After getting Madge McInerney’s tattoo done, the next task for the women’s group was to help Nell Regan realise her ambition to say mass. Access to the church and the equipment was no problem, Nell still has a set of keys, it was simply a question of when to do it. If we attempted it in the middle of the night someone could call the guards. Doing it too early in the morning could equally attract attention and in the evening ’twould be too much of an invitation for nosey parkers.

We decided the best time was the middle of the day in the middle of the week. However, as we began to make final preparations, some of the women began to have qualms of conscience and got a bit windy.

Kitty Kavanagh was worried about her eternal salvation.

“Girls, I’m wondering if it’s a mortal sin, aren’t we breaking God’s law in God’s house,” she said.

“No,” said Lily Mac. “If anything we’re breaking man’s law in God’s house.”

“We’ll be excommunicated,” says May Quirke, “and if we die in excommunication we’ll spend eternity in limbo or purgatory.”

“’Twill have to be purgatory,” said Lily Mac. “Limbo is closed down.”

“Feckin’ cutbacks again,” said Madge McInerney.

“Are we goin’ to do it or aren’t we?” says I.

“That depends on Nell, she’s the one who wants to say mass,” said Lily Mac.

“I want to do it,” says Nell, “I’m not afraid of purgatory, limbo or damnation. I don’t think God is going to condemn me because I said mass and didn’t have a willy.”

“Ok,” says I. “When do we do it?”

“The best day is Wednesday, at about 12 o’clock,” says Nell. “There’s no mass that day and so long as there isn’t a funeral the church is locked all day.”

“That’s it,” says Lily Mac. “We should all bring flowers and pretend we’re decorating the altar.”

“That’s a master idea,” says I.

“As they say in the films: ‘We’re good to go’,” said Lily Mac. “Next Wednesday it is.”

There was a great buzz of excitement, May Quirke got over her fit of the jitters: “If I could sing I’d sing the song: ‘Girls are doing it for themselves’,” said she.

Madge McInerney put up her hand: “Now girls, this is to be as solemn an occasion as if ’twas a man saying mass. Just remember that.”

On the appointed day, we all arrived at the church in great anticipation. Nell was as serene as the Dalai Lama, having spent the previous two days praying. The hair was done and she had a smile that would launch a spaceship. We all gathered around as she put on the vestments.

“I’d say you’ve done this before,” says Lily Mac.

“Indeed I have,” says Nell. “But I never went any further. Today will be different.”

Fully vested in the purple of Lent she looked resplendent and, for a few moments, we all just stood there in wonder. Aside from Nell, who remained the picture of peace and tranquillity, the rest of us had to dab our eyes and swallow hard, there was something deeply moving about the sight of a woman arrayed in the vestments of the church.

However, our precious moments were short lived as the sacristy door swung open and there stood two fresh-faced young priests in full collar. I don’t know who was more flummoxed, them, or us.

“What’s going on here?” asked one of the pair.

We looked from one to the other in complete shock until Lily Mac spoke: “And who are you and what are you doing here?” she asked, as cool as ice. Lily has survived more than a few armed post office raids in her time and so a pair of priests wielding black folders didn’t frighten her.

“This is Father Tim Kelly and I’m Monsignor Raymond Harty, we’re here from the diocesan office to do an audit of the precious vessels and plate. The pastoral council should have received a letter about this visit. Now tell me, why is that woman dressed in vestments?” the little Monsignor asked.

An awkward silence that seemed to go on for ages was broken by Madge McInerney.

“We’re members of the local sewing group,” says she. “We were asked by the pastoral council to examine all the vestments and carry out whatever repairs are needed. The best way to look at these things is to see them on the person who wears them and as we have no priest here we asked Nell to oblige. We were just finished.”

“Aren’t you all wonderful,” said the baby-faced Monsignor. “I often ask myself where would the church be without women like you.”

“We often ask that ourselves,” says I

Nell took off the vestments and we left the sacristy a sorry and downcast bunch. CL