"I'm not sure he really counts as a missing person when he's only been gone four hours Padraig. Maybe he stopped off to get some shopping on his way home."
Gard Ambrose Egan listened patiently as Padraig recounted how he'd rung his supplier and been told Peter had left, with the parts, two and a half hours ago and how Peter had seemed to be in something of a hurry.
"Yeah OK." said Ambrose, "I'll see what I can do. Why don't'cha send yer customer over to Assumpta's? Sure, she'll be glad of the business... Oh, no lights at all now is it? Oh well, I'm glad to hear she's closed then. Right, well I'll have a look for him. Thanks Padraig."
"What was that about?" Asked Niamh, Kieran in one arm, handing her husband a cup of tea and a biscuit with the other and feigning less interest than she felt.
"Oh just Padraig. Apparently he sent Father Clifford off to get some parts, and he's taking his time coming back and of course Padraig's all worked up because his customer's waiting. What's Padraig doing asking the priest in the first place? That's what I want to know!"
"Oh God!" said Niamh, as a sudden thought struck her.
"What?" asked Ambrose in some confusion.
"Oh, um, I think maybe I'd better just go and talk to Assumpta..."
"But you've only just come back from Assumpta's..."
"I know, sorry love, there's just something I forgot to, er, discuss with her. Can you take Kieran?"
"Niamh, I'm on duty!"
"Sure, you're only sitting at your desk, I won't be a minute."
"I am not! I'm on my way out to look for Father Clifford." Ambrose announced, suddenly deciding the missing curate was a case worth immediate investigation and leaping up full of efficiency.
"Oh all right, I'll take him with me." conceded Niamh. "Mind you bring Father Peter back safe and sound now!" she said over her shoulder as she headed up the stairs towards the front door and Fitzgerald's.
"I'll be with you in a minute" said Assumpta to Niamh, covering the telephone handset with her hand as she did so. "Next week?" She said, returning to the phone. "Oh no, no, no, I can't wait that long, I'm trying to run a business here, I have a christening to cater for. I can't do that without power... What d'you mean it's not an emergency? What do you have to do to qualify? Get electrocuted?... No? Well it wasn't meant to be funny. Can you be here tomorrow or not? I'll take my business elsewhere then. Goodbye."
Assumpta slammed down the phone.
"Sorry Niamh. Trying to sort out the electrics. What was it?"
Niamh shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to be the bearer of further bad tidings. "Have you heard from Fa... er Peter?" she tried apologetically.
"What, in the ten minutes since you were last here?" Assumpta narrowed her eyes. "What's going on?"
"Oh it's nothing to worry about I'm sure," protested Niamh, instantly increasing Assumpta's level of worry. "It's just, Padraig's reported him missing."
"Missing?"
"He was expecting him back by now that's all... you don't think, well, you don't think he's done a runner do you?"
"Well I do now!"
Kathleen Hendley stood watching the street outside her shop with keen attention. No sooner had Father MacAnally asked her to keep quiet about the goings on between the curate and Mrs McGarvey than she'd heard on the grapevine that there was a journalist in town. Coincidence? Kathleen didn't think so. But the church had nothing to fear from her, she knew her duty, unlike some people.
It had, in fact, been a dull day, leaving Kathleen plenty of time to mull over what she would say if she saw this journalist, so she'd been on the eager lookout for anyone she didn't recognise. She'd been told it was a woman, of course, but there was no telling how many journalists could be crawling the streets by now, especially if word had spread to Mr McGarvey!
A few strangers had visited the shop, looking for cigarettes, chocolate bars, a pint of milk. Kathleen had eyed each one suspiciously, waiting for them to do something unusual, ask her a question, speak in an English accent perhaps, but none had. They'd only raised their eyebrows at the price, as everyone always did, paid up meekly under her severe gaze and left hurriedly, leaving Kathleen just a little disappointed.
When Carmel did eventually climb the steps to Hendley's front door, flicking raindrops from a smart black umbrella, Kathleen was no less vigilant. This woman looked out of place all right, no-one round BallyK wore shoes like that, nor that kind of suit, nor generally that kind of scowl.
The scowl was replaced by a friendly smile that didn't spread to the eyes as Carmel crossed the threshold. Kathleen didn't return it. Undeterred, Carmel wandered round the shop for a couple of minutes, pretending to be interested in the sandwiches and the postcards. "What a lovely little town this is," she began, "a real sense of community, so rare these days."
"Indeed." Said Kathleen stiffly. "And what brings you here I wonder?"
"Oh nothing really, I'm just passing through... I had the good fortune to meet the young Priest this morning, he must be well liked I imagine."
Kathleen congratulated herself inwardly on having judged this newcomer correctly. "If he is or if he isn't, what concern is it of yours?" she replied haughtily, looking down her nose.
Carmel was rather taken aback. "Well, err.." she began.
"Which paper is it you're with?"
Carmel straightened and swallowed, realising, with some surprise, that she was rumbled. She smiled a strained smile. "I'm with the Enquirer. But..."
"The Enquirer is it? I'll have you know, I don't stock your paper in my shop, I wouldn't want to be associated with anything so scandalous!"
Carmel goggled.
"And what's more, I think it's a disgrace!" continued Kathleen, "To think you'd come to a place like this and start digging around looking for who knows what, stirring up trouble. It's a wonder you can look at yourself in the mirror. You'll not be getting any quotes from me, that's for sure!"
Just then, Brendan Kearney appeared in the doorway, evidently having caught the end of Kathleen's little speech. He looked warily from one woman to the other. "Is everything all right Kathleen?" he asked in consternation.
"Fine, thank you Mr Kearney. This lady was just leaving." said Kathleen firmly.
Carmel glared at them both, stuffed the postcard she was holding back into the rack and exited the shop while Brendan looked quizzically after her.
Kathleen looked on with a sense of satisfaction clearly etched on her face.
Brendan had no success in pumping Kathleen for information. Try as he might, "My lips are sealed!" was all the shop keeper would say on the subject. So, he paid for his copy of The Independent, flashed her a considering glance and headed out into the poring rain.
The rain was heavy so he loped as quickly as he could, covering his head ineffectively with his newly bought paper, straight across the road to where Assumpta was emerging from behind a blue door. She was holding a box of sandwiches and a thermos flask and busied herself putting them in the back of her van as he approached.
"We're closed Brendan." She announced pre-emptively when she saw him coming.
"What? It's not that late is it?"
"I have no lights, the food's all gone off, and I'm in a hurry."
"Well then, put a few candles out, it'll be atmospheric! Put people in the mood for romance." He raised an eyebrow suggestively.
She ignored him.
"C'mon Assumpta, you can't leave me out in this, I'll catch my death, and you wouldn't want that on your conscience. Oh hello Niamh."
"Hello Brendan." Said Niamh from the doorway, a wriggling Kieran straining for release from her arms. "Would you ever persuade Assumpta she's not going out looking for Peter on her own?"
Brendan raised an eyebrow at Assumpta. "Peter? Why where is he?"
Assumpta was now opening the driver's door.
"He went on an errand for Padraig and never came back." Niamh explained, opening the passenger door, ready to get in.
"Niamh! You're not coming with me!" Exclaimed Assumpta, evidently not for the first time.
"Why not?"
"Well, you've got Kieran there for starters, and I don't have a car seat for him."
"Brendan, will you take your future Godson for a minute?" Niamh said, handing the squirming bundle over to a dazed Brendan. "And here's his things" she said, suddenly producing an enormous bag of baby equipment. "You can shelter in there till we get back, have my key."
Assumpta groaned into the steering wheel.
"Niamh! Assumpta!" Protested Brendan uselessly as Niamh disappeared into the van. He sighed. "Looks like it's just you and me little fellow." He said to Kieran as the blue van sped away.
There comes a point, as we all know, when you simply can't get any wetter.
Peter had long since reached this point.
A soaking wet curate's-suit, one size too small, is not a comfortable outfit in which to walk for miles and miles up and down a winding country road. Shoes that squelch with every step are no better.
It is also true that distances can be deceptive when one gets used to travelling by car. Peter was starting to realise just how deceptive.
He'd been encouraged by the sight of familiar landmarks into thinking he wasn't so far from home as he actually was. He had opted to keep on walking, rather than heading off the beaten track to some distant farmhouse that might have provided warmth and a telephone line. He was starting to regret the decision.
In the hours Peter had been walking, very few vehicles had passed him, most of them in the opposite direction, and the others hadn't liked the look of the bedraggled stranger and had sped on by. Peter sighed at the remembrance of another rainy day, another walk down another country road. On that day a blue van driven by a beautiful stranger had come to his rescue.
The memory was as fresh as if it were only yesterday. To him she had looked like she might have escaped from some Irish fairy story, she was too vibrant to belong to everyday life. It had seemed incongruous to find her in the driving seat of something as mundane as a blue van. He barely took his eyes off her as she talked, learning the contours of her face, the flashing light of her eyes, the warmth of her voice. Those first moments of their acquaintance had left an indelible mark on him that would never fade.
But back in the present there was no blue van in sight and light was beginning to fade.
