What Use am I, I am just an Old Woman?

What Use am I, I am Just an Old Woman?

By

Michael Casey

Maria Gonzales was an old woman, a very old woman now, bent with pain and old age and a lifetime of cleaning rich people’s homes. But she was much loved, honest cleaners are worth their weight in gold. So over the years her employers had paid her well and they always brought her a Rosary from every Holy place they could visit in South America and the world over. Maria Gonzales would never travel anywhere but the Rosaries came to her, she was content. She had a drawer full of Rosaries still in presentation cases that she used and lovingly placed back inside the presentation case after saying her 3 Rosaries, The Joyful, The Sorrowful and The Glorious. Maria Gonzales was content, God was in his Heaven but the Virgin was happy to live in a drawer next to Maria Gonzales bed.

Now when Big Sid was shot, the tv news covered it the world over and even in Maria Gonzales part of the world they heard about it, as Mrs Murphy had screamed for help and Rosaries in many languages. So Sid was saved. Maria Gonzales had in fact pulled every single Rosary from the drawer and used them to say 3 Rosaries on each, she was locked and loaded. Maria Gonzales fell asleep still clutching a Rosary an employer had brought from Lourdes in France, such a long way away from her village outside Lima. The rest of the Rosaries fell all over the floor as Maria Gonzales slept.

As dawn broke Maria Gonzales awoke with a Hail Mary on her lips, the Rosaries were no longer on the floor but neatly stacked in their presentation cases on the other side of the room beneath a picture of Our Lady. Maria said “thank you” and in her mind she could hear a soft gentle voice answer “De nada” Maria knew she’d be needing her Rosaries again soon, and all of them too, they were ready and waiting, a Big Prayer was coming. She did not know what or how or who but Maria Gonzales knew a Big Prayer would be needed.

Back in Old Forge and Singing Anvil they breathed a sigh of relief, Big Sid was still alive. But now events had moved fast, Fr.Dan had landed from China, the Chinese billionaire and the British aristocrat had joined forces, the international drugs dealers convention had this year decided to meet in Birmingham England, and they were going to get the shock of their lives.

Mrs Murphy did not know all the details, but she had handed out some Our Lady of Lourdes medals while Fr. Dan’s new best friend the reformed Chinese Billionaire’s Playboy Son had hand out the Shanghai Soother, which looked like a body warmer was in fact body armour. The filth from afar were going to get a kicking, and Fr. Dan swore it as he and his new BFF from Shanghai would lead the charge. Though the British aristocrat, had invited a few friends from down Hereford way to help move some furniture, if you know what I mean.

So while this was all being plotted and served cold on a plate, Mrs Murphy reached for her Nuclear weapons again. This time she could not scream and shout over the tv, she had to use a secret way to gain help and assistance. So she picked up the phone and rang the International Daughters of the Rosary headquarters. This being the janitor’s store at the Oratory Hagley Rd Birmingham, where John Henry Newman used to live. Old Mrs Newman, no relation picked up the phone and turned her hearing aid up to 17, Mrs Murphy was whispering. I need a favour, a silent Novena of Protection. Mrs Newman put the mop in the mop bucket, this was big, she could tell.

So the word was put out and would be transmitted. Who are we protecting asked Mrs Newman as she in turn whispered into the phone. Well I don’t know all the names but here are some:-

Mathew, Mark, Luke and John, then Patrick my son, but I’ll be praying for him, then there’s Fr.Dan my favourite priest ever and his new BBF from Shanghai, those are the ones whose names I know, and there’s a whisper that some farmers from Hereford might be coming, but I’m not supposed to know that, and all I know about farmers is wherever there are farmers there always is a big stink.

Mrs Murphy put down the phone and slipped her Rosary out of her pinny pocket, it would be a long night. Where was that space blanket Esther her Jewish zillionaire’s mother had sent her. Maybe she should tell Esther too, she could keep secrets, her son owned spy satellites everywhere. Mrs Newman at the Oratory reached for the high shelf in the janitor’s store, hidden behind an old battered box of Brillo was a phone her son had given her. It was like the Bat phone, but so much more powerful. On this phone, ever phone number of everybody connected to International Daughters of the Rosary. Mrs Newman whispered into the phone. Pray Day, Pray Day, Pray Day Ave Marie, then she listed the names of those in need of protection. With just one push of a button everybody would get the message. The Tsunami was coming, the Tsunami was coming.

What Use am I, I am just an old woman? You can pray, and pray they did. The water of life had ripples on the shore, but now the waves were getting bigger, and bigger, the storm, the Tsunami was brewing. Nothing or nobody would hurt, nos hichos, they were protected. North, South and East and West, even in the space station the call came though. First to a Russian astronaut whose mother had rung reminding him he was closer to Heaven so pray too, then on a secure channel Esther’s son spoke, All Eyes All Prayers Protect our boys.

But What of Maria Gonzales? She did not get any message but she knew anyway, the Rosaries had been lined up ready, but she could only use one at a time. Then, then the cars started to arrive outside her door, rich ladies, very rich ladies, those who had brought her all those Rosaries began to arrive. 27 ladies all looking worried, they did not know why or how but they were drawn to their servants door.

Maria, Maria are you well? They are asked anxiously, I’m fine, but maybe it’s not me who called you here. Then she showed them the Rosaries all lined up ready. Maria started to hand out the Rosaries, nobody knew what was going on. Then one phone rung. It was the called from the janitor’s room. This is why we are here, the rich lady announced. So they started then and there in a poor woman’s home some of the finest ladies of the city, of Lima began to pray.

NOW TOMORROW 29TH FEB 2020 MARKS THE 32ND Birthday of my first book

The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker

What you’ve just read will become part of the climax of Tears for a Butcher

which will be the sequel starting the very next day

but still not written 32 years later

I have produced 18 more books, but still the sequel is not finished

and may never be.

I have had occasion to pray bigtime recently, and yes the Rosary works

You may pray down your pub, or on a mat, or wherever

I was thinking of carrying on with story tonight but I’m too tired and I

did have to slap on the Movelat painkiller a few minutes ago.

So  you’ll probably get something else tomorrow

Or you could try finishing the story as an exercise.

My Tinnitus was not so bad the past 2 nights, but I still waken every 2 hours.

And have a party for my writing tomorrow 29th Feb 2020, wherever you are

or just burn my books and use the flames to cook hotdogs.

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