Father Pat had seen things like that happening in San Francisco – he’d played his part in it himself, ‘encouraging’ good local families to set things straight in God’s eyes, but now he’s not so sure that was the way forward. Maybe the Church should focus more on forgiveness? After all, everyone makes mistakes, he’d made a few himself. His first mistake, John, was practically snarling. He’d had to tolerate being the butt of a lot of jokes as a boy because of Father Pat’s human failings and there he sat telling John what to do, preaching to him, not trying to heal the pain of the years.

I saw how hurt he was, how angry and I knew it was my fault. If I’d kept my mouth shut I would have saved him more upset. He stopped hammering; a fine sheen of sweat had gathered on his face and his arms, soaking a dark V at his neck. It was my chance to say that I was happy enough, that I had had no big plans to change the world bar being a teacher and I got to teach my own children every day. It wasn’t a terrible life. I loved them so much. I loved Bridie … I …

–  Do you know what Pat O’Connell’s parting shot was?

–  No.

–  He said I had had no right to put you in a cage! Is that how you see this situation, Mary? Like you’re some sort of prisoner?

–  I just wanted to travel, to fly … I …

–  Ah, so you are a sorry little songbird I tied to the bed?

–  That’s not fair!

–  That’s all you have for me? After all these years? It’s not fair? Go away, Mary, looking at you makes me weary! I’ve been stuck with you and your bloody nonsense for years but somehow I’m the bad guy. Some nights, I feel that you couldn’t be more mine and the next day you’re gone again. It’s a shame Joe Loughrey didn’t come back to claim you in time. He would have saved us both a lot of pain.

I turned for home. The hatred on his face burned into my back as I went. I was watching my feet moving through the long grass, seeing the tiny grey moths rise up when I disturbed them. The bats would start to fly soon; the sound of them gathering on the big sycamores at the entrance to the river field was my signal to boil the milk for the cocoa.