for all of us; truths need to be told, so you have to stop thinking he loved you.’
‘I swear he does. We were even going to get married.’
‘Mary, you have a lot to learn. We’re all just flesh and blood, and what keeps us from sin and temptation is our following in Christ our saviour.’
‘No, you’re wrong. There’s no way Patrick would do this, you don’t know him like I do.’ In her torment, Mary couldn’t contain herself; she blurted out the words, for once unafraid of the priest. ‘And how would you know, anyway? What do you know about love? You’ve never loved anyone in your life.’
Father Ryan became rigid, blinking a couple of times and then, to Mary’s surprise, he smiled sadly. ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Mary. I know very well how it feels to be in love. How it is to think about a person the very moment you wake up and the very last thing at night. To be afraid of the life you had before them and the life you’d have without them. For the rays of the sun to feel warmer when they’re next to you.’
Mary looked amazed. ‘Who was she, Father?’
‘Someone I used to know a long time ago.’
‘And why didn’t you marry her?’
There was a forlornness in the way Father Ryan answered. ‘Our paths went different ways; we didn’t want the same things.’
‘What was her name?’
‘I’ve said too much already.’
Mary thought for a moment. ‘Then surely you must be able to see that Patrick loves me.’
Father Ryan’s face tightened again. He sighed. ‘You’re not thinking straight. It’s not love, Mary; it’s lust.’
Mary put down her head before blushing, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Father Ryan. ‘What is it, child?’
Mary spoke very slowly, biting on her lip. ‘He did … He did kiss me once.’
‘Mary O’Flanagan, I warned you about this. I thought you were God-fearing.’
‘I am, Father. I am.’
‘Then why didn’t I know about this before? Why didn’t I hear it at your confession?’
Mary shrugged her shoulders, too fearful to admit she’d cycled to the next village to make her confession.
‘This proves it, Mary. First you don’t see the person’s face. Then I see Patrick lurking suspiciously in the woods unable to tell me why and then …’ Matthew Ryan stopped, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
‘And then what, Father?’
‘And then that kiss. Don’t you see, there seems to be no question; Patrick Doyle raped you.’
Mary’s hands shot over her mouth, partly to stop another scream and partly to stop herself from vomiting.
It didn’t make sense, what Father Ryan was saying. It just didn’t. Patrick was decent. He was gentle. Not rough. Not cruel like the person who’d violated her in such a brutal way. No, it was impossible. She wouldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t.
The only thing Father Ryan was right about was the fact that she hadn’t seen whoever it was. She hadn’t even heard them come up behind her. And it’d been Patrick who’d insisted she stay there alone, even though she’d wanted to go with him. So maybe …
Mary’s body jolted upright. No, she wasn’t going to think like that. Patrick could never have done anything like this.
‘Using a gentle tone, a tone rarely heard by Mary, Father Ryan broke her thoughts.
‘To be sure, it’s hard to think or understand how someone we trusted could do this to us, but think clearly. Let shame not cloud your judgement. It starts with you rebuffing Patrick’s advances over and over again, and, by doing so, the sins of the flesh take over his mind. Then, when you’re in the woods, he sees an opportunity. And like the devil himself, he creeps up on you; taking your innocence in the way he did.’
Father Ryan held Mary’s gaze.
‘But—’
‘No, Mary. Patrick Shamus Doyle is not a God-fearing person.’
‘But—’
‘No. Do not make any more excuses. It’s as clear as the presence of Christ within me … I’m sorry, Mary, I really am.
Confused and looking like a timid child, tears rolled down over the red mark on Mary’s cheek. ‘Where is he, Father?’
‘Don’t you worry about that; you’ll never have to see him again. I’ll make sure of that. Patrick Doyle will pay for what he has done to you. Mark my words, Mary. Mark my words.’
Father Ryan got up. He went to leave but stopped, turning back to Mary. His tone inquisitive. ‘One thing puzzles me though; why were you two in the woods last night in the first place?’
Mary opened her mouth to say something, but she hesitated. Putting her hands behind her back, she crossed her fingers, then answered gently. ‘No reason, Father … no reason at all.’
The banging on the front door startled Patrick. He quickly pulled on his trousers, running down the stairs in the hope it was his father. Opening the door, only semi-dressed, Patrick’s face dropped. It was the Gardaí. His thoughts raced; panic making him speak quickly.
‘What’s happened? … Is my da all right? … Where is he?’
The tallest Garda, dressed in full uniform, looked at Patrick with an air of contempt; tiny eyes staring from under a mass of brown eyebrows.
‘Patrick Doyle? You need to come with us.’
‘Is he all right? … Nothing’s happened to him, has it?’
Uninvited, the Garda stepped into the small hallway. ‘Get dressed.’
‘Please … just tell me what’s happened.’ Patrick was full of fear; anxious for his father.
A sneer appeared on the Garda’s face. ‘Oh, I think you know very well.’
‘No, I don’t. I’m worried about him.’
The Garda took hold of Patrick’s arm so hard it made him wince. ‘You’re in serious trouble; I’d say at this moment your da is the least of your worries.’
Through a hazy gaze of pain and medication, Tommy Doyle stared at the gnarled face of Donal O’Sheyenne leaning over him in his hospital bed.
O’Sheyenne nodded to the Gardaí. ‘Come back in ten minutes.’
With
