DANCING AT THE CROSSROADS                                                                     

                                                                           Chapter Six

                                                                            Scene One.

 

It is difficult to say when the first dark clouds started to appear on the horizon. Michael and Jessie had departed from her old bungalow for a much larger one which, from its hilltop position overlooked a sun kissed bay. From its large patio outside the glass fronted house they could see a small harbour and could just make out their small (by some standards) but beautifully appointed sea going launch. Also, discreetly placed to one side of the bungalow was the large double garage in which were housed Michael's yellow Bentley and Jessie’s yellow Jaguar.

         By now their son had flown the nest armed with his new degrees in engineering and business studies. Though he knew that there was a place waiting for him in his fathers growing empire he was determined to make his own way in life.

        "A flat in Sydney and a good job with a large corporation would be a good way to start, don't you think," he told his father, "and when the time comes to take over from you dad I want to be ready for anything," .

        "It's just what I would have done," Michael replied, impressed by his son's sensible attitude, "but don't take too long about it, Your mother and me don't want to be working till were ninety."

        It was nineteen ninety nine, and with a new millennium almost upon them Michael and Jessie had spoken once or twice recently about their future. Not in specific terms, but on the lines of how they wanted to live in the twenty first century.

        "At least as much of it we've got." she joked.

        Nothing was decided. Thoughts of retirements were not yet in the frame and other ideas about their future were left hanging in the air, waiting to be gathered in when the mood took them. Not until the last day of the twentieth century, when the two of them were watching the television picture of the celebratory fireworks from Sydney Harbour Bridge; pictures that were to enthral the world; did the subject come up again.

        "Honey; I've been thinking."

        'Honey' was not Jessie's usual pet name for Michael. Rather it was one reserved for special occasions. Also, he knew from experience that "I've been thinking!" seldom suggested a spontaneous thought, but more often one that had been in Jessie's mind for some considerable time, mulled and twisted, examined from every angle, and when every conceivable aspect of the subject had been dissected and re-enacted for possible weaknesses,  it would finally be presented to her husband as a 'fate accompli'.

        It was not perhaps the ideal time to be controversial. With the sight and the sounds of the southern continent leading the world into a new century, with hundreds of thousands of people excitedly singing and shouting a few miles down the coast at Sydney harbour, Jessie’s timing was definitely off. And then as the countdown of the last second of the old blended seamlessly with the first seconds of the new, it could hardly have been any worse. Michael seemed not to notice as he leaned over and took Jessie's head between his hands.

        "Happy New Year my darling." he said with the Irish inflection in his voice as ever; something he had never tried to disguise.

        "Happy New Year to you my darling." Jessie replied with the same tenderness. "Did you hear what I said?"

        "What was that my love?"

        "I've been thinking." she repeated.

        "What have you been thinking?" Michael asked, and knowing that this was a clear indication that something was on her mind, he turned the sound from the television down to low. He well knew that it would be something unusual. Lesser thoughts or ideas were usually dispelled with little ceremony, to be cast into the wind to germinate or die as the case may be.

        "I've been thinking about it for a long time, and I'm certain that there will never be a better time than this."

        "OK my dear; what is it?

        Jessie didn't answer at once, but then it came quickly as though she was afraid that she might not say it all. "I think we should go to Ireland to clear you name, and then you can live your life out as a free man."

        "But I am a free man."

        "Not if you can't go to the land of your birth. You're in exile here, and you always will be."

        Michael was surprised to see Jessie filling up. She was a strong person and he could count on one hand the times he had seen her cry, but here she was sobbing like a child. He took her in his arms and squeezed her.

        "Where has this come from?" he asked her tenderly, "you've never mentioned it before."

        "We're getting older and the time is going fast. It's a new century and I don't want to leave it until it's too late. When you die I want you to be a free man."

        "Hang on Jess, I'm not planning to go on that journey for a while."

        "No, I know you’re not, but we never know what's round the corner do we?"

        "My word, you have been giving it some thought."

        "And I know it's been on your mind as well."

        "Well a little perhaps." Michael conceded. "But what if we go and I don't 'clear my name', what then? I'd spend the rest of my life in jail. What good will that do?"

        "But you are a wealthy man. You can instruct the best council. After all you didn't mean to kill him; and after all these years."

        All thoughts of the millennium celebrations had been forgotten by then. Michael switched the television off deep in thought. Jessie had a habit of bringing up sensitive subjects, but never had there been anything like this. She was still upset, though no longer crying, but it was clear that she had unburdened herself of something that had weighed mightily within her being.

        It was not something that could be decided there and then, but Michael sensed that Jessie was right. The new millennium was now a fact. It was the year of our lord Two Thousand and If ever there was a time to face the music; to face up to his past; to face up to those he had wronged; it was now.

        "I think it's time for bed," he said, holding out his hand, "but I promise you I will think about what you have said, and I will seek advice, but for now I think we should sleep on it."

        Perhaps it was good advice and was certainly well meant, but it was advice he was unable to take heed of himself. Despite his best efforts he did not get a wink of sleep that night.

        Neither, he was to discover, did Jessie.

 

Chapter Six

Scene Two

 

Michael was as good s his word, and did ask some searching questions from his legal team, but he soon realized that it would not be an easy task. His past life was largely unknown to all but Jessie, and such information that he had been required to divulge was done sparingly and with caution. Documents that had he had acquired which had been adequate to allow him to settle in Australia, had also been put to good use to establish him as a man worthy of a permanent place in the country, and eventually citizenship. Gradually as one document or another had required renewing new papers supplemented the early ones so the apparent level of validity was reinforced.  Success in business and becoming a major employer had made him more or less impervious to doubts, should there ever have been any, as to his bona-fide.  But Michael new what others did not know; that his bona-fide  was based on those origenal doubtful credentials, for he had entered New York on entirely false papers purchased from a crook, who might even now, despite Benny's intervention, have a hold on him. Therefore Michael had learned to be circumspect about his past, telling only what had to be told.

        And so the desire to clear his name was gently pushed down the order of priorities. Even Jessie, who was eager to see her man put down the burden he had carried for so long, came to understand that a lot of background work would need to be done before such a dangerous operation could be undertaken. Though it was she who had first broached the subject, it was clear to her that without near certainty of success, such an undertaking was out of the question. Though the idea was never forgotten, it gradually faded from her consciousness.

        Michael too had pondered the imponderable, and had come to much the same conclusion, but for very different reasons. Where Jessie simply wanted her man to walk tall, Michael knew that failure might mean prison. In a curious way he felt he could face that, even though he had been advised that a good and probably successful defence might be made that since Michael and Co'lin had been fighting, and that as either one might have delivered the fatal blow, he had been acting in self defence. But what he was really afraid of was success. Victory in the court room might indeed allow him to leave a free man, but at what cost. Almost certainly a renewal of the hatred that everyone back in Ireland must have felt for him when he made such a hasty and cowardly retreat, leaving the crumpled body of the man who until then had been his best friend, dead in a ditch. His own family; the family of Co'lin, who must long ago have come to terms with their loss, would now be forced to relive those far off events, only to see the man responsible walk free. And what about Connie? Abandoned and pregnant, left to face the indignity and scorn of all who knew her. She too would be held up for scrutiny before all her friends and neighbours, while her private was once more aired in public, her morels once more a subject for everyone's consideration. 'If she hated me then, she would surely hate me ten times more', Michael had concluded.

        After some preliminary enquiries between his legal team, and one or two influential parties in London, Michael told Jessie that he had decided that there was more to lose that to gain and that he would not pursue the matter further.

        "After all," he told her," what good would it do to muddy water that had settled so long ago."

         "Are you sure that there is no-one over there who would think kindly of  you?"

        "It's hard to see why anyone would."

        "They just don't know you like I do."

        "True," he smiled, "I guess I'll just have to settle for you."

        "Right!" she said, "It's just you and me then." Jessie, pragmatic as always, knowing how difficult a decision it had been for Michael to somehow find the right words. "Let's draw the line and then move on."

        It took Michael a long time before he really could move on. Thoughts that it might be possible to return to Ireland had stirred his emotions. The very idea was something that he had never allowed himself to consider though it had never truly occurred to him until Jessie had put it into words. Words that he had never before considered. That he was in exile.

          He knew that he had been fortunate to escape punishment for his sins; that he had escaped the drudgery of life in the gutter; and that a life of crime which had been a real possibly while he walked New York's streets, supposedly paved with gold, had been avoided. He knew too that he had been blessed when Jessie came back into his life and presented him with a son. With all these things and a successful business why would he run the risk of losing it all.

        And yet! Michael sighed. Her words had been spoken and could not now be unspoken. He was in exile. Moreover he knew that retribution would surely come one day if not on this earth then somewhere else, where it would be impossible to evade his accusers. The penalty there would be far greater than on this earth.

 

Chapter Six

Scene Three

 

The days; the weeks; the months; the years moved on, and the business continued to grow and prosper. Long ago Michael had been able to set aside some of his income. "For a rainy day." he used to joke with Jessie, for there on Australia's eastern coast there were few of them. Over the years his investments had increased and his financial advice had been sound, until by the time he and Jessie started to think of retirement he was a very wealthy man.  In two thousand and six however retirement was brought into sharp focus when Jessie announced that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. An operation and a period of treatment followed which lasted most of the year but ultimately her ordeal ended when she was given the all clear. It was clear however that plans for their future must be moved to a place much higher on their list of priorities.

        Of course Danny was waiting in the wings, ready at a moments notice to take over the rains, and it was then that Michael told him that it was time for them to change places. Danny was ready.  After university he had taken up various posts of increasing responsibility and power, and now he was very experienced in the wide spectrum of business. He was also by this time a director of 'Yellow Roadster Inc'.

        He was now into his early thirties , and still unmarried. This was a cause for some concern for Michael as he was very traditional in many things, and regarded his motor empire, despite its extensive and far reaching proportions, as a family business. 'What better', he would argue, than having a family man at the helm.

        "What's keeping him?" Michael asked Jennie one day. "Are there no nice young ladies out there any more?"

        "He doesn't seem to be in a hurry, I'll say that." Jennie answered, laughing slightly, though her laugh was a mite strained.

        "Well I hope he'll be a bit lively that's all." Michael laughed too, unaware of Jessie’s reticence. "Don't you think we could do with a couple of grand kids?  "he paused, "And time goes quickly so there'll need to be someone to take over from Danny?"

        It took a couple of months to make all the arrangements for the transfer of power, and a board meeting was convened to take place for the purpose. A few days before that was due Jessie told Michael that Danny was coming for dinner and that he was bringing a friend.

        Michael was intrigued. "A friend you say. Do you mean a friend or a girl friend?"

        "Well he didn't quite say, but I think he means 'a friend."

        "Pity." Michael said quietly, but then in a more spirited response he said. "Still, it will be nice to meet some of his friends."

        "Yes it will." Jessie said matching Michael in her quiet tone. "He's such a lively happy go lucky young man and yet we have seen so little of his friends."

        There was a curious hesitance in her manner that Michael noticed, but failed to question, save the thought that since her illness Jessie had not quite regained that quality which she saw in her son, that same happy go lucky persona which she had previously worn so well.

        The day of the dinner party arrived and all was ready. Michael had wanted to invite some of their friends to share the occasion, but Jessie had persuaded him against it.

        "He's bringing a friend, and that must be important to him."

        "But he'll be with our friends. What could be better?"

        She took him in her arms and gave him a squeeze. "Let him have his day. There'll be plenty of other times for our friends."

        For some long time Jessie had been anxious about Danny. They didn't see him as often as they might have wished, but when they did meet he was always happy, his gregarious nature invariably resulting in his parents dissolving in laughter. Her concern therefore was not for Danny. He was a well respected businessman, and indeed had been awarded the honour of 'Young business man of the year' New South Wales, on two occasions. He was happy; that was clear, and was keen to take his father's business to even greater levels. Indeed she realized, she was not concerned for Danny at all. Her concern was for Michael.

        Further thoughts on the matter were ended when the sound of a car on the gravelled drive announced the arrival of Danny and his friend.

        Moments later the door opened and Danny walked in followed by another young man. He stood quietly by the door until Danny had greeted his parents, joking as usual, and as usual producing laughter from them both. During this little exchange Jessie had whispered in Danny's ear, "Be brave; I know."

        Danny then gave his mother a smile, a look of recognition, and a light kiss on the lips. "Thanks mom." he whispered back.

        Then Jessie took her 'husband's hand and looked into his eyes. "Be happy." was all she said.

        Now Danny called his friend forward, who until then had remained quietly in the background. "Mom, Dad," he said, "I want you to meet Ralph. We met at university and we have been firm friends ever since."

        "Ralph?" Michael enquired with the familiar Irish chuckle in his voice that had always been his trademark. "Not Raffe then, like some of them actor fellows.

        "No; Ralph is fine by me. Don't want people to think I'm something I'm not."    

        "Well we're very glad to meet you aren't we Jess?  We were beginning to think that Danny didn't have any friends; don't like the idea of him sitting all alone in his flat."

        As he spoke he looked at Jessie for her agreement, therefore missing the quick glance that each of the young men gave the other. But Jessie saw it and immediately ushered their son and his guest to the table, while indicating to Michael with a nod towards the sideboard that he should open one of the numerous bottles of wine that she hoped would help the evening to proceed without any major hitches.

         "Come on now," she said in a mock scolding manner, "I've not spent all day cooking for you men to spoil it all."

        They all sat down and Jessie tapped on the kitchen door. A pre-arranged signal to the gentleman on the other side, hired for the evening so that Jessie would not miss either the conversation, the ambiance, nor the atmosphere of the evening. Neither too did she want to miss the fun.

        The first course was brought in, the glasses were all filled and the dinner was under way. It proved to be all that she had hoped for, and indeed for Michael it was the same. The conversation had touched on many subjects, not least the question of Danny's elevation to the top spot in the family business.

        "Oh we don't need to be talking business just now dear do we?" Jessie looked first to Michael and then to Danny. "After all we have a guest; we don't want to bore him with our problems, now do we."

        Said as a statement rather than a question Jessie was only trying to keep things light, but it was Danny who steered back to that topic.

        "Yes I think we do." He said it in a light but positive way, a change to the tone which which had not been present up to that point. "I know it has always been the plan; your hope dad and mine too, that when the time was right I should take over the firm. Since being at high school I have known that this would be my destiny, and I have never thought, until now, that it might be otherwise."

        Michael sat up straight, and some of the effects of the wine and the evening's jollification started to drain away. "What do you mean 'until now', don't you still want it?"

        "As much as ever, but when you here what I have to tell you, you may not want it."

        "What on earth can make me not want you to take over." Michael asked.

        "In my second year at university I met Ralph and we quickly became good friends. Ralph was in his final year, so our friendship within the trappings of university life in Melbourne was relatively short. But we kept in touch, and when we both returned to Sydney we continued our friendship as it had been before."

        Danny was conscious of two pairs of eyes looking directly at him, and that Ralph’s eyes were closed, as he continued. "But after a year or so we had started to realize it was not quite as before. We found that we wanted to spend more and more time with each other and that we didn't want...." He stopped for a moment. "No, I don't quite mean that; we realized that we didn't need anyone else in our lives."

        Michael was now bolt upright. "Are you telling me...........?" Either he could not find the words, or else could not put into words what he was beginning to think. "Do you mean to say.........?" Are you telling me that you are queer?"

        "If that is the way you want to put it; yes."

        "What else can I say?"

        "I am telling you that we love each other. Queer? I don't think so, but if you need a label 'gay' is the new word. That isn't such a hard word to say is it?"

        Ignoring the question Michael had slumped back into his chair, uncertain what to think; what to say, and how to engage with his son who he loved dearly, but who had just delivered a crushing blow. He raised his hands palms up as though in a gesture of submission.

        "I don't know what to say." was all he could manage.

        "Well I do." Jessie said as she got to her feet. She put out her hands but unlike Michael it was not in defeat but in welcome. Her son stood up to accept the embrace that was being offered and was rewarded by squeeze the like of which he had not enjoyed for years. "Be happy." she said, a phrase she had used earlier. Then she did a remarkable thing. Keeping one arm around Danny she gestured to Ralph to join them and in a moment she was hugging them both.

        Nothing was said for a moment until the quiet Irish lilt of Michael’s voice gently pierced the silence. "Is there room for one more?" he asked as he took his place between the two young men, the four of them locked together. Predictably it was Jessie who brought them back to reality. "So now I've got three men to worry about."

        It was not riotous laughter that followed but laughter nevertheless. It was the kind of self mocking laughter that people use when relief is the spur rather than comedy.

        "I don't know what we are laughing about."  Michael said, I feel just like a bomb has gone off. That was the cue for some proper laughter. "I think it's time for something a bit stronger than wine.

        Jessie was curiously calm. She had known for some time in a way that only mothers know that there was something in the air. Much of what had occurred after dinner she had anticipated, and she was glad that it was now out. While Michael was busy opening a bottle of whisky she squeezed herself between the two boys, draping an arm over each of their shoulders.

        "You know," she started, "there might be some difficult times ahead, but we have had difficult times before, and overcome them."

        She gave each in turn a little kiss on the cheek. "And I guess there'll be other unexpected problems to deal with; and we will."

        Michael returned with a trolley on which there were four generously filled glasses of Irish whisky, various mixers and nibbles, and a model of Jessie’s original yellow roadster. When they all had a glass in their hand Michael offered a simple toast, "To the family."

        "Now." said Jessie turning to Ralph who had been very quiet following the dinner, "I think it's about time we got to know something about you."

 

Chapter Six

Scene Four

 

Danny's revelation had been something of a blow to Michael and it weighed heavily on his mind, especially as the board meeting at which he planned to announce his retirement, and Danny's accession to the throne was almost upon him. It took Jessie's straight thinking for him to look forward.

        "Don't you go and do something silly now. You know as well as anyone that he's the right man for the job. It'll be up to him how he presents himself as the new boss, and no-one else. If he chooses to tell people that's his business; and if he chooses not to then that's his business too."

        "There'll be problems." Michael countered.

        "Yes, and they'll be his problems. Let him deal with them."

        It seemed so simple, but with those few words Michael finally allowed control of the company that he had virtually built from nothing to slip from his grasp. It was not a complete break as he remained as a director and a major shareholder, but he was free once more. It was the year Two Thousand and Seven, just Twenty Nine years since he had set foot in Australia for the first time. He was Sixty Six and Jessie, Ten years his junior was a sprightly Fifty Six.

        "What do we do next my love?" he asked her.

        "We need a long holiday as far away from here as we can get. The business is in safe hands and you need to clear your mind. If you ask me there is no better time than now to go home to Ireland and clear your mind of all those dark secrets as well. They've been hiding in that brain of yours for far too long. It's time to be rid of them."

        "I don't know if I have the courage to go through with." he confessed.

        "It's not courage you are lacking, it's finding the need."

        "Need?"

        "I think so. All these years while you have been creating a life here in Australia you have been able to put it to the back of your mind. Well that's over now. Now you have to ask yourself some questions."

        "I can't think of a time when I have not been doing that."

        "Well, as I see it the biggest question now is 'What do I need'."

        "And what would be your answer to that question?" Michael asked smiling, for he knew what she was about to say.

        "I think you 'need' to resolve whatever needs resolving, no matter what it may cost."

        When this subject was raised earlier Michael had allowed himself to be put off, persuaded by legal uncertainties. But now he felt differently. Jessie’s brush with death over her cancer scare no doubt had influenced his attitude for he realized, perhaps for the first time, that mortality was not just a word. It is a reality that can confront you without warning, and seemingly without rhyme or reason. Who could tell, if he missed this opportunity, whether there might be another. Now it did not seem to be such a leap into the unknown as it did before.

        He had all but made up his mind, but it took a chance encounter to tip the balance. Despite his success in business and in the happy life he had created for himself with Jessie and Danny, he lived under a permanent cloud. It was not apparent in his demeanour, and most of the people he knew would guess that this confident and successful man was carrying a psychological 'weight'. Most of the time Michael too was able to ignore its presence, and yet it was always there. The major manifestation of this was that he found it difficult to remain of the faith. His church attendances were rare, and always left him with an uneasy feeling. He knew perfectly well that it was nothing more than a guilty conscience, but knowing did not make it easier. Curiously his growing awareness that he might actually go to Ireland eased his state of mind, and he felt a strong pull to attend mass. However, unlike previous occasions when he had steeled himself to go to the service he had never felt able approach the alter and take the sacrament. The offer from the priest of the unleavened bread on his tongue had always been too much for him to bare. This time he was determined that he would, despite that meaning a visit to the confessional before the event.

        Vague memories of another confession in New York when he had been in a similar state filtered into his mind.  Father Mullighan he remembered, somewhat surprised for he hadn't thought of him for years.

        He was ready and determined to give ‘another’ priest a full account of his sins. But it’s what happened next that shocked him. When the little sliding door which allowed communication between Michael and the priest in the darkness of the confessional chamber was opened, he heard not the words of the priest beside him, but those that Father Millighan had spoken all those years before. It was as though he had been transported in time.

      "Your penance is just a token, a gesture of your intent. I am not God. I do not forgive you for your sins. I merely provide the means by which you can be forgiven. But you must atone by whatever means you can. And if that means giving yourself up to the police, then that is what you must do. If you confess a sin to me, but do not mean it, then you will not receive forgiveness from God. You must decide. Now go in peace and say your penance."

        It was in those moments that Michael finally made his decision. He would go back to Ireland. He would give himself up to the authorities and take whatever punishment they deemed appropriate, and then he would face up to the hardest test of all; his family.

        When he attended mass on the following Sunday it was more nerve racking than his confession, and walking down the isle to receive the sacrament was an almost intoxicating experience, not least for the feeling that all eyes were on him, but when later he left the church he did so with mixed feelings. He had made a commitment to God which he could not break, and knowing that there were ordeals to face which he could no longer avoid. And yet he walked away with a spring in his step and an almost euphoric feeling - a feeling the like of which he had not felt for years.

        Jessie also had mixed feelings. For a long time she had wanted Michael to make this move, and now that it was going to happen she was afraid. She was not even sure if she was afraid for herself or for Michael. After all, he might end up in prison for he had told her that he had decided not to use the legal powers at his disposal. To do so, he had said, flew in the face of the words of Father Mullighan; words that had become his silent mantra. Since he left New York there had been no contact with the priest, who would certainly by now have taken his place at God's side, and yet he felt that he was close. He had decided to put his trust in him.

        For herself her fear was more to do with the worry that her cancer might return, and how would she manage on her own if indeed that were to happen. There had not been any signs that it might, and her regular checks were encouraging. So she scolded herself, but the fear, though pushed back into the farthest recesses of her consciousness, remained.

        Arrangements were made for the trip. Not hurriedly; there was no need for that, but without wasting time. They were both subdued, neither of them sure what to make of their trip. It was not going to be a holiday; that much they knew. But there were many things that they did not know. How long would they be away? Where would they stay? Would they be together? Should they buy return tickets?

        So much to do and so much to think about. One Saturday morning Michael  was putting together some papers which Danny might need in his absence, especially if he was going to be away a long time. Danny had been kept fully informed of progress, and was very supportive of his father's stance. Of course it was a shock to discover that his father might be wanted for murder, but he was prepared to accept Michael's version of events.  Jessie had gone to the travel office to collect some documents, and Michael was enjoying one of the rare quiet times since he had decided to face the music.

        The phone rang. "Damn!"  Michael muttered, annoyed that he was being disturbed. "Who on earth can that be - Hello?"

        "Dad; is that you?"

        "Danny, what's the matter, you sound a bit stressed. Is something wrong?"

        "Dad; get yourself down to the hospital as quick as you can."

        "What is it?"

        "Mum's been hurt in a car crash. Don't talk now, just get here as quick as you can."

        Michael left everything and flew. One thing he had learned in a lifetime in the car business was how to drive fast. Not like a racing driver but more like a taxi driver. He knew the roads and he knew the short cuts; he knew the places to avoid, and where he might gain a precious minute. The main hospital north of Sydney was in normal circumstances if driving at a safe but nippy speed would be a forty minute drive. Michael was there in thirty.

        He raced to the accident emergency area as fast as his weary legs and his beating heart would allow. "Jessie Witten; car accident." he called to the clerk behind the reception desk.

        "Are you Mr Witten?" she asked.

        "I'm Michael Cassidy," he called back, "her partner for Thirty years. Is my son here?"

        "What is his name?"

        "Danny Witten. Please be quick. I need to see her."

        "He phoned to say he is on his way. I should think he will be here soon."

        "But he phoned me too. I thought he was here."

        "He's on his way. Mrs Witten is in the emergency theatre at the moment."

        "Mrs Witten. Can I see her?"

         "Please take a seat and I will call you when you can see her."

        "But I heard.........."

        "Please Mr Witt...Mr Cassidy; sit down and someone will come to see you as soon as possible.

        Wearily Michael moved to the waiting area. Frustrated that after all that rushing he was having to wait he looked at his watch. Eleven Thirty. What on earth has happened and where is Danny. Just then Danny arrived, flustered just like his father.

        "Dad, I'm glad you’re hear. Have you seen anyone yet?"

        "Nobody seems to want to speak to me, what is going on?"

        "Mum had a car crash but I don't know any more than that. They had to cut her out of the car and they found a letter I had sent to her with my telephone number on it. They rang me and I told them to see to mom and that I would ring you."

        "Right." Michael said, "I'm determined to get someone to tell us what the situation is."

        Together they approached to reception desk, and beckoned the young lady to come to them. "I'm Daniel Witton, and this is my father. You have my mother Jessie Witten in emergency and we would like some information. Unlike his father Danny did not have the soft melodic tones as befits an Irishman, rather the firm authoritative delivery of a confident man. Michael's own technique of getting his way with charm and blarney, which had paid him handsomely over the years, was not the right approach now. Danny's was.

        "I'll see if I can get someone right away." she said.

        She was as good as her word and two minutes later a doctor appeared and introduced himself. "Please come with me." he said rather formally, and took them into a little side room. "Please sit down." he said while he leaned against a table.

        "What I have to say to you is not good news."

        "Is she dead?" Michael asked, alarmed.

        "No, but she has some serious internal injuries, the full extent of which are not completely known."

        Danny spoke next. "What are you telling us? That she is badly injured and that it might get worse."

        "That pretty much sums it up. We have a team of doctors doing all they can, so for the time being you have to hold on and put your faith in us."

        "When might you know?"

        "Hard to say, but I've been involved with many cases like this and in my experience the first Twelve hours is key. If she survives the first Twelve hours, then every Twelve hours after that her chance of survival increases."

        "Can we see her?" asked Danny.

        "Not yet I'm afraid. She could be in the operating theatre for a number of hours yet. Perhaps if all goes well by mid afternoon. She is deeply unconscious so she will not see you of course."

        "It all sound pretty bad." muttered Michael, "Is there much hope?"

        "Sorry to tell you that the odds are stacked against her I'm afraid. If you believe in God now is the time to start praying."

        It was a long day, and neither Michael or Danny could settle. By late afternoon a nurse came to tell them that Jessie was in the recovery ward, and that they could see her for a few minutes.

        "A few minutes? Is that all." Michael said, a touch of anger in his voice. It was tiredness and stress rather than anger, but certainly not the gentle tones that most people new him by.

        "I'm Sorry Mr Cassidy, but it will stress you to stay much longer. She's not very pretty at the moment, and she will not know that you are there."

        "At least she got my name right." Michael said as they followed the nurse to a side room in the recovery ward.

        The nurse had been right to warn them for what little of her face they could see told them that Jessie was not the beautiful woman that they both knew and loved. She was right in her other assertion, for two minutes was all they needed to know that Jessie was in a bad way.

        Before they left however Michael told Danny he was going to pray. His recent conversion back to the faith was being put severely to the test, but still he felt the need. "I'm going to pray to Father Mullighan; will you join me.

        As he kneeled by Jessie’s bed he was glad that Danny didn't ask who Father Mullighan was, but pleased when his son kneeled  beside him.

        "Intercede for us Father Mullighan," he started his prayer, "and let Jessie come back to us. But if she is to be taken, let her not linger but be taken quickly into the bosom of our Lord."

        Neither of them saw the nurse watching them through the glass panel in the door, or the tear that ran down her cheek.

          One hour later Jessie died.

 

Chapter Six

Scene Five

 

Michael was distraught at the loss of Jessie. The focus of all that he had worked for was gone, and all his resolve went with it. Despite his place on the board he took little interest in the business, preferring to leave Danny to do things his way.

        "It doesn't matter any more." he told his son when on one occasion he had asked for his advice. "You're the boss now, do whatever you want."

        His pilgrimage to Ireland was all but forgotten, preferring to use the same explanation. "It doesn't matter any more." Indeed that became almost a stock phrase to be used at any time for any purpose. He became morose and bad tempered. He also found refuge in the availability of the bottle. Throughout his life he had regarded drink as a social nicety to be used when the right occasion called for it, but never to be abused. Even when a celebration might have been seen as a reasonable excuse and a  nod of  understanding from those around might be expected and granted, Michael never exceeded propriety. He would drink to join in the fun and to enjoy whatever it was that was being celebrated. It might be a party or a pint in the pub and Michael would be there with the others, but he never had one too many.  Now there was a danger that the bottle may get the better of him.

        There were other casualties too, among them God and Father Mullighan, both abandoned in his grief.

        "A fat lot of good he did." he moaned to Danny one day.

        Danny had tried to be supportive for his father, but it was increasingly difficult.

        "Who?" he asked.

        "Mullighan; Father Mullighan."

        Danny had never discovered who this mysterious priest was, but in some things he was beginning to copy his fathers attitude. He had come to realize that there are times when it really didn't matter any more. This he believed was one of them.

        "It's no good blaming other people. Mom had an accident, and if some of the witnesses are to be believed it might have been her fault."

        "But he could have saved her. He didn't answer my prayer."

        "He could not answer your prayer on his own, you know that. And anyway; in an odd kind of a way perhaps he did."

        "What do you mean? He didn't send her back to me."

        "To us dad. To us."

        "Sorry, but you know what I mean."

        "Don't you see, you also asked your Father Muligham, that if Mum wasn't going to make it to end it quickly. So I think he did answer your prayer."

        "But I didn't mean that. He must have known I didn't mean for her to die."

        “Then you should have been more careful what you asked for in your prayer."

        "Our prayer."

        "Touche' dad; touche'"

        Michael started to laugh, and Danny joined in. There were moments of good humour, but they were few and far between.

        Recovery was long and painful. Not only had Michael lost Jessie, but without an active interest in the business the days were long and lonely. He saw little of Danny, and even less of Ralph. Circumstances had robbed him of the opportunity to get to know his son's partner, or to get used to the idea of their relationship. Despite a changing attitude to homosexuality in Australia, there remained in him a feeling that it was unnatural. Despite  his son claiming that he was still the same person he had always been he found it hard to accept.

        "Your mother would have understood better than me." he had said during an earlier conversation.

        "She did." Danny had replied. "She knew long before I told you both."

        And so the weeks went by and the months, and gradually the skies became a little less grey. He started to notice the sunrise again and to hear the birds. One day on an impulse he was almost unaware of he took a drive to favourite place where he could see the wide vista of Sydney harbour, and at the far side the famous iconic bridge, which for so many years had been the image that people around the world conjured up as typifying the essence of Australia.  Not only that, but for some twenty years another building had come to share in its popularity. The Sydney Opera House. Together they had become a symbol that shone out majestically to all the peoples of the world. We are here; we are proud; we are Australia.

        That had been one of Jessie’s favourite places and whenever they had been able they would take a picnic and spend an hour or two. Michael could not say why he had felt the need to visit this special place and why on this day. Just like Jessie he had come to love it, and this was the first time he had ever visited it on his own. He got out of his car and walked to a spot where they had often stood to admire the view. He stopped. Unusually there were very few people around but he did not feel alone. It almost startled him when the realization that he did not feel lonely first entered his consciousness. Looking around he half expected to see Jessie behind him so strong was the feeling. He could not see her of course and yet in a way he could not explain at the time, or ever attempted to since, he knew that she was there.

        He drove home slowly in contemplative mood for he knew that something special had happened. In his ethereal state of mind he had made some life changing decisions. The first and most immediate was to push the bottle just out of reach. The second, and more important was that he would make arrangements to start his pilgrimage to Ireland. He knew with absolute certainty that Jessie had spoken to him during those quiet moments while looking at the Sydney vista. The third decision, perhaps more important still, was that he would go to confession and renew if possible his liaison with Father Mullighan, and with God.

        Michael completed his journey home in a state of renewed hope. He had loved Jessie to distraction and knew beyond doubt that no one would ever take her place. Her death had hit him so hard he never dreamed that he would recover, but something had happened. It was not a sudden revelation, rather a slow realization, but by the time he reached his home he knew that he was no longer in mourning.