Fidelma and Oswald were destined to meet and not only because of their love of the written word. Opposites attract and these two couldn’t be more opposite.

Fidelma was the only child of Frank and Deirdre O’Loan, born in an Irish farming hamlet where sons were gold dust to the families. Growing up strong and sturdy to help around the yard, sons were revered, so Fidelma’s father was bitterly disappointed when presented with a daughter.

He showed his disapproval continuously over the years, ignoring his offspring and daily haranguing his long suffering wife for her barrenness. Fidelma was a difficult birth and left her mother no longer able to conceive.

Eventually, the misery, stress and constant beatings wore down the young mother and she succumbed at a very early age to sickness and death. No strength or will to go on.

Fidelma was inconsolable and at fourteen years of age needed her mother. Her father had no interest in her and used her as an unpaid skivvy.

She had no time for the opposite sex if they all turned out to be like her father and at sixteen she entered the convent of the Little Sisters of Prague. She didn’t see her father alive again.

She took the name Sister Nuala, and as the years passed, through her kindness, goodness and sheer hard work she became the Mother Superior of the establishment.

 

 

But, on numerous occasions Sister Nuala wondered if she had made the right decision to bury herself away from humanity, in isolation, with only her fellow novices for company. The guilt built within her as she realised she was not completely happy, did not feel the uplifting joy she should when in prayer. Serenity was not part of her makeup at the moment. She was restless and craved excitement, provided immediately by an obsession for books by Stephen King. She avidly read the mysterious goings on in his world and relished the anticipation of his next novel.

Gradually her unhappiness deepened, the bright flame of faith wavered and she came to realise that the celibate life was not for her.

Obstacles blocking her freedom were her adherence to Christian values, her love for her sisters and the little spark of faith she had left. But she knew she must go, for her good and the good of the convent life.

She lifted her arms to the sky, screamed out her frustration, ran towards the high gates, through them and into the little village of Ballymadougherty.

She halted in confusion, her senses returning, little knowing that in the next half hour her fate would be sealed.

TO BE CONTINUED….