Born & Bred by Peter Murphy Page B

and wise enough to see her wisdom. She had done what she had to do and, if penance was required, she’d leave her house and her bonds to the Church—after Danny was finished with them.
    Fr. Brennan always gave her absolution with a smile, and well he should. It was the least he could do for all that she and Bart had done in the service of the Lord.
    They had him installed as parish priest and it wasn’t a bad parish. He made a good living out of it and he could look after his curate who, God love him, needed looking after—fresh faced from the seminary, full of Jesus and looking after the sick and the poor.
    That was all very well, but, as Fr. Brennan often confided to Granny, someone had to pay the bills: mortgage and heating, the cost of wine and hosts, candles burning like they grew on trees, and all the other costs of the ritual to remember a poor man’s supper.
    Bart had known Fr. Brennan since his days on the run when the priest’s family often sheltered him. Fr. Brennan often reminisced about that when he came by on Thursdays for afternoon tea.
    Granny looked forward to his visits. It was good to be able to talk with someone who knew and understood. He often said that Bart and Granny had been his closest friends for years, and that they were very generous, too. Always ready to help out when a young girl had to be sent away before her shame was there for all to see. They used to send them off to England—to convents where they could leave their babies in the good care of the nuns—but they needed the fare.
    She had faith in the parish priest but she wasn’t sure about the curate.
    **
    “Of course,” Granny continued when she returned from her thoughts. “I wouldn’t let him talk with Danny at that hour. Says I, ‘I’m the boy’s guardian and you can tell me whatever it is that you wanted to say to him.’ At first he was reluctant and said that it was a confessional matter and that he couldn’t discuss it with me. Can you believe it? And me the child’s only love in the world. Present company excepted, or course. Then I said to him: ‘You can tell me or you can tell Father Brennan.’ That put the skids under him, I can tell you,” she nodded in satisfied agreement with her own sentiment. “Then he tells me that Danny was asking him about God and why He doesn’t help his mother.”
    She paused again to pour more tea but it wouldn’t warm her. Despite her best efforts the past was reaching out again like a restless ghost. She had been putting off thinking about it but now she had to face it: she was going to die and Danny was going to be left alone in the world.
    “Has Danny ever mentioned any of this to you?”
    Martin had been watching her, like he could sense some of the things that passed behind her impassive face. “He did, yes, but I told him not to think about stuff like that. I told him he was too young to understand, but that, in time, when he was bigger, it would all make sense to him.”
    “You’re a very wise and decent young man, Martin, and I thank you for saying that to Danny.”
    “You’re welcome, Mrs. Boyle, and it was no bother at all. Danny’s like a little brother to me.”
    “Well I’m so glad that he has you in his corner.”
    “Mrs. Boyle. Would you mind if Danny and I went out every week to see a picture? I can take him out for burgers and chips after, too, if that’s all right with you?”
    “I don’t mind a bit as long as you let me pay for both of you.”
    “I wasn’t asking you to do that, Mrs. Boyle.”
    “I know you weren’t and that’s why I’m happy to offer.”
    “Well,” Martin rose to take his leave. “In that case I’ll be very happy to accept, and this way Danny will have someone to talk with. Someone else,” he added so as not to give offence.
    “Grand so,” Granny agreed as she showed him to the door. “And God bless you, Martin, for doing this.”
    “It’s no bother, Mrs. Boyle. Danny and I are becoming mates, you know?”
    “I