Jack & Harry by Tony McKenna

warmly at Paddy as he left the room.
    They ate hungrily and drank cordial that Paddy poured from a large jug he took from the fridge. ‘I told ya, lads, didn’t I? No need to be worryin’, and we’ll sort a few things out for you in the mornin.’
    The priest returned as they were finishing washing the plates and led the two boys down a long timber-floored corridor to a small room that was sparsely furnished with two single beds and a wooden dressing table with a small mirror attached.
    The only other thing in the room was a large wooden cross on the wall with a figure of Jesus Christ hanging forlornly from it and, while this was an alien thing to the boys, it was somehow strangely comforting. The priest bid them goodnight and closed the door. They climbed wearily into bed and, with their money tucked safely under Jack’s pillow, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

    The morning sun filtered through the thin curtain into the room where the boys slept. After a while Harry stirred and called softly to Jack, ‘You awake yet?’
    â€˜Yeah, I’m almost awake. Gee, that was a good night’s sleep; we didn’t sleep much on the train and yesterday was pretty exciting.’ Jack stretched and pulled back the covers; noticing two towels on the chair with a cake of soap.
    There was a note on the dressing table. It read ‘Didn’t want to wake you. The bathroom is down the hall to the right and breakfast will be ready after you have bathed. You know where the kitchen is.’ It was signed ‘Mrs Lacey.’
    â€˜Must be the housekeeper.’ Harry concluded as Jack read the note aloud. ‘This is incredible, Jack; we’ve been pretty lucky so far, eh? Just hope it keeps up.’
    Breakfast was set out on a large scrubbed pine table in the kitchen when the boys entered. There was toast with jam and corn flakes and a large jug of milk covered with a net cloth with little beads around the edge. Eggs were sizzling in a pan on the large Metters wood stove set in the brick wall beside what appeared to be an oven for baking bread.
    Mrs Lacey was a rotund lady dressed in a short-sleeved cotton frock and large blue apron. Her greying hair was tied in a bun and she wore tiny silver spectacles perched at the end of her nose so that she constantly held her head down to peer over the top of them. She bade the boys ‘good morning’ and nodded when they thanked her for the towels and soap. Other than that, she didn’t talk and busied herself with duties in the kitchen.
    When they had finished eating she removed her apron. ‘Now boys, Father would like to see you so I’ll take you to him.’ She led them from the presbytery across the lawn to an office at the side of the large church.
    Father O’Malley was seated behind a well-polished wooden desk. There were tall shelves lining the walls filled with many bound books and journals. The place smelled pleasantly of pipe tobacco, leather furniture and Old Spice aftershave.
    â€˜Come in, boys, come in.’ He waved them to two chairs. ‘Take a seat. Did you sleep well? How was breakfast?’ He smiled warmly at them.
    â€˜Fine, thank you, sir,’ Jack answered.
    â€˜Fine, thanks,’ added Harry. Neither boy knew how to correctly address this kindly but unfamiliar man seated before them so figured that ‘sir’ would fit the bill.
    â€˜Patrick said to say goodbye. He said he would see you sometime along the track.’
    â€˜Paddy’s gone! Where?’ Both boys looked nervously at each other then back at the seated priest.
    â€˜Patrick, or Paddy as you know him, comes and goes.’ The priest waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the town. ‘He’s an itinerant man with a heart of gold but too much of a liking for the ‘doins’ I’m afraid … I’ve known him for many years. He calls in every now and then and I keep a room for him but he only stays