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    Goodbye Mrs Robinson
    Goodbye Mrs Robinson
    Goodbye Mrs Robinson
    Ebook102 pages1 hour

    Goodbye Mrs Robinson

    By Fiona O'Malley

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Goodbye Mrs. Robinson is an Irish, very black comedy about a brother and sister who find themselves in a very complex plot to claim money from their foster mother's insurance. Set in Galway, West Ireland this novella is about two orphaned children Aoife and Conor trying to break free from their contrary foster mother, Helen Robinson.

    If you liked In Bruges and The Guard you'll enjoy this latest book from Fiona O'Malley.
    Half of the money raised from book sales will go to one of Fiona's favourite charities - GOAL.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublishereBookIt.com
    Release dateApr 26, 2016
    ISBN9781456620837
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      Book preview

      Goodbye Mrs Robinson - Fiona O'Malley

      AUTHOR

      PREFACE

      With special thanks to:

      Siobhán and Jenna at Byers Ink for being great editors and friends.

      My beautiful friends and family for being my beautiful friends and family.

      The Coronas for providing escapism and great music.

      50% of all money from ebook sales will go to the charity GOAL to help the emergency relief work with the Philippines Crisis. GOAL is an international humanitarian agency dedicated to alleviating the suffering of the poorest of the poor. Find out more about their work here .

      CHAPTER ONE

      Grey, bleak clouds haunted the misty sky and an ancient crow flew onto the concrete crucifix of the church steeple. It wasn’t sunny enough to look like day and it wasn’t dark enough to look like night. There was a consistent spitting of rain from the heavens. The day-night was miserable but typical weather for the location of this tale. The church was in Ireland, the west of Ireland to be specific, County Galway to be more specific.

      Beneath the ancient crow and the church steeple was a pebble stone path leading through a graveyard up to large, heavy double doors. Over the gravestones, tombstones and crosses hung rosary beads, laminated prayers and flowers. Nothing says ‘grieving’ more than a labyrinth of coronations spelling out ‘DAD’ or ‘MAM’ over a gravestone, symbols of lost love and hungry slugs.

      With a high-pitched squeak, the church gate opened and a young woman and a man walked up the path, dressed in black, huddled together under a black umbrella. They were as pale as they were thin and they were very pale and very thin. They looked like elongated milk bottles and the only colour in their gloomy, faint faces was the red in their blood shot eyes and the slight flush in their cheeks. When they reached the church the young woman pounded heavily on the door.

      A stooped old man, who was also dressed in black but had a white middle in his shirt collar, opened the double doors and squinted suspiciously at them. Then his face softened and he stood back and gestured for them to come in.

      Come in, come in! he said. Tis terrible weather! Terrible weather altogether so it is!

      Hello Father! the thin young woman said and stuck out her hand. I’m Aoife, we spoke on the phone.

      Aoife, hello, the priest said and shook her hand. I’m sorry for your loss and please; don’t call me ‘Father’. There’s no need for unnecessary formalities here. It’s Father Gerry.

      Aoife smiled awkwardly at the ground.

      And you must be Conor? Father Gerry asked the thin young man and stuck out his hand.

      That’s right Father, Conor replied and shook the priest’s hand.

      I’m sorry for your loss.

      Grand, Father.

      If you’d like to come with me, we’ll just go through a few things, Father Gerry said as he gestured to a room behind the altar.

      Aoife and Conor followed Father Gerry as the church bells rang out to the misty morning. The crow took off with a fright but before it reached the miserable grey clouds it had a heart attack and died.

      As Father Gerry, Conor and Aoife sat down at a table something black came falling from the sky and landed on the ground outside the window.

      What the hell was that? Conor muttered to Aoife.

      It looked like a dead bird, Aoife said, her eyes wide. Fecking freaky!

      Fantastic! Conor replied. That’s all we need now – another omen!

      Father Gerry joined his hands together and leaned forward on the table.

      What was she like? he asked.

      There was an awkward silence and Conor looked at Aoife, who looked at Father Gerry.

      I mean, if I’m going to be saying a few words about her it’ll be better if I knew more about her.

      Aoife and Conor looked at Father Gerry with tears in their eyes.

      But, Aoife said, trying to keep her voice steady. You knew-

      -Or Father Gerry interrupted. At least what her loved ones thought of her?

      There was another awkward silence.

      She, eh, Conor began and then stopped to clear his throat. Sorry Father…

      It’s alright son, Father Gerry said. Take your time.

      Conor took a deep breath and Father Gerry smiled sympathetically at him.

      She was hypocritical… sexist… melodramatic…

      Father Gerry looked gobsmacked as Aoife nodded in agreement.

      Miserable! Aoife added.

      Yep, Conor replied. Lazy and a bigot!

      There was yet another awkward silence.

      Oh, and an avid racist! Conor said definitely.

      Father Gerry opened and closed his mouth, stunned.

      A what? Father Gerry replied.

      An avid racist! Conor repeated.

      Well, Father Gerry said and took a deep breath. I can’t really say that… at her funeral!

      Oh, Conor said, almost disappointed.

      Right, Aoife said, almost confused.

      Anything else? Father Gerry asked hopefully.

      Aoife looked out the window at the sombre skies.

      Hard to think of anything else, Father!

      Any hobbies? Father Gerry suggested.

      Bigotry! Aoife said.

      Misery! Conor added.

      Racism!

      Father Gerry put one hand to his forehead in stress and the other up to silence them.

      Apart from the ones you’ve already mentioned.

      Aoife and Conor frowned at the ground, deep in thought. The wind whistled through the skeletal trees in the graveyard, making them tremble and shake. Aoife suddenly looked up and quietly gasped, as though she had thought of something genius.

      Knitting?

      ***

      Outside the back door of the church, Conor sat frowning at the ground, deep in thought. The rain had stopped but it was still overcast. He put a cigarette in his mouth, took out a packet of matches, lit one and held the tiny flame up to the end. When the tobacco glowed red, he sucked the life out of the cigarette and finally exhaled to release a smoke that circulated around his head. The church door behind him creaked as Aoife came out and sat beside him. She squeezed his elbow. Conor put his arm around her and kissed her forehead. Aoife took a deep breath and looked at the ground.

      You holding up? she asked.

      Yes, Conor replied. You?

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