Bill Furlong, a coal merchant in 1980s Ireland, crosses paths with Sarah, a young woman from a Magdalene Laundry, who asks him for help. One day, he decides to act.
“You'll come home with me now, Sarah.”
Easily enough he helped her along the front drive and down the hill, past the fancy houses and on towards the bridge. [...]
As they walked on, Furlong met people he had known and dealt with for the greater part of his life, most of whom gladly stopped to speak until, looking down, they saw the bare, black feet and realised the girl with him was not one of his own. Some then gave them a wide berth1 or talked awkwardly or politely wished him a Happy Christmas and went on. One elderly woman out walking a terrier on a long strap confronted him, asking who the girl was, and was she not one of those wans from the laundry? [...] Not one person they met addressed Sarah or asked where he was taking her. Feeling little or no obligation to say very much or to explain, Furlong smoothed things over as best he could and carried on along with the excitement in his heart matched by the fear of what he could not yet see but knew he would encounter.
As they were nearing the centre of town and the Christmas lights, a part of him considered backing off and taking the long way home but he braved it out and carried on, following the path he ordinarily would have taken. [...]
“We've not far to go now,” Furlong assured. “We're almost home.”
As they carried on along and met more people Furlong did and did not know, he found himself asking was there any point in being alive without helping one another? [...]
How light and tall he almost felt walking along with this girl at his side and some fresh, new, unrecognisable joy in his heart. Was it possible that the best bit of him was shining forth, and surfacing? [...]
The worst was yet to come, he knew. Already he could feel a world of trouble waiting for him behind the next door, but the worst that could have happened was also already behind him; the thing not done, which could have been – which he would have had to live with for the rest of his life.
1. “gave them a wide berth”: avoided them on purpose