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Paddy took it and put it in the fridge. “We’ll have this later. We’ll have it tomorrow.”
Dub sat back down in his seat. “Or we’ll leave it in the fridge until it gets smelly and then chuck it down the toilet.”
Pete giggled because Dub had said toilet.
Mary A
Dub dropped a lump of overcooked red pasta onto Mary A
Dub and Paddy looked at each other.
Paddy sat down next to her and took her hand. “What?”
Mary A
“Is Mum ill?”
“No.” She picked up her fork and prodded at her food.
“Are you ill?”
“No.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the table. It was Dub’s favorite di
“So?”
Mary A
If a plate of stewed puppy had been served to her she would usually eat it, out of piety and gratitude. Paddy realized with a start that she hadn’t prayed over the di
“Mary A
Mary A
“I’m in love. With a man. He loves me.”
“Who?”
“Father Andrew.”
“At St. Columbkille’s?”
She nodded unhappily, touched her mauled hair again with her fingertips, and cried. Paddy touched it: it was as soft as a baby’s. “Did they do this to you because of that?”
But Mary A
“Did you tell Mum?”
Mary A
“Did you tell your Mother Superior?”
She mouthed “no” and carried on crying.
Paddy didn’t know what to do. She dried her sister’s face again, squeezed her hand for a while, and then dried her face once more. “D’ye want some soup?”
Mary A
“Do the two of you have any kind of plan?”
Mary A
Paddy was shocked. Father fucking Andrew, two years out of seminary, forcing his will on the parish and touching Mary A
“Don’t tell Mum.” It wasn’t much by way of comfort but it was the best she could come up with.
Mary A
She took her sister’s wet face in her hands. “Listen, Mary A
Paddy got up, pulled the packet out of her handbag, brought over an ashtray, and lit one, handing it to her sister. Sometimes, when they were younger and Sean smoked around them a lot, the girls would share a cigarette. Mary A
Now, she took the little cigarette, going cross-eyed as she held it to her mouth, and inhaled the longest draw Paddy had ever seen. Half the fag was gone. She held the smoke in her lungs, her chest barreled out, and she exhaled expertly over Paddy’s head.
The sisters looked at each other. Paddy was astonished. For the first time in their lives Mary A
Holding her eye, Mary A
Paddy started laughing and couldn’t stop. Blindly, she slapped the table, knocking her plate to the floor, her fork bouncing off a chair and clattering onto the tiles.
The phone rang out and she looked up, expecting to see Mary A
McVie didn’t bother with hello. “Memorial service, Thursday. Big deal. Ten a.m. at the cathedral. You’re speaking.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Everyone’ll be there.”
“Everyone who?”
“Everyone.” She heard him ruffle a sheet of paper. “Have you seen Merki’s article?”
She turned to the wall. “Merki’s got a byline?”
“Go and get tomorrow’s edition of the News. They’ve found the gun.”
She hung up.
Mary A
“Put that fag out,” Paddy said firmly. “We’re going for a drive.”
II
It felt strange bringing Mary A
“Wait here,” said Paddy, opening the door. The absurd thought occurred to her that Mary A
The delivery men were working hard, swinging bales of papers along a line into the vans, their rhythm interrupted by the sight of Paddy Meehan walking out of the dark night to take a copy from a burst bale that had been discarded to the side.