What They Don’t Know

Caileigh is the good Catholic girl everyone thinks they know—until the lights go out.

Caileigh sat on the pew with her head bowed and hands clasped. She mouthed along to the priest’s prayer, eyes closed, her voice barely above a whisper. With her mother on her left and her father and brother to her right, she felt cocooned in the familiar warmth of her family unit.

Despite being sixteen, Caileigh still found comfort in their Sunday routine. The weekly march to church gave her a sense of structure, a constant in the ever-repeating rhythm of village life.

Ballyaisling, County Cork, was a small place. The kind where everyone knew everyone—and everything about them. The gossip could be suffocating, the lack of privacy frustrating. Yet it was the only life Caileigh had ever known. Sometimes, she wondered what it might feel like to walk down a street and not know every soul's life story.

A soft nudge at her shoulder broke her reverie.“Service is finished, girl,” her mother murmured.

Caileigh blinked, the imaginary world beyond Ballyaisling dissolving as her father gently ushered her along the aisle. She stiffened slightly at the familiar pressure of his hand on her back, guiding her down a path she’d been walking since she first learned to walk at all.

She knew she looked the picture of innocence: red hair tied neatly in a low ponytail with a jade ribbon that brought out her cat-like eyes; a matching dress that skimmed her knees with proper modesty.

Outside, the family unhooked their anoraks from the church cloakroom and stepped into the drizzle-damp courtyard, already buzzing with chatter. Caileigh’s parents and brother dispersed among neighbours, but she lingered near the church wall, deliberately apart.

Fishing her phone from her pocket, she opened the message thread she’d been dying to check all service. Her cheeks warmed as she re-read the exchange. Struggling with the rain-spattered screen, she glanced up—her mother, as expected, was watching with disapproval.

Ignoring her, Caileigh turned away to hide the smile creeping onto her lips as she accidentally enlarged one of the photos she’d sent a few hours ago.

And then—

“Ah, young Caileigh. How are we this fine Sunday?”

She spun around, startled, and found herself face to face with the priest. Her stomach dropped. She yanked the phone to her chest, praying he hadn’t seen the image. Her face turned crimson as he gave her a mildly curious look. She forced a smile, still waiting for her heart to slow down.

“I’ve not seen you at Mass for a while,” he continued. “That’s not like you. Everything alright?” He glanced pointedly at the phone.

Caileigh clenched her jaw. She’d only missed one week.

“Oh, Father,” she said sweetly, eyes flicking away. “I had a terrible cold. Didn’t want to risk passing it on.”

In truth, she’d been nursing a brutal hangover.

“Well, I’m glad to see you back on your feet,” he said kindly.

“Thank you, Father.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. As soon as he moved on, she quickly deleted the photo from her gallery. No one else needed to know it had ever existed—except the person it had been sent to, of course.

Just as she was about to make her exit, a familiar voice piped up:

“Oh hi Caileigh, how’s it goin’ there?”

Quinn hovered beside her like a nervous moth. She glanced at his shaggy hair and awkward grin and felt a pang of guilt.

“Oh, good thank you, Quinn. Yourself?” she replied with a careful smile.

He mumbled a reply, but she barely heard it—her attention had drifted to someone else.

Connor O’Hara. He was objectively attractive and very aware of it. Not typically her type, but today, his gaze lingered on her in a way that made her curious. His arm was draped around his girlfriend, Sinead, yet his eyes weren’t on her.

“...which is why I wanted to ask if you’d come for supper after college Thursday?”

Her attention snapped back to Quinn. Dread pooled in her stomach. Oh no.

She hadn’t meant to sleep with him. It had been a drunken mistake, and now here he was, clearly hoping for something more.

“Oh wow, that’s a class offer…” she stalled, eyes darting around for escape.

“Oh gosh—I think Keiron’s calling me!” she blurted and quickly scuttled away.

Her old friend Keiron looked up and grinned as she approached, cutting short his conversation with old Mrs. McBride.

“What’s up?” he asked with a smirk.

“Oh, you know, just escaping my hordes of admirers.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling.

Caileigh adored Keiron. Their families were close, and so were they—almost too close. There was something about him she couldn’t quite capture. Like smoke, like a wisp.

She was a master at playing the double agent—good girl by day, risk-taker by night. But in a village like this, it was a wonder no one had caught her out yet. She still believed in her faith, but she also wanted freedom. Was that so wrong?

“Graveyard today?” Keiron teased.

She nudged him with a blush. It always amazed her how casually he referred to their secret meetings.

“I’ll see you later,” she murmured. He agreed, promising to catch up after a quick word with the priest.

“I’m heading on,” she called, stomach fluttering as she walked away. She unbuttoned her anorak as the rain paused, letting her dress flow. She didn’t look back.

As she passed the fountain in the garden, footsteps followed her. She grinned.

“Can’t keep away, can you?” she teased.

But when she turned, it wasn’t Keiron.

A firm hand gripped her shoulder. Warm breath brushed her ear.

“No.”

She froze. Spun around.

Connor O’Hara.

Too close. Too confident.

His eyes held something hungry.

“Where’s Sinead?” Caileigh asked sharply, trying to pull away.

Connor smirked. “Gone off somewhere. Who cares?”

“That’s no way to talk about your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Bit strong.” He edged closer.

“Not my business,” she snapped, trying again to leave.

He yanked her back.

Anger flared in her chest.

“Goodbye, Connor.”

“Hey, hey—what’s the rush? Thought you might like the beach again. You love the beach, don’t ya?”

Her blood ran cold.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said airily, mocking his accent.

“Oh, you know...”

He pulled out his phone and showed her a video.

Caileigh’s stomach turned. It was her. Her and Keiron, on the beach, that night.

Connor laughed, reading the horror in her eyes.

“You creepy little—who does that?!” she hissed, fury overtaking fear.

He grinned. “Why should Keiron have all the fun?”

He moved in again.

“Give me that video, Connor.” Her voice was sharp, controlled.

She lunged for the phone, but he held it high, laughing.

Even worse, he touched her waist.

“Even Delaney’s bragging about getting the ride,” he snorted.

That did it.

Caileigh kicked—hard.

She missed his groin but nailed his knee.

His laughter died instantly.

“You little slut,” he spat, voice venomous.

She faltered.

He turned to leave, smug—but didn’t get far.

At the archway to the church, he collided with something solid.

Connor crumpled.

Keiron stepped out, flexing his bruised hand.

“Nice boys still exist,” Caileigh murmured as she ran to him.

The phone lay near Connor’s feet.

Without hesitation, Caileigh stomped on it, again and again, until the screen splintered. She plucked the SIM from the wreckage and hurled it into the fountain.

Keiron swore at Connor as he groaned on the ground.

“You alright?” he asked her gently.

She nodded, grabbing his hand.

“We’d better go,” he said, glancing at Connor. “Before I get in serious trouble.”

As they hurried away, Caileigh paused. She turned back.Connor was struggling to stand.

“Times are changing, Connor,” she said, her voice steady. “I do what I want, with who I want—and you? You’ll never be on that list.”