with the palm of her hand and I sniffed and sobbed.

  ‘Jesus,’ she said, dabbing her eyes, ‘you’d think I was going away for ever. It’s only for a few months’ work.’ She kept up the pretence. But I knew deep down that she knew. I kept up the ghost as well.

  ‘I know … I know. But it won’t be the same.’

  ‘Aye. But look at all the space you’ll have in this room all on your own. You can throw things everywhere.’ Ann Marie tried to make light so that we could go downstairs and face Mum and Dad. She walked out of the room ahead of me and I stood looking around. A thought flashed through my mind of how big this room would be for me and how I could move the beds around any way I wanted now that I was on my own. But the room felt empty already, and it had never felt empty before.

  *

  Downstairs, I was forcing my feet into my shoes without undoing the laces when I heard Mum and Dad’s conversation in the kitchen.

  ‘Aye, Barney’s in a bit of bother by the looks of things. Mind you, if it’s true, he deserves all he gets.’ I don’t know why, but I just knew he was talking about Barney Hagen.

  ‘But if it’s just gossip, and the badness of some kids, then it’s a terrible label to put on a man.’ Mum seemed to be defending him.

  ‘That’s typical of this hole of a place. They wouldn’t let you live,’ Dad said. ‘Barney Hagen is a poor wreck of a man because he nearly gave up his life defending the very kind of ungrateful bastards in this village who couldn’t spell courage and who would tell tales that would get you hung. I don’t believe there’s any truth in the rumours, but I heard they were getting the police involved.’

  Everyone looked up at me and I looked from Mum to Dad to Ann Marie.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘Nothing,’ Dad said.

  I sat at the table and Mum put a bowl of cornflakes in front of me. I suddenly didn’t feel very hungry, with the thought of what they were saying about Barney Hagen. I didn’t really know what they meant, but I got the impression he had been doing something bad with kids. I remembered my last visit and how sad he had been, and how he put his arms around me. But there was nothing funny about it, not like the kind of stuff I’d heard about Father Flynn. I pushed the bowl away from me.

  ‘I’m not too hungry this morning,’ I said.

  ‘What? You? Not hungry in the morning? Well, that’s a turn-up. Are you sick?’ Mum said, feeling my forehead.

  ‘No, no, I’m fine. I’ll just have some toast,’ I said, buttering a slice and lifting a mug of steaming tea.

  There was a silence. Then Dad said: ‘Kath! Did you not tell me you were in Barney Hagen’s house a couple of weeks ago and you went his messages?’

  ‘It was last week,’ I said, trying not to blush.

  Everyone looked at me. I felt my face go red. I slurped a mouthful of tea. I don’t know why, but I felt guilty. I felt as if I was going to be found out for doing something. But I hadn’t done anything and neither had Barney. He was just a sad old crippled war hero. I wished they would all shut up.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I went his messages a few times. And I was in his house. He showed me his medals. They’re brilliant. All shiny like new. And he told me amazing stories about the war. Did you know, Dad, that Barney got his bad leg after being kept in a pit of water for five weeks? It was a big insect that bit him, right through to the bone it bit him.’ I rushed my story about Barney, hoping I could convince them he was sound. I knew he wasn’t a bad man.

  Mum sat down. They all looked at me again.

  ‘Kath,’ Mum ventured, ‘have you ever noticed anything strange about Barney? I mean, like the way he behaves towards you?’

  I knew what she meant. I didn’t know how to answer. If I told them about Barney hugging me and stroking my hair, they would hit the roof and have the police at his house. I could just imagine it. Barney getting dragged out and everybody in the village knowing it was me who did it. Anyhow, he hadn’t done anything to me. And even though lately I had dropped my head to avoid seeing him waving me in as I passed his house because I was always with Tony and the boys, I wanted to defend him.

  ‘No,’ I said, as convincingly as I could. ‘Barney’s all right. I think he’s just lonely. He’s got nobody. He just tells me stories and stuff. I feel sorry for him. Other kids go his messages too and they go into his house and sit with him but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s a good man.’

  I was careful not to mention about the gun. I knew that would cause trouble.

  There was another silence.

  ‘Right!’ Dad said. ‘Listen, Kath, I know you think he’s all right and that, but we’re hearing a bit of a different story, and we don’t think you should go back there again. OK? No more visits to Barney’s and no more messages. I think he’ll be getting a visit soon from the police, by the way people are talking.’

  I could feel anger rising in me.

  ‘Why doesn’t everyone just leave Barney alone? God’s sake, Dad! He’s just a sad old man! These people who are saying bad things about him are rotten ‘cos they’re just rotten people who make up things. I know they’re all liars!’ I thought about Barney crying that day and felt tears in my eyes.

  ‘People in this village have too much to say about everybody,’ Ann Marie said, her voice bitter. ‘If they would just mind their own business and live and let live we would all get on better!’ Everyone went quiet. We all knew what she meant and how she felt. She didn’t have to fight and shout that she wanted to keep her baby and defy all the gossips and holy willies who seemed to run everyone’s lives. Mum and Dad knew how she felt and they kept silent. Mum bit her lip and stirred her tea. Dad got up from the table silently and walked away. He looked ashamed.

  *

  Brendan O’Hanlon’s red van pulled up outside the gate and we all knew it was time to go. We had been standing around in the living room for what seemed like ages. The whole place felt like it was weighed down by the silence that hung in the room. Ann Marie’s case was in the hall, sitting there staring us all in the face, like a monument to her fall from grace. The battered old case sat there looking as if it was punishment for what she had done. As much of her life as she could cram into it was in the case and when you looked at it, it seemed to amount to nothing. Mum fussed around getting jackets and packing sandwiches in a bag for Ann Marie’s journey. Dad’s eyes met Ann Marie’s fleetingly as he lifted her case and opened the front door.

  ‘C’mon then. Let’s go if we’re going. The bus won’t wait, neither will the ferry.’

  He walked down the path.

  I stood in the room with Ann Marie and Mum. They looked at each other. Mum went over to Ann Marie and smoothed down her jacket the way she used to do when she was a girl going to school in the morning. Ann Marie’s lip quivered. I walked out to the van.

  The two of them followed in silence, both afraid to speak, their throats and chests tight with emotion.

  We piled into Brendan’s van for the journey to the bus stop where Ann Marie would take the bus that would get her to the ferry termina
l more than two hours away. It was important that she didn’t walk to the bus with her case because someone might see her and start gossip about her. She had to slip away unnoticed. That was how it was done. We tried to make a joke about how we were all stuffed in like sardines, and Brendan recalled how both our families used to crush into his van when we went to the coast for the day. They were great days and I pictured the hazy sunshine as I looked out of the window at the overcast sky and the dismal grey houses and streets whizzing past. They were great days. If only they could have stayed that way.

  I was glad the bus stop wasn’t too far because the awkward silences were only broken by Brendan telling more stories of the old days and laughing like a drain. Everybody smiled as he recalled things but it was more out of politeness. I guessed that he knew about Ann Marie, and as he was Dad’s closest friend and his son Dessie was Kevin’s best pal, their family could be trusted with the story.

  I suddenly thought of Kevin and imagined that he must have said his goodbyes before he went to work.

  ‘Where’s Kevin?’ I asked, just to make sure.

  ‘He’s at his work. He said cheerio to Ann Marie this morning,’ Mum said.

  ‘He gave me ten pounds,’ Ann Marie said. ‘I was really shocked. That was great of him. Not such a bad guy after all.’ She nudged me and we smiled.

  The van stopped at the bus shelter and we all got out and Dad lifted out Ann Marie’s case. Brendan stayed in the van. Dad looked at his watch and fidgeted awkwardly as though he would like to get on with it and get away. Mum pulled her jacket around her and shivered even though it wasn’t cold. Her eyes were red and she kept biting the inside of her jaw as if she was trying to fight back tears. Ann Marie strained her neck trying to watch for the bus. I was almost overwhelmed by the urge to tell them to stop all of this right now and go back to the house. But I couldn’t. I was only ten and what did I know? I heard the drone of the rickety old bus in the distance and then saw its nose as it pulled over the brow of the hill. We all looked at each other, and I thought for a moment everyone looked surprised, as though we had all come this far but somehow believed it would never really happen. But it was happening. The bus was empty apart from an old man in a flat cap, and as it pulled in with a hiss of brakes, the driver jumped out of his seat and came down the steps.