Father Riordan blessed him, taking his time over it. He always enjoyed hearing confession. It was such a personal, private thing, the opportunity to talk to God Himself in person. You could unburden yourself of your sins and worries, and ask His forgiveness, knowing He would not refuse you. He would not stand in judgement of you or turn away from you. Father Riordan believed that this was the mainstay of the Catholic religion – the concept of the power of forgiveness and the knowledge that if you made a good confession you would be cleansed of your sins. You would be without stain, have a pure soul – for a short while anyway. You could take Holy Communion with a light heart, knowing you were in a state of grace. It was a very powerful thing to the true believer.
Michael bowed his head, and he started to speak quietly and respectfully. ‘I have sinned, Father. I have used profanities, taken the Lord’s name in vain. I have also had bad thoughts, terrible thoughts. I have not always honoured my mother.’
Father Riordan had expected as much. He smiled to himself. He had heard much worse than that over the years. ‘Go on, my son.’
‘I have also taken Josephine into my bed on more than one occasion. I know that I should not have done that. I should have waited, treated her with more respect. And I will do that now. I will wait until we are married in the eyes of the Church. I will make sure that our children are born in holy wedlock.’
Father Riordan already knew all about this. Josephine had been confessing that sin regularly for a long time, and she had not felt the urge to stop doing it. He understood that the weakness of the flesh was the scourge of youth, but he kept his own counsel. He was more astounded at Michael’s honesty. The lad was being far more truthful than he had expected. He was also being so humble and painfully honest, that it was making the priest feel almost as if he was eavesdropping. It was years since he had heard such old-fashioned terminology; it was as unexpected as it was welcome. He could hear the total commitment in Michael’s voice as he promised to wait until his wedding night so he could take his bride without sin.
There was a silence then. A long silence. But he could hear Michael’s breathing – it was shallow and fast.
‘I also have to confess to something else, Father. A mortal sin. A sin that I know will be difficult for you to understand.’
There was an edge to Michael’s voice now. Father Riordan could feel a distinct change in the air around them. He knew, immediately, that whatever Michael was going to say to him, he did not want to hear. But he had no choice. He had to hear the confession, it was out of his hands. He was filled with a sense of trepidation, of the fear that always accompanied the unknown. He felt hot suddenly, sweaty. He knew he had to do his duty, to listen to Michael, and not judge him – no matter what he might say. He took a deep breath to steady himself before saying, ‘You can say anything in here, Michael. Remember, you are not talking to me, you are talking to the Holy Father Himself. You can tell Him anything. I can never repeat anything I hear in the confessional. You know that. It’s not for me to judge. I can only offer you an Act of Contrition.’
Michael sighed gently. Then, lifting his head up, he said softly, ‘I have killed, Father.’
Chapter Seventeen
Patrick Costello was tired. He had been up since early morning, and now he was knackered. His anniversary party was about to start and he was fed up with it already. He loved his wife dearly, but she was what was known as ‘high maintenance’. If anyone else gave him the grief that she did, he would have shot them in cold blood without a second’s thought. Luckily, Carmel was a good girl, a great mother and, he had to admit, he loved her. But she had been on his back for the last few days about their wedding anniversary. It was like talking to the Antichrist; everything he said was wrong. She had decided that he had insisted on having an anniversary party, and he had been intelligent enough to go along with everything she said without a word. She could make him feel that he was in the wrong even when he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was totally in the right. If truth be told, he actually admired her for that. She was one of the few people in his world who was not scared of him, and that was why he loved her so much. If she had feared him, he would have walked all over her. They both knew it. Declan had hated her since day one, but he had accepted that she was what his brother wanted. As Carmel also hated Declan with a vengeance, it had made no odds.