Best Served Frozen (The Irish Lottery Series Book 4) by Gerald Hansen

Author:Gerald Hansen [Hansen, Gerald]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Mint Books
Published: 2014-06-26T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 26

Bridie McFee stared at herself in the mirror. She looked at her eyes and her eyes looked back at her. They were somehow special now, she felt. A fresh wave of wonderment spread through her, veins percolating in that strange way they had ever since the Happening the day before. She gently pressed fingers to her lips, now chaste. The cold sores that had festered and wept there, long the bane of her existence, were gone. There weren't even reddish spots where they had once been. They had magically disappeared. But it wasn't magic. It was divine intervention. She flushed the toilet, flicked off the light, entered the landing and walked down the stairs of her auntie Bernadette's house.

The wallpaper was a barrage of orange and yellow flowers that assaulted the eyes, but Bridie's eyes were now special; the horrid wallpaper didn't affect them. They were super eyes. Her nose, however, wasn't so blessed. The house's fragrance opened with notes of spoiled milk, the heart was sickly sweet bargain bin perfume, and the base secreted sweat. The main accord was old aged pensioner. Bridie didn't care. Her heart sang and, indeed, she began to hum “You Light Up My Life” as she walked to the front hall.

Once she had been filled with an eternal emptiness, lumbering despondently through the rain-soaked streets of Derry, but now she was filled to bursting, brimming with life and all the marvelous possibilities the Lord had arranged for all His creatures, big and small (she was one of the big ones). She tugged open the door to her aunt's overheated front room, and Bernadette Mulholland, she of the daisy-speckled rain cap, flicked off the game show on the telly and turned to her expectantly. The old woman's face, lines of the ages somehow amplified by the brownish foundation troweled on them, the pinkish rinse in her wisps of hair doing her no favors, was filled with a mixture of caution and excitement.

“Have you a wee seat next to me here,” Mrs. Mulholland said, pouring Bridie a cup of tea and adding the five sugars.

She patted the lumpy settee, perhaps thinking 'wee' was a poor choice of words. The sofa protested, creaking, under Bridie's weight as she sat, took a guzzle of tea, then grabbed the old woman's hands. Bridie's mother had called her much older sister Bernadette the moment Bridie had told her what had happened at Kebabalicious, as Mrs. Mulholland was the one in the family best positioned to deal with it. Indeed, Mrs. Mulholland had been waiting for it all her life.

“I still kyanny believe it, Auntie!” Bridie breathed. “Can ye credit it? Och, the way me eyes feel now! They've seen the blessed Virgin!! There she was, Holy Mary, the Mother of God, looking up at me from the lard and mouthing secrets to me!”

Mrs. Mulholland knew everything about Virgin Mary sightings and how to go about getting them verified. “Song of Bernadette” was her favorite movie, of course, and perhaps

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