In The Name Of My Father Chapters: 4 and 5

Helen First Meets Alistair:

Like most other young women, Helen had plans to travel after finishing her study. Italy, she decided, with all its history and buildings, its food and cultural allure would be first on her list. She had visited the country once, only briefly, with her parents, when she was probably too young to appreciate its offerings, the stunning architecture and history, the people, charming eateries, and its natural beauty.

Italy, with its amazing history, Rome, Florence, Vienna…Vienna was where she imagined falling in love with a vigneron and possibly never returning home.

Her friend Sophia’s parents had a holiday home in Corfu. With a common interest in Byzantine history and Greek mythology she and Sophia had planned to take in a bit of that, and then just laze away on the surrounding beaches, catch the wave of tourists, eat, drink and swim, and take in every tavern around. This, they were certain, would surely prepare them for freedom.

That was the plan…short in detail, but a plan no less.

But one day, before this dream could transpire, there he was, and in that instant, things changed. And though she didn’t realize it at the time, that one encounter would alter the course of her life thereafter.

Chaos theory, sometimes called The Butterfly Effect…it made so much sense to her looking back. She had read about how one chance happening can effect significant environmental change in far parts of the earth. It all seemed monstrously out of whack and incredible to her at the time, but now…well now it made so much more sense.

Chaos Theory goes a little like this. Everything that we do in life has a consequence. A butterfly flapping its wings on one side of the world can quite possibly have a catastrophic effect on the other side of the world, not right away of course, but over time.

When you are young, and without life experience, you can read about such, and think you understand. But it’s only when you are older, with that ‘shit load of experience’ as Ailsa called it, under your belt, and when you are able to reflect so much more deeply, that the bits of the puzzle fit perfectly.

It was Helen’s mother who had urged her to go to church that morning.

“He’s new and young, and probably a little lonely,” she had explained. “Being besieged by older people, some a lot older than Dad and I, for the last however many weeks, is not much fun for a young priest. He’s putting a brave face on, but truly, I have no idea what he’s thinking. He must be gasping for young company.

“Now, I’ll have the wrath of God coming down on me if I’m not careful, but I have to say I’m so glad David was never drawn to the priesthood. It’s a lonely life, much too lonely. I personally hope that in the not-too-distant future, these young men will be allowed to marry. That’s all a mother wants, for their children to be happily married and producing grandchildren,” she sighed. “Just go and say hello, Love. It will probably make his day.”

The very idea of David being a priest was hard to imagine. To put it mildly, he was a ladies’ man, and loved the good life…loved it too much as far as his mother was concerned, so that poverty, chastity and obedience were to him, tantamount to jumping off the end of the world into an empty, cement-based pool.

Where was the fun in that? Who in their right mind would agree to such a sterile environment? His party piece, which he swore was true, was quoting the very frank confession of a Benedictine monk.

“My vow of poverty has given me a hundred thousand crowns a year. My vow of obedience has raised me to the rank of a sovereign prince.” He’d then look at everyone, including his mother, raise his eyes mischievously, and say, “but I forget the consequences of the vow of chastity.”

People would roar with laughter, even those who had heard his joke many times. Such was his talent in the retell. He was a lovable rogue, and this, his party piece, always drew a crowd!

So….now Helen could see her mother as the butterfly. She was the one who had flapped her wings, ever so gently, nudged her to go to mass that Sunday. She was unwittingly responsible though she would have had NO idea of its ramifications.

As Helen walked into church that morning, there he was, introducing himself to his congregation, and she was right. He WAS young, AND very, very good-looking, a package that most young women would be prepared to die for, but her mother had forgotten to tell her the bit about his being handsome and the rest…better to say hello while the queue was short, and keep going!

“Hi, I’m Helen,” she found herself saying. “My mother thought I should introduce myself to you. She thinks you need to meet some younger people in case you get scared off by all the oldies here!” she whispered conspiratorially. “How are you? Welcome to our parish.”

“Hi there Helen”, he laughed. “The ‘oldies’ have actually made me very welcome. I certainly can’t complain. And at least they can cook! They’ve kept me alive for the last few weeks. It’s very nice to meet you. Now how do you fit in here? Do you have family in the parish? Oops! Of course you do…well, your mother at least…and you!”

“Yes my family has lived here for several generations. They’re a force to be reckoned with. Keep them at a safe distance if you value your life. I’m actually at university, doing a psychology degree. I’m only here for the weekend. Otherwise we might not have met.”

“Psychology! Now that’s an interesting choice of study! It’s a hard one though, looking at people’s strengths and weaknesses, conscious and sub-conscious behavior, searching for reasons as to why people respond in particular ways, working out why the shoe that fits one person pinches another.”

“Well now, that’s one of my favorite Jungian quotes as a matter of fact Father. You’d probably enjoy psychology as much as I do…being a priest I mean. Actually, I can see a reason to study it in your case,” she whispered again, looking around at the hopefuls, bent on introducing themselves.

“You could be right Helen. But there again I might be a monumental failure, solving everyone’s problem with the same hammer.”

“Aha! You’re showing off now. You know more than you give yourself credit for. You have studied both Maslow AND, Jung.”

“Guilty as charged. I feel it gives me a better understanding of both human behavior and needs. Not that I necessarily can get everything right in terms of how I respond to them, but it helps, especially when my real-life experience of people is pretty limited.

“Look I’d better keep chatting to the throng Helen. Wish me luck! But we must have a chat one of these days, perhaps before you get back to your studies. I might take a few lessons from you,” he winked.

“Oh I doubt I’d have much to share with you that you don’t already know, but yes, I’d enjoy the chat. It’s always good to meet people with some common understandings.”

Having a common understanding…that’s where it all started.

She’d thought little about their meeting, or so she told herself, but the reality was otherwise. For some reason his face would appear in her mind from time to time, mostly unexpectedly, and when she had time to think about him, she acknowledged that her mother had deliberately forgotten to tell her that bit about how damned handsome he actually was…coupled with a seriously impressive body! Bit of a waste, when all’s said and done!

A Shopping Date…

Her friend Anna called the next day. “Have to tell you about the new parish priest,” she yelled excitedly. “Is he a bit of alright, or is he a bit of alright? I had a chat with him last week.”

“Really? Where?”

“At church.”

“Huh? Am I talking to the same Anna?”

“You are, and I know what you’re thinking. It’s a L-O-N-G story! Mum forced me to go to mass, and for once, would you believe, I’m glad I did. Damned if I can work out why a catch like that would want to spend his life saying mass and tending to the sick and dying, and well, doing whatever priests do. Actually, what the hell DO they do? Wouldn’t be at all surprised if they spent a considerable amount of time scratching their navels!”

“You’re terrible Muriel!”

“See! Nothing’s changed.”

“It’s not like you to be so easily smitten!”

“Ah well. He’s already spoken for so I’m pretty safe…or maybe I should say HE’S pretty safe, but in this one-horse town any blow-in is welcome relief, even one with a dog collar! A girl can but dream!” she added theatrically.

“It’s okay for you Helen. You’re not stuck here. Maybe if I’d worked a bit harder at school I could have been with you at university, meeting the love of my life, ghosting him for an even better one, and eventually ghosting him…instead of doing hairdressing. I mean, how many bald heads, bushy eyebrows and moustaches does a girl have to deal with?”

“If, you’d worked a bit harder,” Helen thought. “Maybe if you’d done any work at all!”

Anna was bright and super-popular, but not so good at knuckling down to the hard grind of study. She was the youngest in the class and would likely have benefited from starting school a year later, but her mom had been keen to get her in school so that she herself could get back to work!

And so she had learnt the hard way, and was devastated when her closest friends all left town to further their study. That said at least she was now determined to finish what she’d started, a certificate in hairdressing, whether she liked it or not! As far as she was concerned she’d suck it up. Besides it was an extra skill that could come in handy in the foreseeable future.

“You can still go to Uni,” Helen assured her. ‘It’s not too late.”

“True, and I intend to, but I need to at least finish this course. That way my parents might eventually forgive me for ‘letting them down’. However hard I try, I can’t work out what there is to complain about. Mum gets her hair blow-dried whenever, and that spells out to every day, given how fine her hair is, and a color if the greys are showing through, and let me tell you, there’s no thought of ever offering me some cash for my efforts.”

“Really?”

“Really!”

“But Dad’s different. He’s a bit of OK. I cut his hair too…what’s left of it, and he slips me the odd twenty dollars now and then, actually more now than then, ’cause I’m perpetually broke…always when the coast’s clear. She still hasn’t forgiven me. I doubt she ever will.”

“She will when you are at Uni and funding your own study. You won’t end up with a humongous bill like the rest of us.”

“Correct! And I will have two skills for life. Imagine I’ll never have to pay for my kids’ haircuts! But you know my mom. She can’t project her thoughts further than the weekend, and then she wonders why she’s got a bimbo for a daughter.”

“A bimbo…or a student who doesn’t study, and ‘forgets’ to hand in assignments…take your pick Anna. Wait till you have your own kids. I can see it now. You’ll be as tough as old boots on them.”

“Probably…just like my mom! Now there’s an idea! Maybe I should just make a recording of her now and save it for the future…’One day you’ll thank me’. Gosh if I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that, but then under my breath I get my own back. ‘And which one day will that be?’ I snarl. Just as well she doesn’t hear.

“But hey, enough about me…the reason I’m ringing…funny that word…we still use it!”

“What word?”

“Ringing…I mean, does your mobile ring?”

“Oh I get you! No it doesn’t. I get the first few bars of Vivaldi’s Spring Concerto.”

“Bloody hell Helen…you’re kidding me aren’t you…classical music?”

“I certainly am not kidding. I love it when people stop to listen.”

“I can’t win! No wonder parents hold you up as the shining light. Vivaldi’s…sounds more like a name for a classy restaurant than a concerto though!

“Anyway, moving right along, and ringtones right out of the equation, I was wondering if you’re free on Monday. It’s my day off. There are some great sales on and you know that shoe shop that sells the amazing Italian sandals?”

“Pussy Foot?”

“That’s right. Well, they are advertising up to 70 per cent off. The truth is they were never going to make it here. They’re in the wrong environment. This is your typical country town. The locals here are happy slouching around in their crocs or sneakers. Italian shoes are footwear of the stars as far as they are concerned. So what do you think…worth a peak or not?”

“Right on! I’ll make myself free. You’ll never believe this, but I haven’t bought one thing to wear for a whole year, not even shoes!”

“No way…YOU…the SHOE queen? Am I talking to the same Helen, the one who at the last count had at least forty pairs of shoes and as many jeans? How the hell did you manage? One whole year, without buying a thing! What did you wear for heaven’s sake? Hey, you weren’t the one caught streaking past the cathedral by any chance?”

“Too cold in Melbourne for streaking,” she laughed. “As for the clothes, same old same old I guess. Jeans are great. You can wear them for a week and nobody would have a clue, dress them up with a top and you’re ready for a night in town. But yes, I’m up for a big spending spree! Have some cash put by from tutoring.

“Oh Anna, if I have to teach one more kid whose parents think they will go on to be the next Yehudi Menuhin, I think I might just do myself in. By the way, what do you think is more natural, to sing IN tune, or OUT?”

“Oh hell I don’t know. Give me a hint.”

“No hint! Sorry! It’s just that, if you can’t sing in tune, if you can’t HEAR what something is supposed to sound like, how can you be expected to play a stringed instrument like the violin?”

“Oh I getya! I read somewhere, can’t quite remember the quote, but it went something like this…nobody should be allowed to play the violin until they have mastered it.”

“Hey that’s a good one. I should have hung that on my wall. It might have given some parents a hint!”

“Did you think of suggesting that they try another instrument? Or maybe just forget music? Do you remember the agony of recorder lessons? I’m still in therapy for that!”

“Oh Anna, you crazy woman…they were the worst. How could we ever forget?”

“In every lesson I imagined that we were in Hades, waiting for our post-death punishment and hoping that the recorder lessons would be seen as such a painful imposition on us that we’d be allowed to slip quietly through the back door and into the realms of heaven!”

“And there was I, concentrating…I really have missed you. Okay, let’s say we catch up, maybe not too early…ten o’clock…how does that suit?”

“Perfect! I’ll drag myself out of bed. Meet you outside the shoe shop. Can’t wait! Bye!” and she was off, leaving Helen still smiling. She was the craziest, probably the smartest of her friends, and she could have been studying with her, but…

She couldn’t help thinking about Anna’s mom. Why was it that she was always comparing her daughter to her friends? ‘Why can’t you be more like Helen? Why can’t you get better marks? Why can’t you…?’ She never ever saw any of her daughter’s good points. Strange how everybody else did!