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THE BONES

Nell Sullivan

        It was a soft day, which in Ireland roughly translates as being grey and nondescript. As long as the rain hovered over the Atlantic the day was perfect for the procession. Nell and Nora didn't have to travel far, only out of their shop in fact, to secure an ideal viewing spot. 
        Nell and Nora were twins born in 1922 at the same time as the birth of the Irish Free State. They had lived in Freshford all their lives, not by choice but out of necessity. Their mother Noreen had died not long after their birth and so from a young age they had replaced her as a carer for their father Michael Murphy. According to local gossip poor Michael was in such a bad way after the death of his wife that he took refuge in the bottle. Who could blame him what with two daughters to rear all on his own. The poor man deprived of the comforts of a wife had to have a source of solace. 
        Meanwhile the daughters, who essentially reared themselves once they could walk, spent their lives tending to the needs and whims of their heartbroken father. Marriage was out of the question for them how could they leave a man who depended on them for his survival. 
        On their fiftieth birthday, Michael, after a night on the booze, was found floating belly up in the river. Such a tragedy, people said, a fine man, a good and respected man. In Ireland the most effective means of earning praise is to die. Everyone expected the sisters to be overwhelmed with the death of their father but it seemed to have the reverse effect. It liberated them. 
        Having inherited a tidy sum they decided to invest their money in a grocery shop, that they took in turns to run. Nell, the elder of the two by five minutes did the morning shift and Nora who was totally allergic to mornings worked in the afternoon. It was a job that suited them both admirably. 
However this morning, Nell told Nora she had to get up early to watch the procession. Otherwise she would have to go into Kilkenny later and she would be crucified by the heavy traffic. At their tender age of eighty one traffic was something they usually sought to avoid at all costs. 
        "Don't know why you got me up this early Nell," grumbled Nora, " I could have stayed in bed for at least another hour."
        " If we waited any longer the crowds would have come and taken our spot," muttered Nell under her breath. She had learned for many years not to cross her twin so early in the morning. 
        "She's even one of the Saints I pray to. I have my own list and she's certainly not in the top ten" said Nora. 
        "That may well be but as she's the one passing through our village you can put in a special request" suggested Nell. 
        Nora threw her eyes up to heaven. "Special request my eye. Who told you that nonsense?"
        "Father Dennehy" said Nell lending authority to her suggestion. 
        With pursed lips Nora looked up at the top of the hill and saw cars and crowds of people descending upon the village. 
        "Saints preserve us," said Nell, "they're coming. I wonder if we have to knell or genuflect as the hearse passes us." She blessed herself twice. In the meantime,Nora was too busy trying to see who was in the car with Father Dennehy to answer her sister.
        "Well wouldn't you know it. Look at Pansie Mc Carthy sitting beside Father. The funereal look on her face, you'd swear she was burying a blood relative" laughed Nora. 
        The cortege slowly passed their shop and suddenly stopped. For a few moments it seemed as if all activity ceased. People averted their eyes to the ground, and furiously mouthed their requests to the Blessed Saint. Nora stared in at Pansie whose eyes, for effect were beginning to well up with tears. I know it is not good to think ill of the dead or the living but I so dislike the sanctimonious cow, she thought and then immediately requested that Saint Theresa helped her with her rheumatism. Nell prayed for the soul of her father and mother and asked the Saint to let the tax inspector reduce his unreasonable bill for this year. 
        The hearse headed for the local church where Saint Theresa could be viewed for the next hour. It would give people a chance to pray to her. 
        "Mary McGrath told me all this parading about with Saint Theresa's bones was a PR stunt by the Catholic church" said Nora. 
        "Now Nora you mustn't speak ill of the dead," said Nell rather piously.
        "What's wrong with telling the truth as I see it. Although you'd think if Rome wanted a PR agent to attract the youth they'd have hired someone like Louis Walsh. Sure all he'd have to say is that they'd have to go to mass first if they wanted to be in pop idol." Nora cackled at her idea. 
        Nell, miffed at the very suggestion, shuffled inside. She wanted to fortify herself with a strong cup of tea laced with a wee drop of brandy before she started work in the shop. The trouble with Nora was that she always spoke before she had time to think things through, she thought. Still it was a free country so she was entitled to her opinion. 
        Nora followed her into the kitchen. She cut a thick slice of Barnbrack and spread it with real butter, not the plastic let's pretend to be butter that her sister used. 
        "You do know that the box only contains some of the Saint's bones, don't you?" she said in between a large bite. 
        "And where are the rest of them?" asked Nell incredulously
        "In Yugoslavia. She's doing a world tour so some of the bones go to Ireland and the others go elsewhere."
        "I don't believe you Nora. You're only saying these things to upset me and you know I have to look after my blood pressure." 
        "Cross my heart and hope to die. You can ask Father Dennehy, cos he told Mary McGrath at confession last week," retorted Nora. 
        What was the world coming to, sighed Nell. She wondered how they divided the bones, a leg and an arm for each box and which one got the head or the torso. She got up a poured a more liberal amount of brandy into her tea. Reality blurred was a lot more tolerable. Anyhow Saint Theresa wasn't on her list of saints either. She had a soft spot for the men, saints like Jude and Andrew or Blessed Martin. Besides Saint Theresa came from Lisieux, somewhere in France and she didn't like the French, not since her unsuccessful and only affair with Jean-Phillipe. She had plenty reasons to distrust the French. 
        She made her way slowly downstairs to greet their first customer of the day.
        "Hello Mary," she said, "How can I help you?"

Nell Sullivan

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