The Affectionate Player - Part2

Chapter 12

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"Mr Jacob, Miss Campbell. Forgive me, please." Young Father Hughes is in fact in his fifties. He's tall and burly with jet black hair and glasses, and his rosy cheeks tell me he's had just as busy a day as Mrs Buchan with his own 'toin' and 'froin' and as he shakes our hands in greeting, I instantly feel at ease.

Mrs Buchan takes great delight as she confidently relays what details she knows to Father Paul, including the misunderstanding which is that we need to talk more so with his uncle and not to him. He's extremely considerate surprising us further by inviting us into his study halting a miffed Mrs Buchan at the door.

"That'll be all for now, Colette. Thank you." He smiles leaving her in the hallway then turns to offer the sofa for our comfort. Walking to the sideboard he retrieves a bottle of Black Bush pouring us each a generous measure then respectfully he takes the seat opposite.

"Best whiskey in Ireland," he winks, breaking the ice.

"I couldn't agree more, Father. Thank you for agreeing to see us and please call me Gracie. I'm sorry about the confusion." I'm mortified to be wasting his time but think it only proper to clarify my reason for being here.

"Oh, there's nothing to be sorry for, Gracie. I'm the parish priest and it's my job to look after those in and out of this fold. What can I do for you?" Max sits quietly as I shakily reach for my notes.

"I'm not sure you can help but I'll tell what I know."

Max and Father Paul enjoy the whiskey while I prefer to stick to water and for the next half hour or so I talk as never before. I speak of my adoption and all that my parents, Jock and Jessie, have told me leading on to working with Geri and how she not only facilitated my attack but how she'd taken our children under the influence of Jonny King. Father Paul sits quietly listening, his expression one of disbelief but it's not until I reveal the aftermath of Monty's kidnapping and the fact that we now believe Geri to be my sister - Roisin Devenney - that he finally speaks.

"What a truly awful experience. You both must be exhausted," he sighs. And not for the first time I acknowledge I am. Slowly I turn my head to Max who simply shrugs before taking a drink.

It occurs to me then that we've yet to discuss the kidnapping and my time in custody. In fact, on reflection I can't even recall discussing the days in between when I'd briefly lost my memory. That has been my doing; refusing to discuss anything for fear of breaking down. The anger I'd felt for days had left me upon my realisation that not only did I still love him but that his plan all along had been to see the safe return of our son. But what of Max's anger? What had he felt? He's been so patient with me putting up with my bouts of selfishness but what of his pain? It's a conversation I know must soon be had.

"Have your children also been upset by all of this?"

"Holly is only four months old," Max answers. "Gracie said she slept throughout. And Monty still thinks he was on an adventure," he adds, his voice quivering softly. Somewhat confused, Father Paul raises an eyebrow in question.

"Gracie told him he was going on a pirate adventure with his grandfather before she was forced to hand him over. Monty thought nothing of it because he loves that bastard." Instinctively, I gasp at his choice of language given the company we're in.

"Oh, sorry Father. I'm forgetting where I am." Father Paul nods in quiet acceptance.

"You've mentioned the name Jonny King like I should know him so I apologise for asking. Should I?"

"Not necessarily, unless you were a fan of 80's rock music. Have you ever heard of the band Xploit?"

"Ah, I see. Yes, I have. That was in the days long before I took up the cloth."