June 18th : St. Christina the Astonishing’s Church clock strikes eleven and a half times.

” Was that a half chime at the end there Flasher ?”
” Very much like a half chime, aye Bugler.”
” I make it 6:30  then.”

A well-waxed classic motor car in racing green with a silver jaguar upon it’s bonnet schmoozed along the winding road on the outskirts of Ballymullet.

A large metal sign some 4ft x 3ft greeted new arrivals. “Ballymullet welcomes careful drivers.” and “Beware fluctuating time zones within village boundaries.”
Beneath this a further rectangular sign measuring 4ft wide x 1ft depth announced ; ” Ballymullet :  Twinned with villages in the arse end of France, Germany, Italy and presently seeking a divorce settlement from Tipton UK.”
Ballymullet like Vatican City was a law unto itself.

Chris De Burgh’s – Lady In Red belted forth at volume from the Jaguar’s CD player. Singing along and looking rather pleased with life and himself was Fr. Frank Clancy, the parish priest more often referred to as Fancy Clancy.
Fr. Frank had been out doing pastoral work in the early hours. Every man, every priest will have their own special areas of interest. One of Fr. Frank’s main areas of concern was the welfare of young women in his parish. Tonight like many a night before he demonstrated his dedication by comforting a beautiful young lady who’d had a tiff with her betrothed, for several hours.
Father Frank Clancy was one of three magistrates who would be hearing the cases at Ballymullet Courthouse this morning. His Jaguar motor car did a crunching gravel swerving stop outside the Church cottage, he jumped out of the car gazelle-like and fair tap-danced inside.

That day in the church thirty and more years ago, was the day Bugler Hopkins buttoned up his overcoat against the world. It signalled the beginning of his journey into extreme miserliness ( mayne-ness), his constant wish for one-upmanship and his adult-life-long feud with Patrick McGillicuddy – the man who made everybody’s business his business.The same McGillicuddy who would be sitting alongside Fr. Frank on the magistrates bench later.

Sinead Gallagher squinted at her bedside clock and noted the hour of seven with a little dismay as she remembered her schedule for the day. She had been talked into becoming a Ballymullet magistrate by a combination of Sgt. Reilly and Fr. Clancy one night in Tansey’s Bar.
Sgt. Reilly insisted her role as barmaid, ” was great grounding for assessing the guilt of criminals who had transgressed Ballymullet law.” Sinead did not feel comfortable in her new role, she didn’t like to judge others at all, and was way more likely to empathaise than to chastise.

” Bugler have you got an ‘ould shmoke’ there at all ?” 
Bugler just caught his reflex negative response in time, ” Aye, Flasher here belt away on them,.” throwing a near full packet of 20 Major’s through the cell bars.
Flasher nearly passed out with shock, he rose to his feet with a giddy joy and picked Bugler’s cigarettes from the floor, he stared at the packet and announced ” Bugler’s cigarettes ! I have Bugler’s cigarettes !”
” What the feck are you on about !?”
“Ah, no nothing at all Bugler, nothing, thank you very much, I do love an old ‘shmoke’ of a morning…. well… and of an afternoon and of an evening too if it comes to that…”

Bugler wasn’t listening, his eyes were full of tears as he thought about how life might have been had he and Bernadette Hooley ( nee Lavelle ) been married as they should…… He thought of Patrick McGillicuddy’s part in Bernadette’s non appearance at the church thirty years and more ago, and clenched the bars of his cell so tight that they might have melted….


( Part 4 will be with us here at the dawn tomorrow ).