Episode 7.9

"It's A Long Road As Has No Turning!"

by Camille Partridge

In a darkened room a silver-haired man kneels in prayer. "Lord, please, help me find her, I don't know where she's gone, I just need to know she's alive somewhere, Lord, that's all, please?" His shoulders hunch forward, and he lays his arms across the side of his bed.

Early dawn light streams into the open windows in a room in Fitzgerald's pub. Maggie MacAllister suddenly sits bolt upright, her face white in fear, and thrusts a hand out in an ancient gesture against the evil eye. "Goddess guide and guard me, Goddess shield and shelter me!" She shuts her eyes tight, and clasps a small silver medallion at her throat. The light seems to build around her in the room as she sits still for just a moment, then, leaping from the bed, throws on a robe, and opens the doorway out onto the small deck she had built for Fionn, and steps outside into the bright sunlight.

"Lady, please, don't let him find me, I've come so far..." She turns her face upwards into the rising sunlight, feeling the cold fear melt away with the blessed warmth. Fionn joins her, sensing her fear, and, looking upwards, whines softly. She kneels down and hugs him, "Don't worry, love, I won't let anyone hurt you, if I have to die to stop them! Now let's go downstairs and have some brekkers, huh?" Fionn wags his tail happily, and turns back to the room, Maggie walking beside him and steadying him on the stairs. What seems to be the start of another hot day dawns in Ballykissangel.

In the kitchen of her London home, Niamh is drinking tea as Kieran and Sean fix eggs and toast. "So, love, did you like our trip home, then?" she asks her son as he sits next to her, and digs into his breakfast.

"Yeah," he answers, between mouthfuls.

"Niamh", Sean begins, "are you sure you want to hurry the move?  What will the doctor say?"

"I don't know, Sean, but I'm goin' to see him today, an' I'll make sure there's no risk before we do anything. I just think Assumpta is goin' to need me closer, an' soon."

"You were on the phone for hours last night," Sean answers her. "Did she reach any decision on whether she's going to confront Father Clifford?"

"Love, she's so torn up, she's still going 'round and 'round about it, she was going to call Maggie last night, but didn't, she told me she needed to do more praying before she made up her mind." Niamh smiles, and shakes her head. "Imagine that, Assumpta Fitzgerald, praying!  I think I'll call Danny an' make sure he's got roofs over his pig-yards, they'll all be sproutin' wings any day now!" Niamh and Sean chuckle, and begin their breakfast, already hopelessly behind their son's pace.

In Dublin, the air is still, it is oppressive from yesterday's warmth. Assumpta steps out of the shower, towelling her hair, then wipes the mirror clear of steam, and looks herself in the face. Her long night of worry is clear in the dark circles under her eyes, and she grabs a pin brush to start working the tangles out of her long hair. "Ow!" escapes her lips as a particularly tight knot is ripped loose. "That's it, I've had it with you!  Time for a change!" She almost marches into the bedroom, and dresses, then bounces down the stairs.

Her partner, Bonnie, is already in the kitchen, though still in a robe. "Right, I'm off for a couple of hours, I need a change!" Assumpta grabs her keys and starts out the door.

"Hey, will you be back for opening?" Bonnie shouts.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'll be back, but you may not recognize me!" Assumpta's laughter fades as the door closes behind her, and Bonnie smiles, and takes another sip of tea.

In Cilldargan, Peter Clifford is opening the doors of his church, greeting his parishoners as they prepare to join him for morning mass. As they file in the door, he heads to the sacristy to finish robing, but turns as a gust of wind makes the candles flicker, and looks upwards to see a cloud, moving fast, brush briefly across the face of the sun.

In the kitchen of Fitzgerald's, Maggie is finishing her coffee, having fed Fionn. She stands, and steps into the open back doorway, still holding the empty mug. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stands on end, and her whole body shudders. "Oooh, the weather, it's a gonna be a CHANGIN!" she whispers, and almost jumps as Fionn brushes past her. "Okay, but make it quick, hon, you aren't gonna want to be outside in a few more minutes, I think!" She stands in the doorway, and Fionn, also sensing the weird atmosphere, does his business quickly and comes back inside. Maggie closes the door, and starts to turn, then turns back and shoots the bolt, and pushes a rug against the doorjam. She goes into the front of the pub, makes sure all the doors and windows are latched, then upstairs, securing windows there as well. The air smells strange, and her teeth are almost tingling. "I guess I couldn't ask for any better cover than THIS, could I?" she says to no one, Fionn having remained downstairs on his bed in the kitchen.

In Dublin, Assumpta is driving towards one of the shopping districts, and eventually, seeing the shop she wants, pulls over and parks. It is just turning nine, and the door sign says "OPEN", so Assumpta walks in. She has entered a styling salon, though all the chairs are empty.

"Morning!  I know you're probably booked, but I just wanted to check and see, you know?" she asks the one woman who is standing near the counter.

The stylist moves behind the counter, checks her calendar, and says, "Nope, I don't have anyone 'til noon, in fact I don't usually open early, but I couldn't sleep last night, the heat, 'ya know, so I got up early, figured I could watch the telly here as well as at home!"

"Well, that's lucky for me!" Assumpta tells her. "My name's Assumpta, an' I want a really drastic change in this hair of mine!"

"I'm Sylvia, Assumpta, an' it's lovely hair, come, sit over here, an' I'll get some books for ya to look at." Assumpta sits down in one of the stylist's chairs, and Sylvia brings her some magazines and books. Soon, they have settled on a very trendy style, and Sylvia mists Assumpta's hair with a spray bottle.

"Don't really need to re-wash it, it's still damp from your washing this morning!" Combing and sectioning, Sylvia picks up her scissors. "With this weight off it, you'll have alot more curl, you'll look like a cherub, you will!" she tells Assumpta, and begins to cut. Outside, the sky darkens, and even in the city streets, little gusts begin to play with bits of paper, tossing them about.

In Cilldargan, Father Clifford is again standing at the door of his church, shaking hands as parishoners leave. One elderly gentleman, looking out, reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a cap, placing it over his head, then reaches for Peter's hand, and leans close to him. "Ya better shut yer doors an' winders, Faadher, 's fixin' ta blow up a right storm, ah think!" He shakes Peter's hand, and moves slowly down the street. Peter notices that the one small cloud he saw earlier has been followed by many, many kinsfolk, dark and thickening visibly, as the wind which drove them, previously high up, stoops down and begins to push about, back and forth, almost butting it's head against walls and windows and doors, pushing hard then suddenly backing off, as if testing the strength of man's barriers, erected against it.

In Dublin, Assumpta gazes at herself in the mirror.

"Yer friends won't know ya!" Sylvia exclaims. "An if ya don't mind me sayin' it, ya look years younger!"

Assumpta grins and looks upwards. "I do, don't I? And guess what, I feel years younger, too!  A fresh start!" Her dark auburn hair curls gently over the top of her head, with long spikes of bangs down her forhead, and along each cheekbone in what is almost a sideburn, but fine and gelled to a point. In the back, the nape of her neck is shaved, the length tapers up into the curls just above her ears. Her already slender face is accentuated, her eyes appear to slant upwards at the corners.

"Ya don't have to fuss with it if ya don't want ta, but a little gel and ya can be as spiky as a hedgehog, if ya want it that way! Here, gimme a minute!" and Sylvia goes into the back room, then returns, with small tubes in her hands. "Didn't sell much of this, but it's fun, an' you can experiment with it an' see if you can shock yer customers!" Styling gel, several tubes of it, with red, green, blue and purple caps, plus a silver and a gold glittery tube, one each, lay in her spread out hands.

"Oh!" Assumpta's eyes light up. "This WILL be fun, how much do I owe ya?"

"Just for the cut, these were samples, just enjoy 'em!  Now, away ya go!" and she spins Assumpta's chair.

Assumpta giggles as she twirls a revolution or two, then, as the chair stops, she stands, goes to the counter, and opens her purse, removing the wallet to pay Sylvia. Her grin is a mile wide. "Maggie thought I'd never do it, is she gonna get a shock!"

Sylvia smiles, "Glad ya like it, Assumpta, tell yer friends where ya got it done, okay?"

"I sure will, Sylvia, thanks so very much, this is amazing, it's just what I needed! 'Bye!" and Assumpta steps out the door. The sky is dark, and she hurries to her car, and climbs in. "No, not a cherub," she says, checking her new look in the rear view mirror, "one of the Good Folk!". She starts the engine, and drives back to the wine bar.

Maggie steps out of the shower, then dries herself, and dresses. "Late gettin' dressed, but it doesn't much matter, today!" she tells herself. She goes back downstairs, checks for phone messages, and, seeing none, dials a local number. "Danny?" she speaks into the phone, "I think there's a big storm coming, you want me to come help you get the stock in?" She pauses, then ,"Okay, but holler if you need me, okay? Give Iblis a carrot from me, and tell him I love him, will ya? Thanks!"

She hangs up, and goes into the kitchen, finally thinking about breakfast at what is near opening time. She looks out the kitchen window, the sky is now black, and the wind gusts are coming closer and closer together. Maggie steps back into the front of the pub, unlocks the door, steps through, then locks it again. She sees Frankie, holding onto her cap, jogging towards the Garda station, and waves her on, hurrying across the street towards Hendley's.

She opens the door and pokes her head in. "Kathleen, let me help you, your stuff will all get blown into the river in a minute!"

Kathleen Hendley, already wearing a coat and tying a scarf around her head, hesitates, then says, "Thank you, Maggie, we'll be done quickly with both of us at it!" The two women work fast, bringing in newspaper stands and postcard racks, bunches of flowers and balloons, and are indeed done in just a few minutes. "Thank you, Maggie, that was kind of you," Kathleen tells her, taking off her scarf.

"You're welcome, Kathleen," Maggie answers, "we gotta stick together, us women, you know, we're always stronger that way, against any storm!" Kathleen nods, and Maggie smiles, then ducks her head out, turns and says, "You better lock this when I go, Kathleen, it's gonna be a whopper!" and hurries down the steps, then across the road to her own door. The streets are deserted, and as Maggie opens her door, the first distant rumble of thunder is heard. Soon, the wind is steady, strong, and the rain begins, small patters, then large splats, then gusting sheets and buckets of it. The heat wave is past, blown away by wind, spiked by lightning and bowled over by roaring thunder.

In Cilldargan, Peter Clifford sits in his cozy kitchen, staring out at the dark sky, his hands wrapped around a mug of tea, amazed again at the power of God he sees displayed in this awesome storm. "Bet Maggie won't have any takers on her iced tea today!" he smiles to himself.

In Fitzgerald's, Maggie stands in the kitchen. She has already unplugged her computer and the coffee maker (*vital* appliances, you know!), and is debating unplugging the phone as well, when it rings.

She answers, "Fitzgerald's," and then, "Oh, hi, Assumpta, it's you. Listen, let me call you on my cellphone, either of us could get electrocuted on this line, and I don't want to make a charade come true!" She listens a second, then, saying, "'bye", hangs up. She pulls the cell phone out of her purse, then dials the wine bar in Dublin.

"So, did you stay up all night, deciding?" she asks Assumpta. She sits down, listening for some time, occasionally answering with a yes or no, or a non-committal hum. "Well, I must admit, I would love to see the new hairdo, but not in this weather! And since you say Niamh is going to move back quicker, then we can have a nice little hen party and hash out the details then, when she gets here. Yes, I do think you are doing the right thing, and I will back you up, don't worry. Yeah, I'm sure we can arrange it for some evening, *don't worry*! If we have to, we'll find somewhere to dump the body!" Her eyes are crinkled, and in a second she roars with laughter, hearing the spluttering fireworks of Assumpta's quick temper from the other end of the line. "No, of course I was kidding, Sis, you know that. You'll have to rein in that temper someday, or it'll jump up and bite ya!" Maggie laughs again. "Yeah, I need to put up 'Sorry, emergency closure' signs in my windows here, it's probably not as bad there in the city, but with the heights all around, we have a major thunder boomer here! Nobody's out at all, so there'll be no lunch today, but it might let up by evening. It's always the same, no matter where you live, everyone tells the tourists the same thing, 'If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes, it'll change!'" Maggie laughs again, says her goodbyes, and punches the "off" button on the phone, then sticks it back in her purse. The lightning flashes again, brightening the windows.

Maggie steps to the bar, and makes hasty signs, then places them in the windows next to both doors of the pub. She checks threshholds, and, seeing water trying to blow in the main pub door, pushes a rug against it as well. "He'll NEVER find me in this, thank you, Mother!" she mutters to herself.

She turns back to the kitchen, goes in, and sits down. Fionn, oblivious to the storm on his soft bed, comforted by the presence of his human companion, is snoring in his sleep. Maggie notes the whitening muzzle, and sadness washes over her face. "You'll run in the Huntsman's Pack this Samhain, my boy, I know you will, but we'll have a fine summer yet awhile, I promise!"

She grabs the empty coffee mug, rises, fills it, then, reconsidering, gets a glass of ice, pours the coffee, some milk, and sugar over the ice, and stirs. "It's still July, I'm gonna have iced cafe latte no matter *what* the weather is doing!" she thinks, then, musing, "why is he looking for me, it's been two years, at least, I'd thought he might even have passed the Gate by now! It could never have been, not in this lifetime, no way. I won't run again, I'm stronger here than anywhere I've ever been, I can keep up this shield forever so long as the Mother lets me!" Rising gently, Maggie moves back into the front of the pub, careful not to wake Fionn, as he would want to go outside and she couldn't let him. She sets the iced coffee on the bar, and watches the windows, waiting to see if there will be a break in the weather, or a knock on the door.

The rain pounds down, little rivers of it in flash floods down the streets, converging into gutters and thence into the River Angel, now slightly muddy with this influx. But before even an hour has passed, it lessens, slowly the light begins to grow again, and then what was sheets down the windows becomes sparkling droplets from the eaves, and Maggie, roused from her contemplation by the glittering drops as they fall, goes to the front doors, unlocks them, takes down the signs, opens the doors, and takes the damp rug outside, draping it over the back of one of the benches.

She steps out into the street, looks back at the facade of the pub, says a long "hmmmmm", and goes back in, leaving the doors open. She picks up the telephone, dials, and says, "Hey, Sis, would you mind if I painted this place in a slightly different color scheme?", then holds the receiver away from her ear a bit, waiting for the second storm of the day to blow over. Her face is beaming in a wide smile.........