91. Ould Sod

In the phone book under “F,” probably for Fermoy, was an international number for the monastery of the Ardent Brothers of the Holy Varlet. After quite a few of those European ring tones, someone answered.

“Fermoy!” was all the man said when he picked up the phone.

“This is Brother Jessica, the Abbot of Our Lady’s Monastery at West Saugerties,” I said. And for good measure I added, “We’re Ardent Brothers of the Holy Varlet.”

“Hey … Saugerties! Well, me lad, and how’s the skiing over the mountain at Hunter?” he asked. “And mightn’t you be a wee bit presumptuous with your Abbot talk? Where’s old Agnes?”

“He’s left to come back to you,” I said. “Who am I speaking with?”

“Brother Mary and Martha, M&M to you, you old bloke! Don’t you remember me?”

I did indeed, now that he told me his name. He had been here visiting in the mid 1990’s for a month and I remembered that Sparky had taken him skiing. Times were better then.

“Agnes is a bit ahead of schedule, I’d presume,” said M&M. “So you’re all sold and settled? I didn’t hear anything about our bank balance increasing.”

“I just dropped Agnes off at the train station. He said he had to come back to tend a sick brother. The Gang … I mean the Committee approved his trip home early.”

“News to me,” said M&M, “and I write the minutes for all the business meetings here.”

“Do you think something is wrong?” I asked.

“I’d certainly say so,” M&M said. “Let me speak with Brother Saint Anne and get back to you.”