Beautiful Child Read Free Page A

their late parents. One of the five boys had to become a priest and Brendan had found it impossible to resist. He had wanted to become a train driver but judging by how his chest had developed, perhaps God had been steering him away from all that steam that had surrounded the trains back then.
    He was too old, he was now in his late sixties, to get up to do the morning weekday Mass but he had to give young Phillip a bit of a break. Father Phillip Evans had been holding the fort here at Holy Saints for the last couple of years and the poor lad was exhausted. It was a big church with a big parish and there just weren’t enough priests to go round. He liked young Phillip. He seemed like a normal sort of bloke. He’d lost count of the amount of young priests whose promise had been sacrificed when they were moved around on account of being too fond of little girls or little boys. He didn’t think Phillip would fall into that particular trap. He’d been wrong before but he felt pretty certain about Phillip. He didn’t seem like the sort to have a ‘side’ to him.
    Brendan was only going to be at Holy Saints for another couple of months. He’d already booked his ticket back home to County Clare on Aer Lingus, or rather he’d got young Phillip to do it on account of it having to be done on the internet if you wanted to take advantage of the cheaper fares. Just another couple of months and then he’d finally be allowed to retire. He had a small cottage waiting for him that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean that was next door to his sister Bernadette and her husband Gerald who had retired there last year. His nephew had already fitted his satellite television. He couldn’t wait.
    After the Mass was finished he went into the kitchen to find his breakfast. He might’ve known that Ann Schofield, who was not only the priests’ housekeeper but also one of Brendan’s oldest and closest friends, would already be at her post, preparing a pot of tea along with toast, bacon, and eggs.
    ‘Aw, Ann!’ greeted Brendan warmly, ‘Where would we be without you?’
    ‘Sit yourself down, Brendan and I’ll see to you.’
    ‘I will sure enough, Ann’ said Brendan who pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He was in full priest’s gear but he’d taken off his white dog collar and rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt. He’d miss these mornings with Ann. She’d always been more than just a friend and he’d miss her physical presence in his daily life. It would be one of the things that reinforced the loneliness he feared might overwhelm him once he didn’t have the structure of the church to sustain him through the dark days.  
    Ann poured some tea for him. He always looked in need of nourishment when he came in from performing early morning Mass, that and the fags that he now had to smoke outside. Years ago in Ireland he’d signed the pledge never to drink alcohol. But he more than made up for it with the amount of cigarettes he got through. Sometimes those attending early morning Mass witnessed the burning of incense having the same effect on his throat and chest as the cigarettes did. Sometimes he could barely get through the Mass without constant coughing fits. It was why they were so poorly attended when people knew he was doing them.
    ‘You’ve been a God send to Phillip since you came here,’ she said, ‘there were nights when he almost seemed too exhausted to get himself to bed.’
    ‘I know,’ said Brendan, rubbing his chin, ‘and what’s going to happen to this place when both you and I retire in a few weeks’ time? I still haven’t heard from the Bishop about getting another priest to come here permanently to work with Phillip. And who could replace you, Ann?’
    Ann blushed. ‘You know who, Brendan. It’s going to be Joan Fitzgerald.’
    ‘Oh but she won’t make cakes like you do!’ he groaned.
    ‘And why would you care? You won’t be here so stop being so uncharitable.’
    ‘Alright, boss,’