Clay Read Online Free

knew, like always, it would be no good. Of course he’d know who I was. And did it matter? There was nothing unusual about me. There was nothing unusual about my sins. Back in those days, the things I did wrong were tiny, insignificant. It was like I was just making stuff up.
    I started with the words I’d been taught when I was a little kid.
    “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is two weeks since my last confession.”
    “Yes, my son?” he said.
    He sighed and waited.
    It was always best to get the worst out first.
    “I drank some altar wine, Father.”
    “Did you now? This is both theft and blasphemy.”
    “Yes, Father. I understand. Sorry, Father.”
    “It is not to me that you must apologize in here.”
    “No, Father.”
    “And will you do it again?”
    “No, Father. And I stole some cigarettes from my dad.”
    “And smoked them?”
    “Yes, Father. And the cigarettes of somebody else’s dad.”
    “Not only is that theft, but they will do you dreadful harm.”
    “Yes, Father. I know that, Father. And I have coveted other people’s goods. Their money, Father. And I have called people cruel names. And…”
    “Have you now? What kind of names?”
    “Fishface, Father.”
    “Fishface?”
    I heard his little snort of laughter.
    “Yes, Father.”
    “That is terrible. What else?”
    “I have laughed at people who are in distress.”
    “Which is a lack of charity and which will cause pain.”
    “Yes, Father. It will.”
    “And will you change your ways, my son?”
    “Yes, Father.”
    “Anything else now?”
    I gritted my teeth. I thought of Geordie’s older sister, Noreen. She was sixteen, in the sixth form. She was gorgeous. He waited. He sighed.
    “Anything else now?” he repeated. “Remember that God sees everything.”
    “I have had impure thoughts, Father.”
    “Have you now?”
    “Yes, Father.”
    “And did you act on these thoughts?”
    “What, Father? Oh, no, Father.”
    “That’s grand. Anything else now?”
    “No, Father.”
    “And do you feel sorrow for your sins?”
    I paused and pondered. I thought for an instant of the bitter beguiling taste of the cigarettes. I thought of Noreen lying in Geordie’s back garden last summer.
    “Do you?” said the priest again.
    “Yes, Father. Definitely, Father.”
    I saw his hand moving across his face as he absolved me.
    “Your sins are forgiven,” he said. “Say five Hail Marys and one Our Father and resolve that you will be good.”
    “Yes, Father. I will, Father.”
    “And keep away from the altar wine.”
    “Yes, Father.”
    “And your dad’s cigarettes.”
    “Yes, Father.”
    “Now go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”
    I stepped back out of the confessional into the half-lit church. I knelt at the altar rail and said my penance. The murmur of the next penitent echoed gently around the walls.
    “And deliver us from evil,” I said at last, and I hurried out into the evening. I felt as light as air. Geordie was already done. He was waiting outside. He sparked up a couple of Players and we breathed long plumes of smoke into the air.
    “It’s great feeling holy, isn’t it?” he said.
    “Aye,” I said. I held up my hands to the sky. “Glory be!”
    We laughed and walked fast and kept knocking into each other and started wrestling in the street with our cigarettes stuck in our mouths. Some bloke came out of the Half Way House and nearly walked straight into us.
    “Daft kids,” he said. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    “Bugger off,” said Geordie.
    “Aye,” I said. “Bugger off, Fishface.”
    And we ran and he chased us but he couldn’t keep up. We ran across the square; then we stopped and I yelled and yelled.
    “Fishface! Fishface! Ahahahahaha!”
    I clapped my hand across my mouth.
    “I said I wouldn’t say it. I said I wouldn’t smoke.”
    “Me as well,” said Geordie.
    We giggled at each other.
    “We’ll go back to confession next week,” I said.
    “Aye,” said Geordie. “And