An Unconventional Love. Adeline Harris

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       Foreword

      From my perch in the apple tree, I looked down and saw our new parish priest wobbling up the road on his bicycle. He was wearing a large black hat with a brim and was dressed totally in black apart from his white collar. His fat bottom bulged over the edge of the seat as he swerved from side to side, trying to avoid the puddles. I giggled at the sight, safe in the knowledge that even if he looked up he wouldn’t be able to see me through the apple blossom.

      He turned the corner towards our front door and I scrambled down, getting raindrops and pink petals all over my new dress and freshly brushed hair. I had to be waiting inside when the priest was shown in. I’d been drilled endlessly over the last week about being on my best behaviour – demure and silent and respectful – while Father Kelly went through the elaborate ceremony of blessing our house.

      I hurried in through the side door just in time to take my place in the semi-circle of family members who were standing in the sitting room, plenty of candles and holy water on hand. With a frown, Dad brushed the petals from my hair, grabbed my shoulder and pushed me to the front, where I’d be standing directly in front of the priest.

      Father Kelly came in and I saw that he had a round, red face, wispy blonde hair and too many teeth for his mouth. This is the man who was in persona Christi, in place of Christ. His visit was only marginally less important than if Jesus himself had come to call.

      He smiled down at me, and then I really don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was because I resented that I’d been told I wasn’t allowed to talk, or maybe it was the fact that the adults were taking it all so seriously, but I crossed my eyes and pulled down the corners of my mouth and made the funniest face I could.

      Surprise flickered across Father Kelly’s eyes for a moment, then he looked up at the adults and launched into the long, boring ceremony.

      Neither of us could have had any idea how pivotal that first meeting between a middle-aged priest and a little eight-year-old girl would prove to be. This was the man whom I would grow to adore, who would shape me into the person I am today. He would be the great love of my young life.

      All that was still to come. At our first meeting, I think it’s safe to say that I managed to catch his attention and start to work my way just a little into his thoughts.