Trust in God. Lucy observes how recently-ordained country curate, Father John Connolly, has to deal with accepting the will of God, when she visits Pim Connolly’s Aunt Rose in Moss Vale, in the winter of 1928.
Argyle Street, Moss Vale
We passed the church and Pim slowed the pony to a walk. Coming towards us further down the road was a dark figure on a black horse with a black and white dog at his side.
‘That’s him,’ said Pim. ‘Hey, Johnny!’ she yelled and waved.
Pim’s brother raised his broad-brimmed hat in reply.
Presently we came face to face with Father John Connolly. He was dressed in clerical garb over which he wore a long, black riding coat and long, black riding boots. At first he seemed very preoccupied, but he brightened a little when Pim greeted him again and made her usual introductions. He responded with another raise of his hat and nodded a ‘Pleased to meet you’ as he did.
As with the other Connollys, Father Connolly was red-headed and freckled and had the same merry brown eyes. But his hair was more russet than carroty in colour, and was closer-cropped than his siblings.
He also appeared taller and thereby a little less stocky, a fact which was confirmed when he dismounted.
We walked down the drive together.
‘Where’ve you been?’ began Pim.
‘Robertson’s farm,’ her brother replied. ‘Sick baby.’
He grew quiet again.
‘Getting better?’
Father Connolly wearily shook his head.
‘Doesn’t look good,’ he drawled and walked a little further in silence.
Pim waited for his next remark.
‘The mother’s not taking it too well.’
There was another pause. ‘It’s hard when they’re young like that.’
More silence.
‘Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.’
He looked across at the two of us and sighed.
‘Just gotta trust, don’t you? C’mon Snow,’ he called to the dog and headed towards the stable.
Argyle Street Moss Vale in 1934