The Affectionate Player - Part2

Chapter 12

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"Hello! Hello, there!" In unison Max and I stand to greet the excited lady who rushes down the path to where we're sat outside church. "I'm so sorry," she says, shaking both our hands then throwing both of hers in the air. "I'm run ragged this very day with all the toin' and froin'. Have ye been here long so?"

"About an hour," I smile, meeting Max's eyes.

"Oh, for the love of God! Well, I have news of Father Hughes." She giggles at her obvious rhyming. "Though it's not great so you'll come to the house for tea. Walk this way wit' me." And she's off, walking ten miles per hour ahead of us.

"Who is that?" I whisper, laughing.

"I'm not sure but she sounds a bit like the secretary I spoke to on the phone. Colette something or other."

"She's hilarious!"

"She's away with the fairies, is what she is. Come on, we best get going and catch up."

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Having driven from church to the parochial house we now sit enjoying a pot of tea and the tastiest homemade soda bread, butter and the fruitiest raspberry jam to ever have passed my lips. Mrs Buchan, Father Hughes' secretary, has amusingly informed us that the good Father is due imminently having been called away unexpectedly to read the last rites to a dying Malin resident.

"I meant to ring yer mobile but sure I must have scribbled down the number with a digit missin'. Honestly, I'm too old for this nonsense and I've confessed as much to Himself," she says, raising her hand upward. "But Father Hughes is having none of it. He says often and I quote, 'Colette, ye know this parish like the back of yer hand. My uncle can barely remember his own name so who am I to rely on, if not ye?'" We sit confused none the wiser but on she goes, chatting away while looking for something in her bureau.

"Ye'll know of course from yer family that Father Hughes' uncle was the priest who married your parents and christened ye."

"No! I mean yes," I say, correcting myself. "I know it was Father Hughes who christened me. Isn't that who we're meeting today?"

"Oh no, Gracie. It's his nephew, Paul, ye'll be meetin'. Yer talkin' of old Father Paul Hughes. He's in his eighties, girl," she chuckles, innocently. "He lives in the North most of the time but I know he's in Creeslough this weekend for the Curillo."

"Oh, really? What's that?" I ask, wondering briefly if it's an open event.

"Well now, it's a course for Christians who want to develop their relationship with our Lord. I've been on it two years on the trot but not this year. It started yesterday and finishes Sunday lunchtime." I turn to Max who watches me closely and taking my hand in his, he offers a half smile.

"Can anyone go? I mean, could Gracie just turn up tomorrow?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, love. No. It's booked up months in advance. Ye'd be wastin' yer time tryin' to do that."

"Will Father Hughes return to Belfast straight after?" I ask, hoping not.

"He normally stays a day or two but he's not been in great health the last couple of months so I'd say probably not." I can't help the surge of disappointment that hits me. I'd hoped to have answers today. I'd hoped I could simply learn the facts then go home with my family. Mrs Buchan senses my reaction and instinctively refills my teacup.

"Now, now. Let's not get too downhearted," she says sweetly, looking from me to Max. "We can always ask young Father Hughes. That'll be his car now coming up the road."