The Loney (28 page)

‘Are you sure, Father?’ said Mrs Belderboss, a little disappointed.

‘Aye. Praying’s like tuning a radio.’

‘Come again?’

‘You have to be on the right frequency, otherwise all God hears is static.’

‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ said Mrs Belderboss, smiling sympathetically. ‘Well, as long as you’re sure, Father.’

‘Aye. I’m fairly worn out, to be honest with you. And there’s a long drive home tomorrow.’

‘Yes,’ said Mrs Belderboss with a sigh. ‘It has been a bit tiring all said, hasn’t it? Nothing’s gone quite right. It’s all been so difficult. It’s such a pity, Father, that you’ve not seen this place as it used to be.’

‘Places do change, Mary,’ Mr Belderboss chipped in.

‘Oh I know that,’ she replied. ‘But it’s been such a baptism of fire for Father. I mean, Wilfred knew us and he knew this place. He would have coped so much better with all these little problems we’ve had.’

‘True,’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘He was a firm hand on the tiller.’

‘It’s no reflection of you, Father,’ Mrs Belderboss went on. ‘It’s rather been our fault, I feel, asking you to take on too much too quickly. I mean, it’s like anything, being a priest. It takes time to get things right, doesn’t it, Esther?’

‘Most definitely.’

Mummer looked at Father Bernard who said nothing more and went out of the room. Mummer resettled herself and noticed that Farther was staring at her.

‘What?’ she said.

‘What’s the matter with you?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Why did you speak to Father like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You do.’

Mummer looked at Mr and Mrs Belderboss.

‘I’m sorry Reg, Mary,’ she said. ‘My husband’s obviously a little out of sorts.’

‘Out of sorts?’ Farther raised his voice and Mr and Mrs Belderboss exchanged looks. ‘I think you’re the one out of sorts, Esther,’ he said.

‘And is it any wonder?’ Mummer snapped. ‘Considering what we’ve been through since we got here? This whole thing has been an utter farce.’

‘Now steady on,’ Mr Belderboss said.

‘Esther,’ said Mrs Belderboss, eyeing the door. ‘He’ll hear you.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Mummer, her colour rising in a way I’d rarely seen before. ‘I will have my say about Father Bernard McGill. He’s a mistake. He’s not right for us. I’ve never met any priest so flippant and carefree with his authority. He makes a mockery of everything we do. I for one will be very glad when he’s sent back to Ireland to his own kind.’

Amid the angry voices, Hanny got up and went over to the window. He picked up the stuffed hare and smoothed his hand over its back.

‘He’s still a young man, Esther,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘He just needs time to mature into someone like Father Wilfred. He will one day. I’m convinced of it.’

‘Mary,’ said Mummer. ‘You were convinced that he wouldn’t have gone drinking, but he did. And he invited those louts over.’

‘It was only a bit of fun,’ said Farther. ‘You said so yourself.’

‘Fun?’ said Mummer. ‘You weren’t the one being flung around the room like a rag doll.’

‘I didn’t see you complaining too much,’ said Farther.

‘And I didn’t see you stepping in to stop it,’ said Mummer. ‘No, you were too busy egging them on with everyone else.’

‘Good God,’ she went on. ‘Just listen to what I’m saying. This was meant to be a pilgrimage, a chance for us all to find some peace after everything that’s happened and I’m having to worry about strange, drunk men dancing around the sitting room at the invite of the priest who was supposed to be looking after us. What on earth did he think we’d come here for? Larks in the country? To trail around finding lost causes like Clement Parry and his mother? Bringing in every waif and stray he could find? Poking around in business that doesn’t concern him or us? Everything’s falling apart. I mean, he couldn’t even keep us all together.’

‘It wasn’t his fault that Joan and David went home,’ said Farther.

‘It was,’ said Mummer. ‘And he knows it was. That’s why he was so late back. Drowning his sorrows in The Bell and Anchor no doubt.’

‘Esther!’ Farther raised his voice again. ‘You can’t say things like that. Especially not about a priest. That’s how rumours start.’

‘Yes, I know,’ said Mummer, looking pointedly at Mr Belderboss.

‘What?’ he said. ‘What have I done?’

‘The other day you left Father Bernard with lots of questions that I don’t really think we want him to be trying to answer.’

‘It’s not Reg’s fault, Esther,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘He was just upset, that’s all. His emotions got the better of him.’

‘You let Father Bernard bully you,’ said Mummer.

‘Oh, come on. It was hardly an interrogation,’ said Farther. ‘I’m sure he was only trying to help.’

‘We’ve got to be more careful,’ said Mummer. ‘None of us really knows what happened to Wilfred and we’re probably never likely to. We can’t give into speculation. If we do that then we’re handing over the memory of Wilfred to those who don’t care about him like we do.’

‘This is Reg’s brother you’re talking about,’ said Farther. ‘I think it’s up to him what he says about Wilfred.’

‘No,’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘Esther’s right. We must keep our suspicions to ourselves. We can’t prove anything. I mean if I had his diary it might tell us once and for all.’

‘I agree,’ said Mrs Belderboss. ‘We can’t let any rumours spread. It’d ruin Saint Jude’s.’

‘Well, if there are rumours, I’m sure they’re out there by now,’ said Farther. ‘You can’t stop people talking. And anyway rumours come and go. They’ll be talking about something else next week. You know what people are like.’

‘I’m not sure you’ve quite grasped how serious this is,’ said Mummer. ‘People might very well lose interest in gossip and move on, but it’s left in their minds as fact. If people have it in their heads that Father Wilfred—you know—then it would turn everything he ever said into a lie. And what would that do to people’s faith?’

‘Faith’s not an exact science, Esther,’ said Farther.

‘Yes it is,’ said Mummer. ‘You either have it or you don’t. It’s quite simple.’

‘Esther’s right,’ said Mr Belderboss.

Mrs Belderboss nodded in agreement.

‘Listen,’ said Farther. ‘I think that if we have even the slightest suspicion that Wilfred took his own life then we ought to report it to the police.’

‘And what good would that do?’ said Mummer.

‘It would be the right thing to do.’

‘If we can’t prove it, how would they?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think it matters if they do prove it. Wouldn’t it at least take the burden off Reg a little?’

‘Well, we can’t say anything to the contrary now, can we?’ said Mummer. ‘How would that look three months down the line?’

‘Like we had something to hide,’ Mr Belderboss said.

‘It sounds like we do,’ said Farther.

The apostle clock chimed for midnight. Everyone waited for it to stop.

‘Well, Reg and I are a little tired,’ said Mrs Belderboss once the last ring had ended.

‘It is quite late, I suppose,’ said Mr Belderboss. ‘We’ll see you all in the morning.’

Farther helped Mrs Belderboss to her feet and she held his arm as he led her to the door. Mr Belderboss used his stick to get himself out of the chair. Farther opened the door for them and they said goodnight and went off to their room along the corridor.

Once they were gone, Mummer said, ‘Aren’t you going too?’

Farther sighed briefly and came and sat on the bed.

‘I think you’re the one who needs some rest,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘It’s not doing you any good getting so worked up about everything. So things haven’t gone all that smoothly, so what? Father Bernard likes a drink now and then, so what? It’s really not the end of the world. Don’t get so upset about everything.’

‘I’m not upset,’ she said. ‘In fact, in a funny way, I’m glad that I’ve seen Father Bernard for the inept he is. At least this trip’s illustrated that much.’

‘Come on, love,’ said Farther softly and smiling at Hanny who was still by the window with the hare. ‘Leave Andrew be. Let him get some sleep. Come to bed.’

‘I haven’t finished praying for him.’

He took Mummer’s hands in his.

‘Esther,’ he said. ‘I think it’s time that we accepted that he is the way he is, and that’s how it’s always going to be.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘We’re going home tomorrow,’ he said. ‘And I think that’s where we ought to stay. We shouldn’t come here again. It’s not a good place.’

‘What are you on about, not a good place? We’ve been coming here for years.’

‘I mean, I don’t think Andrew’s ever going to get better here.’

‘Why not?’

He looked at me and then down at his hands. ‘In that room next to the study …’ he began and Mummer sighed. ‘No hear me out, Esther. It’s important.’

Mummer set her face and waited for him to go on.

‘Before we went to the shrine, I went to lock it up and I found a name scratched into the plaster by the bed.’

‘So?’

‘Well I think it was the name of the girl they put in there.’

‘It probably was.’

‘The thing is,’ he said. ‘I moved the bed away from the wall to get a better look and there were four other names there as well.’

‘So they were all ill,’ said Mummer. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘They all died, Esther.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Mummer.

‘It’s true,’ said Farther. ‘Each name had a line scraped through it, and …’

‘And what?’

‘I know I’ve not said anything,’ he said. ‘And I wasn’t going to. But I found some letters.’

‘Letters?’

‘In a little box under the bed. From Gregson to the children’s governess, asking her if the children were better, if they might be able to come home soon.’

Mummer rubbed her eyes. ‘Why are you telling me all this?’

‘Esther, it wasn’t just that one room that was a quarantine,’ he said. ‘It was the whole house. Gregson didn’t build it as a home, but a hospice.’

‘Of course it was a home,’ said Mummer.

Farther shook his head.

‘Gregson never lived here himself; he only built it so the governess could take the children to the shrine.’

Mummer looked at him irritably.

‘I still don’t see what this has to do with us,’ she said.

‘Don’t you see?’ said Farther. ‘He kept on insisting that she take them even when it was obvious there was no hope of them getting any better.’

‘He had faith,’ said Mummer. ‘That’s all that’s obvious to me.’

‘It’s not about faith,’ said Farther. ‘It’s about knowing when to admit defeat.’

‘Defeat?’

‘Before someone gets hurt.’

‘I’m not giving up on Andrew now. Where would that leave us?’

‘Esther, it drove that poor man out of his mind in the end that he couldn’t change anything.’

‘I know
I
can’t change anything,’ Mummer snapped. ‘I’m not saying that
I
can do anything. I’m asking God.’

Farther sighed and Mummer pushed his hands away.

‘Leave me alone,’ she said.

‘Esther.’

‘Leave me alone with my son.’

‘Don’t do this to him anymore. Don’t do it to yourself. Let’s go home as soon as we can tomorrow. It’s not Bernard’s fault that everything’s gone wrong this week. It’s this place. It’s sick. It’s not good for us.’

‘Listen,’ said Mummer, grabbing Farther’s wrist suddenly. ‘Your faith might have crumbled along with Wilfred’s but don’t try and ruin mine as well.’

Farther tried to prise off her fingers, but she gripped even tighter.

‘Do you know what?’ she said, smiling a little. ‘I think you’re scared.’

Farther stopped struggling.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Not me.’ And he nodded to the corner of the room, where a gorilla sat under the shelves of pebbles and driftwood with his arms wrapped around his knees.

***

Hanny has changed beyond all recognition since then, but if I do see anything of the old him it is always through the eyes. There is an honesty of feeling there that betrays everyone, I suppose. And there in that room at Moorings, behind his silly mask, there was a fear that I was to see many years later when I was arrested that night outside his house. A fear that I was going to be taken away and I wouldn’t be able to protect him. He has Caroline, of course, and the boys, but he still needs me. It’s obvious. Not that Baxter agrees. He seems to think I was having some sort of breakdown.

‘We’re definitely getting somewhere, though,’ he said the last time I saw him.

It was a wet, blustery day at the beginning of November, a few days before they found the child at Coldbarrow. The horse chestnut outside his office window was lumbering to and fro, sending its great yellow hands down onto the tennis courts below. They were closed for the winter now. The nets removed and the white lines buried under leaves and seeds. Baxter is a member there, as you might expect. It’s that sort of place. Doctors, dentists, academics. He told me that his mixed doubles partner was doing a post-grad in ancient Hebrew. Lovely girl. Very athletic. Yes, I could imagine Baxter eyeing up her swaying rump as they waited for the serve.

He was standing by the window with a cup of Darjeeling, watching the tree moving in the rain. A clock ticked on the mantelpiece above the fire, which was feeding noisily on a stack of beechwood. He took a sip and set the cup back on the saucer.

‘Do you feel the same?’ he said.

‘I suppose so.’

He looked back outside and smiled to himself.

‘Is that a polite
no
?’

‘It’s a polite
you tell me
.’

He laughed gently and sat down on the leather chair that was facing me.

‘You don’t have to agree, old boy,’ he said. ‘Your brother’s not paying me to make you jump through hoops. I just rather thought you’d turned a corner lately.’

‘In what way?’

‘I think,’ he said, draining his cup and putting it down on his desk. ‘That you’re beginning to genuinely understand your brother’s concerns about you.’

‘Am I?’

‘Mm,’ said Baxter. ‘I think you are. I think that if I asked you, you could explain them very eloquently now.’