Jeremiah 16:21
Saturday 3rd November: "Don't you give me any bull, you know what I'm talking about."
"No, Mrs Hartnett. Truly I don't." Bishop Patrick O'Malley tried to fend her off with words, a little frightened of this volatile woman who had stormed her way into his home. Pretty she might be in the normal run of things but enraged and red faced she looked like a gnome on acid.
"Please Mrs Hartnett, believe me."
"I should believe you! You - your whole life is a lie."
Bishop O'Malley bowed his head. Her words cut through him, hurting both at a profound level and in acuality, pricking at the inside of his chest like a foretaste of mortality. "But I swear on all that is holy, on my immortal soul, I did not send that letter."
Trish Hartnett sighed. She felt the fight go out of her. She collapsed into the armchair in the bishop's study, where Sean had sat so many times before. There were tears in her eyes. The bishop reached out a slender long-fingered hand to comfort her. She stiffened and he moved away, as if slapped.
"I am sorry," he said.
The palms of her hands felt slick with perspiration. She gripped the arms of her chair tightly to stop her hands from shaking.
The old anger welled up in her. An ocean of it, demanding expiation, "I bet you are. Thrilled I should think."
"No, Mrs Hartnett. I am sorry. You don't deserve this." He hesitated, "The police only questioned you in your home? They didn't take you in for questioning?"
She shook her head, irritated.
"Then they cannot be sure of their ground. I am certain that's the case. This will all get cleared up. It is some terrible misunderstanding."
Trish Hartnett looked up at him, her green-grey eyes catlike, narrow. "You better hope so Bishop. 'Cause if I go down, you can be damned sure I'll bring you down with me."
She paused. She realised that sounded weak and she wanted this man who had caused her such an ocean of pain to feel something of the pressure she was under. She got to her feet so she could look down at him. Then she delivered what she intended as the body blow.
"If I am ever arrested and tried for Bob Young's murder, I will see to it that my defence lawyer brings out every detail of your relationship with my husband. You will be finished here."
And as she stood over him, the bishop thought, but didn't say, "It was your precious Sean as much as it was me. And he enjoyed it. Every second." But even as he allowed himself the luxury of the thought, some part of him realised it was, in actuality, all over. Both his relationship with Sean and his time as a Bishop. And the thought broke him.
And she watched him wilt as she gazed at him, enjoying the moment. Then she turned and left him at last.
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