STATUS: WIP
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to the BBC. Anyone you don’t recognise is mine and is in no way as interesting as the
originals.
RATING: I suppose PG - to be on the safe side. One use of a curse I think.
SPOILERS: Set after almost immediately after the last episode of season six, so if you didn’t see it yet, you have been warned!
NOTES: All constructive comments and encouragement gratefully received. I can guarantee it won’t be a Vincent / Avril story.

After the last spate between Fr. Mac and Vincent, things began to return to normal, or normal for Ballykissangel anyway. Fr.
Mac continued not wanting to know where Vincent was living and Vincent continued not wanting to tell him. They were
keeping an eye out for a suitable place but it wasn’t easy to find one. The church funds were very limited and properties were
scarce. One piece of good news was the possibility of a new housing development between Ballykissangel and Cilldargan. To
quote Fr. Mac “it’s a bit far, but better than nothing”.

Liam and Dónal were only too happy about the proposed new housing site. It meant more available work for them and the
possibility of being “paid on time”. Having been left in the lurch by Paul Dooley a couple of times, they began to see the value in regular employment. As long as regular employment was understood as ‘paid under the table’ they had no problem doing any sort of work. They decided to investigate the area to see if some “land investment” would be necessary. After all, that £10,000 each was burning a hole in their pockets. If they couldn’t invest in a horse, then they’d have to find something else. Time was of the essence because they didn’t want Paul moving in on their idea before them. That resulted in keeping them out of Fitzgerald’s while they hatched their plan. You never know what could slip out in general conversation, so it was best to avoid
the place altogether. On Tuesday, they decided to head out and see the land early in the morning. Dónal picked Liam up, in his
van, and off they went.

As they sped along the road, hoping that Frankie wasn’t about with her speed camera, they failed to notice a field gate left
open near Avril’s place. Not expecting a goat to be in the middle of the road, there was nothing Dónal could do to avoid it.
Alas, poor Daddy G ended up being killed outright. After the initial shock passed and Dónal stopped screaming, the two lads
realised not only had they killed the Dooley’s pet (for which there is sure to be financial compensation due), the Cat’s lucky
mascot was also obliterated. Not knowing what to do, they rang Edso first to pick up the van, now with a sizeable dent in the
front. Edso recommended that they ring Frankie, as the Gardaí would need to know. About half an hour later, Frankie arrived
on the scene and had a look around.

“Well, I suppose you were lucky that you didn’t manage to kill yourselves as well as the goat!” said Frankie. “This is a very
dangerous road Dónal, and judging by those tyre marks it took you a while to stop. What speed were you doing?”

“Ehh, well, F-F-Frank… Guard Sullivan, I - I was just, you know, just doing a normal speed, the goat like, he appeared out of nowhere, I..” stammered Dónal. Frankie wasn’t going to arrest him was she? Oh God, sure wasn’t he only young? Now he
was going to rot away in some jail in Dublin and never be free again. Oh God!!! What would he do???

“Take it easy Dónal, I’m not going to kill you!” said Frankie, seeing the panicked look on Dónal’s face. “Regardless of what
speed you were doing, there’s no way you could’ve avoided it. The gate in right on a blind corner and if the goat was standing
in the middle of the road - well - it was an accident and you were lucky it wasn’t a horse or cow that you hit. I doubt you
would’ve survived.” With that sombre note Frankie handed the accident report sheet to them. She explained that it needed to
be filled out and returned to her by tomorrow and with got ready to leave. The two had a good laugh (not where Frankie could
see them) about the phrase “Did the deceased say anything before they died?” Liam, deciding to be through, wrote in
“Bleeeeattt!!!!!”

After the accident, the real problems began. Dónal and Liam felt sorriest for Gráinne, after all Daddy G was her pet and her
birthday present. The lads decided that the best thing to do would be to bury the goat for Gráinne. Not being too sure of the
procedure, they asked Vincent when they saw him in the shop.

“Eh, Father, could we have a word with you?” asked Dónal.

“Sure Dónal, well, I’ve got about two minutes!” said Vincent looking at his watch. “What’s on your mind? By the way I haven’t seen you in the pub for a while, where have you lads been to?” he inquired.

“Well Father, after we, you know…. killed the goat, we figured Dooley would be after us so we’ve been layin’ low. You know him; he’ll be after the compensation. God knows what he’ll charge us!” said Dónal, getting a bit flustered at the thought of having to part with money to Paul Dooley. Liam, seeing that Dónal was as usual, taking his time getting to the point, stepped in.

“You see Father, it was an accident!! The bloody goat was in the middle of the road and there was nothing Dónal could do to
avoid it. Sad an’ all as it is, it’s poor Gráinne that feels it the most. So we figured that it’d be a nice thing to do to bury her pet
for her, but we need some instructions on how to do it right, like,” explained Liam, hoping he was getting his point across to
Vincent. Vincent looked at the two lads and scratched his head.

“So, you want me to explain the proper procedure for burying a goat…..?” Liam and Dónal nodded, glad that Vincent
understood. “Fellas…. it’s a goat…. dig a hole and bury it!!! - No big deal!! It's very nice of you to be concerned for Gráinne.
Although I suspect more selfish motives!” The two were a bit crestfallen at having their ‘be nice to Gráinne plot’ rumbled.

“What do ya’ mean?” Liam asked, knowing all too well that Vincent had figured that if they were nice to Gráinne, her father
might not be too hard on them.

“Look, lads, I don’t have all day here!” explained Vincent, getting a bit impatient. “Bury Gráinne’s goat for her, go see Paul
Dooley, stop hiding out in Cilldargan and stop behaving as if it’s the end of the world! It was an accident, as you’ve pointed out on many occasions and to anyone who’ll listen! If Paul says otherwise have him come see me, for all the good it may do! Now, I really have to go. See you later - in the pub!” He turned to pay for his shopping; ignoring the inquiring looks Kathleen was giving. “Thanks Kathleen!” he said with a smile and was out the door before he could be queried any further. “Phewww” he thought to himself as he hurried along, “there has to be a first time for anything - the correct procedure for burying a goat!!!
Who said living in a small town was the easy life!?! Oh damn, I’m late for confessions.” With this realisation Vincent took off in
a run. Kathleen wasn’t going to be there, he’d just seen her in the shop, but you never know who’d be there in her place.
Sitting primly on one of the pews, frowning disapprovingly at having been kept waiting for five minutes. It wasn’t his fault really.
He had to get some decent food for lunch because Avril’s ‘healthy eating’ diet was just about killing him. Bee pollen and
tasteless yoghurt didn’t exactly fill him up and he needed real food. If it was ‘real food’ he wanted he’d have to cook it himself
was what Avril said. So, he dashed to the shop before confessions, as Kathleen would have closed up before confessions
ended. The shop was his second choice but as Óonagh was away for the week, Paul’s sandwiches and cooking were getting
progressively worse the longer she was away. The net result was that Vincent had to make do with his own cooking for lunch
and dinner. Throwing his purchases in the corner of the sacristy and getting ready, he made it just in time before Mrs O’Neill
looked at her watch for the fifth time.

In the meantime, Liam and Dónal went off to find Gráinne and explain what they wanted to do. They found her in Avril’s yard,
mucking out The Cat’s stall.

“Hey Gráinne, can we ask you something?” asked Dónal hoping that the girl wasn’t crying or something. What would he do
with a crying ten year old?

“What?” sulked Gráinne, not crying, much to Dónal’s relief.

“Listen, we’re really sorry ‘bout what happened and we’d like to bury Daddy G for ya’ wherever you’d like and we’ll even try
an get ya’ another goat,” said Dónal ignoring Liam.

“Really?” asked Gráinne, looking from one to the other. “That’d be nice! Would you bury him overlooking the lake? ‘Cause he
liked the grass there and it’s where Avril used to take him and The Cat sometimes,” she sniffed, getting a bit tearful.

“Ehh, no problem there Gráinne, we’ll do that this evening,” said Liam, giving her a clap on the back and hoping she wouldn’t
mention the new goat. What was idiot Dónal saying!!! A new bloody goat, on top of what they’d probably have to fork over to her father!!

“Now, about my new goat…..”

It was the following day before the two lads ventured into Fitzgerald’s for the first time in at least a week. Paul spotted them
immediately and called out to them.

“Hey, would the pair of youse get over here and stop acting like you killed the missus or something!”

Liam and Dónal only too quickly reclaimed their usual stools at the bar, happy to be back.

“That was a nice thing you did for Gráinne” said Paul “but did you have to get another goat without askin’ me?”

“Ah, P-Paul, look, we didn’t mean any harm by it….” stuttered Dónal, getting nervous.

“Relax, would ya’ Dónal!!!” said Paul with a smile, “I’m only messing with ya’! It was an accident as Fr. Sheahan, Frankie,
Kathleen and Óonagh told me! What did you think I was going to do? Sue you for £10,000?”

The two lads laughed nervously, as that is exactly what they thought he would do. However, they were more than happy to
realise that Paul wasn’t going to take it any further. They spent an hour or two in the pub, catching up on the local gossip and to
prove there were no hard feelings between themselves and Paul they discussed the new housing development outside the town.
They left the pub feeling all was right with their coroner of the world.

Their happiness was short-lived once they spotted Frankie in full ‘Guard Sullivan’ mode.

“Which one of you two idiots put ‘Bleeeeeattt’ on the accident report?” demanded Frankie, in no mood to be trifled with. “I
spent the better part of my lunch yesterday convincing Paul Dooley not to go after you for vast amounts of money. I was doing
you a favour. I wonder why I bothered? It’s obvious to me that you see the whole thing as a joke.”

“Ah, look, sorry about that Fran..… Guard Sullivan. It was the shock, you know,” said Liam, for once spotting the danger
signs with Frankie. “It won’t do at all. We’ll fill out the report again and drop it back to you. Terrible sorry for giving you any
hassle at all. Terrible sorry. Won’t do…”

“For God’s sake, give it a rest Liam, grovelling won’t help and you’re useless at it!” interrupted Frankie, glaring at the two of
them. “The both of you are the greatest pair of thicks I ever met. Get this rewritten and have it back to me by six o’clock or
there’ll be trouble. Let this be the last I EVER here about that goat!!” Frankie shoved a fresh report sheet at Dónal, who being
flustered, dropped it into the roadside gutter. She rolled her eyes, took a deep breath remembering to count to ten, pulled out a new sheet, handed it to Liam and marched smartly away. Liam and Dónal let out their breaths in a whoosh and thanked their
lucky stars.

“Cripes, that was a close one!” said Liam, “come on you, let’s get this filled out and back to Eva Whatsit there before six.”

“It’s Eva Braun,” said Dónal.

“Who?”

“Eva Braun. You know, the one you meant.”

“The one I meant where, exactly?”

The debate continued until they decided that time was running out. Liam filled out the report, minus the cheeky bits, got Dónal
to sign the relevant places, and pushed it through the letterbox at the Garda station at half past five. When Frankie returned at
six, she saw it waiting for her on the mat and picked it up with a smile, thinking about the two. No greater pair of wallies had
she ever met, but they were harmless enough. Vincent, who was on his way back to Avril’s, saw her and called out to say hi.

“Hey Frankie, what’s got you smiling after a hard day chasing goat killers and such?” he said, teasing her.

“Are you teasing me, Father? Because if you are, you’d better watch it!” said Frankie, all set for their usual game. She
pretended to be narky, he pretended not to notice. Vincent though, after hours of confession, wasn’t up for it this evening and
admitted as much.

“Yes, I AM only teasing Frankie and I’m sorry. I just stopped to say hi before I headed out to Avril’s,” smiled Vincent.

“I know!!” laughed Frankie, seeing that the game was over before it began. “Listen, Father, about the other night when I
kicked you out…”

“Frankie, it’s okay…” interrupted Vincent.

“No, really, it’s not okay!” said Frankie, “I didn’t know Fitzgerald’s was full up and that you had to spend the night in a ditch! I mean, you could’ve waited in the kitchen or something. I’m really sorry!”

“Frankie, really, I’m fine!!” said Vincent, reassuring her. “It was only one night and I love camping. Anyway, Avril’s place is
grand for the moment until I find someplace more permanent. Don’t feel bad about it!”

“Well, I like camping as much as the next person,” said Frankie, “but not in the middle of a ditch and certainly not after I’ve
been kicked out of bed! I am sorry, and I have a peace offering if you’ll accept it. When you get tired of asparagus, red
cabbage and carrot juice, you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

“Oh, Gee, well, that’s really nice of you Frankie,” said Vincent, glancing nervously at the miserable cell, “but I…”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to stay in there!” explained Frankie seeing what his hesitation was about, “I’m having all the files cleared out of my spare room and getting it fixed up a bit.”

“You’re not doing it because of me are you?” worried Vincent.

“Oh no!!, well, no, of course not, well, yes in a way,” stammered Frankie, not wanting him to misunderstand her intentions, “I
mean, you made me realise that if any of my friends or family came to visit, I’d have nowhere to put them except for the cell
and I really don’t think my mother would appreciate it! So, see, I needed to do it anyway and if you need a place, it’ll be ready soon.”

“Oh, well, thank you then,” said Vincent, relieved, “I might have to take you up on that if I don’t find anywhere soon. Cheers
Frankie, it’ll be a great help!”

“No worries then,” smiled Frankie, in her best Australian accent.

“Why, Guard Sullivan, are you teasing me? Because if you are….”

Vincent arrived back at Avril’s with his bags of shopping in tow. He looked around for her but she was nowhere to be found.
He figured that he might as well get started on his dinner, remembering to take out some salad from the fridge for Avril. He was just in the middle of scraping the last of the meat out of the pan when Avril walked in and slumped down at the table with a
sigh.

“What’s that God awful thing you’re cooking there Vincent?” she asked.

“Ah, don’t really know yet” he explained, “I just chucked everything in and I’m waiting to see the final result. What’s up with
you? You look wrecked.”

“Thanks a bunch!” she smiled, “yeah, I had a hard day with this new horse I brought in. He’s highly strung and was determined
to kick lumps out of any enclosure he was in, from horsebox to stable to training field fence. You name it, this horse had a go at it, including me.”

“Ouch!” said Vincent “what’s this horse’s story? By the way there’s salad there for you from yesterday.” Avril smiled and
picked it up off the counter frowning at the lovely mess on Vincent’s plate.

“The horse is a two year old from my friend Michael’s place in Dublin. Mick’s been through hell with him as the horse is so
wired. He figured that all it needs is a good run in the country and a firm hand. So he unloaded it onto me to see what I can do.
I don’t know. This horse is a nutter,” she paused “you’re not seriously going to eat that are you?” she asked as he sat down at
the table.

“Sure am!” said Vincent munching away, “it probably looks worse than it is, the horse I mean, not the food! And can horses be nutters?”

“Well, for the first time I met a nutter horse!” smiled Avril. “I don’t get you. I mean you run and keep fit but you won’t eat
anything good for you!”

“I eat good stuff, just nice tasting good stuff,” he said.

Avril looked at the cooked meat, mashed vegetables and the something that he was eating and said, “Hmmm, it seems to me
that the Australian idea and the Irish idea of ‘good stuff’ are at variance with one another!”

“You leave my cooking and country alone and enjoy your rabbit food!” he said to her retreating back, “where are you off to?
You just got in!”

“I’ve got to make sure that horse is still in one piece! I can’t leave him alone for too long out there in case he escapes. I’ll be
back in a minute,” she said over her shoulder.

Vincent sighed and shook his head thinking that Avril didn’t know the meaning of the phrase ‘take it easy’. She made him feel
lazy just by being around her. He took out the paper and began to read it while he ate his meal. Avril came back in about five
minutes and finished off her ‘rabbit food’ quickly. She waved at Vincent as she crunched the last bit of lettuce and was gone
again to check on The Cat who was feeling the loss of Daddy G. The door slammed behind her and rustled Vincent’s paper.
That feeling of laziness crept back again…

Later on, after dinner, Vincent could take it no longer and went out to offer a hand in getting the new horse settled. Avril and a
stable hand had been struggling for an hour trying to get the horse to calm down and by now it was getting dark.

“Hey Avril, do you need a hand or anything?” queried Vincent.

“No Vincent, really it’s fine. I think the less people that are around this fellow the easier it’ll be to settle him down. You go on
back inside. I’ll give a shout if I do need you. Thanks anyway. Ahhhh shi….!!!!” she smothered a curse as the horse made
another spring. Vincent hurried back inside and finished cleaning up the kitchen. He went into the sitting room and turned on the TV. It wasn’t even tuned in correctly and the video recorder was missing a power cord. It was obvious that Avril had little or no time to herself or that she really didn’t like TV. Whatever. He found the power cord for the video underneath a stack of
magazines and rigged it up for her. The TV was beyond him until he saw the manual on a coffee table. Judging by the coffee
rings on it, Avril had been using it as a coaster. He spent a frustrating hour tuning in the set and by then realised that it was ten
thirty and Avril still hadn’t come in. He went into the kitchen and turned on the outside light. He saw that she was just locking
up the yard and saying goodnight to her stable hand. She came inside and smiled at him.

“Christ, that was a busy day! Well, Vincent, I’m off to bed because I need to get up early. I’m taking The Cat to Galway in the morning. It’s a long drive and I need to get going at the crack of dawn to beat the traffic,” she yawned her way through the last part of the sentence.

“Well, are you coming back tomorrow?” he inquired.

“No way!” she laughed, “I’ll be gone for at least three days and Johnny will be coming in to look after Flash there.”

“Oh, but Avril, I can’t stay here if you’re not here, it wouldn’t be right!” explained Vincent.

“I would’ve though the opposite actually!! Don’t be silly, you’ll have the house to yourself for three maybe four days and I
won’t have to worry about it looking deserted. Johnny will be looking after the yard and Gráinne will come up to give him a
hand after school. All you need to do is keep the burglars away and remember to lock up at night. It’ll be fine!” with that she
rummaged around for some paper to write down contact numbers for him.

“I tuned in your telly,” said Vincent, hoping to sound like he could do something useful “and I rigged up the video.”

“Oh great!” she said “thanks! I was going to do that but I couldn’t find the manual for the TV. Now here’s the contact numbers but I don’t think you’ll have any problems. If I’m going to be longer than four days I’ll give you a ring. Remember to watch out for The Cat on Sunday. I hope she’ll run, but it remains to be seen what she’ll be like without the goat. Right, I need to get
ready. Hope I don’t wake you in the morning. Byeee!”  She gave him the list and a quick smile then was off up the stairs. The
door banged behind her again and seemed to scoff  “LAZY” at him. Wondering where she got her energy from, Vincent went
back into the sitting room and sat down to watch the TV. Within a few minutes he was engrossed in some comedy about three
priests on an island.

The following morning Vincent woke at six thirty. When he was dressed and ready he went downstairs and discovered Avril
had left much earlier. She’d written a note for him on the kitchen table, “Good food in fridge. Good drink in press under sink.
Spare key under mat. Order for milkman left in bottle outside door. Make sure postman closes gate after him. Feed Stumpy
the cat if he returns, cat food in press beside kitchen door. If he’s sick / injured, ring Siobhan. Don’t forget to lock up at night.
Enjoy yourself. Thanks. A.” Vincent smiled and pinned her note to the notice board then he went in search of “good food and
good drink”. He looked in the fridge and to his horror discovered some puréed tomato, seaweed and cucumber in a bowl.
Yuck. Then he looked in the press, almost afraid of what he might find only to discover some weird health drink he never heard of. He seriously doubted that this was the kind of “healthy eating” most people went in for. He’d have to ask a more
knowledgeable source, as Avril couldn’t be used as a reliable yardstick of Irish cuisine. In the meantime, he got his usual
breakfast, deciding to leave the “good stuff” alone.

Vincent finished his breakfast and waited for the postman to arrive. He heard impatient beeping at the gates and realised that he had to go out and open them. So, he raced outside and managed to undo the lock just as Peter was turning his post van
around.

“Ah, good morning there, Father!” said Peter, “I thought there was nobody home and I was just about to head back!” Peter
started rummaging in his bag for Avril’s letters and handed them out to Vincent. “One of these is a registered letter Father, so if
you’d just sign here for it,” he indicated the place for Vincent to sign and once the necessary was completed, he said goodbye
and drove away. Vincent walked back into the house, looking at the letter he signed for. He hoped it wasn’t anything urgent for
Avril, but he made a mental note for himself that if she rang he’d tell her it was here. Just as he was passing the notice board he
spotted Avril’s note “make sure postman closes gate”. Vincent realised he was the culprit this morning. Bloody gate. Avril
should get one of those automatic gate opening / closing things. As he was leaving now anyway, he wasn’t about to go out and
close it but he’d have to remember to keep an eye on it. After all, one animal had been killed already this week when a gate
had been left open. Vincent didn’t think Avril would be to happy if another one ended up squashed on the road. He made his
way outside and locked the house. Just as he was getting into his car, Johnny showed up to start his day.

“Mornin’ Father Sheahan!” called Johnny with a wave, “I’ll pull the gate after you!”

Vincent waved his thanks and drove away into Ballykissangel. He parked the car in the church grounds and opened up. He
needed to be ready for the team of volunteer cleaners who came in every Thursday morning to do the church. Once the team
arrived he was free for about an hour before ten o’clock mass. It was at times like this when he realised how handy it was to
live near the church as he could go home to kill time if he needed to. For now, a walk around the village and some shopping
would have to do. So, he made his way down to the shop waving to the Dooley kids on their way to school. He saw Siobhan
and Brendan debating over who would have babysitting duty tonight. He kept well clear, as his last babysitting night ended up
in what could’ve been a big misunderstanding. Thankfully it was Brendan and Siobhan who saw him and Avril. He shuddered
to think what could’ve happened if the likes of Kathleen walked in. He just reached the shop as Kathleen was opening up.

“Good morning Father!” she sang, “How are you today? Everything all right for you up at Avril’s is it? I suppose you’re here to get some decent food? I’m not surprised at all. A fine man like yourself needs his food. Did you hear the latest? Scandalous!!” Vincent didn’t know which question to answer first, so he opted for the first one. If he encouraged her, Kathleen would only gossip.

“Morning Kathleen, I’m fine this morning. Yeah, everything is great at Avril’s. Very kind of her to let me stay”. Vincent hoped
he’d stopped Kathleen’s gossiping streak. She both amused and scared him and her vast knowledge of everything in Ballyk
was nothing short of amazing. He just wished she used her powers for good instead of evil! He’d nearly bet she knew what he
had for breakfast.

“I hear Frankie Sullivan has started smoking again!” said Kathleen, totally ignoring the fact that he didn’t ask.

“Oh, well, I’m sure she has her reasons,” he said, not wanting her to gossip about Frankie. By the end of the day in Kathleen
would have Frankie smoking stronger stuff than cigarettes, he was sure.

“No, Father, you’re not understanding me. If she’s started to smoke again, something must’ve happened. And between you
and me, I wouldn’t be surprised that she’s got someone new. Wasn’t she in Dublin last weekend and then she came tearin’
back here late on Sunday? Now she’s getting her house fixed up like she’s expecting a visitor and I wouldn’t be surprised- ”

“Wait Kathleen!” interrupted Vincent, “just because Frankie smokes doesn’t mean anything. You shouldn’t say things like that,
you know. Gossip can really hurt people. You need to be careful,” he admonished.

“Oh, right you are Father! Sure, I was just keeping you informed. I thought you’d like to know,” she said, a bit annoyed that he
wouldn’t listen.

“Thanks for the thought Kathleen, but really, people can live without that kind of speculation. Frankie would be furious if she
knew you were saying that stuff and you don’t want her angry at you!” Vincent hoped she got the message and went about
getting the rest of his shopping.

“I suppose you’re right, Father,” she said as he returned to pay, “that Frankie one can be very difficult if you cross her. Why,
only yesterday - ”

“Kathleen!!!!!”

After mass Vincent decided he better go and see Frankie in case there really was something wrong with her. He knew that if he mentioned Kathleen’s gossip he’d be in as much trouble as Kathleen for repeating it, so he decided he’d just make it an
informal, friendly visit. On his way out of the church however, he met Fr. Mac on his way in.

“Ah, Fr. Sheahan, glad I caught you. I need a word”, he said in his usual peremptory tones, “I suggest we go back inside.”
Vincent led the way, wondering what had brought Fr. Mac over at this hour of the morning. He usually didn’t show up in
Ballykissangel until after twelve o’clock. As soon as they reached the sacristy, Fr. Mac began.

“Now, Father, as you know, I’m not too happy about your current living arrangements. So, I’ve decided that as soon as the
new properties are finished outside the town, I will purchase one for the church. It seems the houses are going to be built a lot
nearer the town then what was originally thought. So you’ll be within walking distance again. The sooner you’re out of Avril
Burke’s house, the better”. Vincent wasn’t sure what Fr. Mac was implying, but he decided to go along with him for now.

“Well, that’s great Father. I’d like to have my own place again. But, how can you afford to buy a new house when we couldn’t
even buy the old one?” he asked, hoping he sounded pleasant. Even though he never told Fr. Mac where he was staying, as
per his instructions, in a place like this Fr. Mac probably knew about Vincent’s living arrangements almost as soon as Vincent
did himself.

“I explained to the Bishop, when I visited him last night, the dilemma we face in this parish and the fact that you had to spend a
night sleeping in a field. He agreed with me that this ridiculous state of affairs cannot continue and funds will be forthcoming for
a new cottage, as soon as it’s built,” he explained. “However should anything suitable become available in the meantime, that
will be given priority, as I’m sure you understand.”

Vincent nodded his head and repeated his thanks to Fr. Mac. He figured that there was no point in antagonising the man and let the comment about Avril slide. Fr. Mac was the kind of man that if you drew his attention to something, he would presume that there was some reason you did so. By keeping quiet, Vincent hoped he would be doing both himself and Avril a favour. He showed Fr. Mac out and decided he’d continue with his plan to see Frankie, if she was there. As it was near lunchtime, he’d stop by for only a few minutes. If she grumped at him, everything was fine. He walked down through the town and saw that the squad car was still parked outside the station, which was a good sign. He knocked on the door and waited for her to answer. After a minute, he knocked again but there was no reply. Dr. Ryan was walking by on his way to Fitzgerald’s and crossed over the road to him.

“She’s not there Vincent. The boys from Cilldargan were here earlier and she left with them. I think there must be some court
case or something on today. The amount of files she had!” Vincent guessed that Frankie’s spring cleaning had begun and she
was unloading files to the main office in Cilldargan.

“Oh, right. Thanks Michael. How are things?” Vincent inquired.

“Not too bad at all. Heh, last time we were here together, I thought Frankie was going to lock me up and through away the
key!” laughed Michael. “Although, from what I hear you pulled the short straw that night. Was Avril’s field comfortable?”

“The field was just fine, thanks Doc! And you should be thanking whoever watches over you that Frankie didn’t throw the
book at you that night” said Vincent, glad to see that the Doc was no worse for wear after his brush with the law.

“It had more to do with people here on Earth than anything else! Frankie saw the light and let me out,” said Michael, “by the
way, do everything in your power to keep her off the cigarettes. I worked to long and too hard with her for it all to fail now due to a simple lack of will power. I’m spreading the word around town. Frankie Sullivan is not to be given a moments peace if
caught with a cigarette”.

“Steady on Doc! It’s just a ciggy she’s smoking!” said Vincent, a bit surprised at Michael’s vehemence.

“Yes, well, it’s not your surgery that she comes crawling too, is it?” said Michael “she really shouldn’t smoke Vincent, it makes
it hard for her to breath. Help her out. She won’t smoke if she feels people are disappointed in her. Her aunt Sheelagh gave her a lecture but I don’t think she got through. Word to the wise, don’t nag. She’ll kill you.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll do what I can Doc. Is she sick or something?” asked Vincent.

“She used to get bad asthma attacks and the ciggys, as you can them, are exacerbating the symptoms. Which doesn’t help in
her job,” explained Michael. “Right, well I’ve got to be off. One of Paul Dooley’s amazing sandwiches awaits me. Bye
Vincent!”

“Yeah, bye Doc!” called Vincent. He wondered why Frankie would deliberately smoke if she knew it was putting her health in
serious danger? Apart from the possibility of lung cancer, she obviously had more pressing concerns like not been able to
breath! Was that what Kathleen meant? ‘Something must’ve happened’ was what she said. By now, Vincent was getting
worried.

Later that day Vincent was getting ready to go back to Avril’s house when he heard a knock on the sacristy door.

“It’s open!” he called. Frankie peeked around the door and smiled at him.

“Hi! I just met the Doc outside and he told me you were looking for me earlier. What’s up?” asked Frankie.

“Oh, nothing’s up,” he smiled back, “I was just calling to say hi.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a rotten liar Father?” she asked, not believing him for a second. “You have that look on your
face!”

“What look?” he asked, hoping she hadn’t seen through him already. Was he really that transparent?

“Oh, would you knock if off!! Tell me what you want - it can’t be that bad!” said Frankie, getting a bit impatient. Vincent
decided that the best thing to do would just be to go for it. After all, she wouldn’t kill him while he was on holy ground!

“Ah - well Frankie, see… don’t get mad… but-“

“Father!” she interrupted, with a warning look.

“I was worried about you, that’s all,” he said in a rush.

“Worried about ME? Why?” queried Frankie, not expecting that answer.

“Well I heard something from someone and then I heard something else and well…. I was worried something had happened,”
he said, hoping she would talk first and ask questions later.

“That’s a lot of ‘somethings’ in one sentence, you know. Would you spit it out, for God’s sake?… oh sorry”, she paused,
remembering where she was. “Look, I’m fine, but tell me what you heard and what has you worried.”

“Well, I was speaking to a person who’ll remain nameless-”

“Who?” she asked.

“Frankie, do ya’ want to here this or not? I’m not saying who told me, OK?” He hoped that would quell her little inquisition.
Frankie shrugged her shoulders and gestured for him to continue.

“Anyway, this person told me you were back smoking again but that you’d only do that if something serious happened. It didn’t bother me at first but then someone else told me that smoking actually makes you sick. So, I figured that the first person was right and you were in some sort of trouble and I thought I’d check it out. Sorry if that annoys you,” he said, feeling a little
annoyed himself. Nobody likes concern thrown back at them. Frankie could see he was angry right away from the small scowl
on his face.

“No, it doesn’t annoy me. I didn’t mean to sound so narky. Why don’t you finish up here and come back to the house with me
and we’ll sit down. I even have some of Óonagh’s best apple tart if you’d like a bit.” She hoped that he’d accept her offer.
Sometimes, she didn’t know with Vincent if he was joking or if he was serious and she often misinterpreted or misunderstood
his intentions. They’d had more that their fair share of arguments and even though they called a truce and the end, she didn’t
like that they happened in the first place. Lately, they hadn’t disagreed nearly as often and they even sparred with one another
just for the fun. But, like what had just happened, a simple misunderstanding of tone reminded her how quickly things could go
wrong.

“Yeah, that’d be great Frankie. I’m done here at last,” he said. “Is that Óonagh’s special apple tart from the pub? The one with the cloves in it?” The thoughts of it almost made him want to run and eat the whole thing there and then. Avril wouldn’t let him eat it when he brought home a piece. Life was so hard…. Frankie laughed at him.

“You know it is! It’s what she always makes me, you know. Every time I don’t give Paul a ticket and let him off with a warning
for parking on double yellow lines,” she said, knowing it would make him jealous.

“Isn’t that against the law or something? It must be - it’s not fair!!” he cried, as they walked to Frankie’s place.

“It’s one of the many benefits in the job, Father! If I share it with you, will you promise not to rat me out?”

“Rat you out? What do you mean? Are you implying that I have to be party to police bribery in order to get some decent
food?” he teased.

“I can imply what I like. I’m the one with the apple tart - it’s up to you if you want it or not…” she said, opening the door.

“You don’t need to imply anything twice - lead on!” With that, Vincent followed her into the kitchen and pulled out a chair.

As he sat down he spotted the ashtray on the table. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re on the ciggys again?” he asked,
hoping now that she was in a good mood, she’d talk to him. Frankie busily set the table and figured she’d put the man out of his misery.

“I’m not back on them. Well, I was, but I stopped now. Smoked the last one last night,” she paused to see if he had anything to say, but he just gestured for her to continue. “I was in Dublin last weekend and I met up with some people I used to work with before I was sent here. So we went out for a drink and then I met this guy that I used to errr, well…”

“You can say it Frankie! I presume this is a bloke you used to go out with?” he said, tempted to smile at her discomfort, but
knowing better.

“Had an affair with, actually. He was married, I was the other woman and it all ended very badly,” she answered, hoping he
wouldn’t be disappointed in her. Vincent had already heard about this, but was glad she told him herself.

“About two years ago in Dublin, I was just about to sit my sergeants exam and I needed some ‘inside info’, you know, behind
the scenes kind of insight that you’d only get on the job. So, I made myself available for as many cases as possible and I ended
up on a big case with the Criminal Assets Bureau or CAB for short. Anyway, in CAB, they investigate the shady goings on of
drug dealers and the like and if someone gets convicted, the State seizes all their assets making sure that they can’t benefit from
their ill gotten gains. I got way in over my head with an undercover operation, to the extent where my cover was blown. If it
weren’t for another assigned person, Detective Garda Sergeant Derek Maloney, I would’ve been six foot under. Talk about
infatuation, I thought the world of that guy, and he was unattached or so I thought! He was brilliant - at his job, but he was a
bloody useless husband and father, as I discovered. He hadn’t seen his wife and kids for over a year before I came along. Idiot that I was, I didn’t listen when my friends told me he was bad news. How could he be bad news? This was the guy who risked his life to get me out of a very dangerous situation! I genuinely believed him when he said he was getting a divorce and that we would live happily ever after. God, to this day I am so ashamed of myself, at how stupid I was. Anyway, little did I know he
was trying to reconcile things with his wife. I was supposed to meet him for a weekend away when I saw him getting into his
car with his family and immediately I knew. I didn’t even want to see him the next week but it couldn’t be avoided as we were
working on a case. I heard all the usual crap - “My family comes first”, “I really do love you, but I must think of the children” -
blah, blah, blah. It was awful, but thankfully my friends were too kind to say, ‘We told you so’.” Here, Frankie paused and
swiped at her eyes which were beginning to tear up. Vincent nudged the tissue box on the table closer to her.

“Don’t worry Father, I’m not going to start snivelling again after that no good, rotten piece of…” she sniffed and pointed to the
remains of the apple tart. “Help yourself to the rest of that if you want it. More tea?”

“Cheers, thanks!” he said munching away. “Go on Frankie, sounds like there was more to that story,” he encouraged.

“Oh, right…. Where was I?”

“Just at the bit where your friends didn’t say ‘we told you so’”

“Yeah, I was expecting them to say it, but they never did. I wanted them to do *something* though, because I was itching for a fight. They did nothing except be there for me, but I wasn’t able to talk about it. I couldn’t take much more so after the exams, I applied for a transfer. He was long gone back to his own territory and I was still hanging around CAB but I knew that wasn’t
going to last. Initially, I didn’t care where I was sent, once it was outside of Dublin. I was sent to Cork first and then within two
months I was sent here. It was a bit closer to home, but far enough away where I wouldn’t see him and his happy family life
and I could have a fresh start. When I first arrived here I didn’t know which end of me was up! I felt totally displaced and
hated it to begin with,” she paused here, knowing she was sidestepping the real story. Vincent wasn't here to listen to another
sob story about how weird she felt on arrival in Ballyk, so she continued on.

“Anyway, last weekend, as I said, I met up with a few of my friends in a pub in Dublin and who walked in only Derek with
some new young one on his arm. I knew he was still with his wife, before you ask. He looked straight at me and didn’t know
what to say. I stood up, told the girl she should watch herself, told him he was a lying, no good cheat who didn’t deserve his
family and left immediately. I went straight back to my parents place, picked up my stuff and got the bus back here.” Again,
Frankie paused in her narrative, having told him the worst part, she continued on. “As soon as I got home I just came in here
and sat for about an hour thinking. I had packets of cigarettes in the drawer, which I kept there in case the need was ever too
strong. I took them out and started to smoke. All seven packets between Sunday night and last night, gone! A strange sort of
cleansing ritual, I’ll grant you but it worked for me! It’s over, done with and finished, time for me to move on. And do you
know what, Father? For the first time I really do think I can. I won’t forget him, but I’m done worrying over what’ll happen if I
meet him etcetera, etcetera. It’s kind of ironic, as it was with him that I first started smoking and those packets in the drawer
reminded me of him every time I opened it. Sometimes all I could think about was having a smoke when I had a bad day and
the knowledge that they were here was worse. I should’ve thrown them out instead of smoking them, but sod it; I kept going
until they were gone. Anyway, it finally dawned on me that he was always going to be one of those men who live their lives
without giving a toss about others. Why should I still worry about him, two years on, when he probably hadn’t given me a
second thought since I left Dublin? So, now you know the whole sordid mess that was my life. Frances Sullivan, nicotine addict and gullible fool, is moving on.” With that Frankie concluded her story, not sure what Vincent was going to say.

“Well Frankie,” he paused, wanting to find the right words. “That’s quite a history! First up, can I just say that I don’t think
you’re a gullible fool. You are one of the smartest people I know and that guy didn’t deserve you,” he smiled at her wanting her to see that he didn’t judge her in any way.

“Thank you Father,” she smiled back. “I could use a smoke now!”

“Frankie, call me Vincent would you? I’m here as your friend, not your priest. After a weekend like that, I reckon you could
use a friend more! Too late on the smokes, they’re all gone!”

“Thanks Vincent. You’re the first person I talked to about this, by the way. I suspect my Auntie Sheelagh knows but I never
told her outright. It’s not a secret as such, it’s just I don’t-”

“Say no more. What you tell me as a friend goes no further. I’m sorry you went though such a bad time with that no good
mongrel. Unfortunately, there are people like him all over the place and they will always hurt others. As far as the smoking
goes, I’m glad you’ve stopped. I though Doc Ryan would kill you if he saw you with another smoke! If the need ever gets too
strong again, you remember how you feel now and if that doesn’t work come see me and we’ll fight it away together, OK?” he
said, hoping that she understood he would be there if she needed him. After all, he knew the importance of having a friend to
talk to when you’re trying to kick a habit.

“I will Fath - Vincent. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is not to reach for that packet of fags in the shop sometimes.”

“Believe me, I know,” he said, deciding to tell her about his alcoholism. “Before I came here I was sent back to Australia from
Brazil to dry out.”

“To dry out? What… I mean ….” stammered Frankie, not quite comprehending what he was telling her.

“I’m an alcoholic,” he stated simply.

Frankie was so astonished she didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. That Vincent, who seemed so together and so
sure of himself was an alcoholic, was almost incomprehensible to her. Vincent felt sorry for her. She had just told him what was obviously a traumatic story for her and then he dropped this bomb on her.

“Frankie, say something! It can’t be any worse than what I’ve already heard,” he said, hoping that he hadn’t said too much too
soon.

“I just don’t know what to say! You are so capable and well able for anything, that you’d be the last person I would’ve pegged as an alcoholic. I mean, you own a pub for God’s sake! That’s like me owning a cigarette factory or something! I am amazed!”

“You wouldn’t have thought that if you knew me two years ago,” he said, trailing off a bit. He wondered if he should go into
further detail tonight. They’d have other opportunities to talk in the future. This could be too much.

“You know what Vincent,” she said, “this is not a conversation we should continue to have over a kitchen table. Go on inside
and light the fire. I’m going to get changed, get some dinner ready and we are going to have this out. You were kind enough to
listen to me, it’s the least I can do.” Vincent looked at his watch and realised how late it was getting.

“Frankie, maybe we’ve talked enough for one night. We can do this again some other time. I have to get back to Avril’s place
and lock it up. Thanks for offering to listen though. I would take you up on it, but-”

“We haven’t talked at all,” she interrupted, “I yattered on, you listened! But if you have to get back I understand. Avril
wouldn’t be too pleased if her house sitter was out half the night. Promise me that we will continue this and that you won’t leave it too long.”

“OK, it’s a promise. Don’t feel I’m avoiding this, I’ve had someone to talk to and there’s an A.A. in Cilldargan I’ve gone to a
few times. But, when Avril gets back, I’ll be allowed out at night and we’ll arrange something. She should be back on Sunday I think. The Cat is racing in Galway and it’s her first race since Daddy G’s untimely demise,” he smiled.

“Don’t talk to me about that goat. Remind me to tell you what those two twits put on their accident report!” she laughed at the
memory of Dónal’s face.

“Good to see you laugh Frankie,” he said, “you haven’t had the easiest time this week and I’m sorry you went through it
alone.”

“It was good in a way, to go it alone,” she said, as she showed him out, “but thanks for listening. I feel so much better now that
someone knows. At least those cigarettes in the drawer can’t thwart me anymore.”

“It’s like drink Frankie, just because you don’t have it to hand doesn’t mean there aren’t days where you’d give anything, just
for one. Remember who to call if you feel that way. Don’t hesitate.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze of support.

“I hope you know it works both ways,” she said, squeezing back before she let go. “Safe home. By the way, did Avril’s cat
Stumpy show up yet?”

“How did you know it was missing?” he asked. “Avril left a note for me reminding me to feed it if it showed up or to call
Siobhan if it was sick.”

“She asked me to keep an eye out for it. Stupid moggy, this is the fourth time he’s disappeared. He always comes back,
generally with some piece missing! Good night Vincent, drive carefully!”

“Yes Guard!” he saluted. “Thanks Frankie, for everything. Don’t tell Avril you fed me apple tart. Good night, see you
tomorrow.”

“Bye Vincent!” with that Frankie closed the door and leaned up against it. What a night. Firstly, she never for one second
thought she’d tell anyone about Derek or about what happened last weekend. And secondly, Vincent admitting he was an
alcoholic… unbelievable! “No wonder he was so shocked when I breathalysed him for drink driving,” she thought to herself.
“You just never know…”

When Vincent arrived back at Avril’s place he remembered to lock up the gates and to check that all animals were safely
secured. When he got to the front door he was amazed to see that the cat had returned. Frankie was right; he seemed to be
missing a piece of his right ear. Vincent bent down to pick up the cat but Stumpy was in no mood to be handled and lashed out
with a well-aimed claw. “Yeouch!!!” yelped Vincent, “flamin’ cat! Right, make your own way in then.” As he opened the door,
Stumpy trailed miserably after him and flopped into a pile of horse blankets, an obvious favourite retreat. Vincent wondered
what to do, should he call Siobhan now or until the morning? As the cat was obviously injured he decided it would be best not
to wait. He went into the kitchen and picked up the phone, where he saw Siobhan’s number on speed-dial.

“Hello?” answered Siobhan.

“Oh, hi Siobhan, Vincent here,” he replied.

“Vincent! What’s up? Anything thing wrong with the horses?” asked Siobhan, instantly in ‘vet’ mode.

“No, they’re fine. Sorry for the late call but it’s Avril’s cat, Stumpy. He’s shown up minus a piece of ear,” he explained.

“Ah, I see. Well, if I remember that cat, don’t try and touch him. The bloody yoke will scratch the hand off you! I’m on my
way.”

“Thanks Siobhan, too late about the scratch thing, though. He’s already taken a swipe at me,” Vincent replied. Siobhan laughed and told him she was leaving immediately and to stay well clear of Stumpy. Within fifteen minutes she was there, equipped with strong gardening gloves for handling unruly patients.

“Let’s see what you’ve done to yourself this time Stumpy,” she said, picking the cat up. “Do you know Vincent, this is the
fourth time this cat has returned with some sort of injury! The degree of violence varies but somehow he’s always managed to
survive.”

“Yeah, Frankie told me about him earlier. What can you do for him?” asked Vincent.

“I’ll have to take him to the surgery. This is a lot nastier than it looks and I hope he doesn’t have an infection,” she said, as she
put Stumpy into a cat carrier. “Frankie and Stumpy go back a long way. Her first week here, Stumpy got into the squad car
when she was visiting Avril. Then she got an urgent call so she jumped into the car and hit the siren. Well, Stumpy went ape and frightened the life out of Frankie. She got such a fright, she tried to get out of the car and her seat belt was still on…” at this
stage Siobhan was laughing so hard at the memory tears were rolling down her cheeks. Vincent could just picture the scene and started laughing too.

“Oh God, Vincent, it was too funny!! Here was Frankie, struggling with the seat belt, the siren going and Stumpy yowling and
hissing in the front seat. Such language from Frankie - I’ve never heard the like of it since! To this day, she makes damn sure to close the car door if she comes up here. I had a grand view of it all as I was with one of the horses. I couldn’t even look over at her when they managed to get Stumpy out of the car because I was so afraid that I wouldn’t be able to stop laughing.”
Siobhan continued to giggle to herself as she loaded Stumpy into the back of her jeep. “Goodnight Vincent, I’ll keep him for a
few days. Avril can pick him up when she gets back.”

“Goodnight Siobhan, say hi to Brendan and Aisling for me! Thanks for coming out. Byee!” he called, as Siobhan made her way out of the yard. Vincent locked the gates behind her and went back inside, smiling at he thoughts of Frankie and the cat. “What a day,” he sighed as he got his supper. He was glad that he had the chance to clear the air with Frankie. Sometimes, like today, he felt sorry for her because she didn’t seem to have anyone in Ballykissangel to talk to. He was glad that she felt able to
confide in him and he was glad too that he could finally tell her about his alcoholism. As his father said “heavy secrets get lighter
when you share”. Well, he wasn't to pleased when his rebel son returned from Brazil an alcoholic, but he and Vincent’s mother
did everything in their power to help him. It worked in the end, but it was a hard won battle. Vincent switched off the lights and
made his way upstairs to bed, thinking about his day.