The day after: What's it like to wake up as a Dail deputy? Kathy Sheridan spoke to Catherine Murphy about victory after 17 years
She had just made history and given the Big Beasts an almighty electoral skelp across the legs, but there was never a chance that Catherine Murphy would hit the local for a celebratory bender on Saturday night.
The relentlessly calm and measured Murphy knew that this was her moment.
"After 17 years of talking to the wall, here were all these cameras pointed at you and all the things I have wanted to get across for all that time, being given centre stage . . .", she said yesterday, as she cleared queues of phone and text messages to make room for succeeding waves of good wishes.
While her husband Derek did the driving, she raced between TV studios, radio shows and the press. Derek put the sensational victory in perspective: "It took her 17 years to become an overnight success."
But her delirious supporters were not denied their moment. After leaving the Naas count centre on Saturday, all adjourned for a meal to the Ryevale Tavern in Leixlip. By the time she left for home in Leixlip Park at around 1am, after an emotional night filled with much "kissing and hugging", a crowd of around 150 had gathered to fete their new TD.
For a maverick apt to talk about feeling "controlled and confined" by "the handlers and spin doctors" within her former party, she was remarkably diplomatic.
"I couldn't pick out any supporters in particular as being especially important. The guy who went out to put up posters in the week of the snow, with his fingers sticking to the freezing lamp-posts, was as important to this campaign as anyone," she said.
And how was she feeling after weeks of pounding icy pavements? "Not too bad . . . I'd say I lost a full dress size in this campaign and I'm really pleased about that."
Nor did the former clerical worker turned full-time county councillor/public representative come over all coy about the sizeable salary that comes with her new position. "It's true that if you're going to attract good people, you have to offer a salary comparable to similar areas. To me, it does seem generous though, compared to what I've had before," she laughed. "But my driving force was never about money . . . The fact that I worked as a full-time public representative on a councillor's salary would indicate that. But obviously the money will make it easier when it comes to fundraising for the general election."
The last sentence will strike terror in the hearts of the party men and women who spent Saturday pacing the fine timber floor of Naas's GAA hall - one of many McCreevy legacies to the GAA in the county - watching the comfortable demeanour of the Leixlip woman, who triumphed with a campaign costing a minimalist €20,000, funded by race nights, quizzes and raffles.
The angst in the hall - even before the rugby international kicked off on the television upstairs - was palpable. The old stagers had got the message from the first tallies. "I said all day that she [ Áine Brady] needed another 1,000 first preferences," said Minister for Finance Brian Cowan. So it would be fair, then, to say that he was not delighted with life?
"To say I was delighted with life would be a bit of an exaggeration, just a teeny bit OTT at this point," he said with a wry grin.
Meanwhile, simmering in-party discord was bubbling to the surface, to the point where many a non-FFer present was praying to be a fly on the wall at the next cumann meeting.
"We're going from having the strongest TD we ever had in the country, to being represented by an Independent", said Cllr Willie Callaghan, from what is perceived to be the McCreevy wing of Kildare North FF. So was he cross then? "I heard this morning a lot of undue criticism of the organisation here in Kildare and I would resent that very much. I for one, can put my hand on my heart and say we haven't worked as hard in the Naas cumann for 20 years."
Where did it all go wrong? "Maybe if there hasn't been as much intervention from other quarters" Other quarters? "Other quarters. From outside Kildare", he said meaningfully. People from "other quarters" on the other hand, were making no secret of the fact that in FF's pre-election polls, Brady's main rival for the nomination, Cllr Michael Fitzpatrick, from the McCreevy wing, was coming no higher than third.
Paul Kelly, from Leixlip, who missed a seat by a whisker in 2002, was looking pretty relaxed. He was insisting that he chose not to contest this one for purely private reasons, though he was not ruling it out for the next time.
As spinners from all parties tried valiantly to demonstrate how their party vote was "holding up well", the human face of a thoroughly bruising business was Sean Sherwin's, in his gentle, kindly analysis of the early tallies for Áine Brady, explaining why, although she was ahead at that point, she would not hold on. "Your future is in those boxes over there but there is nothing you can to do change it. Try to relax. And remember that you lifted Fianna Fáil to the top and headed the poll . . ."
When it was all over Brady did her party and her large, genial family proud for the manner in which she accepted defeat.
The post-count aftershocks will continue to resonate around the constituency, not least at the demise of a slew of cosy party plans for the divvy-up of the four-seater that will be Kildare North next time round.
But everyone was united on one score; the turn-out was a shock that took everyone by surprise.
In his speech, the Green Party's universally loved JJ Power drew one of the most heartfelt rounds of applause when he described the turnout as "abysmally low - and I would ask the 60 per cent who stayed at home what they think they can achieve by staying at home".