Page 21 of The Altar Girls

‘Me too.’

‘How is Annie?’

‘Bored out of her brain because school is cancelled with the bad roads. A few days of snow and the country shuts down.’

‘Regardless of the weather, we still have a job to do,’ Enda said. ‘Let me know if I can help with anything.’

‘Will do, and you likewise.’

Sinead killed the call and picked up the hairdryer. God, but her hair was such a mess. How did she ever make it to television? She shook her head and despaired at the frizzy ends. It would have to do. The news didn’t wait for perfect hair.

18

Father Keith Maguire watched the garda officers descending on the snow-covered grounds below his window. A knock on his door caused him to freeze, before he eased his breathing and said, ‘Enter.’

‘Keith, do you see them?’ Father Richard Pearse bundled into the room. The small, round priest was a few years older than Maguire. His bald head screamed red from the exertion of the stairs and his spectacles appeared glued to his wide nose. ‘They’re everywhere.’

‘I’m not blind.’ Maguire turned back to view the scene below his window. ‘Have they asked to come in?’

‘Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.’ Father Pearse slumped into a chair in the corner of the sparse room. ‘What are you going to tell them?’

‘Tell them?’ Maguire turned on his heel and glared. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You know right well what I mean. Those little girls were in your choir.’

‘My choir? Dicky, it’s a church choir. I have no ownership over it.’

Father Pearse bristled. He hated being called Dicky, but Maguire was beyond caring.

‘It’s yours because you run it,’ the older man said. ‘You take the kids for practice. All those children there with you, with only daft Betty Coyne as the other adult present. People will talk when this gets out, and the Church has enough bad press as it is.’

‘Are you insinuating that I had something to do with the death of Naomi Kiernan?’

‘Not at all. But you know how it is. People talk.’

‘Let them talk. People have been talking behind my back all my life. I can live with it. You should be worried too, Dicky. You’re in charge of the altar servers. And like you said, both the dead girl and the missing girl are connected to us.’

Pearse paled, and his mouth opened and shut. He moved to leave. ‘The bishop wants to see you. Three p.m. Don’t be late.’

The door shut with a click, and Father Maguire returned to his vigil by the window.

He glanced at the hymn sheet in his hand and scrunched it up into a tight ball. He would weather this storm like all the other storms of his past.

* * *

Alfie Nally hadn’t slept at all following his shocking experience last night. He got out of bed early and dressed. As there was no school again today, he should have been happy, but all he felt was a big hole in the middle of his stomach. Even his breakfast couldn’t fill it. He wanted to throw up. Before she went to work, his mother fussed and kissed him and told him it was going to be all right. Alfie knew nothing would ever be right again. It had been like that since his baby brother, Stevie, had died, and that was a long time ago.

In the hall, he pulled his warm jacket on over his hoodie and set off up Gaol Street. He found himself standing at the cathedral gates. Two guards stood at the tape blocking entry to the grounds.

‘Nothing to see here, son,’ the shorter one said. ‘Oh, you were here last night. Are you okay?’

Alfie recognised the guard now. He’d been one of the first on the scene after Father Maguire, and had made sure he and his mother were all right.

‘Not really. I had nightmares.’ A lie, because he hadn’t slept to have a nightmare.

‘You should go home. It’s too cold out here for a young lad.’

‘I’m nearly twelve, and I’m wrapped up well.’