Where Old Ghosts Meet - Kate Evans [48]
“Maybe I’ll do that and then I’ll come back for you and we’ll go down to the garden party together. How would that be?”
“Don’t worry about me, girl, you go on. Pat will come by if I needs a run.”
“What’s he like, Peg?” she asked, conjuring up an image of a crusty old parish priest.
“Oh, best kind. The people always liked him but I haven’t heard tell of him this while. He must be up there now. In his late eighties, I’d say.”
“But he knew Matt quite well, you say?”
“Oh yes, they were friends.”
They rounded the bend above Shoal Cove. Without the sunshine the community looked bare and desolate.
“He won’t be shocked then to have a granddaughter of Matt Molloy’s show up out of the blue?”
“No, you won’t find anyone around here too shocked. Nobody asked and nobody was told, but everyone seemed to know that Matt was bound somehow to another life. For certain they all had their own ideas, and in their own minds they were convinced they knew the truth of the matter.
Nora gave her name to the woman who answered the door and asked if she might speak with Father O’Reilly. The woman, whom Nora presumed to be the housekeeper, looked her up and down, her searching eyes taking in every aspect of the visitor. Nora smiled her best smile, hoping to make a good impression and thereby gain easy access to the inner sanctum of the presbytery. The woman, like a seasoned guard dog, held her ground, blocking the entrance to the house. In those strained moments of intense scrutiny, Nora returned the woman’s gaze, aware of a low wheeze coming from the woman’s chest.
“Well, now.” The wheeze had become a hoarse bark. “He’s a busy man. An appointment would–”
“I can come back later, when it’s more convenient.” Nora turned as if to leave, knowing full well that she would not be allowed to go without at least saying who she was and where she came from.
“Come in then and I’ll see what I can do.” It was a grudging invitation but the woman never budged. “What was it you said you wanted?”
“That’s fine now, Mary, I’ll see to the visitor.” The voice came from the dark hallway.
Reluctantly the woman stepped aside and opened the door just enough to allow Nora to step inside. A tall portly man in clerical dress stood in the shadow. As Nora moved into the hall he pushed open a heavy wooden door to his right. A thin shaft of light fell across the polished floor.
“Come in, Miss Molloy. Mary, maybe you could rustle up a pot of tea for us and then you can leave early and go on to the garden party.” He then dismissed her with a nod and held the door open for Nora. After a quick glance back into the hall he closed the door behind them.
“I’m Nora–”
“Yes, Miss Molloy, I know who you are. News of a stranger travels fast in a small place, and Mary had it before most.” His large hand trembled slightly as he reached out to shake hers but his grip was firm. “Father Charlie O’Reilly,” he said, introducing himself. “You are a relative of Matt Molloy. His granddaughter, I believe?”
“That’s right.”
“Come and sit down.” He indicated an ornate upholstered chair to the side of the fireplace. Nora took a moment to look around. It was a solid, sombre room laden down with shelves of dusty books, heavy furniture, and plum-coloured velvet curtains. An assortment of religious icons provided meagre relief. A wooden prie-dieu with a velvet kneeling pad stood in one corner, and above that, a small crucifix. A large bay window looked onto the front garden but sheer, white curtains cut off the outdoors. There was a smell of tobacco in the room.
She turned her attention to the priest as he made his way across the worn carpet to a large armchair across from her. He walked with a heavyset assurance, his large pigeon-toed feet securely laced