Chapter Text
Goodfellow did manage to stop the vandalisms before Sullivan came back from London. One young man was caught painting a curse word on the side of a shed. Twenty minutes of questioning was all it took to break his resolve and soon came spilling out a story about his friends and a girl and a bet gone wrong. It was all far less interesting than the gossips of Kembleford has hoped.
What was interesting to them was the events that happened after the boys were caught . Large packages began arriving at the Police Cottage, some with Inspector Sullivan's name listed as both sender and receiver. Goodfellow or a uniformed copper would go over once a day and pull the packages inside, but that didn't stop the gossips from examining them.
"At least one of them had the logo of a furniture store on it."
"A furniture store? Why would the inspector be buying furniture?"
One of the main perks of the Kembleford Inspector job was the fully furnished cottage. All one had to do was move in their personal belongings , no need to bring along any unwieldy shelves or bedframes. The Inspectors were allowed to change out the furniture if they wished, but almost none of them had cared enough or stayed long enough to do so. It had seemed like Inspector Sullivan would be the same.
Even stranger is when Sergeant Goodfellow was seen heading up to the local elementary school. "Why would he head up there?" Mrs. McCarthy asked more than once. "There was no crime committed. We would have heard something."
"Perhaps it is something to do with his own children," Father Brown suggested.
"Both of his daughters are nearing teenage, though. What business would they have at an elementary school? And don't even suggest that Mrs. Goodfellow might be having another child at some point because you and I both know she is too old for that!"
The strangest, of course, was when Billy who worked the night shift at the railroad station began insisting that Sullivan returned on an early morning train with a little girl in tow. "Hair done in pigtails, pink dress," he insisted. "Whole nine yards. She was holding Sullivan's hand and carrying a suitcase with her." But no one actually believed that. They wrote it off as Billy getting bored and making up stories.
"It's patently ridiculous," Lady Felicia argued that very same afternoon when she visited the Father for lunch. "He's a single man with no wife and an incredibly busy work schedule. And he does not seem like the type of man who even likes kids."
"Perhaps," Father Brown said. "But surely he would consider it. And if there were no other family members, he might not have a choice."
"Would you rather he left her to fend for herself?" Sidney asked, a faint bitter note in his tone. The conversation came to a standstill.
After lunch, Father Brown returned to the church to get some work done. He was halted by an odd sight. Sitting amongst the pews was the perfectly coiffed haircut of Inspector Sullivan. Father Brown blinked twice, just in case he was imagining it. The Inspector had become more understanding since his brush with the law, but he was still an atheist and generally avoided St. Mary's unless on business. Even odder, a child sat next to him, her hair pulled back into two braids.
"Inspector," Father Brown called out. "What can I do for you?"
"Father," Sullivan greeted as he stood. He took his hat in one hand and held out the other to the child. She grabbed it and slid off the pew. A little girl, likely not even ten years old. The first thing Father Brown noticed was the bandage running across the right side of her forehead. The second thing he noticed were the uneven braids, tied with sloppy hair bows, as if done by an unpracticed hand. "This is a niece, Lucille. She will be staying with me for the foreseeable future."
"Hello, Lucille," Father Brown greeted, smiling warmly at her. She pressed against her uncle's side and ducked her head shily. A moment of silence passed and Father Brown considered asking what their business was.
Sullivan placed a gentle hand on his niece's head. "You're the one who wanted to see him," he said to her. His voice was softer than Father Brown had ever heard before. A small part of the Father felt vindicated. The Inspector had his rough edges, but ultimately, he was a good man who seemed to care for his niece.
Lucille glanced nervously at her uncle, then at Father Brown. "I need to talk to someone who knows about God," she said. "And God things."
"Alright," he said. "I certainly know about that. Are you a Catholic?" If not, Father Brown would rather call the local Anglican priest. Father Brown would, of course, provide spiritual guidance to all who requested it, but those raised Anglican sometimes disagreed with the doctrines behind his advice. His flock felt similarly about the Anglican minister.
Lucille looked up at her uncle. "My brother-in-law is- was Catholic," Sullivan explained. "My sister converted when they were married."
Father Brown nodded. He turned back to Lucille. "And what is it you wish to talk about?"
She darted forward and tugged on his cassock. Father Brown leaned down obligingly. Softly, she whispered to him, "I don't think God likes me anymore. I think he's mad at me."
Oh, how Father Brown's heart ached for this child. First losing her parents, then believing she had lost the light of God's love. "That is a very serious issue," he said. She nodded in agreement. "I believe this a conversation best had in the privacy of the confessional. Inspector, are you willing to wait until we're done?"
"I'll manage."
"Wonderful." Father Brown showed her to the confessional then took his place on the other side.
"Is this the same one where you found Uncle Tommy?" she asked. "When he was on the run?"
"You know about that?"
She nodded. "Mummy called him about it, but he said it was too long to explain on a phone call, so he wrote us a letter. She read it to me a million times. You are very smart."
Father Brown was surprised. Sullivan did not seem to appreciate Father Brown's actions at the best of times, and the Greensleeves case was one he refused to talk about now that it was over. The fact that he discussed with his sister and niece, and seemingly spoke positively of the Father, was unexpected.
"Thank you," was all he said in response. "Now, why do you believe God has abandoned you?"
It was a sad story and one that confirmed many of Father Brown's private assumptions. A few years before, during the Christmas right before Sullivan came to Kembleford, Lucille had caused a mess at her Grandfather's house in London. He had tried to punish her himself, with lead to an argument, then devolved into a screaming match between him and his children, with the word 'respect' being thrown about. Shortly after, Sullivan got transferred, Lucille's father nearly got laid off from his job, Lucille's mother began refusing to speak to Lucille's grandfather, and her parents had died in a car crash.
"My catechism teacher said," she explained, her voice wobbling with tears, "said that we are supposed to respect our elders. That God told us to. And since I didn't respect Grandpa, now He doesn't like me and He's punishing my family for it."
"Lucille," Father Brown said calmly. "How did your grandfather try to punish you?" There was no answer. She began crying in earnest.
This is what Father Brown was sure of. Lucille was a young child and had made a mess, as young children were known to do. Her abusive grandfather had smacked her as punishment, likely threatening to do more. Her mother and uncle, who had likely suffered for years under their father, pulled her away and began fighting with him. It got nasty, perhaps even leading to a physical altercation. Both Sullivan children decided they were done with their father's rage and violence and began avoiding him. Later, when unfortunate things began happening around her, Lucille searched for a reason. Her mind connected the dots between her catechism lessons and the fight with her grandfather. The car accident had only cemented the association in her mind.
"I don't want anyone to get hurt," she said, her sobs barely subsided. "I don't want Uncle to get hurt again. How do I make God like me again? How do I make Him forgive me?"
"Oh, Lucille," Father Brown said. He deplored the weaponization of faith, but no one had taught this to her. She had connected the dots herself, blamed herself for things totally out of her control. "That is not how the Love of God works." Father Brown would unconnect those dots, no matter how hard.
They emerged sometime later. Lucille was calmer, her tears mostly dry. She did not seem entirely convinced of her own innocence, but that was to be expected. It would take time to truly unravel her emotions and grief. When they stepped out, Sullivan was still sitting amongst the pews, examining the religious decor with a bored expression. Mrs. McCarthy was adjusting the flower arrangements for tonight's service.
Sullivan noticed them. His eyes grew wide with concern. He rushed over, pulling out a handkerchief for his poor niece. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking between her and the Father anxiously. She nodded and scrubbed at her face. Father Brown would not speak of what was said to him in the confessional, but he smiled sadly at the Inspector and nodded. Sullivan ran hand over his niece's hair, though Father Brown could not tell if he was trying to comfort her or himself.
"I fear Lucille might be a thirsty from her crying," Father Brown said. "Perhaps we should let Mrs. McCarthy make her some tea."
Lucille looked up to her uncle for permission. Sullivan considered it for a moment. "Ask for one of her scones, too," he told her. "They have strawberries." Lucille gasped and her eyes sparkled with glee.
Father Brown called over Mrs. McCarthy and entrusted Lucille to her care. "Just while the Inspector and I chat. We will join you once we're done."
Once they were alone, Inspector Sullivan turned to look at Father Brown. All the softness for his niece had dissapated. He was not the suspicious man Father Brown was so used to. "I thought priests weren't supposed to share confessions." His tone was dripping with judgement.
Father Brown smiled despite himself. Not even a beloved niece could completely change Sullivan. "Technically, it was not really a confession, but that was not what I was planning to speak to you about."
Sullivan raised an eyebrow but did not object.
"How are you doing?"
"Worry about the child, Father. I can manage my own feelings."
"Grief is a dangerous enemy. I have seen some of the strongest men taken down by it. There's no shame in needing support. Especially in changing circumstances." Father Brown changed tactics. "Have you enrolled her in school?"
"Yes. Goodfellow got all the paperwork for me while I was gone. The school is just waiting for the new term to start." The old term ended in less than a week, so Father Brown could understand the wisdom in it. No point in grading a child who hasn't had time to do any of the work.
"Who's watching her during the day?"
Sullivan's eyes narrowed. "I have another day or two of leave. Goodfellow's wife offered to watch her after that."
"And when summer lets out?"
He hesitated. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it," he finally said. Father Brown nodded. The Inspector had focused on the immediate concerns of child rearing. Most would have done the same.
"Were you and your sister close?" Father Brown asked.
The Inspector swallowed and looked away. "Barely a full year apart," he said. "We told each other everything." That explained the lett er.
"And your brother-in-law?"
"Nice man. Lucille got his personality, thankfully." A small laugh. Slightly bitter. "My sister was too much like me. You wouldn't have liked her either."
Father Brown blinked in surprise. "I can disagree with someone and still like them." Inspector Sullivan did not seem to believe him. "You and Lucille also seem to be quite close," he said, returning to their conversation.
"Growing up, it was just us and our father. No cousins or uncles to play with. My sister didn't want that for Lucille, so as soon as she was born, my sister enlisted me as a babysitter. Invited me over constantly. Made sure Lucille knew my name and number in case of an emergency."
"How sweet."
"It was obnoxious at first, but I didn't realize how much I would miss it until I came to Kembleford." He swallowed again. Father Brown pretended not to notice the roughness of his voice.
"You seem to be doing a good job so far," Father Brown told him. "Raising a child who has lost people is not easy. Just continue to be understanding of her struggles. And please don't hesitate to ask for help. We only want what's best for you."
"I'll consider it," Sullivan said. Father Brown counted it as a win. "We should go find Mrs. McCarthy and Lucille. If I know my niece, she will eat them until she is stopped ."
"And Mrs. McCarthy will provide them until they are all gone. Let's go." As they approached the exit, a thought came to Father Brown. "Will Lucille still attend church while living with you? She was raised Catholic but you are an atheist."
The Inspector sighed. "I'm still working it out. The easiest solution is go with her and just stare into space for the whole service, which is what I did as a child. But Mrs. McCarthy already gets annoyed with me for not seeming happy enough at the town meetings. Not sure she'd appreciate seeing it every weekend."
Catholic priests should not laugh at the idea of someone attending a sermon and refusing to listen. The idea of it would quite offend most of them. But the image being painted in his mind was just too amusing, and Father Brown had never been like most priests anyway .