Anne Bennett - Pack Up Your Troubles

Her Uncle Michael, on the other hand, seemed totally confused by Maeve’s flight. He expressed surprise that she’d returned to the very place that just a few years before she was mad to get away from. And he claimed Brendan was a broken man. He wrote to Annie:

Besides, I don’t see that the problem between them could be so big, or surely I would have had some indication of it? Brendan, at any rate, is willing to forgive and forget and I think Maeve would be best to come home now. She has taught him a wee lesson and I’m sure he’ll be a changed man after it.

‘Why does no one see the man is evil through and through?’ Maeve cried.

‘You didn’t,’ Annie reminded her. ‘It took you some time to get the measure of him. And when all’s said and done, despite what you said about the house you live in, and how everyone knows your business, the man seen walking down the street might not be the same as the one within your own four walls.’

Maeve knew her mother was right. No one but his family had known Brendan as she had, yet she’d not seen through the veneer of his charm and had paid the price for nine years. Surely to God that was long enough?

Father O’Brien didn’t think so. He was at the farmhouse the Saturday evening after Annie had received Michael’s letter with yet another letter from Father Trelawney.

‘This letter from your parish priest, Maeve, has your husband’s assurance that things will be different. He promises that this will be so. He says also that you are unreasonable in some of your demands on him. Going for a drink after he finishes work is not unusual in a job such as his.’

‘I know that, Father,’ Maeve cried. ‘I’m being made out to be a monster. I don’t object to Brendan having a drink and never have had. But surely to God it’s not right to take food from the weans’ mouths for his beer money, or to give to the bookie’s runner?’

Father O’Brien smiled and Maeve had the urge to smack him hard enough to swipe the smile from his face, especially when he said, ‘Don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a little?’

‘No, I bloody well don’t,’ Maeve said. ‘I wish you’d all leave me alone and mind your own business.’

‘Your spiritual welfare is my business.’ Father O’Brien shook his head. Father Trelawney said Maeve was subject to exaggeration and, anyway, whatever Brendan Hogan had done in the past, he’d assured him he had changed, he’d been so upset by his wife’s actions. ‘You must give the man a chance, Maeve,’ he said. ‘You must forget the past. Things will be different now, I’m sure of it.’

Maeve didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it, but Father O’Brien did and so did Father Trelawney. She was the wicked perpetrator who wanted to end their mockery of a marriage and Brendan the deserted husband, seemingly out of his mind with worry, and promising the moon if only his wife would come back to him.

She turned to face the priest. ‘And can you guarantee that no harm will befall the child I’m carrying? And that no incident, however accidental, will result in a miscarriage? Whether you believe it or not, the child I miscarried was due to the impact of a hobnail boot in my stomach and I carry the imprint still. Whatever I told the authorities, they didn’t believe me. I should imagine that they have me on some list or other, labelled “Suspicious Circumstances”, don’t you?’

Maeve had no idea whether this was true or not but, she guessed, neither would the priest. She was right, he didn’t, and he made no attempt to answer her. Instead, he turned to Rosemarie, who was waiting for Greg to pick her up. Father O’Brien had chosen the time to visit the family with care, wanting them all to be there.

‘Are you looking forward to your wedding, Rosemarie?’ he asked.

Rosemarie was disarmed. Whatever argument the priest had with Maeve, she decided, did not concern her and she certainly couldn’t be blamed in any way. ‘Why, yes, Father.’

Father O’Brien smiled, and Maeve, seeing it, recognised the curl of the lip that had been the same as Brendan’s just before he was to deliver the punch between the eyes. ‘It would be a pity then,’ the priest said, ‘to postpone the ceremony.’

‘But, Father, there’s no need,’ Rosemarie said, and Maeve could have wept for the naïvety and genuine bewilderment in her voice. ‘Everything is arranged for August now.’

‘Ah yes, but I wonder if you understand the sanctity of marriage, Rosemarie?’

‘Yes, Father. Of course I do.’

‘Your sister doesn’t seem to.’

‘Father, surely that’s nothing to do with me?’

‘Not directly, no,’ the priest said. ‘I just want you to fully understand the commitment you’re making.’

‘Stop this!’ Maeve cried. ‘Hound and harass me if you must, but for God’s sake, leave my family alone.’

Father O’Brien’s eyes sparkled with hatred. ‘Leave your family alone,’ he repeated. ‘Like your family should have left you alone. Your mother should have shown you the door when you arrived, lest you corrupt your young brother and two sisters. But she didn’t, so they share in your guilt and shame and will continue to do so, until you see sense.’

‘Father, for pity’s sake,’ Annie cried. ‘How could I turn my back on my own child?’

‘When a woman is given in marriage, she and her husband should be as one,’ Father O’Brien thundered. ‘It was your Christian duty to point this out to Maeve.’

‘Oh, you’d know all about it,’ Thomas said sarcastically. ‘Marriage, and all it means. Don’t you come to my door again threatening my bloody family.’

‘Thomas!’

‘Don’t you “Thomas” me, Annie. The man has a bloody nerve.’

‘Shouting at me will change nothing,’ Father O’Brien said. ‘To come between a husband and wife is a mortal sin, and you should be aware of it. If you were to die with a mortal sin on your soul before you were able to repent and ask forgiveness, you would roast eternally in hell’s flames.’

Maeve saw her mother’s face blanch with fear, but her father’s was red in temper. ‘Is that so?’ he said. ‘Well, let me tell you, if welcoming my daughter, who was in dire need, is your idea of mortal sin, then I’d be glad to meet the others of like mind in hell and shake them by the hand. Not that I intend to see them for a wee while yet.’

‘Thomas, you are making a grave mistake,’ Father O’Brien said. ‘God will not be mocked.’

‘It’s not God I’m mocking, you sanctimonious bugger,’ Thomas said. ‘And if you have nothing further to say, I’d like you to leave.’

‘As I said, you’re making a grave mistake.’

‘No doubt. Good night, Father.’ Thomas turned from the priest and sat down facing the fire with his back to the outraged man, then threw on another two peat bricks and gave the fire a poke.

It was up to Annie, flustered and upset, to see the priest to the door. ‘I’m sorry, Father,’ she said in a whisper as she opened it for him. ‘He’s . . . Thomas is a wee bit upset.’

‘It’s not to be wondered at. Everyone is upset when they go against God and what He wants,’ the priest said, ducking his head to go out of the farmhouse. ‘Think carefully about what I said back there, Annie. Good night to you.’

‘Good night, Father.’ She closed the door behind the priest.

Thomas turned to his wife and growled, ‘Don’t you ever do that again and apologise in my own house on my behalf.’

‘I couldn’t leave it like that,’ Annie protested. ‘You swearing at the priest and ordering him from the place.’

‘You should think yourself lucky. If I’d had to look and listen to the hypocrite much longer, I would have punched him on the jaw,’ Thomas said.