The Fetch, Late Chapter
Father Ronan’s farewell party at Peter’s was an overlooked affair , t he attention of the village elsewhere that night . What little turnout there was were mostly pensioners, all eager to shake the priest’s hand one last time amid the smoke in that dim wooden pub . In one corner sat a pair of young men playing the guitar and bodhr รก n, the sound of their beat at war with the drizzle outside . Pierce Monaghan was the very figure of death in his wheelchair as h is daughter pushed him towards Ronan . Barely sixty yet ravaged by his lifelong fondness for cigars . His gaunt frame was obvious beneath the cotton suit , his thinning hair white and combed over . Perhaps he had a month left in him , or perhaps just a day. Still his sunken eyes sh one when Ronan bent forward to shake his weak hand. ‘ Thank you, Father, for all you’ve done. ’ ‘ It was my pleasure, Pierce .’ ‘ God be with you, helping this village keep on the right track. ’ ‘...