–  Father, I do know who the father is. But I’m not sure if I should tell you; I’m not sure if I wouldn’t be putting myself in more trouble with God?

–  Speak freely, Mary, you have the secrecy of the confessional to protect you.

–  It was Father Martin O’Hara, Father, but I hear he’s been posted to another diocese now and surely he’s not going to be able to marry me and make it better in the eyes of God? What do you suggest, Father? Father, are you alright? You’re looking a bit green around the gills. Shall I get Mrs Byrne? No? Tell me, Father, do you have a phone number or an address for Father Martin, at all? I’d love to let him know. He was always so kind to us girls.

I left with my absolution firmly in place and Father O’Brien’s word that not only would he make sure that no one, absolutely no one, would ever be informed but that he would talk to my parents and try to make them understand that young girls are apt to have help when they make such big mistakes.

The look of dread I’d managed to nail on Father O’Brien’s face and the way he placed me outside his front door like an incendiary device was all that was keeping me in one piece. I’d got the Salve Regina as part of my penance, my daddy’s favourite. Tomorrow I would escape from the house and run all the way to Brooky Hay and I would run on to Joe’s house. I would pound on the beige bungalow until I got in. I would have to find the words to explain that I wanted to be touched by someone other than him when I hardly understood it myself. I’d make him understand that I hadn’t set out to get myself into trouble. I knew he’d forgive me; even Father O’Brien had forgiven me.

Tomorrow, I screamed silently, tomorrow I’ll tell you everything and you’ll come to see how it was. You’ll come to see it was just a mistake, a silly mistake, I’d never do it again. Wait for me, wait for me and I will wait for you. Tomorrow, tomorrow, please wait for me to come tomorrow.

I didn’t get out the next day because Mammy was on the warpath. Father O’Brien had been early that morning and managed to unhinge her unshakeable faith in the vengeance of the Church. She wouldn’t have liked to hear that there are two sides to every story and that she might think of practising a bit of Christian forgiveness when it came to her poor besmirched daughter. I even heard her raise her voice, unheard-of behaviour in front of a priest.