The following week, Vincent met Frankie in the street, just as she was loading up her car with all sorts of interesting looking
boxes.

“Hey Frankie, haven’t seen you around lately!”

“Oh Vincent, hi!” she smiled. “I’ve got target practice today down at the firing range. I’ve been so busy lately I haven’t had a
second free. After tonight though, I’m done for a while. What about you?”

“Nothing much, just the usual. I didn’t know you had to know how to use a weapon.”

“We generally don’t, but I did some firearms training for a while in Dublin. I’ve kept my hand in and I need to work at it, hence
all the gear!” she gestured towards the piles of stuff in the car. “Listen, if you’re free on Friday, do you want to come over for
some dinner and a chat. I know we said ages ago that we’d meet up again, but we haven’t so far!”

“Sure, okay, that’d be great, would five o’clock suit you?

“Yep, five would be fine. Actually, make it six, I just remembered I’ve weekend traffic duty on Friday. I’m not off until five
thirty.”

 “Six it is. Take it easy out there today!”

“I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t gone in ages! See you Friday!” she called and got into the car, waving goodbye as she
pulled off. Vincent waved after her shaking his head. Frankie with a gun! Thank God the Gardaí were an unarmed force
otherwise Dónal and Liam might have been dispatched with sometime ago!

“What are you staring at?” came a voice from behind him. Vincent jumped and turned around to face the speaker.

“Don’t do that!”

“See, it’s not that funny, is it?” Avril smirked, referring to the numerous times he’d appeared out of thin air in front of her.

“Hummm, what are you doing out and about?” he said, ignoring her question.

“Just picking up some stuff from Kathleen. How are things?”

“They’re great! It’s been so handy living in the town again. Not that I didn’t appreciate living-”

“Oh relax! I know what you mean. Have you managed to convert Dermot to Aussie Rules yet?”

“Almost, I just need a little more time. I think he’s beginning to crack!” he joked.

“You against the might of the Church of Manchester United! Good luck with that! Oh, did you see the builders have moved in
to start the new houses today? Well, at least the surveyors were there on my way in, marking out the various plots of land.”

“Really? I wonder how long it will take them?”

“Well, they’ve just started to mark out, so I reckon it’ll be at least next month before the builders really get going. Judging by
the rate they’re building houses in Dublin now, it won’t take them long once they start. By the beginning of winter, you could be
in your own place!”

“That’d be great! I’ll take a look over there later and see what’s going on.”

“Do! Maybe they’ll let you pick out one already. Ask and see. Where was Frankie off to? I was wondering if she’d like to
meet for lunch tomorrow.” Avril and Frankie had met for lunch at least one day each week since the whole misunderstanding
thing.

“Get this - she was off for some target practice!”

“She has a gun!?! Dónal and Liam had better watch out!” she said. Vincent laughed loudly at this comment.

“I was just thinking the same thing myself! I was wondering why are the Gardaí unarmed here? I mean, okay, you don’t need
an armed Garda in Ballyk, but surely in parts of the bigger cities they’re armed?” he asked, as they walked down towards
Kathleen’s shop.

“Nope. They do have a special unit that gets called out if they need it and some detectives are armed. It depends on the
situation I suppose. You’ll have to ask Frankie for the details. Anyway, it’s part of who they are, the ‘Guardians of the Peace’
or as we call them, the Garda Síochána.”

“Wow! I wonder if any of them were ever shot at?”

“I’m sure there have been a few instances. Frankie’d know, I can’t think of any off hand. Are you getting stuff in here too?” she
asked, opening the shop door.

“Yeah, I’m just picking up the paper. Hi Kathleen!”

“Oh, hello Father! Hello Avril! How are things over at the pub Father?” inquired Kathleen, barely concealing her distaste. A
priest living in a pub; whoever heard of it! Kathleen asked him this every single time she saw him and Vincent was getting
slightly tired of her persistent questioning. He managed to answer her civilly again, for about the fiftieth time.

“Never better Kathleen! I’m really being treated like royalty. The whole family are looking after me so well!” He hoped that’d
keep her quiet for a bit and he glanced through the newspapers until he found what he was looking for.

“The Irish Times, please,” he said, handing it over with a smile.

“One pound, Father. Remember you can always come back to my place if things get a little rough for you over there.” Vincent
again tried to circumvent Kathleen’s arguments.

“Very kind of you Kathleen, I’ll keep that offer in mind. Bye now, bye Avril!” he called, trying to get away as fast as he could.

“Oh wait! I’m just done here,” she said as she handed over her purchases. Kathleen put the shopping through the till and told
Avril the price. Avril paid all eleven pounds seventy-three pence in pennies and two-pences, much to Kathleen’s annoyance.
“Sorry Kathleen, I’ve had this change weighing me down for ages. It’s good to get rid of it, hope you don’t mind,” she said, as
she plonked one moneybag after another down on the counter. She broke open the last one and painstakingly counted out the
seventy-three pennies. Vincent could barely keep a straight face throughout the exchange.

“Not at all,” said Kathleen tightly, indicating that she did mind, a lot.

“Thanks!” said Avril brightly as they made their way out of the shop.

“Did you call me back there just to see that?” asked Vincent.

“Yup, sure did! And for insurance - what could she say with you standing there? You know the way she always moans on at
you if you give her twenty quid. ‘Oh, have you not got anything smaller? You’ll clear me out of change!’” said Avril, in a
surprisingly good Kathleen impression. “I’ve been keeping all that crappy change just to annoy her. At least I put it in
moneybags! Damn near tore my pockets!”

“How long has it taken you to collect that amount?” he laughed.

“I had a tin at home that I threw loose money into, I’ve been meaning to get rid of it for ages and two weeks ago I decided to
let Kathleen have the lot. She nearly wouldn’t sell me a bottle of water because I only had a fiver. So, I went over to the post
office and got some moneybags, went home, counted out the change and I’ve waited for a rainy day so I could carry in my
coat pockets. See?”

“Geez! Remind me not to get on your bad side!”

“Ahh go on! You thought it was funny! Admit it!” she laughed. Vincent couldn’t help but give in.

“Oh all right! Yes, it was a very well thought out plan! You’ve given her enough change to last for a good while!”

“Not only that, I’ll bet it’s the last time she asks me if I’ve ‘anything smaller’. Hah! Sweet, sweet revenge!”

“Any handy hints on how I can get her to stop asking me about the pub?”

“Sure do! You just tell her to f-”

“No bad words!” he warned.

“Oh, okay… well, let’s see…. Just say the next time she asks - ‘Why Kathleen, so kind of you to take such a persistent
interest in how the pub is doing. In fact, as you seem so keen and Óonagh could use a hand, you won’t mind if I suggest to her
that you’re going to come over. I’m sure Óonagh would be delighted.’ Then all you have to do is walk away before she gets a
chance to answer you. That’ll stop her. She’ll be so afraid that you might actually do as you say that she’ll be scared to speak
to you. Kathleen Hendley in a pub! Imagine it!”

“Avril, sometimes I can’t believe the deviousness you plot in that head of yours!… Good one though - I must remember it!”
They parted company with instructions from Avril that if he saw Frankie before she did, tell her that she was looking for her.
Vincent made his may back to his room where he picked up a few things before heading back out to St. Joseph’s.

On Friday, Vincent showed up at the Garda station at six o’clock. However, he noticed that the squad car wasn’t parked
outside. He knocked on the door, just in case she was there, but received no reply. He was just about to walk back down to
the pub when Frankie drove up.

“Sorry I’m late!” she said getting out of the car. “The usual Friday evening rush! Where everybody is going is beyond me!
Come on in.” Vincent followed her into the kitchen, where efficient-to-the-last Frankie had dinner already in the oven. She took
a quick look at the food and then turned around to face him. “Just in time! A few more minutes and this chicken would’ve been
a bit too much on the crispy side!”

“How do you manage to guess how long you were going to be out?”

“Simple, no way in hell am I working overtime traffic duty on a Friday, which leaves me fifteen minutes to get back from the
main road to here. I would’ve been on time, only some idiot decided that the way from Dublin to Wexford was via
Ballykissangel. Moron!”

“I’m not following you. You could go to Wexford through here, right?”

“You could - if you knew the way and didn’t mind adding on at least two hours to your journey! This fool hadn’t a clue where
he was so I had to spend ten minutes directing him back out onto the main road. Anyway, enough griping by me! Would you
like something to drink before dinner? Avril gave me this pink-”

“You’re not going to foist some miserable health drink on me are you?” said Vincent, immediately alerted by Avril’s name.

“I should’ve known better! I forgot she’s had ample time to experiment on you. I’ll have to try it on some other unsuspecting
guest”, laughed Frankie, rummaging around in a press. “Here you go, some real non-alcoholic beer this time. Can’t be too
careful with the cops around these days!” She handed him two bottles and an opener.

“I know! You won’t believe what I heard. This local cop, she pulled over the parish curate for drink driving. Breathalysed him
and all!”

“She didn’t!” said Frankie, mock-horrified, accepting the beer he held out.

“Yeah! I hear the cop was a real old crone! The poor bloke was totally innocent.” He could barely keep a straight face and
covered up a snort of laughter by taking a drink. Frankie, who was just rinsing off some vegetables under the tap, turned
around with dripping hands.

“Old crone, you say!” shaking her hands vigorously, flicking most of the water in his direction ‘accidentally’. “Tut, tut, terrible
thing! Imaging allowing someone like her to deal with the public!”

“Truce! Truce!” called Vincent, ducking out of range. “I was only kidding. I actually heard that the cop was the sweetest
person you could meet, brilliant and young too. The priest was this washed up old geezer who deserved to be banged up!”

“Ah, I thought so!” laughed Frankie, drying her hands. “Make yourself useful here and put this veg in the microwave. I’m just
going upstairs to change. Won’t be a minute.” She turned to leave, giving him a friendly shove on the way out. “Old crone!
Huh!” she huffed. Vincent sniggered and did what he was told, making himself busy setting the table and keeping an eye on the
microwave. He was just checking the veg for the last time when Frankie reappeared, looking much more comfortable in old
jeans and a jumper.

“I’ll keep you!” she said. “I don’t like cooking and if I turn my back on the microwave for one second, anything in there comes
out all shrivelled.”

“How can you not like cooking and still know exactly how to roast a chicken?”

“Many, many, many failed attempts! You should know this is nearly all I’m able to do. I follow cookbooks but it never turns
out the way it’s supposed to. Especially with that thing.” She glared evilly at the microwave.

“Perhaps your microwave is more powerful than the one in the cookbook?”

“Huh? How can it be more powerful? It uses the same power.”

“Oh God! I meant the different watts, you know, 900 or 1000?" He looked at her mystified face. “You really do know sod all
about cooking. Forget I said anything. Just don’t cook stuff for as long as it says in the book.”

“You mean, it’s not me that’s wrong, it’s the book?” she asked, hopefully.

“Frankie, this desire to always be right - how long has it been a problem?” he joked. Frankie turned around from the oven.

“Are you saying I have a problem or that I’m not right?” she asked, catching him nicely.

“No… err, well, I… um…”

“Gotcha! I win again! Sit yourself down. Everything’s just ready.”

“You know who you remind me of?”

“Who?” She looked at him quizzically.

“Kathleen, on one of her infamous ‘I’m right and you’re wrong’ crusades!” he said, waiting to see the reaction.

“I am no-” she paused, no way was she falling for that one. “Do you want gravy over those carrots or on the side?”

“I don’t mind Kath-, I mean Frankie!”

“Do you want to wear this?” she threatened, waving the gravy close to him. Her serious face was betrayed by a grin that kept
raising the corners of her mouth.

“You need to work on that poker face, you know!”

“Do you have a smart answer for everything?”

“I try!”

“Oh God! When did priests get so annoying?” she said as she took her own seat. “No! Don’t answer that!” They ate their meal
continuing with general conversation.

During the meal, Vincent told her about Avril’s ‘payback’ to Kathleen. Frankie was highly amused.

“Oh, I must remember that!” she laughed. “She’s always going on at me for giving her twenty pound notes. Nice one, Avril!
I’m going to start collecting crappy change.”

“Oh no! What have I started?”

“She’s had it coming Father!” said Frankie, not realising what she just called him.

“Old habits die hard Guard,” he said, grinning at her. Realising what he meant, Frankie held up her hands in apology.

“Opps! She’s had it coming, Vincent,” she said, correcting herself. “I know you’re technically off-duty but when you’re a
priest I suppose you can never really have the night off can you? I mean if you were needed by anyone, you’d have to go. No
‘I’m off tonight - contact Father Mac’ for you!”

“Yeah. That’s the thing living in a place like this. I’m always Father Sheahan, no matter what I’m doing or dressed like. I don’t
mind it too much though. In a way, it must be the same for you. If you’re around, you’re the Garda, no getting away from it.”

“Sort of. If I go into Fitzgerald’s, out of uniform, people react differently to me. At first they didn’t and they were always careful
about what they said in front of me, but now they realise that I don’t keep mental notes of conversations while off duty. Some
people, I should say. The likes of Dónal and Liam are always so busy hatching some scheme or other that they stay well clear
of me.” She paused here, smiling. “Believe me, on the inside, I’m devastated over that!”

“I see what you mean. Even though you are seen as the local Guard, people have learnt to be friends with the ‘in civvies’
Frankie. With me, they behave the same all the time. I’m their friend and their priest. They can come see me if they have a
problem that they can’t talk about with anyone else and they know it’ll go no further. Or, they can stop by for a chat. Even
though I’m never off duty like you, I don’t really mind it.

“I see you differently!”

“No you don’t!”

“I do! During the week or whatever, I’ve called you Father Sheahan, whereas now, you’re here as a friend and you’re just
Vincent. I know you’re a priest, but it’s different - oh, this is coming out all wrong. You know what I mean! You don’t see me
as Guard Sullivan now. Or do you?” she asked, suddenly not so sure.

“Nahh! You’re Frankie, the bad cook!”

“See! And you’re Vincent, the not-very-funny friend!” she replied, glad to see that he understood her point.

“It’s nice to know that there are people here who see ‘me’. Brendan, Siobhan, Avril, Michael, you - crikey, I need to be
careful! Pretty soon, there’ll be nobody left! Fr. Mac would love that.” He paused here, for a brief moment imaging himself in
Ballyk just as himself, not a priest. “Sometimes, I just wish I could be Vince again and do what I like, but I can’t, so there’s no
use wishing otherwise, is there?”

“What would you do, if you were just Vince?”

“What, job wise or for fun?”

“Both, what would you be if you weren’t a priest, just Vince Sheahan, doing his own thing?”

“That’s some question. I don’t know if I can answer it,” he said, thoughtfully.

“You don’t have to, I was just wondering,” said Frankie, not wanting to bother him. “Do you want to take desert inside?” she
asked, getting up from the table.

“Sure,” he answered, taking a tray from her which was loaded with cups, plates and cutlery. He made his way into the sitting
room and Frankie followed holding some apple tart.

“Óonagh gave me some this morning. She couldn’t have better timing!” She out the plate down on a coffee table and started to
cut it up, smiling at Vincent’s happy face. “Are you full after dinner? I could always put this away.”

“You just try it!” he said, delighted. Frankie poured out tea and handed his desert over. They continued talking about nothing in
general. She got up to light the fire and Vincent said he had an answer for her.

“What about?” she asked, puzzled.

“Your question - what would I do if I wasn't a priest?”

“Oh! You don’t hav-”

“I know, it’s just something I don’t think about really. Firstly, I probably wouldn’t have left Australia. When I was younger I
was a real pain in the ar- *cough*, neck!” he smiled at her. “You name it, I was there, marching for the cause. It drove my Dad
nuts, to tell you the truth, I was a bit sick of it myself! Anyway, I suppose I would’ve copped on eventually and taken over a
farm he owned. I loved working with the horses in particular. I wanted to be a trainer and own a stud farm. Don’t know if I
would’ve stayed in Wagga Wagga, maybe for a while until I got established, then move on, nearer to a bigger city. Might have
got married to a girl I went out with for years. Might have had kids - I really don’t know. That’s what I thought I would do, but
then everything went downhill pretty fast when I started drinking.”

“What happened?” asked Frankie.

“I was one stupid bloke! I really did have it all. Nice girl, nice family, good home, friends - the whole lot. It started when I’d
meet up with my mates in the local every Friday night. Then it was every Saturday night too and then every other night.
Afterwards it’d spill out onto the streets. A gang of us, shouting about how wrong everything was, kicking over rubbish bins
and making a real nuisance of ourselves. I can’t count the amount of times the locals cops picked me up and threw me into the
drunk tank to settle down. My parents were really mad and my mother knew enough to see that it wasn’t normal student
rowdy behaviour. It took my Dad a little longer to see it and it took me ten years! When I came home from college one
summer he kept me on the farm. I nearly went crazy without drink and it was then he realised it. I wouldn’t hear of it and went
back to college extremely angry. The college chaplain Father Murphy, saw me one day passed out on a park bench at eleven
o’clock in the morning. He took me back to his place, sobered me up and gave me some dinner. For some reason I just
couldn’t shut up and told him everything that was bothering me. By this stage Laura had left too, she wasn’t able to take it
anymore. Anyway, long story short, he watched out for me until I finished college and I really was doing well. I’d decided to
stop being a prat and joined the priesthood. Ol’ Murph’ said I should wait a bit, but I felt that it was the right thing to do. So, I
went ahead with my studies in the seminary and when I was finished, Dad pulled a few strings and I was sent to this posh parish
in Sydney.” He stopped taking for a bit while Frankie threw some more turf on the fire. He watched a shower of sparks fly up
the chimney as she turned around to him.

“Did you like it? In Sydney, I mean?”

“Yeah, at first I did but I soon found that I had very little to do. I had far too much time on my hands, plus I just didn’t fit in. I
embarrassed the parishioners and the bishops on more than one occasion. Drink was ever present and while I didn’t return to
my larger lout days, there were a few times when getting up out of bed was unthinkable. When I heard they were looking for
volunteers for Brazil I applied. A fresh start again, people who needed me, a place I could make a difference or so I thought. I
did enjoy the five years I spent there and it definitely helped me grow up. Having to fend for yourself out there wasn’t easy. But
as bloody usual, I fouled everything up again with drink. It all got too much and again I went crashing down. The locals were so
good to me and that made me feel worse. I came back to Australia and for the first time admitted I was an alcoholic. Going to
those AA meetings saved my life, I’m sure of it. Knowing that I had a problem but help was available this time, made me more
confident. After a bit, I wanted to get back out there, to go some place new. The Bishop was a ‘friend of a friend’ who knew
Father Mac from way back.. Next thing I knew, I was on my way here and you know the rest!”

“Did you want to be sent so far away from home?” asked Frankie, feeling a great admiration for him and all he had overcome.

“Not really, but I was the one who asked for a transfer. It just clicked for me when I got off the plane in Dublin. I don’t know
why, but I feel more at home in this little village than anywhere else. For the first time in my life I don’t want to leave, I don’t
want to ‘change things’, I don’t want to drink, I just want to stay here and be happy. So, your question about what would I do
if I wasn’t a priest? I really can’t say because too much has happened to make me the way I am. I’d have liked to get married I
suppose, but then I wouldn’t be here today, would I?

“No, you probably wouldn’t. That’s an amazing story, I’d never have imagined a person could’ve gone though all that and
managed to come out the other side.”

“So we’ve both had ups and downs in our history.”

“Yeah, but my life has been relatively secure compared to that.”

“I suppose it depends on how you describe secure. From what I’ve heard you were always the adventurous type.”

“Has Sheelagh been bending your ear? she laughed.

“She told me the story about the time you ‘ran away’ from home to her flat and waited for her on the steps.”

“Oh God! I should keep you away from her before she tells any other embarrassing childhood stories!”

“Aww, it was sweet! You’re lucky to have a family that cares about you so much. Sheelagh was really worried when you
started smoking again, convinced that something disastrous had happened.”

“She’s like a second mother to me. I know she worries but I don’t want to trouble her with things that she can’t do anything
about. She just has to trust me that I’m able to do things for myself. Just like your parents - I’m sure they must’ve found it hard
to let you go and make your own way in the world, knowing the trouble you’ve had.”

“They haven’t really let me go! My mother is on the phone every weekend and she still asks the same questions. ‘Are you sure
you’re all right?’ ‘Are you happy?’ ‘Do you have enough socks?’ That kind of thing!” he laughed. “I suppose parents will never
see you as anything other than their children, no matter how far away you are. Sheelagh probably feels responsible for you as
she’s your nearest relative here.”

“I know she does. Still, she has to know that there are things I can’t tell her. She knows about Derek, but there’s a whole other
thing that I can’t talk about that I just have to put up with it. So, she is right that something happened but she’s better of not
knowing.”

“Can you tell me? I mean, I’m here if you want to talk.”

“You have know idea how much I want to, but I’m not sure it would be a clever thing to do. It’s a police thing and maybe it’d
be better that you didn’t know.” She was on dangerous ground here again, with her head and her heart telling her two different
things.

“Frankie, are you in some kind of trouble?” he asked, genuinely worried now. Frankie hesitated before answering.

“Look, please don’t be worried!” she said. “I came so close to telling you when we talked a while ago but I just couldn’t-” her
voice quivered and she coughed to cover it up.

“Okay, this is obviously something big. I’m not going to push. Just answer me one thing if you can, a simple yes or no will do.
Are you in trouble?” Frankie hesitated and then made her decision. She got up and headed over to an old desk. She pulled
open a drawer and took out a sheaf of papers, quickly flicking through it until she found what she was looking for. She took a
deep breath and handed a photograph to him.

“Do you recognise this person?” she asked. Vincent studied the photograph of a smiling young woman with long blond hair
sitting on a motorcycle.

“No, should I?” he asked, mystified.

“Look closely.” Frankie was amazed that he didn’t see it. Vincent studied the photo again carefully.

“Well, I don’t know. She kinda looks a bit like you. Is she a relative or something?”

“No, it’s me.”

“No way!” he exclaimed, looking again at the photo and looking at her. “Frankie, this doesn’t look anything like you!”

“So you wouldn’t recognise me if you knew me as that person?”

“No I wouldn’t, you don’t look at all like this- what are you trying to say?” he asked, feeling that she was saying something
important but he couldn’t grasp it. So, Frankie told him about the whole disastrous undercover operation and how Derek saved
her life.

“We’re still looking for a fifth member of the gang. He just disappeared after that incident and until he’s found…." she trailed off. “These people never forget and I sent three of his best buddies to prison and was involved with the death of his brother. So, until he’s caught, I’m to stay here in Ballykissangel and keep my head down.”

“Oh God,” his hand shook as he ran it through his hair. It wasn’t everyday you hear a friend is hiding from drug dealers. “But
these guys knew you as this person?” he pointed towards the photo.

“Yeah, but I’m just not comfortable knowing there’s one of them still out there.”

“Frankie, that’s a pretty good make-up job. If you didn’t tell me, there’s no way I’d know.”

“It’s not just the disguise. I know I’m probably blowing this whole thing out of proportion but what if he makes contact with
some crooked cop in headquarters? Say that person knew me and knows I was sent here? Or worse, knows who my family
are and they’ll shoot one or more of them to get even? Or-” Frankie’s voice was getting higher and more panicky so he took
hold of her hands.

“Listen, you told me that only five people knew about this?” he said in a soothing voice. Frankie nodded her head. “Who are
they?”

“Inspectors Malone and Foley, Sergeant Hanrahan who was my sergeant at the time, Derek and myself.”

“Would these people ever tell anyone else?”

“No, not even Derek, even though he is a bastard. He’s in danger too, more so than me because he pulled the trigger, so it’s in
his best interests not to say anything.”

“Well then, how could this other dealer find this hypothetical crooked cop who would spill the beans? If the ‘blond you’ never
existed for the rest of the police force, how could anyone know? As far as the gang was concerned you were a just a police
snitch and Derek was the cop - presuming that they even knew that.”

“I know you’re right and I know in my head that it’s unlikely to happen. It’s just worry I suppose, exaggerating the whole
situation. I’m glad I told you, but please don’t you worry about it either!”

“I can’t help but be concerned but I won’t worry over it! I think you’ve done enough of that. Anyway, it’d be impossible for
that yob to put two and two together. They’ll catch that him eventually. Rats like him always float to the surface and he’s been
under for long enough. You wait and see.” Frankie smiled and gave him a hug.

“Thank you!” she sniffled into his shoulder, appalled at the sudden tears.

“Hey, no worries! Anytime! And thank you for listening too.” He hugged her back and she gave a small squeak of laughter.

“Oh God! Look at me - what a wuss!” she said as she composed herself.

“I think God would understand, although He might want to give you a swift kick for worrying yourself like this!” he joked,
releasing her. “Was this part of why you were so upset a while ago? The weekend you came back from Dublin?”

“Yeah, but that was mainly seeing Derek again. He brings back more than just one bad memory. I can’t tell you how glad I am
to be able to talk-”

“Frankie, that’s what friends are for! You have to let people help you; nobody can do all on their own. No matter how hard
you try. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I didn’t accept help.”

“Do you regret not getting help earlier, driving people away, like your girlfriend or your family?”

“At first I didn’t. I just figured that if Laura couldn’t stick around then it was her problem not mine. I didn’t want to listen when
she told me I had a drink problem. So, when she left I was glad, sort of a ‘free at last’ kind of feeling. It wasn’t until I got my
act together under Murph’s care that I realised what I threw away. It was too late then, she’d met someone else and had
moved to Brisbane.”

“Did you ever see her again?”

“No. It’s been over fifteen years now. We were both nineteen and she had enough common sense to realise I was bad news.”

“I bet she’d be proud if she saw you now.”

“I bet she’d die of shock! Vince Sheahan a priest! Sometimes it even sounds funny to me!”

“Well, given what you went through, maybe it does sound a little strange.”

“Oh, so much other stuff happened. My parents threw me out of the house once. I was nearly tempted to leave the priesthood
in Brazil. I thought about ending it all when I got back to Australia. Loads of miserable stories.”

“Yet you still survived them all and made a go of your life.”

“Maybe sometimes, some people have to hit rock bottom before they realise just how good everything could be. Other people
manage to go about their lives in a happy medium with ups and downs, but never derailing totally. I always envy that. People
like Brendan and Siobhan, bad stuff happens but they have enough strength to carry on regardless. People like you.”

“Yeah, I just worry myself to pieces! You don’t want to be like me. I don’t want to be like me!”

“Oh, don’t say that! You might worry but you didn’t crash and burn. Despite it all, you’re still here, doing a job you love, in a
place where people respect you. You didn’t let that incident put you off your chosen profession, you’re even a sergeant now. It
may be in qualification only, but someday you’ll be the real deal.”

“Don’t you see? If you think that what you just described is strength, then you have it yourself! In abundance! Vince, you pulled
yourself out of the gutter and got back on track. Here you are on the other side of the world in charge of a parish! You had a
dreadful sickness, unfortunately one that will be with you for the rest of your life. But every day you beat it! What’s that famous
quote?” she paused trying to remember. “Oh yeah - Whatever doesn’t kill you, will make you stronger.”

“Where were you two years ago? If someone had pointed that out I could’ve saved myself a lot of agonising heartache.”

“Two years ago I wouldn’t have been much use, too close to my own situation. Anyway, even if someone did tell you this then,
you weren’t ready to hear it.”

“That’s true. It must be a different form of strength then. Some people have enough to keep them on the straight and narrow,
when other, like me-”

“Have what it takes when it really counts,” she finished for him. “This agonising heartache you were talking about - would this
have something to do with leaving the priesthood?”

“It has everything to do with it,” he said with a smile. “Do you want the whole truth?”

“Well, this is the night for it!”

“I was too bloody lazy.”

“Huh? How come?” she asked, not expecting that answer.

“See, even though I’m a priest..” he trailed off, gathering his thoughts. “There was this woman in Brazil-”

“You didn’t!” she said, immediately figuring out what he was going to say.

“No! I didn’t - well I almost did! That was the problem. She reminded me a lot of Laura. Anyway, one thing led to another
and I had to decide - her or the priesthood. Not an easy decision when you’re drunk half the time, I might add. You know
how long it takes to get dispensation to leave the church. It can take years! Basically, I just couldn’t be bothered going through
all that, so I shipped out back to Australia. Too make matters worse, it wasn’t just me who needed dispensation anyway,” he
looked at her sideways, wondering if she got his meaning.

“What? Are you saying she was a nun?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my Go…w-what did you do? What did she do?”

“She knew that she didn’t want to be a nun anymore, long before I came along, so she was leaving anyway. I think she knew
that there was no way I was going to leave. I didn’t love her, not really and she knew it. We’re still friends though. In fact, she
wrote to me last week, with pictures of her wedding. She received dispensation shortly after I returned to Australia, it took her
three years.”

“Oh Vincent….” she said, sorrowfully.

“No, it’s fine! I’m really happy for her. I’m happy for me too. It would have been a terrible mistake.”

“What was her name?”

“Sr. Mary O’Neill, an American before you ask. She was a really lovely person. Another one who tried to help me and who
had it flung back at her.”

“Well, something must’ve worked.”

“I suppose it did, although it probably didn’t seem that way to her at the time. If it weren’t for her, I’d never have reached the
airport. She drove me all the way, checked my bags through, put me on the plane and never looked back.”

“That must’ve been hard for her. Do you know the guy she married?”

“Nah, he’s some bloke who she used to know from home. I hope she’ll be happy.”

“What would’ve happened if you left then? Things could’ve turned out so different!”

“No, I’m happy I stayed. I wasn’t in any condition to make a decision like that, everything was so confusing, there just seemed
to be no way out. I know it would’ve been a disaster if I left. I would never have gone home, wouldn’t have gone for treatment,
wouldn’t have put my life back together and I wouldn’t have come here. God knows how long it would have taken for me to
leave. I can’t just walk into the Bishops office and say ‘I quit!’. I’d probably be still in Brazil, a truly miserable drunk, just
biding my time until I could move on. I can’t even say for sure I’d still be alive.”

“How did you manage to bounce back from all that?” she whispered. Frankie wanted to say more but his story was so sad that
she didn’t trust herself to speak. Vincent understood what she was trying to say.

“I didn’t bounce. It was a slow, hard crawl! But you know how I think about it? It’s like walking up this really steep, rocky hill.
You keep on going because you know the view from the top is spectacular, but getting there is so difficult. At the beginning,
when you take a step you walk on loose rocks which slide you back down. As you get more used to the climb, it gets a little
easier and you learn to grab on to stuff so you don’t slip. Eventually, you find yourself enjoying it and then you reach your goal.
You look around and say ‘Wow! It was worth the effort! I did it! And it’s amazing up here!’ I feel that Ballyk has been the top
of my mountain. I like it so much.”

“That took strength, Vincent and plenty of courage. I feel sorry that you went though such a hard time, but so much admiration
for all that you’ve done. You’re right, maybe some people do crash before they realise what they’re giving up, but at least they
realise it! It would’ve been so easy for you not to fight, to give up and quit. But the important thing is you didn’t, you picked
yourself up and carried on. Well done, is what I say!”

“I think we’ve both fought our own battles and in our own way, we both need to be vigilant. You have to make sure that you
stay safe and I have to make sure I never forget what it took to get here. We’ll be okay Frankie! Remember, nobody has to be
alone,” he sat back in his chair and looked at her undercover photo on the table. “Why do you still keep that?”

“I don’t know,” she said looking at it. “I should get rid of it.” She reached over and with one last look, dropped it into the fire,
where they both watched the flames lick at it. “Good riddance!”

“Oh I don’t know. That was a pretty cool bike you had. Not to mention the hair!”

“Knock it off!” she said, poking him good-naturedly. She leaned back on the chair stretching. Vincent couldn’t help a yawn
escaping.

“Maybe I should head off. Guess what time it is?” he asked, glancing at his watch.

“Umm, about eleven?”

“Not even close, it’s 1:45am!”

“What!?! Almost two o’clock? Are you sure?” asked Frankie, horrified.

“Yeah, why, what’s wrong with you?”

“Vincent! What will the Dooley’s think? You’ve been gone all evening! They’ll just love this! You creeping back at all hours!”

“They won’t know. I’ve got my own key to the side door,” he smiled, waving the keys at her, laughing at her mortification.

“Well, how was I to know that?” she said, hoping her red cheeks didn’t show in the darkened room.

“Ah Frankie, sometimes it’s just too easy to wind you up!” he said, getting into his jacket.

“I’m learning fast. See if you catch me out again!”

“I’ll remember that!” he stopped in the hall. “Listen, thank you for the great evening, the dinner and the company. It means a
lot.”

“For me too. Yet again, you’re walking out of here with me feeling much better. We really need to have a fun night sometime,
without all this angst!”

“Do we ever! I’ll get a film next time - a funny one. Goodnight Frankie, despite the angst, it was a great evening.”

“Yeah, it was. ‘Night you, see you tomorrow,” she gave his arm a squeeze. He gave her another grin and headed across to the
pub. She waited at the door until he reached the pub’s side entrance. He turned around and gave her a final wave before
closing the door behind him. Frankie quickly tided up and went to bed, thinking she was an idiot not to have told him earlier.
Vincent was having similar thoughts as he went to bed. Frankie’s phrase ‘that which doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger’
echoed in his head. He went to sleep more determined that ever not to let himself sink that low again.

As the autumn began to take hold in earnest, the kids in Ballykissangel looked at the ever-increasing falling leaves in dismay.
Their summer was over, it was time to go back to school. Dermot was particularly nervous, at nearly fifteen he was heading
into third year in secondary school. Third year meant the dreaded junior certificate exams and his days were going to be
pestered by study and revision. Gráinne was looking forward to the coming year. She was now in sixth class, top of the bunch
in primary school and Brendan Kearney was going to be her teacher again this year. Dermot looked at his sister with envy.

“Enjoy it while you can, squirt! All you have to worry about is your weekly spelling test!”

“Don’t call me squirt!” Gráinne had no sympathy for her exam stricken brother. “I’m finishing primary this year!” She was
about to say more but she saw what time it was on the kitchen wall clock and cried out, “Oh, I’m late, Avril will be waiting!”
She gathered up her riding gear and marched off, with her head held high. Vincent, who was sitting at the kitchen table with
Óonagh laughed at her indignation.

“They’re growing up fast, Óonagh!”

“They sure are Father. I can’t believe she’s nearly finished primary and Dermot’s doing the Junior Cert. It only seemed like
yesterday when it was their first day in school.” Dermot thought he might find some sympathy with his mother.

“Hey Mam? Can I go out with the lads tonight to celebrate?”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah! You know, going back to school, blah, blah, blah!”

“You want to celebrate going back to school?” Óonagh looked at him suspiciously.

“Just to see everyone again after the summer.”

“You’ve spent your entire summer with them!” Óonagh relented, seeing the disappointed look on her son’s face. “Where are
you going?”

“Stevo’s Da said he’d give us a lift to Wicklow to go to the cinema.” Dermot didn’t add that Stevo’s sister might be there too.

“That’s very nice of Mr. Connelly. I suppose you can go, just make sure your father doesn’t need a hand with anything. Oh,
before I forget, carry up that food from the cellar for Lizarazu.”

“Lizar who?” asked Vincent.

“Lizarazu, Father Vin, Gráinne’s goat,” explained Dermot. “She finally decided on a name.”

“What sort of a name is that?”

“Father! Weren’t you watching any of those soccer programmes?” exclaimed Dermot, almost horrified. “Bixente Lizarazu, the
French soccer player. The one who plays for Bayern Munich?”

“But that’s in Germany, right?” said Vincent, at a loss. Dermot gave him a look.

“Yes Father. He only plays for that club and then for the French national team. He’s from the South of France - remember we
talked about his name before? Bixente is Basque for Vincent? Remember?” Dermot said all this in a most calming voice, as if
explaining something to a child. Vincent couldn’t help laughing, as Dermot had diligently tried to teach him almost every soccer
player’s name, rank and serial number in Europe! Trying to remember one specific player was difficult!

“Oh yeah! Now I remember! So Gráinne called her goat after me?” he said, delighted.

“Emm, well not quite... She overheard us talking and liked the surname, not the Bixente part. So Lizarazu it is! I wanted her to
call him Roy Keane,” he said, a bit crestfallen.

“Oh! The Irish soccer player!”

“The Irish soccer player! He’s only the best-”

“Dermot! Up!” exclaimed Óonagh, seeing her son about to sit back at the table and have a nice long soccer debate again. “Off
you go and do that for me! Don’t forget to ask your father about tonight!” Dermot knew that tone in his mothers voice, he ran
off before she changed her mind. Óonagh rose too, time to go back to the bar.

“I need to be moving Father, otherwise I’ll sit in here all day! I’ll see you later.”

“See ya’ Óonagh!” said Vincent, getting ready to out to St. Joseph’s. On his way through the town, he bumped into Dr. Ryan,
who he hadn’t seen for a while.

“Hey Doc! How’s it going?”

“Not too bad Vincent! The weather’s turning a bit chilly now, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit. It hasn’t been too bad yet though.”

“You arrived here in the spring! No wonder you think it hasn’t been too bad. Just wait and see.”

“This sounds ominous!”

“Usually, once October arrives, you won’t see a sunny day again until March or April or maybe even May.”

“But that’s…” he did some counting in his head “Six months! Maybe seven!”

“Yup! The dark side of the year. By three o’clock, you’ll be turning on lights and by three thirty it’s dark. It doesn’t snow
much, but the wind is so cold some days you can’t go outside. It pours rain and if it does snow… watch out. One inch of snow
and the whole country grinds to a halt! The roads turn into ice-rinks which melt slowly during the day and freeze up twice as
hard during the night. Anyway, you know what they say about Ireland, it rains 367 days a year with the extra two days thrown
in for good measure.”

“I want to go home!” he said, mournfully.

“Welcome to Ireland, Vincent!” Michael waved cheerfully and sauntered off down through the village.

“Why have you got such a sad face?” inquired Frankie on her way to Fitzgerald’s for a late lunch.

“Oh, hi Frankie. The Doc there was just telling me about the horrors of the coming winter. This doesn’t sound like a nice place
to be.”

“Well, last year wasn’t too bad, apart from the floods and the snow. Sure, didn’t you arrive to glorious sunshine by the end of
March? Maybe this year will be the same.”

“How can you think that’s a good thing!?! And it might have been sunny when I arrived, but it wasn't warm!” What sort of a
country had he come to? Where people thought a six-month winter was good? And what was that about floods and snow?
Frankie couldn’t resist teasing him a little further.

“Will this be your first white Christmas?”

“Christmas is a time for celebrating with friends and relations - outside - with a barbeque!”

“Well Vincent, if that’s what you want to do, by all means knock yourself out! I’ll be sure to have the hypothermia unit in
Cilldargan waiting for you!” With that Frankie realised she had about ten minutes left before Fitzgerald’s stopped serving lunch.
“Cheer up! It won’t be that bad, I’m only winding you up! You know what they say about payback. Maybe you’ll stop trying
to annoy me now! See you later.” Frankie waved goodbye, smiling at his forlorn face.

“Yeah, bye Frankie.” He made his way to the church and looked around. Leaves littered the ground in piles of golden brown.
He found it hard to imagine this place bare and grey, as it had been green for so long. An involuntary shiver crept down his
back and he retreated inside.

The Saturday before school started was the traditional day for the parish sports day. It wasn’t limited to Ballykissangel
residents so many people from neighbouring areas joined in. It was just as well because there wouldn’t have been enough
people to make up the various teams. It was a farewell to summer get-together and everyone, young and old, participated in
some way. Brendan was going to referee Gaelic football matches, Paul was going to be ref for the hurling ones. Óonagh was
looking after the small girls skip-a-thon. Vincent had interested enough people in Aussie Rules to have two teams and Michael
Ryan agreed to be the ref. To ensure fairness, the people who had played Rules before were distributed equally between the
teams. Michael was glad he was going to be ref; at least he’d be on site when the various injuries happened. Between the
Gaelic, hurling and this, he was definitely going to have a busy day. He thanked his lucky stars that the soccer was going to be
limited to the under tens. Frankie was organising her usual raft race, except this time it had to be limited to the older children
who were better swimmers. This event was to end the evening by the lake and the winner would receive a PlayStation 2,
generously donated by the new electrical shop in Cilldargan. Frankie already had thirty teenagers on her list, plus some
volunteer lifeguards. Avril was organising a gymkhana, which Gráinne was looking forward too immensely. Siobhan had
organised a gerbil race and was most surprised to see grown men debate over whose kid had the fastest gerbil. Kathleen was
head of refreshments ably assisted to everyone’s great surprise, by Fr. Mac. The usual gauntlet of egg and spoon, three-legged
and sack races all had to be run by anyone who was willing and able. The Saturday dawned a bright, sunny morning much to
everyone’s relief. There was nothing more miserable than a damp sports day. By eleven o’clock, everyone had assembled in
the local GAA grounds to watch the main team sports. Fr. Mac took over as Master of Ceremonies and gave a stern warning
to each individual group.

“Gaelic players, no biting, gouging, punches or kicks of the illegal kind! Hurling players, it’s the clash of the ash we want to
hear, not the clash of ash on heads! Aussie Rules players, all of the above!! Let the games begin!” With a roar, the different
teams moved onto their separate pitches. There were enough spectators to make a decent crowd at each game, so people
went to the games where relatives or friends were playing. Avril and Frankie went to see the Aussie Rules game, having never
seen one before. It was easy to tell the men who played before apart from those who didn’t as they moved about the pitch with
greater confidence and most of them were well over six foot tall. Howls of indignation drifted across from the Gaelic pitch,
where a goal had just been disallowed by Brendan and the crowd was momentarily distracted by the remonstrations. Their
attention was drawn back suddenly, when poor Edso ended up in a heap in front of Avril with at least six men charging after
him.

“Edso!! Let go of the ball! LET GO!!” shouted Vincent. Edso realised he was going to be squashed if he didn’t release the ball
so he tossed it up in the air. The men stopped charging and back-pedalled to where the ball was going to drop. They didn’t see
Liam, who was ready to pounce and who rugby tackled the end man to the ground. This had the desired domino effect and all
six men toppled into one another. Michael blew the whistle at Liam for a foul.

“Low tackle!” he shouted. “Liam, watch yourself!”

“Spoilsport!” said Liam, keeping out of Michael’s hearing. Edso had been set on his feet again and was waiting to take flight,
when he realised he was facing the wrong direction. He turned around quickly, but didn’t see that the ball was coming straight
for him, like a rocket, and he caught it right between the eyes.

“Oh Jesus!” he howled, just before he crashed to the ground again.

“Medics!!” hollered Vincent. Michael rushed over to Edso and held up four fingers.

“How many, Edso?” he asked, holding his hand in front of Edso’s eyes.

“How many Edsos?” he replied, totally dazed. “I think there’s only one.”

“Well that’s just great! He’s knackered!” cried Liam. “We need a sub here!”

“We don’t have one,” said Vincent. “Is he okay Doc? Can he play?”

“Vincent!” cried Avril. “The poor fella’ can hardly stand! Are you all right Edso?”

“Grand Avrilie! I’m… fine…. ish..” mumbled Edso, Avril’ and Frankie’s face were swimming before his eyes.

“There’s no way he can play. Avril, keep an eye on him. He’ll be fine in a minute or two. He’s just stunned,” stated Michael.
“Vincent, you’ll have to play on with a man down. Sorry.” The players ran back onto the pitch and Vincent reordered his team
to cover for Edso. Soon the points were coming in thick and fast. Vincent’s team had managed a couple of six pointers but the
others had a constant stream of ones also. Another man on the opposite team was sent off for fouling, which brought them level
again in players. The Ballykissangel crowd cheered heartily for Vincent’s team but by the time the last quarter was up it was
clear they weren’t going to win. When Michael blew the final whistle, they lost by just three points. But, as it was a ‘friendly’
match, nobody minded too much and there was a good atmosphere amongst the players. Edso’s team-mates made sure he
was okay and acknowledged his contribution with friendly thumps on the back.

“Bad luck, Edso!” said Vincent. “How’s the head?”

“Do ya’ have to talk so loud?” said Edso, still holding a tea towel filled with ice against his forehead. “I didn’t know what hit
me!”

“A ball!” chimed in Liam, helpfully.

“Feck off, you!” groaned Edso. His head was throbbing relentlessly now. “I feel like I eaten too much ice-cream or something!
My head’s just killing me!”

“Eh, Edso?” asked Vincent. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if you took the ice away? I mean, you’ve kept it on your
forehead for at least an hour.” He was trying not to laugh at the poor man, sitting forlornly on the ground between Frankie and
Avril. Frankie was shaking with barely contained laughter and was afraid to look at Vincent in case she cracked up. She
focused her eyes on a distant hill, biting her lips. Avril, who was genuinely concerned, wondered what Frankie found so funny.

“What’s up with you?” she asked her. Frankie, not wanting to laugh while Edso was still moaning with self-inflicted pain, merely
shook her head and looked away again.

“Hey! I’m dyin’ here! Will yis keep it down!” lamented Edso. Avril looked at his head again.

“I really don’t see any bruising Edso, but you sort of look a bit burnt!”

“How are you feeling Edso? asked Michael, finally reaching his last patient. “Is your head better now?”

“Oh God! I think it’s split open!”

“Nonsense! - Wait - what are these red burn marks? What did you do to yourself?” Michael was looking at a case of freezer
burn but he just didn’t realise it yet. Frankie composed herself enough to be able to answer.

“He kept putting ice directly onto his skin Michael, and it froze on to him until I made him use a towel.” Frankie couldn’t believe
it when she saw Edso pulling ice cubes of his forehead and told him to stop, but he was having none of it. After all, he couldn’t
go around Ballykissangel with a bump could he? She warned him that he was going to look a lot worse if didn’t at least cover
the ice. Eventually he took her advice but insisted in holding the ice filled towel to his head until he could be sure no bump was
forming, hence the bad ice-cream headache.

“Well done Edso! A most clever thing to do! Well, I’m sure I have some cream for that burn in the car. Come on.” With that,
Michael turned on his heel and walked over to his car while Vincent and Liam pulled Edso to his feet. Avril took hold of his
arm and walked with him, ignoring the three who had now collapsed with laughter.

“Don’t mind them Edso! Let’s get you fixed up,” she said, encouragingly. Edso tried to walk away with his head held high, but
it was just too sore.

“Ah, there’s no fear of him getting angry!” called Liam after them. “After all, isn’t he one of those that always has a ‘cool’
head!” Avril turned to glare at him and the other two, who were wiping away tears of laughter at Liam’s comment.

The afternoon wore on and finally people started moving towards the lake to watch the raft race. The kids began to arrive but
before Frankie let them out in their rafts, she checked all safety gear thoroughly. Finally, everybody who was involved turned
up and were dispatched out onto the water. Frankie took a megaphone and stood on the end of the jetty.

“Welcome everybody!” she called and the kids all cheered back. “Firstly, should anyone fall overboard don’t panic. We’ve
two rescue boats here and we’ll come pick you up. Secondly, you are NOT to ram your competitor’s boats! Remember, I am
watching!”

“Yes Guard!” said Dermot Dooley from his boat. He quickly ducked his head as Frankie gave him ‘the look’.

“Right!” she called. “First off today will be the teams and then we’ll have the solo race. So, teams, move out to the centre and
solo people come in towards the shore.” The rafts moved into position and when they were ready, Frankie fired the starting
gun. The teams rowed away with all their might. They had to weave in and out through red and green buoys and complete a
180-degree turn near the far side of the lake. All teams were rowing well but a group of boys and girls from Cilldargan
secondary school were obviously the strongest. The cheering from the lakeshore was incredibly loud as people blew whistles
and shouted, encouraging their favourite boat home. The effort of staying ahead of the pack was beginning to tell on the
Cilldargan boat but they fought bravely on, rowing in perfect synchrony. They just managed to keep the lead, crossing the finish
line a length ahead of their nearest rivals, Cilldargan CBS. The six exhausted crew were helped ashore by friends and relatives,
delighted to have come first. The presentation of a trophy would be given after the solo race. Frankie was relieved when the
last boat crossed the line that nobody needed the rescue service. She met each team as they landed, congratulating them. She
then returned to her place on the jetty, megaphone in hand.

“OK, solo people, move out to the centre and line up behind that stretch of rope.” The boats moved along as directed and the
kids jostled for position. Nobody wanted to be at the ends, as they would have choppier water than those in the centre.

“Hey!” called Frankie. “Knock it off! There’s plenty of room if people would just spread out. There should be at least two
meters between each boat and if you row fast enough, you won’t be in anyone’s wake, will you?” Eventually everybody was
settled into position and Frankie explained what they had to do. They each had five yellow foam balls aboard which had to be
dropped into baskets, placed at 100 metre intervals along the lake. Once the last ball was in, they had to turn around and sprint
back to the finish line. The winner would be the first person who crossed the line who had a ball in each basket.

“It that all understood?” she asked. The kids shouted back in confirmation. “OK then - On your marks! Get Set! GO!!” she
shouted, firing the start gun. When they reached the first basket, it was funny to watch them try and control the boat and oars
while they reached up to throw. For some, it took more than one attempt to get the ball in but thankfully they all managed in
and rowed on to the next one. Again, everyone managed to stay afloat except for Stephen Connelly, Dermot’s friend, who
dropped an oar and cursed as it floated away. The rescue boat was dispatched to tow him in. The third stop had a few missed
baskets and people wasted valuable time fishing the ball out of the water to try again. The fourth basket passed without incident
but at the fifth three people ended up in the water. They had been too eager to turn around and paid the price. The other rescue
boat picked them up and they watched and cheered with the rest of the crowd as the remaining contestants sprinted home.
Dermot was still rowing and was currently third. The cheers of support rang out loudly across the lake. Ballykissangel had to
win some water sport this year! After all, the lake was in their parish! Dermot managed to gain second place and was about a
boat length behind the leader, a girl from Ballinaclash. Meabh was a strong rower but Dermot’s determination was stronger and
he gained on her slowly.

“Come on Dermot! COME ON!!” shouted Gráinne, who had won the gymkhana as expected. Dermot made a final effort and
managed to draw along side the leader and as the cheers got louder, he noticed that he was gaining ever so slightly. In fact, it
was actually Meabh who was tiring and she began to slip back further and further. With the end in sight Dermot kept focused
on the finish line and with two boat lengths to spare, he crossed it in triumph. He was helped ashore by a joyful Ballyk crowd
and heartily congratulated by all. Once all the others were back on dry land, the prize giving began on the jetty. The team from
Cilldargan received their trophy with glee from Frankie and Dermot got the much-coveted PlayStation. Gráinne was almost as
happy with her brother’s prize as he was himself! Frankie was hassled into giving a speech of congratulations to the winners
and all contestants, who were gathered around her.

“I’d just like to say that this has been the best raft race ever!” She was interrupted by hollers of approval from the crowd.
“Well done to everybody who took part. They were hard races and you all did very well. I am amazed at the amount of
budding sailors we have here. The Navy will have nothing to worry about in a few years time! All that remains for me to say is
congratulations to the winners, you truly deserved your prizes!” Frankie stood down to a round of applause and Dermot found
himself being called upon. He stood up gamely and looked around.

“I think I speak for us all when I say that we had the best time out here today. It was great fun and we hope that Frankie will
do the honours again next year, but with less bloody baskets!” The whoops from his fellow competitors egged him on, as they
had something planned. “So all we have to do is commence the victory celebrations and since now is the only time we’re going
to be able to do this without getting in serious trouble….” he paused for dramatic effect, “we have to GET FRANKIE!!!!” The
kids cheered loudly and Frankie, immediately knowing what was going to happen, shrieked, and made a run for safety. She
made it to the end of the jetty without anyone catching her when she collided with someone who held her firmly.

“Going somewhere Frankie?” smiled Vincent.

“Oh, don’t you dare…..” she warned, catching the look in his eyes. She tried to free herself, but he held on.

“Hurray Father!!!” cheered the kids. “Bring her back! Bring her back!!” they beckoned from the end of the jetty and Vincent
was only too ready to join in.

“Yahhh!” shouted Frankie as he picked her up. “Put me down! Oh no! Vincent! Oh - I beg you! Please!” He remained totally
oblivious to her threats and pleadings and carried her down the entire length of the jetty. He was cheered on with shouts of
encouragement from both ends. The kids and the crowd were enjoying this immensely, as this was a side of Frankie they never
got to see, a side where she wasn’t afraid to shout and scream and join in the fun.

“Well guys! Here she is as requested! What to you want me to do?” he asked in his most innocent voice. Frankie was still
pleading, but to no avail. She was held tightly, with no chance of escape.

“I think you know Father Vin!” smiled Dermot. “We’ll give you a three-count! Everybody join in!”

“ONE”

“Oh NO! Oh please don’t!”

“TWO”

“I’ll take you with me! You’ll be SORRY!”

“THREE!!!!”

With that, Vincent heaved her into the lake, the splash drowning out whatever it was she just said! The crowd cheered mightily
as Frankie resurfaced, spluttering.

“You! I swear! You’re done for!” she shouted at Vincent, pretending to be annoyed as she splashed about. He on the other
hand, just looked on calmly.

“Now, now, no swearing - there’s children present!” he said, offering her his hand. Frankie sensing an opportunity, grabbed it
and pulled.

He didn’t move an inch.

“That’s quite a grip you have there, Frankie!” he said, laughing at her failed attempt to haul him in. “Oh come on! You didn’t
think I’d fall for that one did you?”

“Maybe not,” she said, “but then again, maybe I did!” Gráinne was furiously winking and pointing at Vincent’s back during this
exchange and gave him a shove. Frankie, who hadn’t let go of his hand, pulled at the same time and in he crashed.

“Hurrray!” she crowed in glee, along with the crowd. “Nice one Gráinne!” Vincent resurfaced next to her, coughing.

“You miserable pack of-” He was interrupted by splash of water from Frankie.

“No swearing - there are children present!” she reminded him joyfully.

“Ahh come on Father Vin! Isn’t the water lovely? Come on lads!” called Dermot, jumping in. He was immediately followed by
all of the other contestants, thus commencing a huge water fight with splashes and dunkings galore. Some of the other children
also joined in and after a while, the two adults left them to it. Vincent pulled himself onto the jetty and reached down to help
Frankie up. They sat down, totally exhausted.

“Where the hell do they get the energy from?” asked Frankie, trying to squeeze out some water from her clothes.

“I have no idea!” he replied, looking at her and starting to laugh.

“What?”

“The look on your face as you went in! I wish I had a camera!”

“The look on my face? It couldn’t have beaten the look on yours! I owe Gráinne big time!”

“That little minx! You pulled me too!”

“Did not.”

“Did too!” A sudden flash interrupted them and the turned to see a nice and dry Avril with a camera, smiling at them.

“I thought the kids were going to drown you,” she said.

“Almost!” said Vincent, standing up. “I didn’t expect that ending to the day!”

“Serves you right! Throwing poor Frankie in like that.” Avril brushed passed him and handed Frankie a towel. “You can share
if you want, though if I were you I’d leave him to catch his death of cold!”

“Thanks Avril! You’re a real pal!” said Vincent, dripping. “And she pulled me in, just so you know!”

“Boohoo!” came Frankie’s muffled voice from beneath the towel, as she scrubbed her hair dry. Avril had to laugh when she
emerged, looking like a hedgehog. Frankie quickly smoothed down her hair and tossed the towel to Vincent.

“Here you go! See what a nice person I am! You don’t deserve it!” She thanked Avril and turned to leave, calling out her
farewells to the children who repeated their thanks and tried to get her to continue the water fight, but she really was too tired.
“OK, I’ve got to go. I see they’ve brought all the equipment back so I need to bring it to the hall. Anyone need a lift back to
town?”

“How are you going to fit all that into the car?” asked Avril.

“I don’t have the car today, I brought the van. Borrowed it from Cilldargan.” Frankie pointed over to the big Garda van,
parked behind the boathouse where her helpers were already loading the equipment into the back.

“Tell you what Frankie, if I give you a hand to unload at the hall, can I have a lift?” asked Vincent. He intended walking back to
the town but as he was soaking wet, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.

“The cheek of some people!” she huffed.

“Please…” he dipped his head and smiled at her. “Pretty please?”

“Don’t fall for it Frankie!” laughed Avril.

“Oh, go on then!” she waved him towards the van. “I know, I know, Avril! I’m far too soft!” Frankie shook her head in mock
disgust. Dónal and Liam, who were passing, heard her last comment and looked at each other, horrified. Vincent said his
goodbyes to everyone and hopped into the van to wait for Frankie. Avril left for her jeep, as she needed to get her stuff back
to the yard. Gráinne bounded up to her, offering to give her a hand and Avril set off with her. The rest of the crowd were
leaving in drips and drabs, calling out farewells to friends. Eventually, all the equipment was secured into the van and Frankie
was able to leave. She blew the horn as she drove away and waved to the last of the crowd.

“That was a great day Frankie. It took some organising!” said Vincent, trying to direct some warm air from the heater his way.

“I really enjoyed it, even the water tossing thing! But you’re not allowed to tell!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it! Besides, I thought it was great too!”

“You had better mean when Gráinne pushed you!”

“I need to clarify one thing. I wasn’t just pushed by a little girl - you also pulled me!”

“Everybody thought it was Gráinne. It’s too late now!” she sang. They continued on with the banter until they reached the
village where Frankie pulled up outside her house.

“Hey, I thought we were going to the hall!” he said, puzzled.

“We are, but you’re beginning to turn blue and I should change. So go! I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”

“Would the real Frankie please not stand up! Can we keep this one?” said Vincent, referring to the numerous nice things she’d
done today and her good humour.

“Keep going Vincent. Once the clock strikes midnight, I’ll go back to being me and then you’ll regret it. Your car will be
permanently covered with tickets, you’ll have-”

“I’m going!” He jumped out of the van and ran into Fitzgerald’s before she could say anymore. She laughed to herself and went
inside to change. As she got ready, she thought to herself that this was probably one of the best days she’d spent since coming
here. It wasn’t often she got a chance to join in the fun herself as she was almost always on duty at parish events. Thankfully,
today two Gardaí from Cilldargan were sent so she could have the day off. She took full advantage of it, joining in where she
could. The match was great and the raft race was the event of the day. Vincent throwing her into the water was funny as was
her revenge. She had good friends here, a good job and a good life. For the first time in what felt like ages, she was happy.