WHAT goes around, comes around. "The people have been hiding in the long grass with ash plants for Labour," intoned a Fianna Fail man meaningfully as the toll of fallen Labourites revealed itself to Reynolds loyalists on Saturday.
"I'm not rejoicing", commented Albert sweetly, trying hard to look neutral, "it's your turn some time". The fiercely loyal men and women of Longford do not forget. The indignity inflicted on their man by Labour still stings. Saturday was effective therapy.
Albert rolled up in mid afternoon in a black Mercedes, and surrounded by five of his supportive offspring, looked like a man restored to the throne.
Noticeably thinner after a vigorous campaign, he laughed off the rumours of an illness: "I was never better. Yes, I have diabetes. Have it for 15 years. Sure everyone knows that".
He laughed off the suggestion that he might do a bunk for the Aras and leave Longford without its own TD - but didn't rule it out either: "Couldn't happen - FF have over 51 per cent of the vote in this constituency". But would he run? "Well, some people are saying that it would be a great honour for the county. I told them it wouldn't be discussed until after the election." He did not laugh off the concept of the special envoy to the North. "Yes, it's been mentioned by Bertie a few times, but it's never been defined." However, he could barely keep a rein on himself. The excitement was back in his voice, the prize tantalisingly close. "I've a passion for peace. I really think this is a new opportunity. Timing is everything in politics. With a new government in London and Mo Mowlam... the ideal Secretary of State - she's very direct, calls it as it is - a bit like my own style." His progress into the count centre outside Longford town was almost regal. Men in their Sunday suits swarmed around him, wanting to touch the robe.
The disappointment of not exceeding the quota on the first count is a pinprick, explained, he thinks, by the fact that "in Longford, the unemployment graph is going up and people still thought that I'd be able to get things done the same way I did when I was Taoiseach and of course I couldn't. I had to tell them that I couldn't, that it didn't work that way".
But FF had high hopes for this constituency. Peter Kelly, FE chairman of Longford County Council, was obviously disappointed. "I'm genuinely surprised and disappointed in view of the way the constituency has been neglected by the Coalition that FF couldn't pick up three seats." The first count was finally announced at 8.45 p.m. Without anywhere to sit, strong men and women were wilting. Michael Finneran's day was the most tortuous of all, his prospects rising and falling, with sadistic regularity.
As the suspense built, the talk turned to cows and grants and potholes and quiet delight in Sinn Fein's ascendancy.
Meanwhile, as rumours flew of over counts and undercounts and missing boxes, and the returning officer - renowned for her caution and thoroughness - took nearly three hours to adjudicate on more than 800 doubtful votes, familiar faces popped up from another era. An ebullient Sean Doherty and a deflated Terry Leyden: the former to keep a seat, the latter humiliated, in spite of a strong campaign and hunger for reinstatement that made him the talk of two provinces.
Michael Finneran's fate was determined finally by the fall of a few hundred votes. And as Louis Belton's vote went to the wire, the microbiologist Denis Naughten (23), the personable and articulate son of the late Liam, was the centre of a vast, emotional and dignified throng of relatives and activists.
At 3.30 a.m., as the returning officer announced Denis's election, a tide of raw, sustained, blinding emotion almost lifted the roof.
Obviously, there was more to this than one man's election. The moist eyes and trembling lips also told a story of loss and regret.
"You make your bed and you lie on it. That's my advice after 20 years", said Sean Doherty enigmatically to the new TD. As the two of them were chaired exultantly from the count centre, Tom Foxe, the unseated Independent, a "gentleman" by popular consensus, stood at the door in a final gentlemanly gesture, to warmly shake hands and say goodbye to his political career. And a Doherty supporter turned back to me and muttered darkly: "See you here in six months' time.
