Page 224 of The Missing Sister

‘Do you remember that old battleaxe of a housekeeper called Mrs Cavanagh, who used to work for Father O’Brien?’

‘How could I forget her?’ Katie rolled her eyes. ‘A fierce old witch she was, for sure.’

‘She threatened Ambrose with the fact that she’d seen them hugging just after Ambrose’s father died. Father O’Brien was simply consoling his beloved friend after his loss, but she said she was going to tell Father O’Brien’s bishop of their “inappropriate behaviour”.’

‘So the old bat was twisting it into something more than it was?’

‘Exactly,’ I sighed. ‘Ambrose had no choice but to walk away. He knew any sniff of scandal like that would end Father O’Brien’s career. I believe it broke Ambrose’s heart, Katie; every time he was there at the presbytery, the two of them would talk for hours, mostly arguing about the existence of God. Ambrose is an atheist, you see.’

‘Do you think that, well, therewasanything inappropriate going on?’

‘No, I don’t. Absolutely, categorically not. I know that you’ve never liked him, but Ambrose always knew and respected that the love of Father O’Brien’s life was God. And he could never compete. Who could?’ I shrugged.

‘Well, whatever I feel about Ambrose, ’tis a beautiful thing you’ve done, Merry, bringing the two of them back together. ’Tis hardly much of a life for the father up at the old people’s home, that’s for sure. Now then, I’ll be having to take our fellow back before they call the guards out for him. I hate to break them up, but...’

‘Of course,’ I agreed. ‘I’m sure that Ambrose will stay on down here longer now he knows why I asked him to come in the first place.’

Upstairs, we both crept into the room, feeling almost as if we were voyeurs. I was only relieved to hear laughter coming from the balcony.

I stepped out onto it and looked down at both at them.

‘Have you had a good catch-up?’ I asked.

‘We have indeed, Merry,’ said Ambrose, ‘and may I say that you’re a very naughty girl, bringing me here under false pretences. My poor old heart almost stopped when I saw James here.’

‘Well, you’ll just have to forgive me, won’t you? Now, Father, I hate to break up the party, but it’s time for Katie to take you back home.’

‘I’d hardly be calling it home,’ Father O’Brien shrugged sadly.

‘You’ll be here tomorrow, won’t you, Ambrose?’ I asked him. ‘He wasn’t sure whether he actually wanted to stay down here overnight,’ I said as an aside to Father O’Brien.

‘As we’ve only reached 1985 so far, I rather feel I must,’ said Ambrose. ‘What time are visiting hours?’ he asked as he stood up and stepped back to make room for Katie to wheel Father O’Brien inside.

‘For the father, any time you please,’ said Katie with a smile.

‘Until tomorrow then, dear James,’ said Ambrose, stepping into the room. ‘Until tomorrow.’

The look in Ambrose’s eyes as Katie wheeled Father O’Brien out of the door brought a lump to my throat.

‘Good grief! Well, that certainly got the blood racing around my old veins,’ he murmured. ‘I feel quite wrung out.’

‘You must be hungry, Ambrose. Shall I order you something?’

‘First of all, Mary dear, please escort me to the nearest facility. I haven’t used the bathroom since we stopped off in Cork three hours ago!’

Having taken Ambrose to his room, he opened his Gladstone bag – a relic I remembered from his days with Father O’Brien and pulled out a letter.

‘This is yours, I believe,’ he smiled, as he handed it to me.

I looked down at the writing, feeling I should recognise it, but I didn’t. Why should I? There had been no need for correspondence between us all those years ago.

‘Thank you. Why don’t you have a lie-down and call me on my room phone when you want to have supper?’

‘I will. Thank you, my dear, for what you did today.’

‘Ambrose, it was a pleasure.’

Back in my own room, I put the letter to one side and sat on the balcony to check my mobile. Three voicemails had been left for me.