Page 78

‘The kitchen used to be bigger, but Father Lyons got builders in to divide it. He wanted a separate dining area. For who or what, only God himself knows, because no one uses it and the place was fine the way it was. Men.’

Lottie smiled, keeping her back to her. ‘Has Father Lyons been here long?’

‘Must be fifteen years or more. Due a move soon.’

‘And Robert, Father Robert. How long was he here?’

‘Probably for around the same length of time. But my old brain isn’t what it used to be.’

‘Before that, where was he based?’ She took her time peeling the potatoes, now that she had Brigid talking.

‘He was out in the field. That’s what he used to call it.’

‘Oh, what does that mean?’ She took a quick look over her shoulder.

‘He was a chaplain to the Sisters of Forgiveness. He was a young man then. Oh, he was also chaplain at Knockraw at the same time.’

‘Really?’ Lottie scraped her thumb with the knife in shock. Shit. She kept peeling. Slowly. Concentrating on the words as well as the knife. Brigid’s revelation connected Robert Hayes tothe murders in Galway, albeit historically. A man who was also Kirby’s suspect. ‘How did that work out for him?’

‘You ask a lot of questions.’

‘Nature of my job.’

‘Well, I don’t think I’m telling tales, because if you ask anyone from that era they will tell you the exact same. Folks around here weren’t one bit pleased when he moved in as parish priest. Lock up your daughters and sons became the mantra. Mass numbers dropped off. The bishop left him here for too many years. Probably didn’t know what else to do with him. Father Lyons is a breath of fresh air. We’ll be sad to lose him, when he’s moved on.’

Lottie dropped the last of the potatoes into the pot and turned around, drying her hands on a tea cloth. ‘I’m assuming from what you’ve implied that there were rumours about Robert’s time at Knockraw and the convent. Can you tell me about them?’

‘I don’t like to gossip, but…’ Brigid blessed herself, as if asking forgiveness for what she was about to say, ‘it’s said that he interfered with the youngsters.’

Sitting on a wooden chair, Lottie folded the cloth onto the table. ‘And he was allowed into a parish after that?’

‘They were only rumours. I never heard any hard facts. But there’s hardly smoke without fire, is there? He did something bad. Mark my words.’

Wondering how she could elicit more information, she said, ‘Both the convent and the industrial school closed down. Where did their records end up?’

Brigid shook her head. ‘You’ll discover nothing in them, even if you find them. I’m a good Catholic, a God-fearing woman, but I can tell you this with absolute certainty: if there was anything untoward in those records, it’s not there now.’

‘Even so, where could I have a look at them?’

‘You might want to talk to the bishop.’

Lottie had had previous dealings with bishops, so she was inclined to believe that there was no use searching the records. ‘Why did Robert leave the priesthood?’

‘I told you, he had to leave. Complaints were made, by some of the parishioners whose kids went to the youth club he ran. Inappropriate behaviour, I heard. I think the bishop persuaded the parents not to make a formal complaint to the guards once he agreed to get rid of Father Robert.’

‘Where did Robert go after that?’

‘No idea. And I can tell you this, I don’t want to know.’

‘Was he good at cooking?’

Brigid raised an eyebrow as if asking how she knew that. ‘Couldn’t get him out of the kitchen. Always asking me to buy fancy veg, stuff I’d never heard tell of. Concoctions, I called what he cooked. Tasty, I have to admit, but I never told him that. The kitchen’s my domain. And he invaded it.’

‘You were glad when he left, then?’

‘I was, and I’ll be more glad when you boil the kettle for my cup of tea. There’s a fruit loaf in the cupboard and butter in the fridge.’

Lottie set to work and laid the table. Brigid’s face appeared grey and drained, as if talking about Robert Hayes had sucked the life out of her.