Part 24 (2/2)

It sat in the air for a moment while everyone looked at him. Then the low rumble of laughter began to make its way ponderously around the table, only stopping when it reached Father Flynn, who looked at Christie blankly and said, *Thank you, Carl, for that contribution.'

Jack McGettigan, the elderly publican who had done most thus far to upset my stay on the island, stood up, leant on his knuckles on the table. *I don't think we need to bother about a trial, Father. Just get her off the island. s.h.i.+p her out. She didn't actually harm Christine . . . I don't know if Mr Starkey intends to press charges . . .?'

I shook my head. I hadn't even thought about it.

Flynn nodded for a moment, then turned again to Constable Murtagh. *Legally, Bob . . .?'

*If she was in a parish house, sure, we could evict her, but then there's her mother could take her. But as far as I know she owns that shack of hers outright. Getting her to court, that's the best bet. I can't keep her in the back bedroom much longer, either.'

*I think we're overlooking the obvious solution,' said Father White.

*Crucifixion,' I muttered, not quite as under my breath as I had intended, for Flynn flashed me a look of annoyance, then sighed again and returned his attention to Father White. *Which is, Father?' he asked, somewhat testily.

*We ask Christine.'

I snorted. I couldn't help it. I made a show of looking for a tissue in my pocket, and then blew my nose properly. Half masked by the tissue, I looked round the table to see if anyone else was trying to stifle their laughter, but I was the only one. They weren't jumping up and down like madmen, but the very fact that they proceeded to discuss it made it abundantly clear that these guys were two psalms short of a book of psalms.

*It makes sense,' said Father White.

*She's too young,' said Father Flynn.

*She's the Messiah.'

*She's a child.'

*She's still the Messiah.'

*When she's a child, she speaks as a child, Father.'

*She's still the Messiah.'

*I take your point,' Flynn snapped. He blew air out of his red cheeks and his eyes darted about the table, looking for but not finding any encouragement. *So, for example,' he began, *if she pulls some ridiculous punishment out of the air, say, say . . . this woman has to do the community centre dishes for the next year, then that's all she gets?'

*That's all she gets.'

Flynn darted a look at me, then back to White. *And what if, by some stretch of the imagination, she p.r.o.nounces the word crucifixion, what then . . . are we going to crucify the poor woman?'

*She isn't a poor woman. She tried to murder Christine. If Christine says crucify, then who are we to go against her?'

*This is ridiculous. Father, this is the Second Coming, it's about love and a new beginning, it's not about . . .'

*You can't say that! We don't know what it's about. You brought Christine to us, Father. We believe. We cannot pick and choose the good bits. This time we might get a vengeful G.o.d, Frank, it's happened before.'

*So . . . so . . .' He was starting to get a little fl.u.s.tered. He could see the argument running away from him. *So . . . you would . . . go along with a child's tantrum, you would say this was G.o.d's word?'

*Has Christine ever thrown a tantrum?'

*No. She hasn't. I just fee-'

*She is the daughter of G.o.d. Would you deny her right to p.r.o.nounce judgment?'

Flynn's eyes circled the table again. He saw a lot of serious faces looking at him. He avoided mine. *No, of course not,' he said. There was a look of stifled desperation in his eyes. *Father, all of you, I know Christine better than most of you. I know her ways. She is good and kind and pure, we should not ask her to do this. Please leave it to Constable Murtagh. Let him deal with it. I propose . . .'

Father White rapped on the table again. *And I propose we ask Christine to decide! We put it to a vote, we do it now.'

Flynn leant forward to speak, then sat back again and sighed. *Very well,' he said, *we'll put it to a vote . . . I only trust that common sense will prevail. All those in favour of letting Christine decide, raise your hands.'

Father White's hand went straight up. The others were slower to follow, everyone watching each other, looking for a lead. A bald man opposite me, whose name I'd forgotten, was the first to raise his; then there was another, and another until most of those around the table had theirs in the air. Fifteen seconds later only Father Flynn, Carl Christie, Michael Savage the curly-haired note-taker and Jack McGettigan the ex-publican had failed to raise their hands.

*The ayes have it then,' Father White announced, beaming.

*They do,' Father Flynn said simply.

*Shall we fetch Christine?' White asked.

Flynn shook his head. *Not now. I will speak to Moira. If she doesn't agree then it doesn't happen.'

*But we vote . . .' Father White protested.

*Christine isn't some sort of puppet to be wheeled out every time we need something done, we don't own her . . . I will communicate the vote to Moira, and we'll take it from there.'

*Perhaps I should be with you when you tell her, Father, just to ensure that . . .'

Flynn cracked his hand down on the table. It was so unexpected that half of them jumped in their seats. *Are you suggesting . . .!'

Father White, surprised himself, blurted out, *No, of course not,' too quickly, and knew immediately that he had lost ground he was not going to recover. Flynn took full advantage, snapping to his feet and sweeping out of the meeting. As he reached the door he glanced back and said, *We will reconvene tomorrow, gentlemen.'

Then he pulled open the door and was gone.

I waited behind as the Parish Council filed solemnly out of the hall until there was just me and Constable Murtagh left.

*As a member of the Royal Ulster Constabulary,' I said, *where do you stand on a defendant being sentenced by a four-year-old Messiah?'

*Have that satellite dish down here by first thing tomorrow, son,' he replied, *or I'll have you crucified, okay?'

*Okay,' I said.

26.

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