‘Head. Shut it, Aedd,’ the father replied.
‘Righto, Father, so,’ Aedd said mimicking Mrs Doyle, ‘would you like a coppa tea father? Oh, go on, go on, go on…’ and Aedd giggled, made the sign of the cross thus excusing himself from damnation, genuflected again and mentioned Mary and Joseph, just to be sure, to be sure, in an Irish accent. The plea for personal salvation was clear, beyond any true religious zeal on his part.
Mrs DoyleMike O’Brien, who could be quite intimidating if he wasn’t talking about curtains and colour palettes for his cathedral, nodded. Satisfied he had the volcano, with no further risk of interruption, Father Mike resumed. ‘Is this pain au chocolat in the mouth of the volcano, you do know it could cause a side vent to blow?’
Aedd sat there with his head shut and ju
